Flirting with Mr. Crassle

There's something attractive about the alpha male, and there can be no doubt that Hugh Crassle is the alpha male of the pack here. You continue to laugh at his dirty jokes, occasionally nearly snorting wine into your nose as a punchline hits in the middle of a sip.

After several minutes the conversation at the table splits, with Cynthia and Ernie Wood talking quietly to one another while Mr. Crassle continues to amuse you with his bawdy humor. When it's clear his wife is no longer listening his jokes become increasingly forward.

"What's long and hard and full of semen?" He asks with a mischievous smile.

"A submarine?" You giggle.

"My hard pecker," he replies.

You pat his leg as you laugh at his joke. Everything seems funny the more you drink, and the raunchy subject matter of Mr. Crassle's humor is beginning to have its effect. Your nipples strain against the fabric of your summer dress and your juices flow between your legs.

After a particularly direct joke, something comparing your pussy to a peach and sticky juices, you allow your fingers to slide across Mr. Crassle's lap and find the bulge in his pants. You squeeze and rub it with your fingertips, cutting short his next joke.

"Ooh," he murmurs and leans over to whisper in your ear. "Still thinking about our fun in the bathroom?"

"No," you reply.

He looks surprised, but you give him a wink and a devilish smile.

"I like to think about the future, not relive the past."

You give his cock a squeeze through his pants and he eyes you with sudden intensity.

"What did you have in mind, sweetheart?" He whispers to you.