Creme Brulee


As far as crème brûlée goes, it was quite nice. A petite serving, it was probably intended for a single diner, but it was the ideal choice for sharing. The top was perfectly done, thin and wafery, sitting atop a thin custard that was smooth and delicious. Very smooth. Very delicious.

As we finish the crème brûlée, I become, again, acutely aware of our proximity. We are sitting on a bench seat with our backs to a wall. She is comfortably pressed against me, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. At times I put my arm behind her to lean forward. She has a laptop out and is marking shots she likes from earlier in the day. There are a lot she likes, and I am pleased.

Yes, I am like every other photographer who extends approval of their images to suggest approval of me. She sits against me, comfortably, like its where she wants to be.

She is petite, and she pushes against me ever so slightly as we sit together. I am … not petite, and I must lean over to hear her clearly in the noisy café. It’s a natural reason for me to put my arm on the seat behind her.

Then, when I sit up, I let my arm fall to her waist. I am like a teenager again, trying to get my arm around this amazing girl without having her pull away. But I am not a teen, and this amazing woman doesn’t pull away. I am elated.

I don’t want to move for fear that this moment will pass. The server returns to the table and offers to take our picture. As the camera is lined up, and we lean into each other even more, my hand falls from her back to her hip.

I want to make her smile – that smile that stole my heart just hours before. Again, the school boy runs the bases: I moved my hand, reaching for her. Her minidress is short and has ridden up on her deliciously. As my hand slides down, my palm conforms to the curve of her hip.

My hand is large, and my fingertips reach the elevated hem of her dress and the silk of her thigh. No reaction, at all, no protestation to halt my advance, so I do no halt. The feel of her thigh is exquisite and electric.

As my hand moves it comes in contact with more of her, until my entire hand rests directly on the bare skin of her leg. I let my hand rest there for the moment. She is cool, no sign of acknowledgement, or of protest. We converse lightly, and smile for the camera as if we are not conscious of what’s happening under the table. But we are both very aware. The shot taken, the server gone, my hand begins to move.

My fingertips drag across her thigh, pulling the hem of her dress higher. I slide my hand down her leg again, and again, each time pulling the hem higher. Now as I pull, my hand moves to brush her inner thigh. She doesn’t move as I lightly run my fingertips up and down the impossible smoothness of her inner thigh. I glance her other thigh, my fingertips now tracing slowly up both legs

My pulse is picking up, and my respiration increasing, but she is cool, neither encouraging nor protesting. She knows what I am doing under the table, and can easily guess my intentions. I make no pretense now. As I move my hand on the next stroke of her thighs, my fingertips press gently to make a space where there was none moments before. Slowly I slide my hand up, my fingertips tracing the her legs. This time I don’t stop – I let my fingertips continue their light touch as two thighs become one body.

A reaction from her now, very slight, but I am waiting for it. My hand slides down again to make another pass, this time pressing slightly as I drag my bakırköy masöz escort fingertips up and across her freshly shaven skin. She reacts again: she takes an involuntary breath, and her head tilts back slightly as her lips part ever so slightly.

Again, my fingertips caress her thigh as my hand slides down. She feels my light touch as my fingertips linger for a moment. She quickly glances at me, the only sign of encouragement I’ll get, and need. As I stroke her inner thigh again, she closes her eyes and lets out a nearly inaudible sound of acquiescence.

She is breathing now, heavily, and I can feel the change in her body. I become aware of a pronounced change in my body as well, but I keep my focus on the tips of my fingers gently stroking her inner thighs, high and higher on her leg. I feel her shifting now on the bench seat. She arches her back ever so slightly, turns her hips to her right just a bit, and leans back against me. My arm is long, long enough to easily reach what I want. As my hand slides up her inner right thigh, I pull it gently away from her left. It is pressure enough; she moves her leg easily.

