Dinner Date

David (mostly) and Carrie (slightly) were celebrating their one-month anniversary. David had Carrie reserve the nicest steakhouse in town for the celebration.

Carrie was dressed in an elegant, glittery red dress and high heels, with a faux fur coat. David was dressed in a long sleeved t-shirt and shorts.

"Ummm, we require jacket and tie, here, sir," the host said smoothly. Carrie looked embarrassed.

"I'm Carrie Hall, my dad is an investor in this place," she said awkwardly.

"Oh. Of course, Ms. Hall. Maria, can you take them to a corner booth ... where there is less light perhaps."

David ate voraciously. Despite more than a few hints, Carrie hadn't gotten him out of using his hands to eat. It was a disgrace, really. She barely touched her salad. There was only one thing keeping her with him ...

"I need some head," he grunted, motioning downwards. The one thing, and she couldn't resist it at all. She looked both ways, then slipped under the table, reaching down to pull his big fat cock out of his shorts. David grunted, and reached down to offer her his steak-juice clad fingers. She wrinkled her nose and sucked them clean.

The good thing about blowing David while he ate was that the noises weren't much different. She choked and slobbered on the 10.5 inch fuckmeat, playing with his balls, breathing in his musk. Every time she sucked on it, she fell more under his thrall, as much as she'd deny it. Finally, she was rewarded with her salty treat, which she swallowed.

She carefully eased her way out from under the table, and was standing up when she slipped on some of David's steak juices. She tripped, falling down, her skirt riding up to expose her firm ass.

"Hey," David said, "what are you trying to do, embarrass me here?"