Message-ID: <540eli$9704151512@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: ImDulcinea@aol.com Subject: {Dulcinea} Repost: Lunchtime Lunchtime By Dulcinea Since she had the day off, they were going to meet for lunch. Stepping out of the shower, she opened the closet to see what she should wear. Jeans, turtle neck, sweater -- wait a minute! She grinned at her reflection in the mirror, an idea forming in her mind. A little tingle began in her pussy, and she put the clothes back into the closet. A little seduction was in order, she decided. And she would have to dress accordingly. "Hey, honey. Ready for lunch?" she asked from the door of his office. He held up a hand, indicating he didn't want to be disturbed for a moment, his pen flying across the paper. "Ready!" he said, his head snapping up. "Oh my!" He let his eyes rake across her body, down to her toes, then back up again. She wore a black sweater that showed off her ample breasts, the V-cut neckline showing deep cleavage between the delightful swell of her creamy skin. A short wrap-around denim skirt showed off her long legs. She stood with her leg peeking through the slit of the skirt, the top of her stocking showing. Teasingly, she pulled the skirt back just a bit more, her pale flesh a stunning contrast to the dark nylon. He forced his eyes back to her face, seeing the wicked smile she wore. His cock was twitching wildly, almost painfully. "I assume you have a plan for lunch?" "I might." She turned, looking back over her shoulder. "Coming?" He jumped up, following her. Down to the street, into her truck. "You look incredible," he told her, shifting uncomfortably. His pants were growing tighter and tighter. She smiled, but said nothing, turning into the parking lot of a quaint little cafe. He chose to walk behind her as the entered the building, watching the way her hips moved, the way the heels she wore shaped her calves. He hoped they made it to the table soon; his erection was getting painful. She seemed to know the waitress, chatting pleasantly for a moment before they were led to a quiet, circular booth. Sliding around the seat, she pressed up against him, her breasts heavy on his arm. "I think you'll really like the food here," she whispered, her voice low and throaty. She captured his hand, bringing it under the table to her lap. Under the opening of her skirt, right between her soft thighs. He groaned, his fingertips feeling the moist fabric of her panties. "Have you decided what to order?" the waitress asked pleasantly. Today's special is lasagna." "The special," he said, feeling her thighs open a little wider. "Make that two," she answered. The waitress nodded, walking away. He felt her hand creeping across his thigh, rubbing his swollen cock through the material. "Ooh! Why do you torture me this way?" he asked with a groan. "Well, if you want me to stop...." She leaned away, withdrawing her hand. "No! Don't!" He squeezed her thigh lovingly. "I love it when you torture me. I love it when you make my cock so hard it absolutely throbs." He grinned as her hand found it's way back to his lap. "And I'm going to love driving this big, thick, hard cock into you." The food arrived, and they fell on it hungrily, the meal as good as she'd promised. He ate one handed, his fingers busy inside her panties. She squirmed wonderfully for him, and her hand often found its way back down to massage his erection. "How was it?" the waitress asked. She left the bill on the table, then dropped a key next to it. "Thanks, Kelly. I'll bring it back in a bit." He looked on in amazement as his lady picked up the key, dropping a twenty on the table. She slid out of the booth, smiling. "Coming with me?" He slid out behind her. "Where are we going?" She only laughed. He still had half of his lunch hour left. She led him to the back of the building, up a flight of stairs to a plain wooden door. The key slid into the lock, opening to a small, tidy room. "I called ahead and asked Kelly if I could borrow this little guest room of hers," she said, answering his unasked question. Stepping into his arms, she kissed him. "She's an old friend of mine." "Great!" His hands pushed her skirt open, lifting it up over her hips. "Your panties are wet," he whispered. "Well," she unzipped his slacks, freeing his cock. "Your shorts are wet. I guess we're even." Half carrying her to the bed, he laid her back, lifted one leg over his shoulder, spreading her wide. Pushing her panties aside he plunged into her, making love to her in fast, hard strokes. His cheek rubbed against the stocking, and he turned to kiss her ankle, rubbing his hand up and down her leg. "You seductive wench!" he said, watching the passion on her face. "I love you!" She cried out, her hips bucking up against him, her breasts quivering delightfully in the sweater as her body shook. Leaning forward, pushing his as deep into her as he could, he erupted, his cum pouring into her still pulsating pussy. "Wench, am I?" she asked, when she trusted herself to speak. "Yes," he answered. "A beautiful, sexy, delicious, wench." He pulled out of her reluctantly, releasing her leg. "An incredible, seductive, bewitching wench who is about to make me late for work." "Late for work? Is that all the thanks I get?" She straightened her clothes, running her fingers through her hair. "Well, don't worry. It's the last time I show up to take you out to lunch, cretin!" "NO! Honey!" He pulled her against him, wrapping his strong arms around her body. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, the swell of her breast. "Please. Make me late for lunch any time." -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /