My girlfriends and I are ladies that lunch. We don’t lunch just anywhere, only the most exclusive restaurants that our husbands’ credit cards can afford. So on a warm July day, four stunning creatures arrived at the five star restaurant of the Summer House Hotel.
I suppose you could say that the Summer House is a finishing school for French waiting staff, rumour has it that the students serve there for a year before they are whisked off to the top restaurants and hotels of Paris.
You could say that my friends and I are easy on the eye, and we do like to dress up for any social occasion. The first ten minutes of any get together is like a fashion parade, as we show off our new dresses, shoes, hair styles, make up and accessories; we do tend to draw some attention!
So it was that I drew the attention of a waiter. We made eye contact and I gave him my best pouty smile, and he smiled back generously. I thought that unusual, “don’t they train these people to be a little aloof?
I thought nothing more of it and went back to the girly chat, out coats were taken away and we were shown to our table. Four waiters came to assist us along with a wine waiter and a head waiter.
“Six gorgeous young French men, to serve us four hungry girls,” I said with glee to my friends.
“Oh yes, I can already see what you’re hungry for,” whispered my friend Sylvie, just loud enough for everyone to hear of course, such a trouble maker that one.
Suddenly I felt the slightest of touches on my elbow and I turned around.
“Mademoiselle,” the waiter said, gesturing for me to lower myself onto the chair.
It was him. The waiter that smiled back!
The staff seemed to have had enough of us disrupting every red blooded man in the room. I lowered myself gently into the chair, becoming aware of many eyes burning into my body. Glancing away briefly from my friends I caught the eye of a very glamorous older lady, dining with her husband. I gave her my best warm conciliatory smile, she smiled and winked in my direction.
“Pardon mademoiselle,” I heard my waiter say, as he whisked the napkin off the table and onto my lap.
Did his hand just brush my thigh? I wondered to myself.
“Your menu mademoiselle,” he continued, guiding the menu into my waiting fingers.
His thumb ran over my skin, between my thumb and forefinger. His thumb lingered, just for a moment as our eyes met. I gasped a very quiet breath and thought to myself, “did he just do that?
The menu was in both french and english, for some reason, today, I just couldn’t decide what to order. My mind was racing. I turned to Sylvie and Sarah and huddling behind our menus I whispered, “Are you finding these waiters a little, well, familiar?”
“I’m not,” said Sarah sighing, “But you and Sylvie are receiving a little extra attentiveness, do you think it is because zey are French?” she continued in a mock French accent, to another eruption of raucous laughter.
“Pardon, mademoiselle,” the waiter said again, “Would you like to order?”
“Has everyone already ordered?” I replied.
“Yes,” giggled Maeve, interrupting me, “While you were playing with the staff!”
Maeve had me blushing, luckily, I think her soft Irish lilt was too subtle for the ears of our waiters.
I turned to the waiter and twisting one of my long brown locks between my fingers, I said suggestively, “What do you think I would like?”
“Mademoiselle, I would suggest for you the Moule Mariniere, followed by Thermidor and finished with Crème Boule.”
“Hmm, that’s quite a rich, decadent and creamy suggestion,” I replied flirtily, my bright blue eyes twinkling towards him.
“Absolument mademoiselle,” said the waiter as he gestured toward my menu, “ Bien entendu,” he said quietly near my ear as he reached over my shoulder for the menu. Again, he lingered just a little longer than necessary and lightly caressed my hand as he removed the menu.
“How did he know that turns me on?
” I thought to myself.
“Hello, planet Anna?” said Maeve as she clicked her fingers in front of my face.
“Oh fuck!” I said out loud, inciting more hysterical laughter from my friends.
“Not getting a little aroused are you?” said Sylvie jokingly.
My flushed cheeks did all my talking for me, “What’s wrong with a little harmless flirting?” I said defensively to more laughter.
“Well said,” giggled Sarah as she continued, “Would you like some white wine to temper the flames?”
Whilst waiting for entrees the conversation continued in a similar manner. We drank, we laughed, and the waiter and I flirted until eventually he was ‘re-assigned’ to Sylvie by the head waiter. The stoic old fool was obviously trying to curtail our rambunctious group.
What a mistake. The waiter was like a lamb to the slaughter in Sylvie’s hands, forks were ‘accidently’ dropped, clean white napkins became tainted with red lipstick and unidentifiable flecks of dust were removed from the poor boy's trousers.
