Page 38 of The Fed Sex Man

I looked up. Completely unaware that my clit might be brushed by the edge of a human hand, Jenny and Shawn were talking quietly.

Tyson’s hand inched closer.

I looked down.

There was one sixteenth of an inch of space between his hand and the thin layer of black polyester blend that protected my tingling clit from further stimulation.

Admitting out loud that Tyson’s nourishment remark pushed me over the edge of the sexual decision-making cliff wasn’t going to happen. There were other ways to express my willingness to have my clit massaged while Jenny double-dipped her chips into the community salsa.

With my eyes fixed on Jenny and my waist hidden from view by the table’s edge, I gripped Tyson’s wrist and pulled his hand firmly against my crotch. If that wasn’t enough of a gesture, maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. I cinched my thighs together, preventing him from making an easy escape.

If he didn’t get the message, we weren’t speaking the same language.

Although I’d read that some women’s clits were difficult to find, locating mine was a simple task. It was the diameter of my pinky finger, and always peeking out of its hood. Stimulation required nothing more the wind blowing.

I relaxed my thighs and said a quick prayer.

He lifted his hand. The prayer had been answered. My heart sank. He was done.

As the first of what was sure to be many rejection-fueled tears began to well in my eyes, he nonchalantly slid his hand beneath the waist of my slacks.

Guilt shot through me. A tingling sensation followed. My eyes darted back and forth between Shawn and Jenny, wondering who would be the first to figure out that Tyson’s hand was touching my cootch. In the amount of time it took my brain’s receptors to receive the signal of what was happening, the tip of his finger was parting my pussy lips.

My nipples hardened to a point that I feared they’d rip through the fabric of my silk shirt if I made any sudden movements.

After wetting his finger with my juices, he began massaging my throbbing love button with a precision that I’d spent a lifetime assuming only women could master. The restaurant’s dining area started shrinking. Voices became dull and distant. Then, everything went quiet.

Completely consumed by the thought of reaching climax in the booth of a public restaurant while two people sat across from me, my eyes fluttered a few times.

I was seconds away from having an orgasm of epic proportions. I had somehow been cast between the covers of one of the many books that occupied my shelves, and I was loving every excruciating moment of it.

His fingertip circled my clit. Harboring hope for a memorable climax, I channeled my focus on the mountain of pressure that was building between my legs.

Then, it happened.

An orgasm nearly a decade in the making exploded from deep within me, shaking me to my very core. Small electric shock waves followed, rippling throughout each of my Jell-O-like limbs. The euphoric rush paralyzed me completely. When the climactic finale slowed to a dull roar, my eyes opened.

Tyson’s lust-filled gaze pinned me in place. I slumped in my seat. A few involuntary sounds sputtered past my lips, escaping in the form of nearly inaudible moans.

Nearly.

“Are you alright?” Jenny asked.

I realized my eyes had gone closed again. After an unsuccessful attempt to straighten my posture, I opened them and nodded eagerly. “I’m uhhm,” I muttered. “Yeah.”

“Looked to me like she had a fuckin’ seizure,” Shawn said. “Her eyelids were fluttering and then dribble started oozing down her chin.”

I wiped my mouth with the web of my hand, retrieving an ounce of drool in the process.

With his finger resting against my pussy lips, Tyson gave me a mock worried look. “Are you okay? You don’t need to go home, do you?”

He was giving me an opportunity to change the evening’s course. I weighed my options.

Food.

Or.

A night of sex.

“I hate to ruin our evening.” My shoulders slumped. “But maybe you should take me home. I think I might be getting sick.”

Shawn chuckled. “What happened? Eat a bad tortilla chip?”

I glanced at Tyson and then at Shawn. “Probably.”

I knew Jenny wouldn’t care if I left. Nonetheless, I looked at her and mouthed the word sorry.

“If you’re not feeling good, we should probably go.” Tyson slid his hand from beneath my slacks and stood. “I guess it’s a good thing Shawn and I both drove.”

I edged my way out of the booth. Shawn nodded toward my seat. “You might want to grab your glasses,” he said through laughter. “They fell off when you were having that orgasm.”

Embarrassed, but not as much as I would have expected, I decided to own the fact that I was fingered into oblivion while Shawn and Jenny watched. After finding my glasses in a blind search of the booth, I draped the temples over my ears and slid from my seat.

“Thanks for pointing that out,” I said. “I would have missed them later when I was playing the naughty secretary role.”

“Librarian,” Shawn responded. “You’re the naughty librarian.”