The Dinner Where Two Mature Women Stopped Pretending to Have Decorum

Sonia was waiting for me at the door of El Faro in a spaghetti-strap dress so short as it was low-cut. It was flared, and that little detail made it even more insolent, because one turn was enough for the fabric to fly up. When she saw me arriving a few meters away, she did exactly that: a full spin on her heels, arms loose, the dress becoming a red corolla that for one second hid absolutely nothing. No panties, no shadow: her shaved pussy in the open air, her lips shiny, the slit marked like an invitation.

—Am I arriving too provocative? —she asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.

—You’re late —I lied, because the one who had been late was me.

We were both around forty and had spent years learning how to use it to our advantage. Sonia had that confidence of a woman who stopped asking permission a long time ago, and that night she wore it like perfume. I had not fallen behind. I had chosen a black skirt so tight and so short it was more like a wide belt, with a strip of lace along the hem, supposedly to minimize damage. The white blouse was the real punch: a discreet transparency at first glance that, under the right light, left no room for doubt. My nipples pressed hard against the fabric, dark, firm, asking for teeth.

—Come on —she said, hooking her arm through mine—. I’ve reserved the window table.

High heels on both of us. Red lips on both of us. Anyone looking at us with the slightest attention would understand we were hungry. And not exactly for the menu.

The waiter who greeted us asked us to follow him, and as we crossed the dining room I felt the whole room turn toward us as if we were part of the dish. I walked slowly, measuring my sway, letting the skirt do its work. The same waiter, very proper, offered to seat us in our chairs. I could see the exact moment on his face when he checked that, as we sat down, neither of us had anything underneath. His gaze dropped to my pussy spread open between my thighs, rose to Sonia’s tits spilling out of the neckline, and pretended not to have seen. But he had seen. And the hard-on wasn’t going down for him all night.

The table next to ours was occupied by three men in suits, serious ties, and distinguished gray hair, the kind who are on the verge of retirement and carry it with money. Three executives. They didn’t take their eyes off us all evening, and to be fair, the blame was entirely ours.

—Look at the one in the middle —murmured Sonia, opening the menu without reading it—. He’s been staring for ten minutes without blinking.

—Then give them something to look at —I said.

Sonia didn’t need any encouragement. She let her napkin fall as if by accident, and to pick it up she aimed her legs toward their table and opened them just enough. It was only an instant, the length of a sigh, but enough for the three of them to understand the message: naked pussy, glossy, so wet the dining room lights reflected off it. The neckline dipped with her and finished telling everything the dress was still hiding: two big, heavy tits, nipples pointing downward like accusing fingers.

If we’re going to do it, we do it properly.

Minutes later I was the one who dropped my fork. It flew off the table with very rehearsed clumsiness. I got up, walked over to it with my back to them, and without bending my knees, slowly leaned down to pick it up. The skirt, which was already barely holding on, finished riding up to my waist and I gave them the whole ass, the cheeks spread apart, the little dark hole, and beneath it the swollen, open pussy like a split fruit. When I had the cutlery back in my hand, I dropped it again. This time I bent down facing them, flexing my legs very wide, looking them in the eye as I did it. Let them see the lips properly, the clit peeking out, the thread of wetness running down the inside of my thigh.

—You’re dropping the silverware a lot —Sonia said laughing when I sat back down.

—Clumsy hands —I replied—. Age.

We both knew there was nothing clumsy about it. I undid a couple more buttons than necessary, just enough for half a breast to show when I leaned toward her to speak. Sonia had a master’s degree in letting the strap slide off her shoulder at exactly the right moment: the dress fell, the tit came free, the hard nipple pointing at the dining room for three, four long seconds before she put it back in place with a calculated slowness. We served a feast to everyone who wanted to look, and almost the whole dining room wanted to look.

Not everyone appreciated it, of course. The waiters started getting complaints from the more prudish customers, and a couple of older married couples with plenty of decency decided to ask for the check before dessert. We saw one of them shake his head while his wife dragged him toward the exit.

—They’re leaving —observed Sonia, delighted.

—Their loss —I said.

The four waiters on shift repositioned themselves near our table. In theory, to intimidate us and make us behave like God intended. They gave us more than enough reasons not to move a meter away. The bulge none of them could hide under his pants was the best permission they could give us to keep playing. Their hard cocks were clearly outlined against the black fabric of the uniform, and one of them, the youngest, kept placing the tray in front of his fly every time he passed.

—Do you think any of those three has the balls to come over and invite us to their table? —asked Sonia, fixing her gaze on the oldest executive.

—I don’t know —I answered—. But you’re going to tell me how they have them when they follow you to the bathroom.

