Monday, April 03, 2006
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."
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."
