"Drop" the fork

You answer Mr. Crassle by slowly and deliberately pushing your salad fork off the table cloth and onto the floor. It bounces beneath the table on the carpeting.

"Oopsy," you say in a sultry voice, "I seem to have dropped my fork."

Mr. Crassle has the idea immediately.

"I suppose you'll need to go down there and get it," he says with a knowing smile plastered on his tanned face.

You wink and slide smoothly off of your chair and onto your hands and knees next to him. You crawl beneath the white tablecloth so that your upper body is under table and your ass and legs are still sticking out. You stay there for a moment and let your summer dress ride up your thighs.

You lean down and lower your head to the carpet, knowing from the cool air on your ass that your white cotton panties are visible to Mr. Crassle. You wiggle your ass a little bit, squeezing your pussy lips together to create a very pronounced cameltoe. You remain like that for several seconds, giving Mr. Crassle and anyone at the table behind you a clear view of your ass.

"I can't reach it," you announce.

You crawl all the way under the table and the tablecoth falls back into place behind you. It's a dimly lit world of legs and laps beneath the tablecloth. You can see between Mrs. Crassle's stockinged thighs to her silky panties, Mr. Wood's stout legs, and just beside you, Mr. Crassle's lap and the bulge of his erection.

You turn around and crawl between Mr. Crassle's legs. The table is unusually high for a restaurant table, giving you plenty of access to the older man's lap. He scoots his chair in all the way so that his entire lap is available and you immediately take advantage.

Your fingers take hold of his zipper and you tug it up and over the bulge. You reach into the flap of his plaid boxers and slide the meaty length of his prick out. It has a faint semen smell from your encounter in the bathroom, but you are undeterred. You wrap your hands around Mr. Crassle's thick cock and stroke him. Your lips part almost without thinking and your tongue darts out to lap at the ridges of his cockhead.

You release your hold on Mr. Crassle's prick and rest your hands on his legs. You shift your body so that your head is position above his cock in the narrow space between it and the table. You close your lips around the tip and hold him there, gently flicking your tongue against the salty slit of his dick. Slowly, very slowly, you part the warm oval of your lips and lower your mouth around his shaft. When the fat head presses against your throat you swallow it into your esophagus, continuing down until your nose is buried in the musky patch of his pubic hair.

"Ahh-Ahem," Mr. Crassle clears his throat to conceal his groan.

Without gagging, without even really suppressing a gag, you slowly and persistently deepthroat Mr. Crassle's big cock. Your head gently thumps against the table each time you suck your way to the tip of his dick and your hot breath tickles his groin as you slide back down and bury him in your throat. You become lost in the rhythm of sucking his cock, even managing to enjoy the sensation of having your throat filled with his hard meat.

You are so fixated on the act that you are surpised when you realize another pair of legs have appeared next to Mr. Crassle.

"Do you want anymore wine, sir?" Asks a voice that you recognize as the waiter, Pete.

"Ahhhh I, uhhh, Oooh!, I would, yeah," groans Mr. Crassle, struggling to make sense.

"Very good," Pete replies and you can hear the glug of wine being poured as you continue to suck Mr. Crassle.

You speed up your pace, interested to see if Mr. Crassle can deal with the added distraction.

"What about the young lady?" Pete asks.

Mr. crassle was a bit closer than you expected. The words have barely left the waiter's lips when the older man stiffens in your mouth. You pull back to the head and suck until your cheeks hollow around his cockhead. With your hand you stroke his spit-slick shaft.

"Ahhhhhh," Mr. Crassle groans and the first gob of his warm load bursts into your mouth.

You slam your mouth down around him, gulping his cumming dick into your throat and burying your nose in his pubic hair.

"Fuck," Mr. Crassle curses and another spasm rocks his dick and pumps another spurt of semen straight into your throat.

"Sir?" The waiter asks. "Is everything alright?"

Nothing else that makes sense leaves Mr. Crassle's lips as you use your throat muscles to milk spurt after warm spurt of cum from his cock. The thick load disappears into your tummy, made all the thicker and more substantial by the intense pleasure of your tight throat on Mr. Crassle's spewing dick. You pull up to take the last few drops in your mouth, savoring the taste as you spit-wash his cockhead.

"Yes," Mr. Crassle is finally able to blurt. "I think she would like some wine."

As Pete pours the wine above you he stands right up against the table. Your twisted eyes immediately see the possibility presented by the standing waiter and the unusually high table. It's a very naughty risk to take, but then again, you're a very naughty girl.