Sonia held my gaze for a second, amused, and accepted the challenge without saying a word. She got up and walked toward the back slowly, marking every step with her hip, making the red dress fly and show half an ass cheek with every stride. Just as she disappeared behind the screen separating the restrooms, the oldest of the three laid his napkin on the table and stood up. The second, younger and with less gray hair, didn’t want to be left behind and followed his boss. The two of them crossed the screen with a pretense that fooled no one, their cocks outlined under their dress pants.

The third stayed alone at the table, keeping watch, nervous, stirring the ice in his glass without drinking. I decided to keep him company from a distance. From my chair I spread my legs with studied calm and let the light show him what he was looking for: the soaked pussy, the parted lips, one of my fingers stroking my clit under the pretext of scratching my thigh. I touched my hair, covered myself, pretended not to notice and, after a while, offered him the other side as if by accident, this time sliding two fingers in to the knuckles and pulling them out shining so I could suck them while looking him in the eyes. The poor man didn’t know where to put his hands.

—Patience —I told him softly, even though he couldn’t hear me—. Your turn will come.

Meanwhile, the waiters couldn’t decide whether to be scandalized or enjoy the show. One of them, the oldest on shift, came over under the pretense of refilling my glass and took the opportunity to lean in more than necessary. I let him look. At that point in the night, he was part of the audience, and a good audience deserves a reward. I took his free wrist, lowered it beneath the tablecloth and pressed it against my wet pussy for a second, just a second, enough for him to feel how soaked I was. I held his gaze until the color rose to his face and he had to retreat, the pitcher trembling in his hand and his fingers shining with me.

Poor things. They have no idea who they’ve crossed paths with tonight.

***

What happened behind the screen Sonia told me later, with that half-smile of hers, but knowing her it wasn’t hard to imagine while I waited.

She was leaning against the sink, looking at herself in the mirror, touching up her lipstick, when she heard the door open behind her. She didn’t turn around. She lifted her skirt to her waist, planted both hands on the cold porcelain, and spread her legs, watching them in the reflection. The perky ass, the swollen pussy, the moisture already running down the inside of her thigh.

—Are you lost, gentlemen? —she asked without turning.

Neither of them answered. It wasn’t necessary. Both were pulling out their cocks at the same time, with that clumsy urgency of men who have spent years without a woman telling them yes without asking. The oldest had a thick, short, red cock. The second, longer, curved upward, the tip already beaded with precum.

—Don’t take long —she added—. My friend is waiting for you to finish so she can come in with the third one.

The older one didn’t waste a second. He knelt behind her and ran his tongue over her entire cunt, from clit to asshole, slowly at first and then hungrily, as if he’d spent twenty years waiting for that table and that night. He spread her ass cheeks with both hands, buried his face between them and devoured her in bites, licking her lips one by one, getting as much tongue into her as would fit, spitting on her and licking again. Sonia braced herself on her elbows against the sink, arching her back to offer herself better, moaning softly with her mouth against the mirror.

The second took care of the cleavage, yanking her tits out of the dress and sucking them, biting her nipples until she screamed. Then he shoved his curved cock into Sonia’s mouth without asking permission, grabbing her hair. She took all of it, sucking with those hollow cheeks only women who like doing it know how to make, swallowing him to the throat, letting him fuck her mouth in short, hard thrusts. Saliva dripped from her chin and onto her tits.

She let them work for a while, eyes half-closed, and then grew tired of the ceremony.

—I don’t have all night —she warned them, popping the cock out of her mouth with a smack—. Any way you want, but now.

The older man straightened and drove into her from behind in a single thrust, sinking into her to the balls while holding her hips with both hands. Sonia let out a hoarse cry as he drove himself all the way in, his thick cock prying her cunt wide open. He started fucking her with sharp, loud thrusts, each one making her ass slap against the man’s belly. The younger one wanted something else and planted himself in front of her. What began as a curious mouth ended up being something much less delicate: him setting the rhythm with both hands on the back of her neck, driving it all the way down, pulling it out shining with spit, pushing it back in. Sonia letting herself go without ever losing control of the scene, eyes watering and one cock in each hole, clenching her cunt around the boss every time the smaller one shoved himself down her throat.

The boy barely lasted a minute. He came with a sharp moan inside her mouth, shooting his cum against her palate in spurts she swallowed without letting go of his cock, sucking him for every last drop. When she finally pulled it out, she opened her mouth to show him it empty and licked the tip goodbye. The older man heard the gasps behind him and lost control. He drove his fingers into her hips, gave her three brutal thrusts that lifted her off the sink and came inside her with a roar, emptying himself entirely into her cunt, his load overflowing between her lips and dripping to the floor when he finally pulled out, soft, shining, dripping semen and fluid.

Sonia stayed braced there for a moment, breathing, feeling the man’s cum slide down the inside of her thigh. She slipped two fingers in, pulled out a thick strand, and wiped it on the edge of the sink.

