French Cuisine: M/F, Oral, Humor

     Walter waited anxiously at the airport for the arrival of
Sheila's flight. She had traveled to Paris on a foreign
book/movie deal for their latest novel. She had been gone for two
weeks, two long weeks. Two long, lonesome weeks. Walter missed
her desperately. Every night, he slept under a tent - not camping
outside - but a tent made in his bed by his enormous erection. It
threatened to put a hole in his blanket. 
     Walter had to handle that problem. He'd wake up and toss off
the blanket and shimmy up and down his flagpole. Eventually, he'd
lower the flag, the mast would come down, he'd cream the sheets
and finally fall into a fitful sleep. On some nights, dreams of
Sheila led to his solving the problem twice. It got him through
the two weeks, kept his sanity, but in no way was it the same as
being with his fabulous wife. No, not nearly as good as Sheila,
not even as good as Sheila's hand.
     Finally, the airplane landed and the passengers deplaned.
Now all those lonely nights of tired hands and messy sheets would
soon be over. Walter licked his lips in anticipation of tonight's
fun. Sheila strode boldly into the airport, her mid-thigh red
skirt and tight white blouse made a stunning contrast to the
other passengers in jeans and t-shirts or frumpy old-maid
outfits. 
     Sheila cocked her jaunty black beret to the side of her
head, rested her other hand on her hip. She shook her head and
her luxurious blond hair rippled down her back as she spied
Walter. Sheila waited for him to drink his fill of her voluptuous
figure, 38d-24-36, and her long, long legs in black mesh
stockings and high heels.
     Walter momentarily wondered how anyone could dress like this
on an airplane flight, even if flying first class. Looking at
Sheila, he knew the reason: Sheila was First Class - with or
without clothes. Walter enjoyed the "with clothes" look, but longed for the
"without clothes" look right now and hurried to
her as fast as possible. He walked somewhat stiff-legged, a
pegleg pirate man, a man whose pants couldn't quite accomodate
what they carried. There was a reason for Walter's walk: his cock
had a mind of it's own and right now that mind knew only one
thing - BE HARD FOR SHEILA!
     "Well, It's obvious you're happy to see me," Sheila
whispered just before kissing Walter. Sheila believed in deep,
wet, hot kisses, even in a public place like the airport. Her
tongue sought out every part of Walter's mouth. She especially
liked licking the roof of his mouth, since she knew this was a
turn-on for her husband - not that Walter needed another turn-on
judging by the rigid rod pressed tightly against her thigh.
     "God, how I've missed you," Walter managed to say during a
break in the kissing. "Let's get your luggage and get out of
here. I can't wait to get you home."
     "I'm hungry," Sheila whispered into his ear and then licked
the lobe and the side of his neck.
     "Yeah, me too. I want to eat you all night long," he said.
     "Later, stud. I mean I'm famished. Airplane food is the
pits. Trans-atlantic flight and they fed us sandwiches. I want
some French food. I developed a real taste for it in Paris."
     "Food? You mean... to eat?" Walter was stunned.
     "That's the idea. Don't pout, I'll take care of your little
problem, later. I promise you a night to remember."
     "Ah, geesh. Hey, it's not little. Don't you remember?"
Walter shoved himself tighter to Sheila's thigh, rubbing his
aching cock harder against her flesh.
     "Men. You're all alike. I was just teasing. Now feed me." 
     The two happy people retrieved her luggage and walked to
their car. Walter drew some stares because of his stiff-legged
stride, but when the other men saw Sheila, they smiled. They
walked off wishing they had the good fortune to have a Sheila in
their lives. Some had old hausfraus and used their hands more
often then not. They cheat themselves at solitaire as the old
song says and are contented, but never happy.
     The frumpy old-maids scowled and shook their bluish-haired
heads and muttered. None of that sex stuff for them. No sir,
wouldn't be prudent. Ain't goin' to have it, they promised
themselves and stomped off. Walter noticed that some of the women
weren't old crones. They were no older than Sheila's 24 years and
he wondered why they were denying themselves any fun in life. But
he didn't waste much time on thinking about others. He had Sheila
and she wanted to eat. Then they would have an all night dessert.
     They drove to the Rive Gauche, or "Left Bank" as Walter recalled from
his days of high school French. He held the door
for Sheila as she exited their T-bird convertible and was
rewarded with a view of her luscious leg disappearing into red
panties beneath her red skirt. His cock gave a twitch of desire
at that sight. 
     Perhaps, they could eat fast and get home, he thought as
they were led to their table. Walter wasn't too pleased. Their
table was at the back of the restaurant, near the kitchen and
restrooms, and dimly lit by a candle. He decided not to complain
as it would only take more time to get a new table. Eat and GO
was fast becoming his plan. He arranged his erection in his pants
as he sat down and was pleased that Sheila sat in the same booth
and not across from him.
     The bus boy brought a bowl of breadsticks and water, dropped
menus, mumbled something about "your waiter will be with you" and
left without waiting for questions.
