You've been waiting for this for a long time. You're on edge. That line which approaches frustrations and anxiety. It's been rather cool, summer is over and fall is full bloom. The air crisper and sharper than the summer sweltering days steps us closer to winter.
Sitting and talking, the food is there, and the conversation is lively. We both look and smile. I reach over and kiss you. You're surprised and open your lips and my tongue dives in, tasting your mouth, wrapping a tongue deep and around. We separate a little, looking into each other's eyes, and come together again. Our breathing is deep and passionate signaling our wanting and desiring of each other. My hand reaching up and pulls your head closer. My other hand reaches under the table. Sliding up your leg. Across your nylons my fingertips race to your skirt.
Your hand reaches behind my neck and the other follows my hand action as your race up my leg. My hand stops at your hem. You feel my hand stop and you pull away from the kiss. You scoot closer and as you do your legs separate a little. A smile traces across your lips with your tongue barely visible painting a line across them. Your free hand reaches for the wine glass. The other is in my lap, feeling the hardness through my pants. As my hand passes your hemline your legs slowly close. Trapping my hand beneath your skirt you start talking.
My hands feel your nylons and yes, your garter too. You're saying how you're not that kind of a girl. But you still squeeze my pants taunting them to open. But your legs separate and my hand travels further up and, what, no undies. Your legs squeeze together again. You close your eyes and enjoy the moment. Your hand releases my cock and I'm under your power. My fingers play and dance beneath your skirt. You scoot away a little and my hand is free. I bring my fingers up and taste the juices you've given me. You watch me as I suck and lick them.
You slowly stand up and say your going to the restroom. I half stand as you leave. Watching your legs part as you stand I can see your inner lips. Moist and wanting. You adjust your skirt as you stand and walk away. My eyes are glued to your tuche. Wanting them and seeing them go tortures me.
You come back in about 5 minutes. You have a smile and a bounce in your step. You slide close and whisper into my ear, "I just couldn't wait, you must suck my fingers and really taste it." You pick up a piece of bread, and bringing it close to my lips you slip your fingers into my lips. Yes, I taste your juices, heavier and muskier. Your fingers have ventured farther than mine.