Craig has some fun with Leslie

The hostess led them through the dimly lit restaurant, the click of Leslie’s stilettos muffled by thick carpet. Every step sent the plug shifting inside her, the flared base pressing just enough to make her breath hitch. Craig’s grip on her thigh tightened as they reached their table—a secluded booth in the corner, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the crisp white linen.

A young waiter appeared almost instantly, his gaze flickering to the deep plunge of Leslie’s dress before he caught himself.

Leslie’s fingers dug into Craig’s thigh as the bullet flared to life again, her pierced nipples visibly straining against the sheer lace of her bodysuit. The delicate silver rings stood taut, betraying her desperation as the vibrations coiled tight in her core. A faint whimper escaped her bitten lips—too quiet for the waiter to hear, but Craig’s grip on the remote tightened in response.

The waiter cleared his throat, shifting his weight. *“Your—uh—your drinks, sir.”* His voice cracked as he set the glasses down, his gaze darting to where Leslie’s chest rose in shallow, erratic breaths.

Click.*

The bullet died mid-pulse, leaving Leslie trembling against the leather booth. The waiter’s pen hovered over his notepad, oblivious to the way her thighs clenched around nothing, the plug a heavy, unyielding presence beneath her dress. Craig’s fingers drummed once against the remote in his pocket—a silent *behave*—before he plucked the menu from the table.

*“The filet,”* he said, voice smooth as he scanned the wine list, *“and the scallops for her.”* His free hand slid higher up Leslie’s thigh, fingertips brushing the damp lace of her panties as the waiter scribbled.

The waiter’s pen slipped from his fingers as Leslie’s breath caught—another violent pulse of the bullet wrenching a bitten-off moan from her throat. His cheeks flushed crimson when he bent to retrieve it, his gaze darting up the slit of her dress where her stockings met bare, trembling thigh. Craig’s fingers tightened possessively on the remote, the next flick of vibration timed perfectly as the young man straightened—just enough to make Leslie’s hips jerk forward, the silver rings of her nipple piercings glinting under the candlelight.

*“I—uh—”* The waiter fumbled with his notepad, his knuckles whitening around the pen as Leslie’s lashes fluttered.

As the waiter leaves to place their oder Craig as thought to make Leslie fuck the young waiter. Craig’s fingers stilled on the remote, his thumb hovering over the controls as he turned to Leslie. The candlelight flickered in his dark eyes, catching the possessive gleam beneath his composed facade. His voice was low, barely above a murmur, but it sent a fresh shiver down her spine.

*“I want you to fuck him.”*

Leslie’s breath hitched—not from the vibrations this time, but from the weight of his words. The plug shifted inside her as she tensed, her thighs pressing together reflexively.

Leslie’s fingers trembled as they traced the hard line of Craig’s zipper, the whisper of denim parting beneath her touch. The air between them thickened with the scent of her arousal, mingling with the candle wax and starched linen. Her palm pressed against the heat of his cock through his boxers, the weight of him already straining against the fabric.

*“You want me to what?**Her voice was a breathless hitch, lips grazing his ear as she squeezed him through the cloth. The thought alone—the waiter’s hands on her, Craig watching—sent a fresh pulse of wetness between her thighs, the plug shifting as she clenched around it.

Craig’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk as Leslie’s fingers worked him through his jeans. His free hand tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp. *“That’s my girl,”* he murmured, thumb brushing the remote’s controls. The bullet between her legs surged back to life, muffling her whimper against his shoulder. The waiter returned, balancing their appetizers with shaky hands.

The waiter’s fingers trembled as he set down the appetizers, his gaze flickering to Leslie’s parted lips—still damp from where she’d bitten back another moan. The bullet hummed relentlessly between her thighs, its vibrations syncing with the pulse of the plug inside her. Craig’s hand slid from her hair to the back of her neck, applying just enough pressure to tilt her chin up toward the waiter.

Leslie’s fingers curled around Craig’s cock beneath the table, the heat of him searing through the denim as she stroked slowly, deliberately. His breath hitched—just once—before he flicked the remote again, sending the bullet between her thighs flaring to life. Her hips jerked involuntarily, the plug shifting deeper as she bit down on her lip hard enough to leave marks.

Leslie's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile as she let her fingers trail up the waiter's wrist when he placed the last plate. His pulse jumped beneath her touch, his breath catching as she leaned forward just enough to let him glimpse the silver rings pulling taut against sheer lace.

*"You seem nervous,"* she murmured, her voice syrup-thick as Craig's thumb circled the remote again—this time in warning. The waiter swallowed hard, his throat working as her stockinged foot slid up his calf beneath the table.