—Tell your buddy to come —she asked as she straightened her dress in the mirror—. Tell him to ask for my friend. He’s going to tell everyone in the office what she did to him and they won’t believe him.

—Neither will they believe us —one of them was heard saying before the door closed.

***

Sonia came out from the back walking exactly as she had gone in, with the same sway, tossing the dress up to gift the dining room her half-asses again. She passed by my chair, brushed my shoulder with her fingers, and whispered one word in my ear:

—Yours.

The third executive understood the signal without anyone having to draw it for him. He stood up, adjusted his tie as if that were going to restore his composure, and walked toward the restrooms with his dignity trembling in his knees and his half-hard cock already marking his pants.

I found him inside, standing next to the sink, with that mixture of fear and desire men have when they’ve spent their whole lives behaving. I put one hand on his chest, guided him until his back hit the wall, and told him in his ear to stay still, that this part was mine. He obeyed. At his age he had already learned to obey the right woman.

I unbuckled his belt without taking my eyes off him. I pulled his pants down to his ankles and then his briefs, and found a long, veined, curved cock that went hard against his belly the moment I freed it. I took it in one hand, squeezed the base, and knelt in front of him. I ran my tongue over his balls first, one and then the other, sucking them with my mouth open, and then I moved up the shaft, licking every vein all the way to the tip. A thread of clear liquid ran from him. I caught it with my tongue, showed it to him, and took the whole cock in one go.

The man let out a growl that bounced off the tiles. I grabbed his ass with both hands and pushed him against my face, taking him in until my nose sank into the hair of his pubic mound. I sucked him slowly, hungrily, pulling him out to spit on him and shoving him back in, sucking the tip until his legs weakened and then going all the way back down. Every time I felt him about to come, I squeezed the base and waited. Let him suffer. Let him remember.

When he could take no more, I stood up, hiked my skirt, planted one leg on the edge of the sink, and grabbed his cock to guide it in.

—Fuck me —I ordered—. All the way. No gentleness.

He obeyed. He drove into me in one push and I shouted with my mouth against his neck. He was longer than he looked, and he reached a place inside me that no one had touched in a long time. He started fucking me standing up, holding my ass with both hands, pounding me against the sink while I bit his collarbone over his shirt. My heels slipped on the tiles. With every thrust my cunt rose higher against his pubis, every blow ripping a gasp from me I didn’t even try to hide.

I turned him around. Put him with his back to the mirror. Made him sit on the edge of the sink and climbed on top of him, threading myself onto his cock, riding him with my hands braced on his shoulders. I shoved my tits out of the blouse, rubbed them against his mouth, made him bite my nipples while I went up and down, my cunt slapping wetly every time I sank all the way down. The man had his eyes closed, mouth open, the face of someone learning something new at sixty.

—Look at me —I said, taking his chin—. Look at me fuck you.

He opened his eyes and never closed them again. I worked him slowly at first, almost cruelly, letting him feel me enter him millimeter by millimeter, pulling myself out to the tip and sinking back in. When I had him on the edge, I changed the pace. I let go, leaned back, and rode him with hard, fast thrusts, my cunt swallowing him whole over and over, my ass cheeks slapping against his thighs with a wet smack that filled the whole bathroom. I cried out when I came, without restraint, squeezing around him in spasms with my whole cunt, and he held out three more thrusts before emptying himself inside me with a rough roar, clutching my hips until it hurt, blasting hot cum all the way to the bottom.

I stayed on top for a while, feeling him pulse inside me, waiting for the trembling to pass. When I finally stood up, the cock came out soft and shining, and a thick stream of semen ran down the inside of my thigh to my knee. I didn’t even bother cleaning myself. I pulled my skirt down, settled my breasts back into the blouse, and ran a finger over his lips, leaving a trail of smeared lipstick.

—Good boy —I told him.

That man left looking at his hands as if he still couldn’t quite believe what he had just lived through. When I’d drained him dry and got back to the table, Sonia had already asked for the check and two drinks to go.

—Dessert? —the youngest waiter asked me, with a bravery I hadn’t expected.

—At home —Sonia answered for me, sliding him a generous bill and a smile worth more.

We left El Faro arm in arm, our heels clicking on the sidewalk, the cool night air slipping under my impossible skirt and drying the semen still trickling between my legs. Behind us were three executives who would never look at a business dinner the same way again, four waiters with a story for life, and an entire dining room wondering what the hell it had just witnessed.

—And now? —I asked, though I knew the answer.

—Now —said Sonia, pressing against my side, slipping her hand under my skirt and finding me soaked with my own fluids and the executive’s—, the real thing. Just the two of us. I’m going to lick you until you beg me to stop.

And we went off, wanting more. Much more. Because by our age we had already learned the only thing that truly matters: that hunger, the real kind, is not satisfied in any restaurant.