I start at the knee now, and my fingertips now graze her inner thigh fully. She bends her back just a bit more, and I feel the weight of her left leg settle across my right. Her flexibility is remarkable, and enticing. I wonder just how flexible she is, and make a mental note to look into that further. My fingertips slow as they near her warmth, but now she presses her back against me, and rotates her hips to narrow the frustrating margin.

Her lips part slightly. I can see the glare of our table light as it reflects off her glossy red lips, and between them, the tip of her tongue. She presses her hips up and lets out a barely audible whimper as she feels my fingertips closer now. Her hands rest on the table. She wants to let them fly beneath the table, pulling my hand to meet her, but she knows not to move them. She relishes the delicious torture for the moment, letting the tension build, gifting me the pleasure of releasing it when I am ready.

As much as she aches for my touch to set her free, she knows I too am suffering in sweet anticipation, and she likes it. She breathes deeply through her open mouth, but now her lips show a hint of a smile, and her beautiful eyes now have a gleam in them. She wants, but it is not her way to say so. Not yet. She will wait me out, enduring the sweet anticipation as she knows I will not delay much longer. She is right. My hunger is growing quickly now, and my resolve is eroding.

My left hand comes down off the table now, brushes her left leg, then lands on her left rib cage. It does not linger long, but instead moves up to find her breast. I lift and gently squeeze, with my fingers finding her hard nipple. She lets out a sharp breath that turns into a quiet moan.

Her hips roll again towards my right hand, as her head tilts back against me. She trembles now, the pressure coming from deep in her core to feed the heat my fingers are so agonizingly close to finding. My lips graze ear as I whisper to her.

“Do you want me to stop?” She rolls her hips again, as if to show me her answer. I am not so easily appeased. “Tell me.” She glances back at me, her forehead furrowed, and her lips in a pout. She is adorable as she whispers in a questioning tone.

“Please?” I squeeze her breast more firmly, and move my other hand slightly as I repeat myself. bakırköy otele gelen escort

“Tell me.” This time she responds with a long pleading groan.


The touch is electrifying, sending shockwaves to every nerve in her body. The fabulously toned muscles in her legs spasm, and her upper body presses back against me involuntarily. She takes in a sharp breath, then holds it. My fingertip gently parts her folds, registering how wet she is, as it moves to ever-so-gently drag across her clit.

At the same instant, she lets out her held breath in a low, soft groan emanating from her core. With her hands grabbing the white linen tablecloth in bunches, she uses the last of her exhalation.

“Oh yesss.”

She starts to whimper as I gently brush back and forth over her clit.

My fingers find her even wetter now, and I rub back and forth spreading her wetness across her heat. A finger probes, and easily slides into her pussy. We’ll take our time later – for now, all I want to do is get her off, feel her tremble from my touch, feel her body shudder with waves of climax, and feel her delicious wetness as she comes all over my fingers.

I work the lone finger in and out, then add a second, followed soon by a third. She is tight, but slick and my fingers work her easily. Her hips buck as she grinds on my hand, trying to go faster. After some teasing hesitation, I comply.

My fingers work her quickly now. She keeps her hands on the table, with the tablecloth taking the brunt of her frustration. She won’t speak, but her gentle whimpers and moans guide me…and captivate me. I see her eyes, looking up at me, at one moment distant, and the next locked on to my own. Her face wears the frown of frustration, but I know she relishes it.

I am struck at that moment by how beautiful she is. Her eyes are large and a vivid shade of brown. Her lips are parted slightly, and they invite a passionate kiss. In a moment…first, I kiss her lightly on the neck. She bends her head to the side to invite more of the same. I oblige, kissing, then licking her neck as my fingers work her sweet pussy. I move my fingers in unison to my tongue on her neck, and if the two were connected.

The moment takes a turn when our server approaches the table with her eyes diverted. From her station at the table I am certain she can see my hand. She blushes, then puts a small dish on the table directly in front of us, and in a hushed tone says “Stay as long as you’d like.”

