“I know what you’re here about. The cheese man just got done delivering. The rest of the folks won’t be here for another hour. That’s the curse of being the owner.” I watched as he took off his cook’s cap. His shiny black hair picked up the lights from the fluorescent fixtures in the pizza making area. He said, “Let’s sit in the booth and you can make your presentation. I graduated from the U two years ago and look where I am now.”
He gestured to the long, narrow restaurant, barely room for two rows of booths.
The waitresses must have got their asses pinched when they bent over to make a delivery. I started to move into the first booth, but Alfredo had other ideas, he went way to the back and sat facing the windows. I put my book down on the table facing him; he turned it around and gestured for me to sit beside him.
I did, glancing at his pants. He was wearing Chef’s whites, but the pants seemed tighter than you usually saw and what I saw pushing down one leg was enough to give a girl heart failure. He either had a big sock down there or was already hard or… I didn’t dare think about that. Not that I’m opposed to sex, but I don’t think about it very often. I mean, not all the time anyhow like my roommate Dennise the slut. She’s always in some wild thing. She related her, adventure in gelling the spots at the theatre.
Anyway, I looked down into Alfredo’s crotch as he patted the red vinyl seat of the bench. I slid next to him, opening the book and going through the routine about how much good the ad in the Playbill would do for his business. I’d brought up a couple of extra points, about business after the show, since he was only two blocks from the theatre.
When I finished, I couldn’t help but notice that his legs was pressed against mine. He said, “You should have worn a brown belt. That black cuts you in half too much. Both haves are nice.” His long fingers touched the gold buckle and traced around it.
My pussy spasmed. I. mean, while I don’t think about sex all the time, like Dennise, I do think about it. And Alfredo was a handsome man. Older. I like them older. These college guys are all hands and no subtly. I like to be made love to, not pounced on. The Pie in the Sky owner’s fingers touched the bow on my blouse. “Nice touch. Adds softness to your face. You don’t want to look too aggressive. Just competent. Did you see the Opera show where women were complaining about women bosses?”
I nodded mutely. He was at the tip of the bow, near my breasts. “I’m interested in your presentation. But I find you more than attractive. Such lovely eyes.”
I knew it was Latin lover talk, but I fell for it. He was better at his game than I was at mine.
“I’m sure we can arrange something.” His finger crept down blue crepe surface and touched my bra. I closed my eyes and listened to his hypnotic voice. “Yes.
I’m sure something can be arranged.”
I felt the tie untying. Then his fingers were on the buttons of the opening which seemed to melt beneath his fingers. Probably all that pizza flipping. He flipped them open and said, “Such a lovely lady. And,” he leaned forward sniffing. I had on my best perfume… save the worst for football games where the drunks don’t know the difference.
A finger slipped into the opening and ran down to between my cups, then ever their pink satin surface and down again, into my nipples. I could feel his finger massaging. My whole body shivered.
“Yes, I’m sure… “ he took my hand and pushed it down into his lap, close to his cock. I glanced to the side. The cove lighting made his bulge look bigger somehow. My fingers itched to touch his cock, but I held myself a little aloof.
He bent over and kissed me on the gold ball earring, his tongue licking around the edge of my ear. God, I’m a sucker for ear kissers. My hands went into his lap and touched his cock. It wasn’t hard… it wasn’t soft. It certainly was there.
I kneaded his basket as he must have kneaded the dough before he spun the pie.
I wondered how good his sauces would be. As hot and spicy as he was? I kept up my kneading as he kept up his kissing. His hands were down my back now. He didn’t fumble for the catch like that second string quarter back did; Alfredo knew exactly where it was and how to open it. I felt my tits come down a little as my bra slipped inside my blouse. His fingers edged their way around to the front and to the swelling of my tits. He was smooth, this Alfredo. As he kissed and whispered things I don’t even remember; his fingers played with my nipples.
I continued to fondle his cock. It seemed to be firming up, but not growing any longer. Thank god for that. Some of these big ones are just impossible. And the guys are so proud of it. Give me a guy who knows what he’s doing. Alfredo knew more than I’d ever thought possible. His free hand was on my belt buckle, flipping the gold buckle out of the way and pulling on the zipper. Some guys just jam their hands inside your pants and begin to finger flick you before you’re even ready. But not Alfredo. His fingers were gentle as he unzipped me and then pushed his big finger down my pussy lips, plowing them open, but not turning them over. That felt so good I moaned.
He nibbled my ear lobe, played with my nipple and stroked my pussy at the same time. By this time I was shivering. My hands crossed under his elbows to his fly where I found the tab and pulled down. The zipper seemed miles long, maybe as long as his dick felt even.
Then I touched the thing itself. Alfredo, naughty boy that he was, wasn’t wearing any shorts, so I could stroke his dick as soon as I got inside. Yeah, it was a fat one. I went around the deep crown on top and traced a thick vein that zoomed down to the crotch hair. My fingers were feathering that, feeling his rod pump up against my palm as I did so. He was getting harder but not longer. I breathed a second sigh of relief.
Alfredo was licking along my face now and then down into my blouse, opening it with gentle but insistent passion. I felt a wet kiss from his cum eye against my fingers. He was really aroused.
“I wish we could fuck,” he said, a bit wistfully, “but we have no place. The floor is clean, but… ”
I closed my fingers around his cock and began to move my hand up and down his rod as it expanded still more. He kissed my nose and moved away. I looked down.
There it was. The cock of the century, at least my century. The dark skinned beauty was heavily veined with a thick covering of skin, but you could see the hard tube inside. His dickhead was flat but wide. The cum hole looked as if he could spurt gallons. I pulled up on the skin and watched the head go, matt finish; then I pulled down, the glossy knob practically glowed.
“You would like to taste?”
I would like to taste. He scooted over in the booth, raising one leg and putting it behind me so I could have complete access to his crotch. He lifted too while I tugged his whites down. What a marvelous piece Of meat. I bet his Italian sausage wasn’t have so delicious looking nor so tasty. I leaned down, shoving my ass along the booth until I was sticking part of the way into the aisle and bent down.
Did he smell hot. My tongue was practically dripping for a taste of dick, but I kept myself under-control while I licked around the fluffy fuzz of his crotch.
I could feel his dick poking into my chin. I shrugged my blouse open, reached in and lifted at tit out, I used it to touch his cum eye with. He sighed as if he’d taken in about five gallons of air.
My fingers were roaming on his nuts. The pouch was long and droopy. His balls were bigger than eggs and almost as hard. I clinked them together. He sighed some more.
Then he said, “Suck me off, Martina.”
I hefted his sausage one more time, then grabbed it around the base, catching some of the nut-sac at the same time. As leaned in I could smell the flavorful sauce he was making along with a mixture of soap and after shave. The man smell prevailed. I touched just the tip of my tongue to his cum eye. It opened and dropped a clear bead on the end. I slurped that up and closed my lips around his meat. That’s what it was too.