Felice smiled, "You look nice," she said. Her eyes on him felt thrillingly indecent. "She's a lucky girl."
"You, uh, you're really beautiful." Why had he said that? Was it because he wanted to or because she complimented him? Her desires were so strong they were hard to distinguish from his own.
She squirmed in her seat excitedly, anticipating something big. The last time he'd felt anything like that from someone was when Valerie had lain on her bed and spread her legs... Welp, he was hard now.
At this time of day, the place wasn't busy. Felice looked around and, seeing no one else in view, slid around to his side.
He couldn't have sex with her, but there was no way he could resist a kiss. It immediately got away from him. She held him tightly until she'd pillaged his mouth to her satisfaction. His lips were tingling and he realized he loved every second of it.
"Let's get you ready for your date," she purred. Her hand settled on his groin, under the table.
"You don't... Really."
"Live a little, Altar Boy. Now let's get you hard first." She squeezed his shaft as she kissed him again.
He pulled back from the kiss. "I am hard," he replied, scandalized.
He could tell that cooled her enthusiasm somewhat, and she altered her plan. She licked up the side of his neck and chewed his earlobe as she deftly unbuttoned his slacks. He tried to stop her but was greatly hindered by that low, primitive, selfish part of him that desperately wanted this.
He directed a concerned look at his lap, where she was undoing his zipper, and asked, "Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?"
"Shh. Don't make a scene."
"Hey, Felice? You don't have to do this."
"Nervous, Churchie?" she teased.
"No, I—well yes, actually. But I mean I'll—I like having you as a friend."
Her fingers wrapped around his erection and he was momentarily unable to breathe. As a debate tactic, that move was second to none. Felice now had the floor for a long as she wanted it. "Don't make it weird. I'm horny, you're horny. I'm just helping you," her eyes danced with mirth, "take the edge off before your date."
In between hot breaths in his ear and spine-tingling process with her tongue, she said, "We're still friends."
"But Fel—aieeee!" She was sliding her hand down his shaft. He'd never felt anything quite so good.
"Shh!" she chuckled. Her hand quickly reached his base and reversed motion and when that made him gape at her in shock, she smiled and gave him an encouragingly sexy look. He wished this was as much fun for him as it was for her.
He felt his defenses crumbling. The fact that this was only a second or third base activity made it so easy to rationalize. Her hand stroked him slowly and easily, but was gradually picking up speed.
"That feels so good," he murmured, and kissed her in his sin and depravity. Encouraged, she stroked faster.
A noise made her abruptly stop. From behind a stack of burlap sacks, an employee emerged from a staff door and slouched toward the stairs. The couple's indiscretion wasn't visible, but no matter, the guy didn't even look around. Max wondered if he looked like that when he smoked weed. If so, he needed to stop.
She stilled her hand, but Max's body betrayed him by rocking his hips so his shaft would slide back and forth in her hand. She leaned close and whispered, "That's it, fuck my hand."
"Felice, please," he groaned when she started stroking him again.
He bit his lip to stifle a groan. She varied her grip and stroked counterpoint to his motions. "This is so hot," she grinned, and laughed at the expression on his face.
Footsteps nearby made them stop. A pair of middle-aged women carrying huge cappuccino bowls saw the booth they'd been headed for was occupied by the two teens and began the process of turning around. Max nodded to them politely, which made his penis flex in Felice's hand.
"Good afternoon," greeted Felice. To Max's enduring horror, she massaged his penis while she exchanged empty pleasantries with the two ladies.
"You think they suspected?" she asked when they departed.
"They didn't," he said. "They didn't approve of us sitting next to each other, but that's it."
"Wow, you really know your prudes." She stroked him faster and Max was transported by the feeling. It was as much a pleasure as it was a need for release. She glanced down approvingly at the work in progress, "Next time you're doing me like this, okay? Fuck, this is hot!" She was squeezing her thighs together, and Max in a flash of insight realized that was a form of self-stimulation. There was something there, a slippery quickening between her legs, but unable to handle all the stimulation he was receiving, he couldn't focus on it.
