A Sunday Brunch (4/45)

I was uncomfortable and torn.

On one hand, I had to bite back a bit of my poverty snobbishness, when I first saw you wanted to have an encounter at a brunch.

On the other hand as I told you, every time I passed that Downtown Mall restaurant, I was always tempted to steal one of their perfect, cobalt colored, water glasses and longed to feel the linen textures of their very white table cloths.

But, a project is a project, so I agreed and went.

When I saw how handsome you were in your official UVA blue suit jacket, khakis, and orange and blue bow tie, I was curious what I had got myself into.

Also, I felt under dressed, because I had worn the flip flops per your request instead of something strappy and more formal.

I sat down and discovered you had already ordered for me.  This felt chivalrous and rude at the same time, since you knew nothing about any of my possible food sensitivities or allergies.

Then, I heard a bell.  I thought it meant you had to leave.  Instead, you told me to take off my shoe and put my foot in between your thighs.  I knew the table cloth that turned out to be very soft was long enough to hide any misbehavior, and I felt subversive doing something like this in such a posh place.

So, I complied.

You answered your page, unzipped and took out your cock, pressed my sole to it, and used unknown words like borborygums, hypoxemia, and purura into your cell phone.

I felt your warm drops of pre-cum when you said, "Ecchymosis."

I felt your climax's sticky globs spurt as you rubbed them into my foot when you said, "Analgesia."

You asked the server if I may have the water glass.  He said yes though I think he charged you for it.

You rose, presented me the victory cup as you put it, kissed me on the cheek, and began your walk back to the hospital.

It was amazing, interesting, weird, educational, and erotic.

And, the fifteen dollar crab cake was good too.

Thank you, A.