Lunchtime

Ever since she had a day off, they went to lunch. Out of the shower, she opened the closet to see what she should wear. Jeans, turtle neck, sweater - hold on!

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, an idea in her mind. A little bite started in her kitty and she put the clothes back in the closet. A little temptation was fine, she decided. And she should get dressed.

“Hey, sweetheart. She asked about his office door. He held a hand, suggests he didn’t want to be disturbed, his pen flies over the paper. “Ready!” He said his head is breaking. “Oh my!”

He had his eyes rambling over her body, up to her toes and up again. She wore a black sweater that showed her ample boobs, the V-cut neckline showed deep cleavage between the delicious swelling of her muddy skin.

A short wrapper round denim skirt showed her long legs. She looked her leg through the cut of the skirt, the top of her stockings. She pulled the skirt back a little bit more, her light meat a stunning one against the dark nylon.

He forced his eyes back to her face how bad she was. His dick turned wild, almost painful. “I assume you have a plan for lunch?”

Maybe. She turned around, looked around her shoulder. “Coming”?

He jumped up, followed her. To the street, in her truck. “You look great,” he told her, shifting uncomfortable. His pants grew tighter and tighter. She laughed, but she didn’t say anything, changed into the parking lot of a quant little café.

He chose to walk behind her when the building came in, see how her hips moved, the way the heels she wore formed her calves. He hoped they’d come to the table soon, his erection was painful.

She seemed to know the waitress, happy to chat for a moment before they were led to a quiet, circular position. Slimming around the chair, she pressed against him, her breasts are heavy on his arm. “I think you’ll like the food here,” she whispered, her voice down and throat. She grabbed his hand, brought it under the table to her lap. Under the opening of her skirt, between her soft thighs.

He moaned, his fingertips feel the damp dust of her panties. “Have you decided to order?” The waitress asked nicely. Today’s specialty is lasagna.

“The special,” he said, her thighs feel a little wider. Make it two, she answered.

The waitress nodded, walked away. He felt her hand crawling over his thigh, rubbing his swollen dick through the material. “Ooh! Why are you torturing me like that? He asked for a moan.

If you want me to stop… She leaned away, pulled her hand.

“No! Don’t.” He squeezed her thigh. “I love it when you torture me. I love it when you make my dick so hard it’s going to freak out.” He was grinning when her hand felt it went back to his lap. “And I’ll like driving such a big, fat dick in you.”

The food came up and they were starving, the meal as well as she promised. He ate a hand, his fingers press her panties. She was stumbling for him, and her hand often found his way back to massage his erection.

“How was it?” The waitress asked. She left the account on the table and left a key.

Thanks, Kelly. I’ll bring it right back.”

He looked in surprise when his wife picked up the key and dropped a 20 on the table. She slipped out of the box, smiling. “Come with me?”

He slipped behind her. “Where are we going?” She was just laughing.

He had half an hour left. She led him to the back of the building, a staircase to a public wooden door. The key slipped into the lock, open for a small, decent room. I asked Kelly if I could borrow this spare room from her, she said, answer his unexpected question. Slap his arms, she kissed him. She’s an old friend of mine.

Great! His hands pushed her skirt open, ticking it over her hips. Your panties are wet, he whispered.

“Well,” she untied his pants, freed his dick. Your pants are wet. I think we’re even.”

Half with her to the bed, put her back, lifted a leg over his shoulder, spread her wide. Pushed her panties away, he jumped in her, made love to her in fast, hard strokes. His cheek rubbed against the stockings, and he turned to kiss her ankle, rub his hand in her leg. “You seduce us.” He said to see the passion on her face. “I love you!”

She cried, her hips crashed into him, her boobs glowed in the sweater, shaking her body. He leaned forward, pushed him as deep into her as he could, he burst out, his skank that flowed into her pulse kitty.

“Wench, am I?” She asked when she trusted herself to speak.

Yeah, he answered. “A beautiful, sexy, delicious, wench.” He pulled back and let go of her leg. “A unbelievable, tempting, enchanting wench that is about to make me do my job.”

“Leave for work”? Is that all I get? She cleaned her clothes, let her fingers walk through her hair. Don’t worry. It’s the last time I came to take you to dinner.

No, honey. He pulled her against him, wrapped his strong arms around her body. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, the swelling of her chest. Please. Make me late for lunch