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“Suddenly, I’m in the mood for finger food.” [….hmmm, let me back up to the beginning of ‘lunch’.]
The mingy, fine-grained blacktopped parking expanse was nearly esurient. To be expected, considering the adjuratory rain had just ceased. Now, the freshly-paved fragrance of the warming asphalt violated my nasal cilia. An assiduous sun sent an increasing number of highly charged photonic javelins thru the reluctantly scattering cloud cover. After momentarily admiring the effect from my open motorcar portal and remarking the deluged row of spaces to my sinistral, I recollected the strangely inexorable admonition to exploit space F2. Since it was nearly centered before the diner’s principal entrance, and dry, I proceeded to it.
[Who the hell wrote THAT crap? What am I doing using elitist romance novel gibberish? Maybe I got caught up in the French theme. Or, AHHAA, maybe it was my muse, Lois, screwing with me. Let me start again in plain speak. MY speak. Lois, guide me or back off!]
The small, smoothly blacktopped parking lot was almost empty. I should have expected that since the insistent rain had just stopped. The freshly-paved fragrance of the warming asphalt assaulted my nose. The persistent Sun sent more and more rays blasting thru the sky still dense with porous clouds. I stared at the flooded rows of spaces and remembered an oddly firm warning to park in space F2. I had to wonder how she knew. That space was nearest the main entry and, better yet, it was dry. I sped into it.
Since I am an admitted pizza snob, this was my first time stooping to a diner-pizza-cafeteria. Though not optimistic, I’ve had great pizza in tiny, unpromising dives before, so I was willing to experiment here too. As soon as I entered, I mapped the diner. As I zig-zagged thru the moderate crowd, large for the poor weather, I was pleasantly surprised by the superbly clean accouterments. Instead of open floor or thick ‘velvet’ rope guides for the waiting lines, there were permanently bolted, brushed stainless poles and guide rails. In stark contrast to the clean and modern rails and counters was the sparse, slate, ad hoc menu board hung over the food prep areas. I liked the contradiction! But would I like the pizza?
A beautiful, very young blonde worked behind the counter, under the precarious menu slate. She faced customers so we could watch her knead and beat the floury dough balls, but did not interact with us. I stepped away from the rails and the sexual gravity field drawing me to this goddess. Despite her golden hair, light blue eyes and curvaceous form, she looked sullen and unapproachable. As I studied the menu, others passed and jostled me to get their pre-ordered meals.
While lost in examining the sparse, yet interesting menu, a tall (6’2′), thin, not very curvy, 35ish, pale, chin-length dirty-blonde approached. “Bonjour Andre. Ca va?”
Who was this? She seemed to know me and knew I spoke French. Not many… whoa… “Mlle. Thibaut! Que fais t.. faites vous ici?”
“I have to eat too. So, Me voici!”
“Hmmm, yes, but I figured my French teacher would at least hunt down French pizza…. if such a thing exists. You pre-ordered?”
“Yes, a salad and egg dish made here exactly as I like it.” She pointed to a large oval dish only 1/4 full of a plain looking “mixed salad, eggs and tomato with a pesto/yogurt dressing topped with Roquefort. I had to teach them that one and they named the dish after me.”
“Not something I’d have thought to order, but I may have to try it. I ordered a 1/2 anchovy pizza. Plain, and simple to gauge this place as a pizza shop. The plain side lets me judge the sauce and cheese, and the anchovy side tells me more about attitude and service than the fish.”
“Anchovy! That’s so rare today. I thought I was the LAST to enjoy them.”
“Really? I love the prickly and salty flavor. Are you here alone?” She seemed younger than when she taught my French 5 class seven years ago. It was more than the obvious weight loss.
“Yes, but I’d like some good company.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint, but I’m here alone too so if you’ll settle for me….” Let’s see if she’s still flirty.
“Of course I meant you, silly. I’ll be over there. Waiting…” She bumped me with her slimmed and sexy hip. This enticing woman magnetically attracted me since the first day I saw her in class. Try as I might, I couldn’t help but flirt conspicuously, usually in fluent French. Her demeanor was professorially distant yet, knowing the class would not understand us, she flirted back. The glint in her eyes was disarming. One day, when we were the last to leave the room, she challenged me.