     Sheila picked out a long sesame seed breadstick and began to
lick it, caressing it slowly between her lips. Walter was
mesmerized, especially when she made an "O" of her mouth and slid
the breadstick in and out seductively, teasingly. She peered at
Walter with her clear blue eyes and showed her teeth around the
breadstick. He winced when she bit the end off the bread and
started chewing.
     Walter took a breadstick himself and chomped down on it
matter of factly. "How long before the damn waiter takes our
order?" he said. "And what a lousy table back here in the dark."
     "Ah, you are always so impatient. And I asked for this
particular table," Sheila purred and slipped her hand under the
table into the crotch of his pants. "Just enjoy your breadstick,
sweeheart. I know I am." She rubbed up and down on Walter's
aching shaft with one hand and slid her breadstick in and out of
her mouth with the other. 
     It became clear as to why Sheila had selected this table and
Walter settled down to enjoying his breadstick. He tried not to
squirm around in his seat when the waiter came over to the table.
Sheila stopped fondling his cock and he had a few moments to
compose himself.
     "Bonjour. My name eez Jacques. I am your waiter for zee
evening. May I take your order?" he asked.
     "Yes, Jack. I'll have the filet mignon, medium rare. Thank
you. Tell him what you want, honey."
     "Monsieur. My name eez Jacques, or as you Americains say,
Shocks, not Jack." Jacques harrumphed.
     "Very well, Jocks," Walter said.
     Sheila ordered the filet as well and they ordered a carafe of a fine
Merlot and Jacques left with an icy stare for Walter.
Walter didn't care as Sheila was unzipping his trousers under the
table. She fished his hard cock out and sweetly caressed it with
her slim fingers. Just as Walter thought he would explode, she
stopped. 
     Jacques had returned and poured a small amount of wine in
Walter's glass. He obviously expected Walter to go through the
wine tasting ritual. Walter gulped the wine, nodded his head and
hoped the pesky waiter would get lost - the quicker the better.
Jacques left and Walter waited for Sheila to start working on his
sagging erection, but she gave him a quick kiss and left for the
restroom.
     While impatiently waiting for her return, Walter noticed
another couple at the only other booth in the back. The woman at
that table smiled at him and she also mouthed a breadstick very
seductively. Walter gulped and turned his attention to his wine. 
     Finally, Sheila returned and sat down beside him. She
checked out his now deflated cock and quickly brought it to a
full erection. Then she took Walter's hand and guided it to her
thigh. "I thought you might enjoy a feel, since you haven't had
any of my tender flesh for two weeks," she whispered.
     Walter gratefully felt the tender flesh of her thigh and
quickly inched his hand up higher under her skirt and felt... hot
wet pussy hair. "Omigod! You took off your panties?" he asked,
barely remembering to keep his voice low.
     "Of course. How else are you going to make me cum?" She
spread her legs wide in open invitation. 
     Walter was glad now for their relative seclusion and for the
long tablecloth, hanging nearly to the floor. His fingers twirled
around in Sheila's damp blond hair. He felt her clit throbbing
and the wetness of her love tunnel as he slipped a finger inside
her pussy. Sheila's eyes were half-closed and a moan escaped her
luscious lips. She stroked his throbbing organ slowly and
squeezed it in response, but was careful to keep him from gushing
all over her hand. Walter closed his own eyes and forgot his own
needs for the moment, content to enjoy fingering his wife and
bringing pleasure to her.
     "Ah, madam had zee rare filet? Eez that not so? And
monsieur, zee medium rare? Eez there something else I may bring?"
Jacques smiled at Sheila as her eyes flew open.
     Sheila squeezed her legs together, trapping Walter's hand
deep within her pussy. Worse than that, she gripped his cock like
a vise. Walter sat up straighter, blinking like a deer in a car's
headlamps. "No. No, Jocks. Tha... tha... that'll be all. Thank
you," he stammered.     Jacques frowned at Walter with barely
concealed distaste and
turned his attention to Sheila. "Madam? Are you alright? Zee wine
perhaps? You seem a bit flushed. Eez it too warm in here?"
     "No. No, everything is fine. I'm okay." Sheila polished off
her wine. "I'm fine. Thank you. We don't need anything more right
now." 
     Walter could feel Sheila's pulse between her tightly
clenched thighs. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. Jacques
refilled the empty wine glasses and finally left them alone.     
   Sheila laughed softly and relaxed her grip on Walter's hand
and his cock. "That was a close call. Now where were we. Old
Jocks shouldn't be back for awhile and I really need to cum real
bad," Sheila whispered.
     Walter was happy to oblige his horny wife, especially since
she started teasing his cock again. The excitement of the near
discovery must have heated Sheila up even more. Walter rubbed her
clit a few times and she started squirming and groaning. He knew
she would cum any second and he poured the coal to his flying
fingers. Her superheated wet pussy felt like heaven on Earth to
his fingers.
