And the cleanup

Ben’s breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving under his stained shirt. His hand clamped down hard on Emma’s wrist, guiding her pace, forcing her to stroke him faster. "Fuck, yes," he grunted, his eyes squeezing shut. "Right there. Don't stop. I'm gonna..."

Emma didn't say a word. She just bit her lip, her eyes locked on his face as she pumped her hand furiously. She could feel his cock throbbing violently in her grip, expanding and twitching as he approached the edge.

Suddenly, Ben’s hips jerked forward in a sharp, involuntary spasm. He let out a low, guttural groan, his head throwing back. His cock pulsed hard against her hand, and then he erupted.

Thick, hot ropes of his cum shot out, landing in an arc onto the scarred wooden surface of the table. Emma’s eyes widened in genuine awe. She was mesmerised by the sheer volume of his load and the distance the thick, pearly ropes shot splattering across the wood. It was a massive, messy eruption, so much more than she was used to, and watching it fly through the air sent a jolt of primal arousal straight to her core.

He pumped out load after load, his dick twitching and spurting until he was completely spent, his chest heaving as he slumped back against the cloth seat cover.

He didn't say a word, didn't give her an order. He just sat there panting, his cock slowly softening but still slick and dripping.

Acting entirely on her own volition, Emma immediately reached for the tissue from her bag and began wiping the sticky, pearlescent mess off the wood with hurried, efficient movements. She made sure not to miss a single drop, bundling the sodden tissue tightly. Without hesitation, she dropped the wad deep into Ben’s empty pint glass.

She smoothed her skirt down, her hands trembling slightly, and took a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose her flushed face. Ben did his jeans back up, concealing himself.

Just as she settled back, the familiar sound of her boyfriend's voice carried across the pub. Tom and Dave walked back in, bringing a draft of cold night air with them.

"I'm telling you, the 2008 is better but just not worth the money," Tom was saying animatedly, completely none the wiser as he slid into the booth next to Emma. Dave took the seat opposite, continuing the car talk.

Tom leaned over and pressed a warm, affectionate kiss to Emma’s cheek. "Sorry about that, babe. We were being car geeks."

"It's fine," Emma said, her voice remarkably steady despite the frantic hammering of her heart.

As Tom turned his attention back to Dave, Emma glanced over at Ben. He was casually reading his phone, a faint, knowing smile playing on his face.

A tiny, wicked thrill bloomed deep in Emma’s chest, sending a fresh wave of heat straight to her soaked panties. She had just cleaned up her boyfriend's roommate's massive load while her boyfriend was standing right outside. She had gotten away with it, and the secret, dirty rush of it made her heart race.