His breathing was getting faster and shallower. He tried to sip some coffee to look natural and nearly spilled it.
She sipped her coffee, too, impishly. Now she was twisting her hand slightly as she stroked him. His need for release was nearly overwhelming. "Oh, yes," he whispered, and couldn't resist kissing her overheated cheek.
She checked for witnesses and then laid a very wet, very sensual kiss on him. He made helpless noises during and after that which made her highly amused. She was having so much fun that it kind of bled over into him.
He was terrified of being detected. He'd be jailed for this. Felice would be humiliated and never talk to him again. Lydia would find out and that would be the end of their relationship. Valerie would beat him up. He closed his eyes and strained his new senses. Was anyone nearby? What did they suspect?
It was like hearing whispers in a dark room while nearby Felice was speaking at normal volume:
He won't be long. Not long, haha, true that, poor guy. I barely have to move my hand to go end to end on his thing. Corrupting religious guys might be my new fetish. I'm gonna blow him next time. He will fucking die. He is so gonna do me, I want this. This almost makes these small town Puritans fun. I wonder what this would be like with Nick's big one. Maybe I could try it. How is this goody-goody such an amazing kisser? He's better than the other trumpet players at my old school!
He tried to filter her out, to see if someone would discover them. He had to. Being caught was so scary it was... Oh no. It was getting him even more excited.
His careful attempts to extend his sensitivity fell apart. He gritted his teeth against a groan. His penis felt like it was over-stuffed. The skin was way, way too tight. It might be a medical thing, but that was not something he was capable of concentrating on at the moment.
Felice calmly slurped the last of her beverage, then pulled napkins from the dispenser.
Max was glad he hadn't gotten his drink in a paper cup, because he'd have crushed it in his hand. Suddenly it all snapped into focus. He knew they were listening to Sheryl Crow in the kitchen while they made scones. He knew the stoned baristas were nervous because there was a cop in line. He knew the cop in line was hoping the baristas wouldn't notice him ogling them in their tight pants. He knew Felice was about to...
Felice put her lips to his ear as she pumped his erection furiously. "Cum for me, Preacher Boy," she whispered, then stuck her tongue in his ear. She cupped her other hand over the end of his penis with the napkins in between, the roughness of the paper making him acutely oversensitive, and that was it.
He squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a yell that he prayed would be mistaken for a sneeze. Transported with rapture, he erupted.
There was a bang and a rattle in front of them, and the sound of breaking glass. Something unyielding mushed the end of his penis, then yielded. Beside him, Felice whooped in surprise.
He opened his eyes. The items on the table had scattered and slid off the far side. It was tilted away from them at an angle now that the side closest to them had been shoved upward by his erection.
He and his date stared at it. It was thicker and easily twice as long as before.
He and Felice looked at each other in shock, then back at his penis.
The floor creaked. Someone had heard the noise and was approaching! He seized wads of napkins as Felice dropped her sodden ones and got a few more. He slanted his massive member to the side and the table banged down flat. With one hand he tugged his clothes over himself and with the other, he napkin-ed everything furiously.
Felice slid out of the booth, holding the napkin wad over her splattered right hand. She announced, "It's okay, Dummy just kicked the table by accident." Only when Max sensed the disinterest in the person she was speaking to did he allow himself to breathe again.
It took a lot of napkins, but he got everything cleaned up. It smelled strongly so he dumped the rest of his coffee on the table and wiped that up, too. The contaminated napkins were wrapped up in still more napkins and stuffed into the trash. He even got his clothes back on, thanks to the erection-shrinking properties of utter panic.
As soon as he was presentable, they evacuated.
Outside, she grabbed his arm. "What the hell was that? Did you see it?"
"That's not normal?"
"No it's not norm— Damn! It's not normal! You were hard before, right?"
"Very," he shuddered. His orgasm was still alive in him, making his member tingle and seep. He'd have to wash his underwear in the sink before putting it in the laundry or his mother would notice the stains.