The server retreated to the shadows of the restaurant, but we could feel her eyes still on us. I continued to enjoy touching her; she continues to enjoy being touched. I wonder for a moment off this is how her love would touch her. Its not a competitive thought – I want to please her, as I am certain her love pleases her.

Every muscle in my body now surges with anticipation, every cell in my brain is filled with desire for her, every beat of my heart resonates with genuine affection for this captivating woman. I feel her body start to tense as I continue working my fingers in and out of her wet pussy.

She is beautiful, she is erotic, she is mine for a very precious moment. I lean forward, his her neck, and then bring my lips to her ears and whisper to her.

“Come for me.”

She quickens the pace, and I match it. As we near the point of no return, both of us struggle to keep at least facade of composure. I look bakırköy rus escort up briefly, and notice the server across the cafe. She is mostly hidden in the dark, but even in the shadows I can tell she is watching us. Her mouth is open, and she’s breathing heavily.

I cannot see below her waist, but it is clear she is enjoying herself. I look her in the eyes; she is looking right back at mine. Then she glances to the side, to watch the object of my obsession writhe at my hand.

I whisper in her ear. “She’s watching you.”

She glances in the direction of the server who is now staring back at you, her tongue slowly tracing her lips. I feel her shudder, hear her soft moan.

Her nipples are hard, pushing against the fabric of your dress. I want to kiss them, run my tongue across them, take them in my mouth, but that will have to wait for later. For now, the thought gets me so hard I ache. I press myself against her leg, and slowly withdraw my soaked fingers from her pussy.

My fingertips gently wander around the most beautiful pussy I have ever seen, so perfect and delicious. I follow the trail of her wetness as it runs down from her pussy to disappear between the sculpted cheeks. My fingertips brush across her ass, spreading her wetness as they tease her.

The cafe is largely empty, and the music is fairly loud, but I become aware that her moans are becoming more intense. Beads of salty perspiration have formed on her brow, and her eyes are closed. She is lost in the impending tidal wave of ecstasy.

Her moans start to form words – she whispers repeatedly. “Please!”

I will deny this woman nothing. She has asked, and I am committed to delivering with everything that I am.

My left hand moves to her breast and squeezes, while my right rubs the length of her wet pussy. I press three fingers into her, as deep as they will go, as my thumb finds her swollen clit. I thrust my fingers in and out of her tightness, as my thumb flicks back and forth across her clit. Faster and faster I go, hard and harder I squeeze.

Her mouth is open now, as she breathes in gasps. Her hips buck in counter rhythm to my hand, accentuating the intensity as we move together. She has stopped her pleading, and her breathing has caught. Her entire body tenses, every muscle flexed, and nerve on fire, every sense at its maximum.

She shudders, then her whole body starts trembling as the pressure builds from her core again. She has transformed into an entirely physical being for the moment, having no free will, a slave to the heat within her heaving body. I feel her tense even more, just for a moment, before her fists grab the tablecloth, and she presses her back hard against me.

From deep within her the moan starts, quietly, then louder as her trembling intensifies. She throws her head back, arches her back, and grinds her pussy against my hand as the waves of orgasm begin. My hand is soaked with her wetness, and I can hear as my fingers work her pussy.

I hold her body against mine, press my granite against her leg, and watch her face as she relishes the intense orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over her, as I slow my hand, and ease the pressure holding her.

Her breathing starts to settle down, the rodeo in her hips subsides, and her moans turn to purrs. She slowly opens her eyes to see mine, and I slowly lean down and kiss her gently, kindly, passionately.

I hold her against me, gently, warmly. We sit together until our breathing settles down, and we become aware once again of our surroundings. We look on the table, and see the dish placed earlier by the server. It was another crème brûlée. On the bill she had crossed out the total and written a hasty note.

“N/C, please stay as long as you’d like. Come again!”

The night is still young – I believe she will!

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