*"I—should check on your wine,"* he stammered, but his knees didn’t move, his knuckles pale where they gripped the tray.

The waiter’s breath stuttered as Leslie’s foot climbed higher, the seam of her stocking catching on the crisp fabric of his trousers. His grip on the tray faltered, sending a spoon clattering against porcelain—too loud in the hushed restaurant. Craig’s chuckle was a dark rumble against Leslie’s temple, his thumb dragging the remote’s dial up another notch. The bullet’s buzz sharpened, wrenching a gasp from her throat just as the waiter’s knee jerked forward, pressing against the damp heat between her thighs.

Leslie’s nails bit into Craig’s thigh as the waiter froze, his pupils dilating when her hips rolled instinctively against him.

The waiter’s back disappeared through the storage room door, the hinges whispering shut behind him. Craig’s fingers tightened around the remote, his other hand sliding up Leslie’s inner thigh with deliberate slowness.

*“Here’s your chance.”* His breath was hot against her ear as he nudged the vibration setting higher, making her arch against the booth. *“Go fuck him in the storage room.”*

Leslie’s pulse thundered in her throat as she stood, her stilettos sinking into the plush carpet. Every step sent the plug shifting, the fullness a constant reminder of Craig’s control.

The storage room door clicked shut behind Leslie, sealing them in the dim glow of a single flickering bulb. The scent of crushed herbs and spilled wine clung to the air, thick enough to taste. The waiter’s chest rose too fast, his apron straps twisted where his fingers had clenched them.

Leslie stepped forward, her stiletto catching on a loose floorboard as the plug inside her shifted with the movement. A whimper escaped her throat before she could stop it. The waiter’s gaze dropped to her parted lips, then lower—to where her skirt had ridden up, revealing the lace straps of her stockings.

The waiter’s breath hitched as Leslie’s palm pressed against the growing hardness in his trousers, her fingers tracing the outline with deliberate slowness. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, a choked sound escaping him as she leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.

*"You don’t have to say anything,"* she murmured, her other hand sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The remote in Craig’s hand buzzed again, sending a fresh wave of sensation through her, and she moaned softly against the waiter’s throat—just loud enough for him to feel the vibration.

Leslie’s fingers found the waiter’s zipper, the metal teeth parting with a hushed *snick* as she dragged it down. His breath came in ragged bursts, his hips twitching forward as her hand slipped inside, warm fingers curling around his cock. The heat of him pulsed against her palm, already slick at the tip as she drew him free, her thumb smearing the wetness in slow circles.

The bulb overhead flickered, casting shadows that leapt across the shelves of wine bottles as the waiter shuddered, his hands finally releasing his apron to fist in the fabric of her blouse.

The waiter’s cock twitched in her grip, veins standing taut beneath flushed skin as Leslie stroked him with slow, deliberate pressure. His breath came in ragged bursts, the small head slick against her palm as she twisted her wrist just so—the way Craig liked it, the way she knew would unravel him. The bulb overhead buzzed, flickering shadows across the shelves of wine bottles as his hips jerked forward, balls tightening against the coarse fabric of his trousers.

*“Fuck—”* His voice cracked as she dropped to her knees, the cold floor biting through her stockings.

Leslie’s lips parted with a slow, knowing smile as the waiter’s confession hung between them—*virgin*—the word trembling in the air like the flicker of the faulty bulb overhead. Her tongue swiped over her lower lip, catching the salt-sweet taste of his desperation before she leaned forward, breath ghosting over the flushed head of his cock.

*“Then let me teach you,”* she murmured, voice thick with promise as her fingers tightened at the base, thumb pressing into that sensitive vein just the way Craig had taught *her*.

The waiter’s knees buckled as Leslie’s fingers tugged at the buttons of her blouse, one by one, until the fabric parted to reveal the swell of her breasts spilling from black lace. His breath hitched—sharp, audible—as she freed herself completely, the weight of them heavy in her palms before she guided his trembling hands to her skin.

*“Touch me,”* she commanded, her voice rough with need as his fingertips brushed her nipples, already stiff beneath his hesitant strokes. His cock twitched against her cheek, leaking against her skin as she finally took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling the salt-bitter drop from his tip.

Leslie’s mouth pulled away with a wet *pop*, her tongue dragging one last teasing stroke along his length before she rose, the waiter’s whimper vibrating against her skin. His hands—clumsy, ****—clutched at her hips as she hiked her skirt up, the lace of her thong already soaked through. The flickering bulb caught the slick shine between her thighs as she hooked her fingers into the delicate fabric and peeled it aside, revealing the swollen, flushed proof of how badly she wanted him.