     Sheila had an intense cum a few seconds later, gripping the
table with one hand and Walter's tortured cock with the other. As
waves of pleasure surged through her hot body, she moaned and
grit her teeth. She buried her head against Walter's shoulder and
muffled the sound of her pleasure in his shirt. Walter couldn't
believe she managed to keep from screaming out her orgasm. Sheila
relaxed, her smile broad and her sighs deep, as the waves of
pleasure finally subsided. 
     After a few seconds, she insisted they eat their entrees
before the meat got cold. Walter ate quickly, not wanting his
meat to get cold. Sheila occasionally fondled him, but mostly
concentrated on enjoying the rare filet on her plate. Walter
wanted her to enjoy his meat under the table. Eventually, they
finished and the plates were empty. Sheila kissed Walter
passionately on the mouth and poured another glass of wine. She
took the glass and slipped under the table with it. 
     Walter couldn't believe this bit of luck. Sheila dipped his
cock into the wine glass and then she licked the wine off it.
Walter was in 7th heaven over this. The wine felt cool on his
hard flesh and Sheila's mouth felt as hot as an oven. She sucked
expertly on him, sending waves of pleasure through his whole
body. Everytime, Walter thought he would cum, Sheila would ease
off. She teased him mercilessly and he loved the attention. 
     Walter refilled Sheila's glass when she held it out to him.
Then he finished off the rest of the wine. He noticed the woman at the
other table. She seemed to be asleep and having very
pleasant dreams judging from the look on her face. The man who
had been with her was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, the woman
opened her eyes and winked at Walter. Then she sighed and her
face took on a very blissful expression.
     Walter's attention was brought back to his own situation
when Sheila started using her hand around the base of his shaft.
She had worked his balls out of his pants and was fondling them,
alternately kissing them and the head of his rock-hard cock.
Walter moaned softly and slid farther down into his seat.  He
knew he was about to cum any second.
     "May I bring you some more wine, monsieur?" the ever-present
Jacques asked. He placed a dessert menu in front of Walter. "Eez
madam alright? Eez she in zee ladies room?" he prodded.
     Walter jumped up in his seat. "How do you do that?" he
asked. "I didn't even see you and suddenly here you are. Madam is
quite alright." Sheila sucked harder and almost brought Walter
over the brink. He squirmed in his seat. "Oh... Oh... Yes. Oh
yes. Oh yes, she's doing just fine... fine," Walter added. 
     Sheila backed off, laughing softly under the table. She let
Walter settle down without exploding. Sighing deeply, Walter
said, "Bring us another carafe of wine, Jocks."
     "Certainment, monsieur." Jacques turned on his heel with a
huff and left.
     "Damn, baby. You're driving me up a wall and that Jocks guy
is scary. The way he shows up just when I'm about to cum is
uncanny," Walter whispered. "How about finishing the job and
let's get out of here?"
     "I want dessert. I mean beside the  cock au vin' I'm having
right now." She laughed and dipped his stick once again in the
cool wine. 
     Walter moaned as Sheila started sucking him again. He
noticed the woman at the other table was squirming around in her
booth, clutching the tablecloth with both hands. The man who had
been there earlier was still nowhere to be seen. Walter smiled as
he knew exactly what was going on at her table. 
     Walter settled back while Sheila worked his cock strongly
now with hand and mouth and quickly brought him back to his
earlier point - just prior to explosion. The combination of wine
and hot mouth was rapidly becoming too much for Walter. He had to
cum and he had to cum now, or he would die. 
     Just when Walter was about to get his much-earned, well-deserved,
eagerly-craved orgasm, who should show up?
     "What would monsieur have for dezzert?"
     Walter was over the top, his cum spurting into Sheila's hungry mouth.
She swallowed expertly and milked him for more,
taking him higher and higher into the stratosphere of pleasure.
"Oh... Oh yes... Oh yes. Cum... Cum pie... err... cre... cre pie.
Oh yes. Oh God. Yes. Ahhhhh. Oooohhhh. Arghhh," Walter gasped,
language deserting him completely.
     "Eez monsieur alright? Pardonnez moi, but I did not
understand. Eez everything alright?"
     Wide-eyed and with his body shaking from the powerful climax
ebbing away as Sheila sucked the last drops of cum from his limp
cock, Walter tried again, "Jocks, everything is so alright. You
can't imagine how alright everything is. Just bring two pieces of
banana cream pie." He breathed very heavily.
     "Certainment, monsieur. Our banana cream pie eez superb.
It'd be a shame if madam missed eet. Eet seems she has been in
our ladies room a long time. No?," Jacques observed.
     "Yeah, whatever, Jocks. Just bring the pie and she'll be
here," Walter answered, faint with the aftermath of pleasure.
     Jacques left. Sheila carefully put Walter's cock back into
his pants, which was much easier to do than getting it out. She
climbed out from under the table and sat down in the booth. At
the same time, a man slipped out from under the other table and
joined the lady sitting there.
     All four had big smiles on their faces as they enjoyed their
desserts. Sheila and Walter ate quickly as they had far bigger
plans for the rest of the evening.