You sit beside me at a table in the crowded pub, telling me in vivid detail about your latest sexual exploits, just loud enough for me and no one else to hear. How you came up behind the young handyman that was repairing a broken window while he was in the bathroom taking a piss. You walked into the bathroom just as his urine had started to flow, reached around him and took his cock in your hands, aiming him, badly at first, splashing piss on the seat and floor, but getting the hang of it by the end.
You put your hand on my thigh beneath the table and lean close as you explain how you turned him around after he had finished pissing and spat your saliva onto the end of his stiffening prick. Your hand moves onto the hardness in my pants as you describe taking him in your mouth, coaxing him to rock hardness. Tracing a line down his shaft with the tip of your tongue. Taking his balls gently into your mouth as you grip him with one hand, pulling back his foreskin. The end of his cock glistening with pre-cum.
"I don't have any underpants on," I inform you, as you move your hand rhythmically over the ridge in my trousers. You pause a moment, glancing around the busy room before reaching up and undoing my zipper. You slide your hand inside and grasp my shaft, hot and hard. "Oh fuck, I want that in my mouth," you say. "Maybe later," I say. "Right now you're going to wank me slowly until I cum into your hand, and then you're going to lick it up."
Without a word, you begin moving your hand slowly beneath the table in the crowded and noisy room. I turn my body and lean over the table a little so no one can actually see the action. "Tell me more about this guy," I say and you continue the story.
You describe how your full lips enveloped the head of his cock. How you slowly took his entire length into the back of your throat. How he grabbed the sides of your head to firmly thrust his last few centimetres into you. It was at that exact moment that your husband arrived home. You had timed it to perfection. He walked into the bathroom and when he saw you, his mouth fell open and he dropped his bag to the floor.
"Get on the floor and eat me," you instruct him.
I can feel myself begin the slow build towards climax as you explain how your husband came over behind you, as you deep-throated the handyman. You raised yourself slightly in your kneeling position and opened your legs up so your husband, who was lying on his back on the floor, could slide his head under your ass towards your dripping wet pussy. You described how he lapped at your cunt while you brought your young man towards orgasm.
Meanwhile, under the pub table, your hand quickens on my cock, and I can feel myself getting close. You describe how you came hard when the young guy withdrew his cock from your throat and sent his hot jizzum shooting across your face. At that very moment, I begin to spurt my own cum into your hand, which is cupped over the head of my prick.
When I'm spent, you slowly bring your hand out from under the table, semen dripping from your knuckles, raise it to your mouth and begin to lick my warm syrupy goodness.
"Your turn," you say when you're done, and lean back in your seat and take a drink from your wine glass, legs opening almost imperceptibly. The skirt you're wearing is knee-length and loose. "I'm not wearing panties either."
