Finish him off under the table, making him climax discreetly while maintaining conversation with Clara and Ryan.

Under the pristine white tablecloth, your emerald talons maintain their wicked dance along David's shaft, finding a rhythm that has him breathing harder with each stroke. His eyes are fixed determinedly on his dessert, though he hasn't taken a bite in minutes.

"So what's everyone doing tomorrow?" Clara asks, swirling her spoon through melted chocolate. "Ryan and I were thinking of hitting that vintage market in The Lanes."

"We haven't decided yet," you reply smoothly, while beneath the table your stiletto nails trace delicate patterns up the underside of David's cock. You can feel him throb against your palm, growing impossibly harder. "Maybe a lazy morning in bed?"

David's knuckles whiten around his water glass. "Sounds... perfect," he manages, voice tight with restraint.

You increase your pace slightly, careful to keep your movements subtle. The way his thigh muscles tense beneath your other hand tells you he's getting close. You lean toward him, ostensibly reaching for the dessert spoon, using the movement to whisper: "Come for me. Right now."

"The sea air really gives you an appetite, doesn't it?" Ryan comments, oblivious to the erotic drama unfolding mere feet away. "I've been starving all day."

"Mmhmm," David agrees, his voice strained. "Absolutely... ravenous."

You feel the first pulse against your fingers, warm wetness spilling over your wicked green talons. David's jaw clenches as he fights to maintain composure, his eyes closing briefly in what could pass for appreciation of the chocolate dessert. His breathing grows ragged as he continues to climax silently into your hand, his entire body rigid with the effort of containment.

"Are you alright, David?" Clara asks, tilting her head. "You look a bit flushed."

"Just... the wine," he gasps, somehow forming coherent words through his release. "Went down the wrong way."

You continue stroking him through each pulse until he gently catches your wrist beneath the table, silently pleading for mercy. With practiced casualness, you withdraw your hand, discreetly wiping it on the napkin in your lap while maintaining perfect eye contact with Clara.

"The dessert is divine," you comment, finally lifting your clean spoon to sample the chocolate creation. "So rich and satisfying."

David shoots you a look of mingled disbelief and adoration, his cheeks flushed with the aftermath of pleasure and the thrill of nearly being caught. He fumbles beneath the tablecloth, managing to zip himself up with trembling fingers.

"Check, please," he calls to the passing waiter, his voice still slightly hoarse.

19:00 | Monday 4 August 2025 | The Salt Room, Brighton

[Comfort Mode Level 3] | 1:00 hours remaining (Auto-Renew ON)