Pete, the hunky waiter

You decide to play with Pete, the studly college-age waiter. As the conversation ebbs and flows around you at the table, you begin to tune it out and focus on the waiter each time he stops by the table. The first time he visits he asks if you want a refill on your white wine. You request a bit more and place your hand on his as he pours it. He nearly overfills the glass he is so intently staring into your big blue eyes.

You giggle and pick up the glass.

"Thank you, Peter," you say and sip from it.

Your face feels hot from all the ****, but the fire is burning twice as hot in your tummy and down to your increasingly wet cunny. You watch Pete moving from table to table, flirting politely with the wives of senior citizens, and all you can picture is him holding your hips and filling you with a huge cock.

After several more loud jokes from Mr. Crassle, your wine glass is almost empty. Ever the attentive server, Pete hurries over with the chilled bottle currently open for your table. He stands close to you, so close he can see down the modest neck of your summer dress. As he tips the mouth of the bottle to your glass you move your elbow carefully against the lump of his crotch.

The contact is only a faint brush of your elbow against his cock. You move your arm again, pressing enough to detect the hard resistance to your elbow. This blatant touching surprises poor Pete and he jerks the bottle, spilling a full glug of the wine into your lap.

You squeal in real shock at the feel of the cold wine soaking through your dress.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry!" He declares.

"It's so cold!" You hiss. "Ahhh!"

You squirm in your chair as Pete attempts to delicately dab at your wet legs with a cloth napkin.

"I've got to clean this up," you say, pushing his hand away and standing up.

"I can, uh," he stammers, looking at the now almost-transparent fabric of your dress.

"Show me where you have some towels or something," you bluster and drag him by the elbow away from the table.

"Joy!" Mr. Wood calls as he stands up from his chair.

You stop in your tracks and look back.

"Do you want me to come help?" He asks, looking a bit concerned.

The older man would certainly spoil any attempts at fun with Pete, the waiter. On the other hand, despite what Mr. Wood said earlier about an open relationship, you feel a little guilty about trying to get busy with one of the waiters. After all, you're sort of on a date with Mr. Wood.

Despite your heavily intoxicated state, you have a difficult decision to make. Stay true to Mr. Wood or try to get your rocks off with the hunky waiter.