Just a quick glimpse

Heart pounding, you quickly rip your coat wide open. You feel the fresh air on your rock-hard nipples and your moistening pussy, the blood rushing through your veins, and the exhilarating rush of adrenaline.

You hold out probably not much longer than a second, although it felt much longer. Quickly you pull your coat shut again and refasten the belt. The sounds of your surrounding suddenly come back to you, and you quickly look around you to see if anyone noticed. But everything is as before, apparently no one caught your lewd display.

You know you were an exhibitionist, but never considered going so far on such a public place as this. It felt good though, liberating and thrilling. And the idea to be fully at the mercy of that rich, lecherous man made it even more exciting. You regard him with your naughtiest smile, and with some satisfaction note that for a moment he actually seems taken aback, as if he didn't think you would actually do it.
He quickly regains his confidence though, and calmly finishes his ice-cream. “That was a bit quick, my dear. But I let it pass. You should really get on with your ice cream, though, before it melts. I'll have a second helping, if you don't mind.”

Without waiting for any answer he stands and heads to the counter, while you cautiously continue with your ice and calm your nerves somewhat. Soon Mr Crassle returns with a new cone, and sits down right next to. His rough hand grabs your bare leg.

“Did that little show excite you, little one?” His hand glides further up your leg and under the hem of your coat. Remembering the thrill of the experience, you nod submissively, lieka good girl.
The old man bends close to your ear, you can smell his breath of sharp mint and tobacco. “Let me feel how wet it got you, my little slut; open your legs.”

You hesitate, glancing at the tables ahead of you where more people, including a family with young kids have settled. It's unlikely that anyone will look down under the table, but you still hesitate. “Open them, I said!” Crassle hisses into your ear loud enough that several heads turn to you. You both smile reassuringly at the other guests, and the attention dissipated again. But Crassle remains insistent. His large hand closes in on your sex, pulling your thighs outwards at the same time.

Finally you relent, and spread your legs wide open, exposing your wet folds to anyone who happens to look under the table from the right direction. Mr Crassle doesn't waste any time and immediately gabs your pussy, making you gasp in shock. Slowly he slides his middle finger inside you, until his large gold ring scratches against your inner folds.

“I know you were wet for me, you little slut,” he crows quietly.” Now let's see how your cream tastes. But keep those legs open.” With that he withdraws his hand, and offers his finger to your lips. You slowly suck his finger into your mouth, holding his gaze. You get into this more and more, feeling excited by both the humiliation and the naughtiness of your actions.

After feeding you his finger, Mr Crassle quickly takes another taste of your fluids himself: “Hmm, a fine aroma, but I think I know of a way to improve it.”Before you can react, he quickly scoops some ice cream from his cone on two fingers, drops his hand under the table and in one fluid motion stuffs the ice cream deep into your pussy.

Your eyes and mouth shoot wide open, and it is all you can do to not yell out loudly from the shock of the cold suddenly filling your vagina. “Keep it inside; we don't want to make a mess” hisses Crassle as he withdraws his hand. That's easier said than done, though. Squeeze your inner muscles together as you might, you can't prevent a small dribble of molten vanilla ice to escape, slowly dribbling down your leg and on the floor beneath you.

Crassle, displeased with your performance, immediately takes another big scoop of his ice and shoves it into you. He goes slow this time, so you can fully experience the freezing froth burning into your nether folds. You are squirming on your seat in both pain and excitement.

“We'll have to make sure you won't leak anymore,” Mr Crassle sneers.
“Ah, that should do it.“ He swiftly discards the rest of his ice cream into an ashtray, and stuffs the empty cone deep into your tormented pussy. This time you can't hold back a loud gasp, finally getting the attention of the whole parlor.

Mr Crassle instantly stands up and pats your back as you wheeze heavily: “Now, now my dear; you know you shouldn't eat so quickly in the condition you're in.
Acting the perfect caring gentleman – or grandfather – he helps you off the chair with surprising tenderness, and steers you towards the exit, waving off any offerings for help.

“Don't let it fall out!” he menacingly hisses into your ear.