The waitress quietly deposited both checks on the table for me and I hastily scrawled my name on the credit card slip, glancing back quickly to see an...empty table... gone. The scent of her perfume still permeated the air,but the chair sat empty. Deserted. The waitress slipped quietly away, stopping at the ladies table to pick up a scrap of napkin. "I believe she left this for you" she whispered as she dropped it to the table. "Follow me" I bolted for the door, scrambling for my keys, dropping. You watch me carefully, and as my breathing gets more ragged and I stroke harder and faster, you pull back and pull my hand away from stroking myself. Drool is running down my chin. A long line of saliva connects my lower lip to your cock. My eyes are glazed a bit, hips moving as my cock pulses in the air with my hand removed. I was so, so close to cumming that I moan in frustration. Whether it is because I was made to stop stroking, or made to stop sucking, I cannot say which made me. More

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