Fuck. Cum. Blow job . Words that we don’t use in polite speech. I think about words. Small tits but sensitive nipples. Wet pussy. Hard cock. Pearl n...cklace. Jacking off. Fingering. Pinching your hard rosebuds atop your tits. Stroking my cock in front of your face. Sticking my tongue between the folds of your wet lips. Clitoral sucking. A finger up your ass. But not words of love and romance. No flowers. No dinners by candlelight. I touch myself. It is dark. I am alone. Now I am hard. I feel the. Her mind and her conscience kept up a litany of stop now, just a little longer, stop now, just a little longer, until it was buried under the onslaught of sensation. His hands roaming her back over her camisole, and further down to caress her butt. The hardness of his erection against her stomach, and the satin smooth texture of his skin under her hands when she slipped them under his t-shirt. Soon her hand pushed down his boxers in back as she ran her hands over the firm muscles of his ass. . That night in taking Diane out to dinner was not a disaster but it was close to it. The problem started when Diane suggested the go to a new Italian restaurant that had just opened which had good reviews. Tom agreed to go there although he was not a fan of olive oil which he found was liberally used in these restaurants.Diane was nicely dressed in an outfit that emphasized the big rack she had.After valet parking the car, they entered the restaurant. Tom could tell immediately by the interior. He pressed his hand into her slit and watched her round bum twitching involuntarily against the soft firm pressure. He pushed a long finger deep into her vagina and held it still. Her vaginal muscles griped his finger. He smiled and began to roll his thumb round her clitoris. She became very wet and wriggled her bottom, tentatively at first and then rhythmically. It was a primeval sight and very erotic. Finally, and with a cry, she went into an orgasmic spasm. When her muscles relaxed he went.