The Main Course

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I am out with some friends celebrating one of them getting engaged to her long-term boyfriend. We have decided to go to a lovely Italian restaurant to have a meal before going to a concert.

I am wearing my favourite dress, a short, low cut red dress with small roses around the top and slightly flared, so when I dance you can just see that I am not wearing any panties. I feel natural in this, the material is so soft, it’s almost like not wearing anything. I don’t wear a bra, I prefer to feel the dress alone against my skin.

We all go into to the restaurant, Giovanni’s, and find a table, laughing and chatting. As we begin to sit down and settle ourselves, I notice a waitress standing in front of the bar, cleaning the surface. She is petite, with long dark brown wavy hair, tied loosely back with a shiny black clip. Her outfit fits her perfectly and closely, a short black skirt pressing against her backside, I can see the outline from where I’m sitting, and like me, no knickers. I feel a faint shudder where my panties would be, but suppress the feeling, trying to concentrate on reading the menu. I glance up again in a moment, this time she has turned to go to the kitchen, I can see her front now, she is wearing a soft dark blue top, which, like her skirt, shows her curves beautifully.

Straight away, I begin to imagine slipping my hand up her shirt, feeling the small, round breasts underneath . . . I start, fumble with the menu and quickly choose the antipasto, melone con prosciutto. Is she my waitress? I sit and listen to the others chatter away, hoping to get a closer look at this alluring fikirtepe escort girl. But when we are ready to order, it is a man who strides up in his confident, Sicilian way. He is cute, but not as cute as her. When he walks back to the kitchen, my friends all burst out laughing, convinced that the waiter fancies one of them, due to his staring at her the entire time we were ordering. I laugh too, pretending to be interested, but still all I desire is to see the waitress close up.

The antipasto is delicious; the melon is fresh and the ham succulent. My appetite is not sated yet though. I look around for the waitress and wonder what she is like. Is she quiet and sweet, or determined and firm with her lovers? She could be anything; it was impossible to tell from that first sight of her. Feeling slightly frustrated, I decide to go to the bathroom, to alleviate the tension I’m feeling in my body. It is a useful thing, to have a quick rub in between courses, to help digestion and the conversation flow better, as I become more relaxed. So I go into a cubicle, there are two in the ladies’, and sit down. I lift my dress and start to stimulate myself, first slowly then faster, getting more and more hot and wet in the limited space that I have. Usually I am careful to be quiet in this situation, so as not to disturb other lavatory visitors, but on this occasion, I am so turned on at the thought of the Italian girl and her possible sexiness, that I start to groan and rub harder. I am so involved with my throbbing pussy, I don’t even hear the main door open.

Suddenly I hear a knock on my gebze escort door. “Cosa c’e? C’e un problema? Stai bene? Is there a problem?” It’s her! What do I do?! My pussy is soaking my dress by now, if I go out, she will smell my juices, I won’t be able to conceal it. But I can’t stay here or my friends will wonder what’s happened. I sit holding my breath, half hoping she will go away, half wanting her to see me in this naughty position. Suddenly the decision is made for me. The door, which has a safety lock that can be opened on the outside, is unlocked and pushed hard onto my crotch before I can take a breath. She is in here, squashed in with me. I say nothing, letting my hands do the speaking. She obviously has the same idea, gesturing frantically for me to climb onto the loo seat and lifting my dress, revealing my soaking pussy. I reach down and pull up her top and fondle her small, round breasts, just as I had imagined them, and then I suck each of them, lingering on the nipples, making them large and hard.

She is more beautiful than anyone I have ever seen intimately, such gorgeous brown eyes, a perfect nose, pouty delicate lips with a sexy smear of gloss, which makes it look like she has already been licking something. She murmurs something in Italian, which sounds like, “che carina”, according to my GCSE Italian. Straight away she pushes her face into my pubic hair, which is trimmed, but not shaved. She appears to appreciate that, stroking it, and then lingering her tongue over the lips, then down onto the clitoris. She is working up a rhythm, swirling her tongue around my clitoris, içerenköy escort up and down, I don’t really know what she’s doing, but it feels great. I’m holding onto her shoulders, my head thrown back, thrusting my cunt in her face. I feel like I’m dreaming of being a sexy dancer having a secret love affair, or a housewife discovering her true sexuality for the first time, this feels endless and beyond reality.

Now she has one hand on a breast, pulling it down to suck it for a moment and then diving back down to her favourite place, my pussy. The other hand is on my arse, pressing the buttocks together and keeping me close, though it’s not necessary in the confined space. I feel like she is touching me all over, even though she just has one hand on my arse and one on my breast. Suddenly, the pace picks up and she licks and spits on two fingers and starts opening up my arse and fucking it with them whilst she continues to lick my moist cunt with her long, Italian tongue.

Now I’m really fucking her with everything I’ve got, trying to hold on to the sides of the cubicle to keep myself steady. Her beautiful dark hair is flowing onto me, everything about her and everything she is doing turns me on, I can feel this heat, tingling rising up all through my body, it’s growing stronger, oh my god, oh my god, I’m going to scream, hold it in, hold it in, I can’t, fuck, fuck, fuck, “OH MY GOD, VENGO!!! AHHHH!!!”

I cry out in ecstasy, shuddering all over, so much she has to hold me to stop me from falling, she is also trembling, smiling, as though she has just come too. She gently helps me down from the toilet and cuddles me, kissing my face on either cheek and my lips. “Grazie, cara, sei bellissima, veramente,” with these words, she straightens my crumpled dress and leads me out into the restaurant, holding my hand, as the cheers of everyone there surround us.

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