*“Look at me,”* she breathed, guiding the blunt head of his cock through her folds, the heat of him making her shudder.

Leslie’s breath caught as she sank down onto him, the vibrating bullet still humming deep inside her, its relentless buzz making her clench around his virgin cock. His hips jerked upward instinctively, his hands scrambling against her thighs—too tight, too ****—as she took him inch by inch, the stretch of him delicious against the dual stimulation. The flickering bulb cast jagged shadows across his face, his lips parted in a silent gasp as she bottomed out, her body trembling with the effort of holding still.

*“So tight—”* he choked out, his fingers digging into the lace of her stockings as she rolled her hips experimentally, the bullet shifting just enough to make her moan.

Leslie’s thighs trembled as she ground down onto him, the waiter’s cock pulsing inside her with each shallow thrust. His breath came in broken gasps, fingers digging into the lace of her stockings as she rode him with slow, filthy rolls of her hips—just enough to make his toes curl against the concrete floor.

*“You’re close, aren’t you?”* she purred, her voice honey-thick as she clenched around him, the bullet’s vibrations sending sparks up her spine. His answering groan was raw, helpless, his hips stuttering beneath her.

Leslie’s nails bit into his shoulders as she felt him swell inside her, his breath ragged against her throat. *“That’s it,”* she coaxed, arching her back to take him deeper, the bullet’s relentless buzz pushing her toward the edge. His hips jerked—unpracticed, frantic—as his cock twitched, and she moaned as the first hot pulse of his release spilled into her, his virgin seed filling her in thick, **** spurts.

She clenched around him, milking every drop, her own climax cresting as his fingers dug into her hips.

Leslie’s back arched as the waiter’s fingers dug into her hips, his release still pulsing inside her while the bullet’s vibrations sent shockwaves through her core. She gasped—sharp, ragged—as her own climax tore through her, thighs clamping around him as she rode out the tremors, her cunt fluttering around his oversensitive cock. His moan was broken, half-pained, as she ground down one last time, milking him until his hips twitched in helpless overstimulation.

The air between them was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, his chest heaving beneath her palms as she finally stilled, her breath hot against his throat.

Leslie’s breath hitched as the vibrations inside her suddenly cut off—Craig’s doing, no doubt, his smirk practically audible from the other side of the restaurant. The abrupt absence of the bullet’s buzz left her clenching around nothing, the waiter’s softening cock still buried deep as she shuddered through the aftershocks. His fingers flexed against her thighs, dazed and slack, his lips parted around a weak gasp when she shifted, the slick slide of him pulling a whimper from his throat.

*“Sensitive?”* she teased, rolling her hips just to watch his lashes flutter, his overspent body jerking beneath her.

Leslie’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she leaned forward, her heavy breasts pressing against the waiter’s parted lips. His breath hitched, warm and uneven against her skin, as she rolled her hips in slow, torturous circles—just enough to make his oversensitive cock twitch inside her.

*“Open,”* she murmured, thumbing his lower lip before pushing her nipple past his teeth. His tongue flicked instinctively, wet and clumsy, as she ground down harder, the slick drag of her still-throbbing cunt wringing a broken groan from him.

Leslie rose with a slow, deliberate motion, the waiter’s spent cock slipping free of her with a lewd *pop*, his seed glistening at her thighs as she stepped back. His breath shuddered out—half relief, half protest—as she pulled her panties back in place and smoothed her skirt down, the damp lace of her thong clinging to her flushed skin. His fingers twitched against the storage room shelves, his chest still heaving, lips swollen where he’d bitten them to stifle his whimpers.

She tilted his chin up with two fingers, her thumb smearing a drop of sweat from his jaw. *“Still breathing?”* she teased, her voice low and smoke-rough.

The waiter’s lips trembled as he blinked up at her, his voice hoarse and wrecked. *“Th-thank you, ma’am.”*

Leslie’s fingers trailed from his jaw to his bottom lip, pressing down just enough to feel the damp heat of his breath. *“You’re welcome it was my pleasure”

she murmured, thumb dragging slowly across his mouth before pulling away. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his thighs still splayed where she’d left them, the fabric of his slacks clinging to the damp evidence of their encounter. Behind them, the storage room door creaked.

Leslie’s fingers lingered a heartbeat longer on the waiter’s swollen lips before she turned toward the sound, her hips swaying with deliberate slowness as she stepped over a toppled sack of flour. The door groaned wider, revealing the dim glow of the dining room—and the muffled, wet sounds of lips working flesh. Leslie returned to there table to find a surprise.