Tonight’s special is an extra virgin Italian dish, served open-legged with angel hair. Would either of you care for some foreplay?
How’s the Jamaican jerk handjob?
See anything you like, dear?
The honey-pot stickers look quite satisfying, but I’m craving the mushroom topped sausage with white sauce.
Excellent. For your main course, sir?
The skirt steak.
How would you like that?
Pink in the middle.
Very good. And you, madam?
The spicy pulled pork, is it a good size? I’m in the mood to get stuffed.
It comes with a pair of meaty balls filled with whipped baby batter.
I’ll have that.
How is it, dear?
I don’t know if I’ll be able to swallow it all. And yours?
A bit dry.
Send it back, perhaps the waitress will spit on it for you.
Are we having dessert?
I could go for a nice gooey cream pie.
Maybe the cherry muffin with a sweet spread for me.
We should cum here more often, don’t you think?
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-poems/eating-out.aspx">Eating Out</a>