After a few minutes of fidgeting, I realized that my bikini bottoms were half-soaked with honey. Happy to get up from the torturous pressure of the seat against the plug, I found the stairs down to the beach.
When I waded into the sea, I washed the pussy drool out of my pants, but the lapping waves just made my core hotter. Every step I took, every wave that shifted my balance, the buttplug reminded me of its presence. I wanted with every fiber of my being to finger myself, to just say the words, just get a little relief.
But I didn’t. I wouldn’t. It was a long afternoon.
I made myself stay out on the beach for several hours, tormented every second of them. Finally, I went inside and showered.
Laid out on the bed in my room was a very classically styled “little black dress” and lacy black underwear; on the floor, a pair of black heels. I dressed and sat on the edge of the huge metal bondage bed to wait.
Finally–finally–Rusty knocked, and I jumped up to answer. I opened the door, and there he was: a grinning, cocky, sandy-haired mass of muscles, scars, and gritty charm.
“Hey, doll,” he said. He was wearing grey slacks and a black shirt unbuttoned enough to show his sandy chest hair.
“Hi,” I said, diffidently, but it was like I was pulled directly out the door and into him, my hands going to his heavily muscled chest as if drawn there by a magnet. “Hi,” I said again, looking up at him.
“You look great, doll,” he said. “Let’s go.”
He led me down to the dock where his boat was tied up. Lifting me onto it, he somehow managed to twang the buttplug with a finger. “OH!” I yelped, and he grinned.
It was only about ten minutes to a dock by a restaurant on Taveuni. As I climbed the stairs to the deck, I was intensely aware of the buttplug with every step.
We waited a few moments for a hostess, who led us to a table. Rusty held my chair for me to be seated. Gingerly, I lowered myself onto the plug, fighting the raging desire to cum. I felt as if I were sitting on a live hand grenade.
Rusty ordered drinks and asked the server to give us some time with the menu. Then he gave me a long, slow once-over.
“Trash,” he said.
I gritted my teeth, bracing myself. “Yes, sir,” I replied, immediately feeling my need to cum double.
He reached across the table to touch my hand. “You look like you’re wound a little tight,” he said.
I nodded stiffly, hoping he wouldn’t expect me to say the words again.
“Maybe you need a little something to take the edge off, hmm?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, “yes, s…yes, please,” I stammered.
“Okay,” he said, and leaned back in his chair, looking around the restaurant. After a few moments–that I spent fidgeting atop my buttplug–he said, “Okay.”
Leaning toward me, he laid something on the table and pushed it across to me. It was a folded $100 bill. “Take this,” he said. I did. “See that young guy over there at the cash register?” I looked, and saw a tall twenty-something standing behind a counter in front of the entryway.
“Give this to him,” Rusty said conspiratorially. “Tell him you have to suck his dick. Get behind the counter and suck him off.”
I might have said something like, “You want me to do what?” and made him repeat his instructions, but I didn’t expect he’d be very impressed with that sort of pretense. So, I picked up the money and approached the unsuspecting young man.
He was a tall, slender young guy, maybe twenty or a little older, with dark hair and a tentative attitude. “Hi,” I said.
“Uh, hi,” he replied.
“Um, I have to ask a favor,” I said, putting on a bit of shyness.
“Uh, I’m not supposed to…,” he began, then I placed the hundred on the counter, mostly covered by my hand. “Uh,” he said.
I decided to take the direct approach. “This is yours,” I said. “You just have to follow my lead for the next ten minutes, okay?”
“Uh … okay,” he said.
Quickly, I slipped behind the counter, dropping to my knees in front of him, shuffling under the counter as much as I could to avoid being seen by other customers.
“Uh, what…?” he blurted, as I unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. I unzipped him and pulled his underwear down in front. “Uh, lady, are you sure…,” he said, then his half-hard cock popped out.
It was longer than I’d expected, and skinny. The shaft was very pale, and the head was pink. I put it in my mouth and tongued it. The guy grunted.
Just as his dick had gotten nice and hard, I heard a bell ding; the front door opened, and a group of customers entered. My heart raced as I thought how easy it would be for someone to catch a glimpse of my blond head bobbing up and down just below the edge of the counter.
