Eating Out
She’d noticed his roaming gaze and had taken a moment to write her name and number on a scrap of paper
Choosing anything from the menu was harder than he’d thought. His eyes and head had taken in the sublime denim-clad rump of the waitress. She was a sight, with her back to him, his eyes moved from menu to bum.
As she turned around, he smiled nervously.
She returned his gaze, her face turning in the light from large windows that overlooked the docks.
So many things to look at, but at every opportunity, he was drawn back to that blue-pocketed rear. Her eyes opened, brows lifted, lips upturned, she made her way over.
He dropped the menu and lifted his head in recognition of her approach.
“Can I get you a drink and a cake, perhaps?”
Stephen smiled again and nodded.
“I’ll have a dark mocha please,” he said.
“Good choice, I’ll bring it over,” she replied.
Instinct told Stephen that she knew he’d been watching her bottom. Something in her smile gave away a realisation of his fascination. As he waited for his drink, he wondered what she might be thinking.
Olivia brought the drink to him. She’d noticed his roaming gaze and had taken a moment to write her name and number on a scrap of paper. As she put the drink on the table, she dropped the paper and smiled again.
“Enjoying the view?” She turned her head towards the windows and then walked away.
He drank his coffee, eyes now on the paper. In his life, this had never happened before.
The following day, Stephen retrieved the number from his pocket and picked up his phone. He waited for her to pick up the call.
“Hello, who is it?” She said.
“Hi, it’s Stephen. You dropped your number on paper for me.”
“Oh, it’s you,” she sighed.
“I think you need to earn your view,” she said, raising her voice, “I want you here at seven this evening.”
Stephen arrived, obediently, on the hour and tapped, nervously, on the door. Olivia greeted him with a smile and a beckoning finger. From his position, beneath her on the step up to the front door, Stephen was immediately at a disadvantage.
“In you come,” she cooed.
Olivia’s living room was comfortably furnished and warm. A polished table was set for dinner with silver knives, forks, a bottle of red wine and glasses.
“Hope you are hungry!” She laughed.
“Um, yes, I am actually.”
“Good! Have a seat.”
Stephen pulled out a chair and sat down. Olivia poured wine, then immediately sipped from her glass.
“Mmm, that’s good,” she said. “Shall we cut to the chase? I invited you here to do more than eat. I saw how you looked at me. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of my arse, could you?”
Without giving him time to respond, she reached out her arm and grabbed his head from behind, pulling it closer to her chest.
“You had better show me how much you like my arse I think, don’t you?”
Again, she gave him no chance to reply.
“You are going to eat it” her voice was pointed now; as she locked Stephen’s head against her. His nose was pushed into her cleavage. Daring to smell her; he took in the delicate, intoxicating scent of her body. Stephen’s thoughts began to swim and then she pushed him away.
Lifting the hem of her red dress, Olivia gave Stephen his first sight of her stockinged thighs. Swiftly, she pulled down her knickers and kicked them off. Turning on the spot, she pushed her creamy, peach of a bottom into his face.
Stephen’s nose was now wedged against her bottom, his mouth almost touching her cold, cream skin.
“There’s my bottom, where’s your tongue?” She yelled.
Stephen silently waited until her arse was pushed still closer to his face. He could barely breathe without taking in the smell of her; a mix of pussy, something floral and the faintest trace of something else, oh perhaps, her tight puckered hole.
Olivia took her time and moved herself into the steadiest of grinds against her subjected submissive’s filthy little face. She could feel his lips occasionally caress her flesh, and she was in no hurry to oblige his basest instincts. She knew what he wanted and needed. He wanted to plunge his devious tongue into her sex, her arse crack and even her arsehole. Well her sex was off the menu. She had a man for that.
Stephen found himself leaking. His cock was hard against the fabric of his jeans. He could feel the precum welling at the head of his engorged shaft. His breath deepening, he found himself in the swell of the storm that is obedient compliance. He wanted to smell her, taste her and lose himself in her flesh.
Olivia froze now.
“I want your tongue in my arse crack but you are not to kiss my hole until I tell you.”
Stephen complied. His tongue began to dart around the valley of her cheeks. The cool flesh beneath his eager tongue was a journey he would savour. Slowly, he edged his way around that beautiful cleft.
“Good boy,” she murmured, languidly.
As he moved his tongue, Olivia began again to grind, rolling her thighs so as to push Stephen’s face against her, harder. Her hands on her hips, she gyrated, purposefully exposing her flesh to the touch of his tongue.
“Now then, it’s time for the main course young man. I want your tongue in my arse hole. You’d better make it last because there’s no pudding,” she laughed.
Stephen gulped in air, panting now, his nose sought out her rosebud, the sweet hole he had so hoped was on the menu. Drooling, he pushed against the pink puckered edge of her rectum. Smelling, breathing in, his nose nudged its edge.
“Your tongue!” She yelped.
Stephen moved and pushed his tongue towards the centre of her star. Now, probing, the tip of his tongue circled, worshipping, wanting, exploring the taste and feel of her little hole.
“Good boy! I bet you’ve done this before!”
Her hips continued to rock as his tongue began to push through her sphincter.
“Ooh…. Yes! Deeper now!”
Stephen did as he was told and pushed his tongue, curling it to ease it into her hole. She felt so tight against his tongue. He felt dirty yet consumed with the task at hand and aware of his predicament.
Olivia threw back her head, her hair sweeping around her back, she arched herself as hard as she could against his tongue and face. His shaven face was against her skin, just close enough to her sex to cause that feeling of release to well in her. As his tongue explored her anus, she felt her cunt swelling and dripping. Knowing that she was in control released her from everything else.
Stephen reached forward to hold her thighs. Olivia bounced back against his face, pushing him away momentarily, reminding him that he only got what she wanted. She took a hand to his face, slapping his cheek with just enough force to make her point.
“Had enough have you? How did I taste?”
Stephen pulled out his rooted tongue. There was almost a plop as her sphincter released him. Stephen licked his lips.
“Delicious,” he replied.
“Good.”
Olivia moved away and tugged down the hem of her dress.
She topped up his glass….and stared at him.
Stephen sat, a drooling mess, his usefulness to her over and done.
Would he just leave now? Perhaps Olivia wanted his company too? Stephen watched her sip her wine, her face flushed, her eyes bright.
If you’d like to read more about Olivia’s plans for Stephen, let me know in the comments.
