mexican night

I was having dinner at a new Mexican restaurant in my hometown with a girl friend and her husband after another female friend was a no show. Naturally, dining with a married couple makes a single woman feel like a third wheel. I sat across from my friends as we munched through the chips and dip. Kathy’s husband has always struck me as, well, OK, good body, runs, bikes and swims but she has said little about their sex life. Oh the normal girl talk, sex just has not been one of our hot topics. I’ve been in their home, and in their pool, so it isn’t like I haven’t seen her — but never Jim. He’s always come in well-dressed, gone inside and left us to our floats and lotions and the sun. Before our entrees came, Jim managed to spill his drink. The waiter cleaned it quickly, but could not get it out of his bench seat cushion. He moved over to my side of the table and I gave it no thought.

Jim draped his long cashmere dress coat over his lap and said little as he sat beside us. I  noticed  he never put his left hand on the table, always kept it in his lap. After about five or so minutes, I felt the touch of the back of his hand against my knee, it was a casual brush and I thought nothing. A few chips later, the casual touch was back, but this time it was the tips of his fingers and they felt like fire through my pantyhose.

Without so much as a blush, Jim pushed his hand up to the hem of my skirt, then eased it on up higher. I managed to keep a straight face as Kathy talked about the couple’s children and other trivial things. Our meals were delivered, but those fingers kept their presence, gently circling against my inner thigh. Feeling like a torch against the tightly stretched nylon of my hose. As I took a drink of my tea, Jim tried to push the hem of my skirt higher, but it simply would not go. Careful to maintain my composure, I lifted slightly and he shoved that skirt up to the bottom of my panties on my right hip.

His hand instantly followed, his fingers tracing out the line of my underwear under the pantyhose. I thought things would end there, but it was only a moment before I felt a finger nail sawing at the tightly stretched crotch of my pantyhose and then, pushing through to gently massage the short, stiff hairs of my snatch through the thin, and wet, material of my panties. Jim seemed to know exactly what he was doing as he played there for several minutes. My eyes had to be misted over as he swirled his finger in among the curly hairs of my snatch. I keep it trimmed close, not waxed; but trimmed really close, maybe only a half inch of true hair. More like the stubble of a bristle brush.I could feel his finger brushing across the tops of those hairs beneath my panties.

Finally, I felt a single finger slide to the inside of my far thigh and then pull the crotch of my panties back. He probably thought I was a nerd as I had worn a pair of underwear that were full cut briefs today. Why not, no lines beneath the winter skirt and I had on pantyhose for heavens sake.

As I tried to swallow a bite of stuffed peppers, Jim’s finger slowly slipped down to my by now soaked opening and, without any preliminary play, slipped to the second knuckle in my sopping wet pussy. I managed to swallow the pepper, rinsed it down and was on the verge of squeezing my legs together to trap his hand when he withdrew the finger from my cunt and, with a easy comment about his son’s little league basketball, he walked my skirt down and then began using his left hand to eat.

I finished my meal, then made an excuse for the ladies room. Inside one of two stalls, I backed up against the between stalls wall and yanked my skirt up. I was still sopping wet, and it took only a few strokes to get myself off.

The restaurant light glinted off the silver wedding band he wears. I couldn’t help but wonder, which of his long, masculine fingers had just been inside. And would he have the decency of washing his hands before Kathy got wind, literally, of his little game.

I went to the bathroom in as calm a manner as possible.

I repaired my face, washed my hands and went back to finish dinner. My friends made their excuses soon and left. Jim with nothing more than a smile as he walked Kathy to the door. I watched her firm ass wiggle beneath her dress pants and couldn’t help but wonder if he would touch her that night.I also noticed that the outline of her panties indicated something a lot more sexy than my choice of the day. Of course, how was I to know what the day would bring when I donned dress clothes at 5:30 in the morning?

I still don’t like being a third thumb, but I don’t mind tacos for three at a  restaurant with bench seats. I haven’t seen Kathy since, but I am anxious to know if she sensed anything, anything at all.

Thanks for listening.