Conversation

As we approach the truck, I notice that you have parked just within the view of anyone who might be looking out the window in our direction.

Rather than opening my door for me, you bring me around to the driver's side of the truck and unlock the door. "After I get in, you will arrange yourself to receive your punishment."

Eventually the waiter brings us the bill, and you whip out a credit card which he takes up to the cashier.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" "It will be all right. I don't plan on coming back here again."

You leave a huge tip, and after your card is returned, you sign the bill and send me off to use the ladies room before we get on the road again. I stay in there long enough for my face to stop being red, and a woman comes in and tells me that there is someone waiting who wants to know if I am all right.

I leave then, half expecting you to be waiting outside the door. But you're near the entrance, looking my way, and as I approach you remind me that I have some punishment coming, and that keeping you waiting only adds to the punishment to come.

You put your arm around me as we go through the door, and you take my hand and twist my arm behind my back as we walk through the parking lot. Not enough that it hurts, just enough that I know you could make it hurt with very little effort.

I'm beginning to worry about that punishment to come, and to regret having left my shoe where the waiter had to retrieve it for me.

"Oops," I say as I settle into my seat. "What's wrong?" "I seem to have lost a shoe under the table."

The waiter sighs (loudly) and crouches down to find my shoe. He replaces it on my foot and says, "Do me a favor. If you ever decide to come back here, come at dinner time. Then you'll be somebody else's problem."

You agree that this might be best, and the waiter leaves us to finish our dessert.

"That was a very naughty thing you did just now." "What? Losing my shoe?" "That too, although I had something else in mind."

"Well, then I guess you'll just have to punish me, won't you?"

The waiter goes to attend to another table, as I attend to your needs. I take you all the way into my mouth, licking and sucking as I move my head to fuck you with my mouth. I can feel that you are on the verge, when there comes an interruption.

"Um, Sir?" "Yes?" "You might want to watch your facial expressions - the elderly couple at the table over there is certain there are two pairs of shoes under your table, and they are distressed by the thought that you might be getting a little something extra with your lunch. You might want to figure out exactly how she's going to get back into her seat without alerting the entire place to your activities."

As I watch his feet move away from the table, your cock still in my mouth, you whisper to me that he knows (as if I hadn't figured that out!) and that we will need to wrap things up quickly. I add a hand, masturbating you while I suck you off, and very soon you seem to be on the verge once more. I'm just about to take a break and relax my jaw when you start to cum.

I make certain that none of your cum drips on the floor or onto your pants, and you prepare to receive the dessert you've ordered. You request that the waiter stand beside you as I move quickly back up into my seat.

You smie and remind me that I need to drink more of my tea in order for the ladies room excuse to appear valid. I gulp down about half the glass, whisper in your ear that I will need to use the facilities before we leave, and slip quietly back under the table.

I've been stroking your cock all through dinner, and as I crawl between your legs I can see that the very idea of this has made you as hard as I've ever seen. I reach out with just the tip of my tongue and lick the head of your cock very softly. I then take my hair and wrap it in the hand that is stroking you so that I am jerking you off with my hair while I lick you softly, then more seriously, under the table.

I take the head of your cock into my mouth, and I feel you start to quiver. This is as interesting to you as it is to me... we're both enjoying this dinner.

The waiter comes over to refill my tea, and asks you if we will require any dessert. "Yes, I think we will share this cake that requires a twenty minute notice. That way she'll have the chance to finish what she's doing before the dessert arrives."

The waiter nods and walks away, and as I watch his retreating steps from under the table I think to myself that this doesn't look as though it will take twenty minutes. In fact, when I let go of you and take your cock all the way into my mouth, I can feel you start to quiver. You're as excited as I am. I love the way you taste, and the combination of you, the iced tea and the risotto is almost more than I can take.

I contemplate using my other hand to masturbate while I'm sucking you off, but you have said I'm not to have that sort of relief just yet, so I just hang on to your leg and keep licking your cock as though it was an ice cream cone that I didn't want to melt in my hand.

I peek out from under the tablecloth as I prepare to retake my seat, napkin safely in hand, when I see that the waiter has arrived to refill Master's coffee. I hurridly climb back into my seat and wave my napkin like a victory flag. "I got it!"

"I'm glad you were able to find it. It looked for a while as though you were going to have to finish your lunch without it. And that would mean no dessert."

Well, that is the last thing I want at this point, so I make an obvious effort to hang on to the napkin as I finish my rice. I take a sip of tea, indicating that I am done with my entree, and the waiter sweeps the plate from in front of me.

"So?" "What is it you want, Pet? Another chance to slip away under the table? A chance to curl up at your Master's feet, perhaps? Or something else entirely?"

"I'd like the chance to help you finish before we get back on the road."

I see the twinkle creep into your eyes, and I know you mean more than your lasagne. So I try very hard to keep eating while I explore inside your pants with the fingers of my other hand. It feels a little bit like a game now... how far can I go before you stop me?

How far can I go before you can't stop, no matter what you say to me?

Then I feel your fingers close around my wrist. You've caught me at my game, and are taking control of how far I can push before I finish my lunch. I smile up at you, and you grin, knowing that even though the game was fun, having you take charge is far more important to me.

I've almost finished my risotto when I actually do drop my napkin. I request and receive permission to retrieve it from under the table, and while I'm under there I take a chance and reach out with my tongue to flick the head of your cock. Once, twice... and then the fingers close tighter around my wrist and I know it isn't time just yet.

The risoto is wonderful, and as I begin eating I find that I do have a bit of an appetite, but I'm still distracted by what's going on under the table. I lose track of what I'm doing and wind up dropping some of the rice from my fork onto the tablecloth. You give me that look, and I hurridly clean up my mess and promise myself that I'll keep at least half my brain working on the meal while the rest of it is enjoying fondling you under the tablecloth.

I can feel that you've reached the apex of your erection, and I begin stroking you with my right hand as I try (and believe me it is difficult) not to spill anything with my left. I look you in the eye, asking permission without speaking, and your response disappoints me once again.

"You aren't eating. We can't get anything else accomplished until you have finished your meal. And you'd better hurry up, because it won't do for me to finish first."