None of which detracted from his gaze upon me.
I saw a glint of encouragement in Sylvie’s eyes, like the devil trying to lead me down the path of sin.
I decided to take her lead. The Moules were deposited between my lips with gleeful abandon, my eyes always focussed on the poor waiter. I would occasionally let a little liquid dribble from the side of my lips, moving my finger unhurriedly to collect the spillover before wiping my finger clean, making sure to caress the napkin with my hands, and scrape it with my well-manicured nails.
The final mussel was swallowed, I wiped my hands and gazed longingly at the waiter.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, discretely gesturing to the side of his lips.
“Oh honey, you missed a bit,” said Sarah, leaning over to wipe a little of the liquid from my chin.
Without thinking I moved my head and took her fingertip into my lips, holding her finger in my mouth, whilst looking up and feathering my eyelashes at the waiter, who tried to remain steadfast in his posture. Could I see the beginnings of a buldge in his trousers?
“Anna honey,” said Sarah, as she removed her finger from my mouth, “You are on heat darling!” Her prim English accent made my actions sound all the dirtier, naughtier than they really were.
Laughter continued to erupt from our table as wine glasses were refilled and the main course was hastily delivered.
Whilst we ate, Sylvie continued her remorseless teasing of both the waiter and I. Sarah, bless her, she had popped off her shoe and was running her stocking clad leg gently up and down the back of my knee, I do wish I hadn’t told her about my erogenous zones. Maeve kept the conversation lively with graphic descriptions of her sexual activities with the new husband, such a lucky man.
Desert was served and having realised his error, the head waiter assigned Sylvie’s waiter back to me. I was delighted. As he leaned over me to present me with my Crème Broulee desert, his groin glanced my shoulder. He had lowered his serving cloth to avail Sylvie’s eyes of this detail and surprised, I turned to see exactly what had just touched me. My mouth was only inches away from him, I could see his hardness filling his pants, I could smell his musk, mingling pleasantly with his eau de parfum.
I was lost from the conversation now, my mind wandering to what lay behind his zipper.
I made a decision. My stupid husband had been avoiding me for months, and here was this gorgeous young man, with his hazel eyes, cute smile and coolly unkempt hair, oh so French.
…and he wanted me!
I hastily finished my desert and when the waiter came over to collect my empty ramekin, I whispered in the waiter’s ear, “Follow me to the ladies room, I wish to give you a tip for your excellent service.”
“Mademoiselle,” he replied, retreating to the waiters' counter.
I got up boldly and said to my friends, “May I be excused to the ladies' room for a moment.”
This statement usually has a hidden meaning. In this case, the very reverse was true. None of my friends made a move to accompany me, for they had all heard my tales of frustration, and they had all seen my tears, and after all, they had great sex lives with their husbands.
They felt my need.
Gathering myself I placed my napkin deliberately on the table, smoothing my tight white dress down my body and wiggling my hips provocatively, I made my way to the ladies room. Without turning around I selected a cubicle, flipped down the toilet seat down and waited, suddenly becoming aware of the wetness between my legs, a shortness of breath and a glowing feeling in my cheeks.
“Mademoiselle,” I heard the waiter say from afar.
I kick at the door frame with the toe of my shoe, “Garcon, s’il vous plait.” I said.
I heard a few footsteps and then suddenly there he was, filling the door frame. It was real.
I raised the hem of my dress, revealing the top of my stocking, the dampness of my panties.
I want this man to be under no illusion about what I desired.
He quickly entered the cubicle and in one movement, he shut the door and was on his knees between my legs. His hands surged up my legs, he lifted me, pulling my panties down and parting my legs.
I threw my head back, “Oh god,” I rasped, as I felt his breath upon my most private parts.
I knew he would try to tease me, I looked him in the eye, I was a women possessed.
I grabbed his hair and pushed him into me. I felt his tongue on my clitoris for the first time, he swirled his tongue around my bud, sometimes stabbing it, sometimes sucking it. “Eek!” I squeaked, as he bit my clitoris lightly. He moved his tongue back and forth, flicking between my now throbbing clit and licking the warm moisture dribbling from deep inside of me. “Oh fuck yes,” I screamed.
“Mademoiselle please, you are too loud,” he said.
“You are the waiter, I want to be waited on,” I hissed through clenched teeth, pushing his head back between my legs.
This really wasn’t going to take long. I’d been on heat for hours, lubricated by wine, flirting and the encouragement of my sympathetic friends.