I pressed the door-wide release lever down and held the door open for her. Instead of exiting cleanly, she turned and pressed the lever with her sexy ass – trapping my hand between it and her plush warmth. I panicked for a split second and began to pull my hand away. Barely aware of the slippery güvenilir bahis texture of her sand colored, lightly woven dress, I felt a divine softness caress my hand with surprisingly intense and moist warmth. Her well cushioned, muscular cheeks softly slid apart. Her puckered valley surrounded my knuckle and reminded me how close I was to her treasured womanhood. My knees weakened and I felt my cheeks flush from her blatant DARE. She slid her sweet, beguiling ass over my hand, letting me feel her cheeks spread and admitting me into her rear cleavage. Neither of us spoke for that eternal second that her pillowy buttocks lingered on my hand. My mouth moved to speak, but when it didn’t, time resumed its mad rush and she continued as if NOTHING happened.
Since then, I’ve often regretted my paralyzed shock and the lost opportunity. In dreams, I remembered the smallest details of her body on my hand. The slightly coarse and sheer top layer of her dress slid smoothly on the sexy, silky plies beneath. I imagined what we’d have done if I hadn’t been so disgustingly shy. I forced my mind back to the present. My pizza and I joined her and her meager salad. “Mlle. Thibaut, are you still teaching French?”
“D’abord, vous pouvez me tu-toyier, et je m’apelle Mireille.”
“Merci bien, MIREILLE. Toi aussi, en Francais et Anglais. Too bad there isn’t really an obvious formal/informal mode in English. It adds to the coy nature of flirting.” I hoped I wasn’t being too subtle…
“Is THAT what we’re doing? …again? Yes, I still teach.”
“Again? Whatever do you mean? Do you think we flirted before?” This could be fun.”Could you possibly mean when I gave my class talk on ‘ma deuxsieme joie de vivre, la TR-3’, and you teased me about what was my ‘PREMIERE joie’?’ Weren’t we cheeky to banter so blatantly in front of the class? I’m sure my cheeks reddened then. Yours did, despite your attempts to be blase.”
“How could you possibly remember so many years back?”
“How could I forget? You are as sexy as ever. I’ve kicked myself many times since then for being painfully shy. But I’m done with THAT!”
Quickly changing the subject, “Ummm, ahh, why do you like anchovies? Is there anything subliminal in it, maybe?”
Here we go! “Well, there’s always the shape of two anchovies touching tips and crossing the opposite ends. They form the shape of a generic fish, or maybe… your lips. Is that what you mean?”
“Are you saying my lips are grey, prickly and salty?”
“They don’t look that way. But I’d have to taste them to learn the rest. Bring them here and I’ll let you know.”
“Are you flirting NOW?”
“Just offering to share information. Why, are YOU flirting with me?”
“Mmmm, do you think a woman smells like anchovy?” Wow! What an ice breaker. I wonder where this can go if I step it up.
“Usually not at all. Yet SOMEtimes, when conditions are right, you can take on the delicious and lightly similar scent that drives mature men wild. Did I dodge the bullet? Seriously, THAT wondrous scent of an aroused woman is the most potent aphrodisiac that exists, in my view…and in my nose. Still, I can’t be telling you anything you don’t already know. I suppose if we rotate these two crossed anchovies a quarter turn they STILL look like your lips, though I haven’t seen THOSE lips… yet? Suddenly I’m in the mood for finger food.”
Wow! He is inviting a dare. “Isn’t that getting a little too blatant for a public spot? Or is it? This IS a pizza place, and full of finger food. Are you into public displays? Just how do you think I would know about how an aroused woman smells?”
“So many questions! I figure you’ll correct me if I’m wrong, but even if you’ve never been WITH another woman, you must know what you smell like when aroused. When you masturbate, don’t you smell your invading fingers, taste them even? I would.”
“Shhhh! Not so loud. I haven’t seen you in years and you’re asking me in public if I taste myself? I can tell you that I think I smell myself right here and now.” She blushed three roving crimson shades.
“As do I. You seemed daring in class and still a little wild today, so I ‘dare’ you to slide your finger inside you here and now then share your fragrance with me.”
With widely bulging eyes, she furtively scanned the diner. “Right! You’re serious? Even if I considered doing that, we’re next to the window and there are no tablecloths to hide me from anyone in here. Though I AM feeling daring and, ummmm, moist. Hmm, move to my side of the table.”
“You naughty girl! How do you say that en Francais? I HATE Franglais, yet it’s sometimes funny.”
“Screw that. Unbutton my tight skirt and zipper behind me… quickly before I change my mind.” My heart raced at the prospects.
“You don’t have to tell me twice. Mmm, white cotton bikinis. Is your gusset wet already, ma chere?”