“Welcome to…urgh, Sammy’s,” he said. I wrapped my hand around his shaft and gave a light squeeze, tasting the slick drop of cock juice that oozed onto my tongue. “Ugh…a hostess will seat you in…ahh, just a minute,” the guy managed.
I settled into the breath rhythm Demarcus had taught me, and in moments my mouth was flooded with spit. I licked the slim cock all over, getting every inch wet, then stroked it while I sucked the head. My other hand crept beneath my skirt and down the front of my panties.
“How was, uhh…you, your, uh, everything?” Stammered the guy, and I realized some diners had stopped on their way out to settle their bill. I shifted my hand to cup his balls and pushed his cock to the back of my mouth, wiggling my tongue furiously against the underside. “Ahh! Thank, thank you, come … again.”
I slid my lips back up to the head of his dick and let my tongue dance against the tip as I stroked his shaft vigorously. Inside my panties, my fingers pressed between my folds, seeking my nubbin.
Cupping the guy’s balls again, I leaned into him, forcing his long, skinny member past my tonsils and down my throat a little. “Ugck,” I gagged, and did it several more times, gagging myself as quietly as I could, then pulled him out, coughing up a glob of foamy goo. I spit it on his cock and stroked him, rubbing it all over his stalk and flicking his tiny slit rapidly with the tip of my tongue.
“…ah, shit…,” he whispered. My middle finger found my clit and pressed it lightly, and something like an electric shock jolted through my body.
“Mmmm,” I moaned around his cock, and shoved it roughly down my throat, squeezing his nuts and fingering my nub madly. “Guck…ugk, glurk,” I grunted.
“…fuck,” he groaned, “fuck, lady, I’m gonna….” His cock expanded inside my mouth, the inch or so I had down my throat swelling so it felt like a tennis ball lodged in there.
I pressed down on my clit and thought, “Yes, sir…yes, sir…,” and his cock exploded down my throat, spurting stream after stream of cum into me. At the same instant, my pussy erupted in an orgasm that shook me so hard I had to fight to remain concealed and not to bite him.
He started to pull away when his ejaculation was finished, but I grabbed his butt and held him where he was until his cock softened. I took my hand out of my panties and let him slip out of my mouth.
I examined him for stray drops of semen, but it looked like all of it had gone straight into my belly. I squeezed him slowly, from base to tip, and one last thick dollop of cum oozed out. I licked it up, then sucked his head for a moment to make sure none was left.
Finally, with a sigh, I kissed his cock and tucked it back into his drawers, zipping and buttoning him back up tenderly. With one last caress of his penis through his pants, I stood up and slipped back around to the public side of the counter.
I smiled at the guy and licked my lips slowly. “Thank you, I needed that.”
He goggled at me in shock and muttered, “…thank, uh, thank you…come again…er, um, that is…enjoy your meal…I mean, uh….”
I patted his hand and strutted back to our table, the buttplug no longer feeling like such an intrusive presence, but more of a sexy turn-on. I sat down and smiled at Rusty, shifting my hips so I was sitting directly on top of it, shoving it deep inside my ass.
“Feel better?” Rusty asked, reaching across to thumb a drop of cum from the corner of my mouth. He showed it to me, and I stuck out my tongue. He wiped his finger off on it, and I kept it stuck out at him for a moment before eating the cum.
“Mmm,” I said, “yes, thank you, Rusty.” I glanced over at the counter guy, who stared back, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.
Rusty took up the menu and handed me one, but I just smiled and shook my head slightly. “You order for me,” I said. He grinned and did so, ordering me a salad and something French-sounding that tasted like butter and heaven.
He also ordered a bottle of red wine and kept filling my glass so that, by the end of the meal, I had guzzled down more than half the bottle by myself, and I was feeling decidedly festive.
I clung unsteadily to his arm as we left the restaurant. “Thank you, come…er, again,” said the counter guy, and I gave him a smile that made him turn bright red. Rusty grinned at him and gave him a thumbs-up as he led me out the door.
“I think that young fellow has fallen in love with you,” Rusty wisecracked as he all but carried me down the stairs to the dock.
“Nah,” I replied, “he jusht likes my, um, face hole, heehee.”
Rusty guffawed and lifted me onto the boat, where I stayed on my hands and knees because I wasn’t sure I could keep my balance if I tried to stand up on the rocking deck. He climbed up and helped me into the leather chair next to the steering wheel, then started the engine and cast off.
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