The Server
They were my Friday night regulars. For the past nine months, without fail. A table of three, husband, wife and teenage son. Mark, Jo, and the little shit. Mark had that sharp, useless look about him, so I assumed he was a lawyer. Jo was sexy and elegant, but looked as though she hadn’t felt that way for years. He was probably busy litigating his paralegal or dictating his PA. Most likely both. They barely spoke, and when they did there was a sense of distance between them that only time or hurt could have instilled. But she was stunning. Every time I saw her my heart raced and a rush of blood went straight to my cock. I caught myself glancing at her when perhaps I shouldn’t, but Mark's head was always in his phone and he barely noticed her, let alone me.
Jo hadn’t felt my eyes, so no lines had been crossed. Yet. Our interactions were all above board. I was friendly without being overly flirty. I’d read them the specials, get them their drinks, Negroni for him, glass of Prosecco for her, without being asked. She appreciated the attention to detail. I could sense it. I’d look at what she was wearing. Always in black or white. Never any color. Always so well put together. Classy, never slutty. I knew she was a regular at the Pilates next door. I’d watch her go in, all serious looking, almost sad, and I’d notice the softer expression and glimmer of a smile after an hour of stretching, sweating. Even to Pilates, always in black. My mind would wonder and wander. Was she mourning the death of her marriage? Their sex life? His lifeless cock?
Jo had infiltrated my mind. I hid my desire like the full moon hidden beneath a billow of clouds, but it was real. When I looked at her I wanted to do bad things. Mark had neglected her needs, and I wanted to satisfy them. I imagined what their bedroom would look like. Decadent and luxurious. Silk sheets and decorative pillows. Mark would have a reading chair in the corner of the room, facing the king size bed where little to no love was being made. That’s where we’d tie him up. In the corner, to that big luxurious chair. We’d gag him with one of his fancy Italian ties. He’d be helpless, forced to watch every second as I’d show him how his wife deserved to be treated, held, and fucked.
Jo and I would stand in front of him, fully clothed. She’d slowly undress me. Gazing deep into my dark, eager eyes. Undoing every button with delicate care, then peeling off my shirt exposing my olive skin to helpless Mark. My young, hard body would make him jealous. He’d instantly regret the hours he’d spent behind a desk compared to the hours I’d spent in the gym. Jo’s touch was gentle yet firm. Running her fingers over my strong arms, her manicured nails down my triceps, past my forearms all the way to my fingers. She’d hold my hand as she looked at Mark, shake her head then continue with the unveiling. Next she would unbutton my jeans. One by one, until I was fully exposed to his eyes. Savoring the unveiling, she’d fall to her knees, one hand caressing my chiseled chest, one hand on my ass. Her warm breath bringing my aching cock to attention. Even without her touch, I would be ready. She’d press her lips on my stomach and look up at me, turn me sideways so that my profile was in Mark's line of sight. She’d want him to see the very second her lips touched my cock. She’d make eye contact with him, take her hungry mouth and gently, sensually lick the tip. I would already be dripping precum. Nine months of anticipation will do that. She’d use her tongue and make little circles, then she’d take my hand, and put it on the back of her head, look up at me and with her sultry eyes, give me permission to fuck her beautiful face.
I’d pull her down inch by inch, till she took all of me. She’d look over at Mark, mouth full, eyes starting to water and wink, before really going to work. She’d gag and slurp on my cock like it was the last dick she would ever suck. Skilfully go from taking it all, to licking the tip, and back again. She’d make her way down to my balls while stroking me with her hand. Burying her face behind them, her strong tongue exploring my darkest hole. Rubbing my precum over the tip, like it was lube, bringing me to the edge of orgasm, then slowing right down, prolonging my pleasure.
No longer on her knees, she’d look over at Mark. Then move closer to me. I was tall, muscular. Jo was tiny. Petite but curvy. Soft brown eyes that tried to hide her pain. Full lips that drew me in whenever she spoke. Her long night dress would drop to the floor before our eyes, exposing her full bush, blonde and soft, like the hair on her head. Her pink lips glistening, moist in anticipation. I would run my eyes over her naked body. My heart racing but my body calm. She’d take my hand and lead me to their bed, lay me down, all the while making sure her neglectful husband could see her face. She'd get on top, and slowly slide her wet, pink lips over my olive skin. Rubbing her throbbing clit over the shaft of my cock for a few seconds, as she continued north, over my tummy, up my chest until her knees were near my shoulders, her luscious thighs flanking my face. Her pussy just out of reach of my tongue. I could smell her wetness. Her gaze shared between my eyes and Mark’s.
Then she’d grab my head and slowly lower herself onto my mouth and begin to grind all over me. Warm and wet, I would do as she pleased. I would be helpless, my lips and tongue at her will. I’d battle for air as she smothered my smiling face, using one hand to caress her body, the other pulling her as close to me as physically possible. Feeling her breath get heavier, her heart racing. She’d use my face to bring herself to the edge and then slow right down. Again, delayed gratification. She’d slide her body back down mine, and make eye contact with helpless Mark as she’d whisper filth in my ear—“Fill me with your cock, fill me with your cum.”
She’d still be in control, positioning her clit on the tip, rubbing her wet lips over my shaft, teasing, taunting, until she was ready. Making eye contact with Mark, she’d slowly lower herself down. She’d be wet and creamy, skillfully find her spot and then use my body as a way to punish him for all his neglect and indiscretions. I’d love every second. Riding me slowly, her breath would get heavier and heavier, I’d caress her back and brush her nipples with the small of my palm. As she’d speed up, my touch would grow firmer, I’d take one hand and wrap it around her throat as her orgasm felt nearer, the other pulling her hips down onto me. Giving her no escape. There would be no delayed gratification this time. I’d hold her in place and make her cum all over me. Once she let go, the wave of emotion would be too much, that pent up resentment, the confusion and anger would be overwhelming, her pussy would flow and so would the tears. I’d hold her as long as she needed. I think that’s all Jo needed. To be seen, fucked right, then held.