“I’ll let you know in a moment.” After another brief scan out the window and around us, she slipped türkçe bahis her hand past her loosened waistband. I watched intensely as she pushed her blouse tails aside. She looked inside her skirt and that also gave me a view of her bright white panty that hid her moist charms. I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her slightly toward me. If not for her ohh sooo fragrant arousal, she might have pulled away. Instead she smiled shyly. Her bright blue, gleaming eyes briefly drew mine away from her panty. Pressing her dare, she slid under the cotton waistband and pulled it away from her pale body. “Can you see everything OK?”
“I can see your thin, silky mane trailing down into your sparse naturally blonde bush.” Raising the challenge again, “You’ll have to pull the skirt and panty down to show me any more. Can you manage that?”
“I don’t know about that. And THAT wasn’t your ‘dare’ anyway.” She slid her hand lower and my tongue automatically licked my lips. “I saw that. Why don’t you lick my lips instead.”
“Because your hand’s in the way. And that might be a little too blatant for here. N’est-ce pas? But don’t stop yet.”
“I meant THESE lips. There’s no guarantee you’ll get to kiss my nether lips and mmmmphh.” My mouth covered hers and gently, lightly bruised them. She opened her mouth, but I moved to her upper lip only. After resisting only a moment, which was as long as I could manage, I gently bit her upper lip, then licked it. Then under it and around both lips. When they parted again, our tongues meshed or Frenched. The kiss was dizzying enough. The room noises faded, the people vanished. All that existed was our moist, breathy lips and merged tongues. I gently drew her recycled air from her lungs into mine. This was bliss.
“Je suis fou de tes levres.” I broke away. “Where ARE we? Ohh, yes, I remember now. Wow. I hope you loved that at least a tenth as much as I did. Did your fingers invade your honey while we were distracted?”
“Ummm, yyyyeoww, ummm no, I think they froze where they were. THAT was a kiss I want to savor til I die.” Now, even more aroused, she pried her panty away from her hips and pushed it lower. Her fingers walked down to her obviously swollen clit.
“I like what I see. Your little man is poking out so I can see it from up here. I want to touch it, taste it.”
“Me first. I hope no one else can see me baring my clit to you.” She pulled the hood back and her very pink, little erection jumped, grand standing, into our view. “Can you see my pussy yet?”
“No, love. Just the very tip is visible. Slide your finger lower, around your lips and tell me if they’re swollen.”
“Yes, of course they are very puffy. I feel the dampness surrounding them. I’m struggling to move slowly. Mes levres inferieures are swollen too. T.t.touching them feels so much more exciting than usual. I’ve never done anything this sexual in public. I don’t want to know if anyone here or outside is watching me. Ohhhhhh, yes I do. OK, yes, I do masturbate. Often.”
“Duhhh!” Her legs opened slowly to the limits of her skirt and her wrist dipped behind her white cotton bikini.
“Ohhh.hhh.hhh. I’mmmmm innnnnside. Should I plunge in all the way?”
“No. Just press two fingers inside, but just to the first joints, slide in circles only that far in until I tell you to change.” This strong woman was willingly subservient to me without pressure. She teased herself with those two enviable fingers. When her lids refused to stay open and her gentle moans became deeper, I told her to proceed. I whispered in her ear as I licked it, “Slide your third finger into your wet pussy and withdraw your first finger. As you slide your inner fingers up, focus on how your index finger stretches the flesh near your clit. Feel the intensity increase as you avoid it. Slide that defiant finger above and around your clit as you dip the inner fingers deeper. Good. Pull the flesh closest to your aching clit. Notice your gasping breaths, your burning clit and now, with pressure against one side wall, plunge all three fingers deep into your wet well. STOP there.
“Feel the exquisite agony, the denied urge to fuck deeper. Now, resume plunging your depths. Faster. Press your index finger UP against the inner shaft of your clit. Press deeper and feel the texture of your side and upper walls. Focus on the spike of pleasure you get when you press deeply against your top wall. Feel the texture around your G-spot and let it overwhelm you. I’ll muffle your scream with my mouth, so let yourself go and enjoy it.”
Her breathing was already ragged and she began rhythmically grunting with each exhale, oblivious to where we were. I opened two more blouse buttons, exposing all her cleavage to the diner. My hand found her front clasp and opened her bra. She didn’t resist. Her plush C-cups spilled into my happy view. I cupped a bared breast and rolled my thumb across her pale pink nipple. It snapped to attention with her surprised moan. Her body güvenilir bahis siteleri very briefly tensed, then relaxed in my hold. Though the fevered view of her puckered nipple was fascinating, her gasps and grunts grew much louder so my lips covered hers.
