He Makes Her Make Him Cum

Bradley locked eyes with her. "You'll have to work for it," he said, and Cindy took that as a personal challenge. Without any thought as to who might see them, she slid out of her seat and ducked under the table, crawling over to him on all fours like a panther. He was relieved to be freed from the prison of her feet, but knew now that he was facing a whole new challenge. Cindy stared longingly at his crotch and reached in to start unzipping him. Bradley made a token effort of resisting, but not so much that she wasn't able to easily open up the front of his boxers and pull his dick out. As it sprang free, he found himself quietly hoping she went all the way.

Cindy pulled back his hood, marvelling at his magnificent, faintly purple head. "You're gonna cum for me," she whispered, then opened her mouth so wide it looked as if she might dislocate her jaw, and swallowed it whole. Bradley was sent reeling, squirming wildly in his seat as Cindy's devious tongue went to work on his bellend and the accompanying shaft, sending shivers running down his spine. She sucked and licked at him with her mouth for several seconds, then paused, removed his cock from her mouth and smiled up at him. He thought he might faint when he saw down there, breasts pressed tightly together in her amateurly-repaired shirt, and her skirt rolled up to a ridiculously short length, her saliva shining all up and down his shaft. "You want me to keep going?"

He shook his head and said, "Y—yeah...I mean, no..."

"You haven't cum yet...I have to keep going anyway," and at once, she dived back on him, shoving it back into his mouth and redoubling her efforts. He felt the familiar sensation of pressure building back up inside him, and he knew he was roughly halfway there. "N—no," he gasped, "Oh, shit...not here!" He dug his fingernails into his palms to distract from how good it felt, and Cindy must have eventually noticed the grimace on his face, because after five more minutes of this hellish bliss, this divine horror, she removed his knob from between her lips and pouted. "Don't you like me anymore, Bradders? Don't I drive you wild?"

Bradley's mouth was twitching, and he nodded slowly.

"Well, then why aren't you cumming?" She asked, her voice sweet and sugary.

"I—I didn't...all these people..."

"Don't mind them, silly," Cindy chided. "Mind me! Mind all of me, like my mouth, and my tits, and..." she got out from under the table, and plonked herself on his lap, squeezing and grinding her backside into it, barely covered as it was by those snow-white panties of hers, then maneuvered herself so that her pussy was right up against his dick, their genitals — though covered by varying layers of clothing, alive with heat and moisture for each other. Bradley felt a dribble of pre-cum squeak out from his urethra, and he let out a distressed growl.

"...and my pussy," she continued. "My pretty little pussy. You remember it, don't you Bradley? My pussy you rammed your big, strong dick into. You like my pussy, don't you Bradley? You want it all to yourself; you want to lick it and suck it, and you definitely want to fuck it. You want to feel me when I'm wet, you want to make me wet. You want to see my pretty little pussy, you want to be as close to my little slit as possible, right?"

Bradley stammered out an attempt at a response. "I-I..."

She pleased herself as well as him, as the cotton of her panties rubbed in one direction and then the other over her gorgeous pussy, stimulating them both, and driving Bradley round the bend. He was only dimly aware of their surroundings, now, and his hand grasped feebly at the edge of the table as he tried his best to avoid looking at the staff. "C-c-c-cindy," he moaned. "How m-m-much longer...?"

Cindy turned her head to look at him and murmured. "As long as it takes you."

"F‐for me to what?"

"Cum. For. Me." She hung on each syllable, and bounced on his dick in time with her pronunciation of each for emphasis. Bradley agonised over the decision, barely able to think straight as she rubbed herself all up on him. Images of her cunt flashed endlessly through his mind, he kept picturing it, kept picturing how it probably looked right now, entombed in a tight cotton prison it was no doubt soaking through, the labia lightly touching against the fabric, squishing gently against it with each grind or bounce Cindy did on him. In his heart of hearts, he knew now there was only one way out, so he took a deep breath, swallowed his pride, and stopped trying to stop it, releasing the pressure valve — so to speak. His cock immediately arrived at the climax, and he felt a hot load of cum working its way up through his shaft, finally fulfilling Cindy's prediction, and painting the inside of his boxers with his very own brand of special sauce. Limply, his head lolled back against the seat, and he panted loudly. Cindy snickered, gingerly got up from his lap, making sure to push her arse out and rub her pussy against him one last time before she stood. "How was it?" She whispered, conspiratorially.

Bradley was staring at the ceiling as the staff and other customers muttered amongst themselves. "Godlike," he said. "You...you're...godlike."

"Aw, Bradders. You really know how to make a girl feel special," she bent down and kissed him on the lips, then skipped backwards, tugging at his arm. "C'mon, let's get you some clean underwear!" She said, loudly, so that the rest of the shop could hear.