From Restaurant Tease to Wild Lesbian Surrender with My Colleague

Monday morning hits. I wake buzzing, dress ultra-femme: fitted skirt, blouse hugging curves, sky-high heels adding edge. No panties? Tempted, but save it. Restaurant’s chic, table set. Melanie struts in, pantsuit sharp, blonde hair cascading. Her perfume hits—musky vanilla, intoxicating up close after screens.

“Like it? Perfect for our first real date outside work.” Her eyes devour me. We chat, but her foot climbs my calf under the long tablecloth. Heart pounds. It nudges my knee, higher, toes pressing my damp panties. Message clear. Gaze locked, I shift, hook fingers in lace, slide them down smooth legs. Ball them in fist, pulse racing.

The Approach: Tension Builds at Lunch

“Spread wider, darling.” Voice low, commanding. Legs part. Her foot—soft arch, painted toes—rubs my slick folds. Circles clit slow. Above table, she clasps my hand, thumb stroking palm like her toes stroke pussy. I’m dripping, jupe soaked. Want her mouth now. Urgency burns—no more games.

“Somewhere else?” I whisper, thighs quivering.

“My place? Or romantic stroll—you’re in that mood.”

Park nearby. She doesn’t grab my hand—discreet. Fuck that. I snatch it, squeeze. She grins wicked. Street corner, I lunge, lips crash hers. Tongue begs entry; she denies, then invades deep, tasting wine and want. Bench next. Skirt hikes, breeze on bare pussy. Eyes on us?

“Cross legs, babe. Don’t want them eyeing your wet cunt.”

Jealous growl thrills. “Yours only. Home. Naked. Now.”

Her apartment door barely shuts. Crush together, tongues battle. CD spins slow jazz. She pulls me close, hips grind to beat. Bodies sync, her taller frame envelops. Sweat mixes with perfume. I devour her eyes, hands roam ass. Song ends. She drops to knees.

“Gonna taste that soaked pussy.”

The Explosion: Raw Passion Unleashed

Skirt yanked off. She stares at my glistening lips, inhales deep. Fingers part me. Tongue flicks clit—expert swirls, sucks hood. Legs buckle. Grip her blonde waves, grind face. Wet slurps echo, her moans vibrate core. Resist? Fuck no. Spasm hits hard, juices flood her mouth. I scream, buck wild.

“Shit, better than my man’s cock. Came so fast—want you forever.”

“Good. Bed now.” I strip her: jacket off, blouse flies. No bra—perfect tits, nipples peak. Suck one, pinch other. She gasps, arches. Pants drop; nude goddess. Drag to bed, bodies collide. Frottage frenzy—tits mash, pussies grind slick. “Finger me deep.” Guide her hand, two digits plunge, curl G-spot. I’m grinding back, clit on thigh.

Phone buzzes—vibrates insistent. School. Forgot kids. Eyes meet, sad. “Gotta go. Tomorrow dinner? Meet Bertrand.”

Work next day: stolen glances, email address. Home early, cook tense. She arrives 7pm sharp. Aperitif quick. Table chat—Bertrand probes. “Rising star? Career over love?”

“Balance both,” she winks at me. Dazzles him, unbalances. Coffee in salon, tennis talk bores. Upstairs ‘bathroom tour’: pin her to wall, kiss savage, tongues sloppy.

Downstairs tame. 11pm, goodbye hug. Whispers, “I love you.” Door shuts. Phone out: “Me too.”

Bed with Bertrand. “Hot friend. If not married, I’d fuck her.” Laugh inside. Kiss him routine. Heart races for her. She’s in. No more just his.