Before my eyes closed, I noticed in the window reflection that many people around us were frozen in mid bite, watching us. Only one button at her navel kept her one tit hidden under her blouse. “Yes, people are watching us. Watching YOU. They can clearly see my hand covering then presenting and stimulating your exposed tit. They can also see movement under your skirt.”
Mireille shivered and screamed into my mouth. If the barely contained cry didn’t reveal all, her continued shakes, then her slumped body and closed eyes followed by complete collapse and a deep sigh exposed our ‘dare’. Her long skirt had climbed several inches above her knees. Two men joined another stranger trying unabashedly to get an up skirt look at her. I pushed her knees closed and pinched her hard nipple. A minute or two later, her breathing normalized and her eyes opened. She looked down at her open blouse.
Gasping slowly, she finally spoke. “When did that happen? I can tell I was really out of it. Ohh myyyy! I just came, didn’t I? HERE? With all these people watching?”
“Yes, you sure did. TWICE. I don’t see or hear any complaints. I bet if you stand up they’ll applaud you.”
“God! If I close my eyes, will they ignore me?”
“I can arrange that, or you can bask in your momentary celebrity.”
“If they applaud, I can never come back here again. I’ll close my eyes.” She did and I signed a ‘shhhhh’ sign to all watching. They smiled, nodded and turned away.
“OK, love. They are ignoring us again. Open your eyes. Before I help you close your bra and blouse, I want to kiss this tempting tit.” Without waiting for permission, I put my face inside her open blouse and licked, kissed and then bit it firmly. She jumped and pursed her lips in pleasure. “Leave your hand inside your pussy until I say to remove it. Wiggle your fingers slightly.” She did, and groaned again. I reluctantly closed her bra and blouse before kissing her deeply again.
“I’m going to slide my hand into your panty now. I want you to scoop as much as you can of your sweet and spicy nectar on your fingers. Let’s try to keep it away from the cotton.” My fingers followed along her hand into her bikini, to and past her still buried fingers. Before she could remove her soaked digits, I had to make room by also prying her panty and skirt DOWN. This would expose all her pubes and maybe more to those men pretending to ignore us. To prevent her from smearing her precious juices uselessly onto her underwear, I pivoted my fingers below her tempting twat and against the edge of her puckered muscle. THEN I could pry her clothes as far from her body as possible, without tearing them. Her panty and skirt waistband were pressed firmly onto her creamy thighs. She was embarrassed when she looked down and saw her nest, her clit, the tip of her gash and the very top of her thighs from above, yet made no move to cover herself. Everyone at the adjacent tables had the same clear, heavenly view.
“OK, slowly pull those fingers out, touching NOTHING. Yes. Good.” When her fingers cleared it, I cupped her pussy and firmly pressed my palm against her mons while a dozen prying eyes targeted her exposed pubes. “Feel the warmth and comfort of my palm against your precious pussy. Feel your lips swell against me, open to welcome me. Feel my middle finger slide lower, just to the edge of your rosebud. I desperately want to feel the warmth and tightness of your sex, but not now.” I slid my finger up along her lips and out of her panty. “Success! Those lovely little fingers are dripping with your nectar. Now spread your sweet honey on my pizza crust and share it with me. Tell me, truthfully, have you ever eaten ANY pussy or just your own juices.”
“Never. Not even my own. I was raised believing that loins were for peeing only and that waste output was filthy, so why would I want my mouth in filth.” I could see the revulsion in her eyes and puckered lips. “That made all sex a problem until I taught myself different. But the bias still exists. I don’t do oral for anyone – male or female. When I finger myself, I wipe then wash off quickly.”
“So this has been really difficult for you. Especially in public. I’m happy to help you get past that, if you like. Meme en Francais. Are you willing to let ME be the teacher for a while?”
“Well, you’ve already taken me far past anything I’ve done before, and I’m surprisingly OK with it. So I think I can trust you. I can always refuse a ‘lesson’, right?”
“THAT’s not much of a commitment. But, I accept. Deeply and slowly inhale and enjoy your fragrance. Keeping your dewy fingers on my crust, savor it with me. Be daring if you can and lick the dampened crust.” Her fear was palpable. She looked to me and saw my confidence. With a stuttering hesitation, she stretched her tongue and finally tasted her fluids. I moved her tongue with mine into the richest area of her nectar and licked it and her fingers. She soon competed for more of her sex sauce.
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