03

The Il Cantucio is a lovely, intimate, and elegant restaurant set in North Beach, the Italian enclave between Union Square and Fisherman's Wharf. When I opened the door for you, we left the hustle and bustle of the San Francisco night scene into the sumptuous ambience of simple elegance with a Tuscan flair. The maitre 'd seated us promptly, and I noticed that he stole a longer-than-strictly-professional glance at your legs as he seated you. I smiled; I was not the only one overcome by your beauty this night.

As we sat over a bottle of Pinot Noir, I looked across the table at your exquisite beauty, your bright, searching, intelligent eyes sparkling in the candlelight. We were living our dream, and we both knew it. I reached across the table and took your hand, and kissed your fingers softly. As I did, I felt your leg brush against mine beneath the table, and the voltage I felt at that moment was stunning.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" I asked. "Uh huh," you smiled. And without missing a beat, I felt you slip your shoe off and place your foot squarely between my legs, rubbing my already rock hard cock with your stockinged toes. You smiled wickedly, knowing what you were doing to me, and you sighed as you watched me enjoy this most unexpected cock massage.

"I want that, Don," you sighed. "I mean, I really want that."

"Follow me," I said, as I rose and took your hand, my hardness barely contained as I pulled my tux jacket around my waist, leading you to the ladies' room. You went in first, confirming that we would be the only ones in the restroom, at least for the time being. You opened the door and beckoned me inside, and led me to one of the ladies' stalls. As I closed and locked the door, I turned to you, and you wordlessly reached inside my pants and began stroking my rock-hard cock. Your eyes were hungry, and a wave of desire rose over me as I unzipped the back of your dress, and began to cup your heavy breasts through your sheer bra, gently pinching your nipples and eliciting gasps of pleasure from you as I did.

"I've got to have that," you said. And you went down on your knees and took me in your warm mouth, expertly teasing and licking and sucking the tip of my cock, tasting my pre-cum which was flowing freely. You kept looking up at me, turned on by my joy in looking at you as you sucked me deeply, taking me to the back of your throat and alternately sucking my balls and kissing the sensitive space behind them. As you continued to suck me, I moved so that I sat down on the john and made you bend over to continue. I reached my hand back and began caressing your beautiful ass, slipping my fingers lightly over your moaning pussy. Each time my fingers brushed over your lips, you caught your breath, momentarily stopping what you were doing and losing your concentration. I smiled. We were both giving to each other so erotically, and we both wanted each other with a passion which was indescribable and beyond anything we'd ever experienced.

I inserted two fingers inside you and reached deep, flicking my thumb across your clit. Still sucking, you began to moan with pleasure at my touch. Your hips began to rock backward to meet my touch, and when I inserted the third and then the fourth fingers--slowly widening you out with my gentle but intense touching--you finally rose and stopped sucking me, completely taken by the gushing waterfall of desire you felt. With your eyes closed, you gasped, "Fuck me, Don. Fuck me right now. I need your cock inside me."

And I stood up and lifted you up so that you straddled my waist, your strong legs wrapped around me. I slowly and delectably lowered you down onto my bulging cock, and slid inside you in one deliberate thrust. Fully engaged, you came immediately, and you wanted more and more of me. Your orgasms were coming in waves now, one right after the other--each more intense than the last. When you began to lose control and yelp with pleasure, I kissed you deeply, squelching your screams in my mouth to muffle the sound.

My strong arms easily held your weight as you took me, and when you came for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, I lost it--exploding inside you with huge bursts of my warm jism filling you. We were each moaning with pleasure, trying unsuccessfully to muffle our sounds. Slowly, slowly, we returned from our own world of each other to the ladies' room and the Il Cantucio and San Francisco and our evening. I kissed you gently, let you down on the floor, and helped put you back together, though your hair was rather permanently mussed--at least until you could retrieve your purse and brush your hair out again.

When we finally emerged from the ladies' room, we encountered knowing stares from the restaurant staff--the second such set of looks we'd received that evening. We both blushed, returned to our seats, and successfully got through the rest of our meal without further incident. We smiled, laughed, and got lost in each others' eyes again. Reluctantly, we finished our dinner and I helped you put your wrap on over your shoulders, and as we walked out into the classically foggy San Francisco night, our limo was waiting for us.

We once again climbed into the backseat, and rode wordlessly to the Curran. You gently slid your head against my shoulder, and draped one of your legs over mine. Neither of us spoke. But suddenly the prospect of going to see the musical was less appealing than simply being alone. For each of us wanted to crawl inside the other's skin.

And our magical night was barely halfway over...

We arrived at the Curran feeling both exhilarated and almost regretful that we could not just go to our hotel room and be alone. With decidedly mixed feelings, we stepped out into the elegantly-dressed crowd and made our way past the ticket-taker and inside the sumptuous surroundings of the theater. The Curran was built in the 1920's and has recently been restored to all its Raoring Twenties glory. We found our seats and within minutes the lights went down and the curtain went up as the orchestra played the familiar theme of The Phantom Of The Opera.

When we had been sitting at dinner, you mentioned to me how much you loved this musical--the power of its music, the depth of passion and romance, the extraordinary lyrics, and the marvelous set design and acting and singing. You said 'it is a feast for the senses', and I agreed. And as we sat there, I often looked over at you as your eyes were lit up with joy and wonder of the spectacle of it all.

I reached my hand over to touch your knee, and you gave me an ever-so-wonderful hint that you wanted my touch more than ever. For you slightly parted your knees, and wordlessly invited me to explore the inside of your knee with my fingertips. As I slid my fingers lightly over the silky softness of your stockings, you opened your legs a bit wider. I remember looking over at the person sitting next to you and was relieved to see that she was paying no attention. And so I slid my fingers slowly, inexorably higher. The music was soaring, the crowd was enraptured, and I was lost in my passion, my love, my desire for you. I had already had you once this night, but once was most certainly not going to be enough. I covertly slipped my hand along the outside of your thigh, and you deftly lifted your backside off the seat so that my hand could rest beneath you. You were sitting on my hand as it rested palm up underneath you, and I began to slowly, gently, tease your pussy with my hand. You were incredibly wet for me, wildly aroused, and trying your best not to react to the pleasure I was giving you.

I loved teasing you and playing with you, and at one point you leaned over to me as I had three fingers inside you and you whispered "if you don't want me to make a scene, you had better get me out of here soon." I laughed, and was dismayed to notice that I had laughed at a very inopportune time in the course of the play, and a couple of people turned to look at us. But fortunately, it was dark, and none of them apparently could tell that you were on the verge of orgasm--right in their midst.

After toying with you for another moment or two, I leaned over and whispered back "Do you want to leave or would you like to see the rest of the show?" And you said, "I am so hungry for you right now, I could scream." And with that, we waited for the end of the song, rose hastily, and left the theater out the side door. I used my cellphone to alert the limo driver that we needed to be picked up, and he was almost instantly at the front of the theater. We climbed in, and almost before the car was moving, you virtually attacked me with deep and passionate kisses, climbing on top of me and tearing at my jacket and shirt, hungrily unzipping my pants. I was just as hungrily unzipping your dress and unclasping your bra, and was soon sucking your breasts deeply, your nipples enclosed in my warm mouth. Your groin was pressed against my thigh and you were grinding on it as I sucked your breasts, and I reached round and began to pull you toward my hard cock, straining as it was against the fabric of my boxer briefs.

I wanted you sooooo badly, Sweetheart. And you? You were breathless, until I finally pulled your thong panty aside and plunged myself deep, deep, deep inside you...