He carried on licking me, humming on my clit, as I wrapped my legs wantonly around his shoulders, pulling his tongue deeper inside me. He thrust his tongue inside me. God he was good, this was exactly what I needed. His hands were on the back of my knees firmly caressing me, as his tongue continued to probe inside me. I grabbed hold of his hair and cried out loud, “this is fucking amazing!”
“Mademoiselle, s’il vous plait,” he muttered, turning his head into my thigh.
I pushed his face back between my legs, I was so close, he wasn’t going to ruin this for me. I started to rub my clitoris as he tongued me furiously making my cry out loud, “Oh yes, this is so goooodd!”
I started to climax, gripping him tightly with my thighs as I felt myself squirting my essence into his mouth, onto his tongue. “Yessss,” I squealed in delight, pulling the lapels of his shirt hard, so hard I heard them tear.
My eyes wide, my breath coming back to me, I took his chiselled cheeks into my hands and kissed him deeply, tasting myself on his tongue as I looked into his oh so cute hazel eyes.
“Mademoiselle,” he said whispering, “I think maybe someone else is in here.”
“Fuck them, I don’t care,” I rasped smuttily.
“D’accord,” he replied, “But I need this job, and it doesn’t pay well.”
“Oh fishing for a tip are we?” I said teasingly.
“Mais non,” he replied lifting himself up off his knees so he was standing over me, his bulging crotch level with my face, “Not that sort of tip.”
Not for a moment did I consider shying away. I hastily unzipped his trousers and pulled both them and his gorgeous white underwear down his legs in one action.
His cock sprung upwards. It was beautiful. It was 7 inches long, with a thick head, short tidy pubes. "This is a 5 star cock," I remarked to myself. How fitting. His pre cum was already dribbling out of the end. I flicked my tongue around the tip, making appreciative slurping noises as I teased him, lifting his shaft with my hand and slowly licking him from base to tip, letting his cock rest on my lips, but, despite his thrusting, not letting him enter my mouth.
I pushed his cock down, so it was jutting out straight. I wrapped my soft, delicate fingers firmly around the base of his cock as I started to wank him, tugging him slowly and deliberately, the tip of his cock resting on my lower lip as I looked up seductively to his face.
His eyes are shut, “Oh no you don’t!
” I thought as I bit the tip of his cock.
“Ouch,” he yelped, looking down at me puzzled.
“He got the hint,
” I thought, as I decided it was time to take his cock right into my mouth.
He gasped as I enclosed his cock head with my luscious, moist, warm mouth, trying my best to flick my tongue over him. As his cock grew a little bit bigger I concentrated on taking him further into my throat. “How I’ve missed this,
” I thought to myself, the feeling of having my mouth so full up with cock!
Juices were dripping from my mouth onto the floor, a mixture of his pre-cum and my saliva. He was thrusting himself deeper into my mouth as I gagged a little. He withdrew, ever gracious, ever polite. Had he not realised yet, I like it dirty! I quickly pulled his cock back into my mouth and sucked furiously.
He groaned, “Mademoiselle!” as his cock jerked wildly and his seed sprayed into my mouth. He attempted to withdraw, but I kept the tip of his cock firmly between my lips as he came and came and came.
He was unsteady on his feet, stumbling backwards into the cubicle door, exhausted, breathing heavily. I saw him smiling smugly and I thought to myself, “You have done this before you sly git
. Well, not this you haven’t
I pull him back up by the tie and kiss him, his come spilling from my mouth into his. I push my lips forcibly into his, thrusting my come covered tongue into his mouth. The surprise, the volume, I don’t know what, something puts him off the idea and he tries to pull away from our kiss, his come spills out of my mouth, onto his tie and shirt.
“Eh hem, Anna!” hissed Maeve clearing her throat loudly outside the cubicle, “We can’t keep the door locked any more, people are knocking. They want to use the loo. We’ve got to leave!”
“Oh my wonderful girl friends
,” I thought to myself as I hastily straightened myself out, smoothed my dress down and slipped my errant foot back into its shoe.
“Thank you waiter and here is your tip,” I said, stuffing my sodden panties into his hand.
He looked at me in silence, his jaw dropped and I kissed him on the cheek as I spun around him on my heels and departed the cubicle, leaving him, trousers around his ankles, come dribbling from his mouth, his shirt torn and spoilt with our juices.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/the-tip.aspx">The Tip</a>