As regular readers of my postings will know I recently spent some time in a delightfully sunny part of the world with a very dear friend of mine. We had a wonderful time, in more ways than one, and because he took his camera along I am able to show you some of the things we got up to. Not all of them, you understand, but hopefully enough here to tickle your fancyWe decided to go out for lunch one day after having spent nearly all morning in bed. It’s not as lazy as it sounds, we had been awake since before seven o’clock My friend was dressed and ready and began making noises about how long it took for women to be ready to face the world. So, partly as, a joke he picked up the camera and began snapping me as I did my hair and so on. I was just getting to that lovely stage of confidence in myself that doesn’t seem to occur to men who dress rapidly, when he irritated me slightly with a remark, something about “That’s fine, all shipshape and Bristol fashion” as he took a close-up picture that was mostly cleavage.Now I know I have quite nice breasts, because so many of you seem to comment on them in the emails you send me. Those who have met me in person will always say much the same thing often in the last few seconds before they come, for some reason so I wasn’t irritated by that, but all the same I felt a little riposte was in order. I did a little pose, coy but flirtatious, and asked him”Do you think I’m appropriately dressed We don’t want the waiter getting carried away again, do we”This was a reference to an incident earlier in the week, whenwith hindsight I showed a little too much cleavage, and the waiter somehow managed to splash some lemon cream sauce from a dish of langoustines. On me. You know where.In the small restaurant there was no avoiding the fact – I knew it, my friend knew it, the waiter knew it, and the slowly widening circle of silence from people who were in a position to see knew it – itlooked exactly like the outcome of a particularly productive titfuck that had splattered my boobs with thick, warm spunk that was now slowly sliding down to my breastbone.The waiter was obviously thinking quickly of the options open to him – dive in with his cloth as quickly as possible and risk getting slapped, punched or both, give the cloth to me and let me sort myself out, or hand the cloth to my date and miss out.In the end he did his best, strenuously maintaining eye contact as he put the cloth just in front of my face, his fingertips mere inches from the promised land of my bosom. I smiled sweetly as I took the cloth, trying to squeeze his fingertips just a little as I did, to let him know he wouldn’t have been slapped, though how close he’d have come to being punched would have depended how much he dwelt on the task’We’ll have to re-enact that scene when we get home,’ said my friend, ‘then I could come to your rescue and clean you up myself. Slowly and carefully, with my tongue.’Well, it was a lovely thought, made a little lovelier by the fantasy that flashed through my mind of my friend sharing the job with the waiter, who had been rather attractive. I could hold one head to each breast while they did so, I thought, and that idea just flicked my priority switch from food to sex. I hitched my skirt up and my friend began clicking away, knew that lunch might have to be delayed slightlyI could see the effect I was having on him as I posed more and more provocatively, and I cheekily decided to give him a running commentary on what I was thinking. When I mentioned the idea of athreesome it really caught his attention. I started to elaborate on the scenario, innocently asking how it might make him feel to watch while the waiter took me. It wasn’t too long after that that I looked round and saw he had unzipped himself.I was getting pretty turned on myself by this point. I really needed to come. I decided to sacrifice my tights for the greater good of my sexual well-being and made him watch as I pushed a finger through the mesh and pulled the resulting hole into a tear large enough to get even the thickest waiter’s cock inside me. I then asked if he’d like to have me first or second. I teasingly told him if he went second, he could hold me down while the waiter fucked me. He’s pretty broad-minded but I think this might have shocked him a little, as he mumbled something about leaving that bit up to me. I surprised myself as well, because as I sought out my clit through the gap I told him that my index finger was his cock, while my middle finger would be the waiter. I gave him a couple of seconds for that thought to register, then slid both fingers together into what was by now a very wet and willing pussyI moved them inside myself, thinking how tight and stretched I might feel, then the next thing I knew he took hold of my hand and pulled it to one side, and I felt one very excited cock take its place. And that is why the pictures stop at the “before” photoIt was a good job that I was so worked up I came quickly, arching my back so he could bang his groin hard against me and keep the sensations going for longer, but more or less straight away I heard him panting and felt the heat of his sperm jetting inside my pussy.As he laid on top of me and got his breath back I innocently asked if that offer of cleaning me up still held good – (Gallery)
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