A Very Happy Birthday (Straight Practice part 2) - Sex Stories

A Very Happy Birthday (Straight Practice part 2)

... present for you at your place." "Yeah?" I asked. My imagination went wild with guessing what it might be. "Mhm," she said around a mouthful of Larb Gai. "I think you'll really like it." After dinner, we paid, and got up to leave. Just as we were about to step outside, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Sir?" I turned around, and there was our little waitress. She was holding Shriyas dark purple panties pinched between her thumb and forefinger. I'd forgotten I was sitting on them. She kept her composure, but I could see there was laughter in her eyes. I was speechless as the panties dangled in mid-air. "Sir? These belong you?" she asked. "Thank you," Shriya said, breaking the tension. "I was wondering where I left them." She grabbed the panties and put them back into her purse. As we stepped out of the restaurant, we almost died laughing. "Did you see her face...?" "And then you..." "And you were like..." It took us at least a couple of minutes to recover. We drove together back to my apartment. Shriya's car could sit in the parking lot until tomorrow morning. I couldn't help myself as we were driving. I reached across to the passenger seat, and felt between my passenger's thighs, rubbing my thumb against smooth skin above her pussy. My fingers explored the fleshy crevices and creases beneath her skirt, which she hiked up as she'd done in one of her pictures. At a stoplight, a giant SUV pulled up beside us. I wasn't immediately aware of this, but because of the difference in ...

... heights between the SUV and my little Nissan, the driver of the SUV got a great view down into Shriya's naked lap, where my fingers were working at her warm wet pussy. As the light turned green, and we began to pull away, Shriya waved and smiled up at the driver. I could see him in the rear view mirror; a perplexed looking forty-something balding guy with his wife sitting beside him, staring absently out of the passenger window, unaware of what her husband had just witnessed. We both cracked up laughing again. Finally, we pulled into the garage, parked, and went upstairs to my apartment. Just outside the door, Shriya instructed me to close my eyes. She fished my keys from my pocket (taking care to give my dick a good squeeze while she was in there), and opened the door. Then she took my hand and guided me inside. After we'd walked a few steps, we stopped. "Okay, open your eyes," she said excitedly. I did, and for a minute I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking at. "Happy birthday!" Shriya shouted. In the middle of the living room, facing the sofa, was a kitchen chair wrapped in gift paper, with a red bow stuck to it. "You got me my own chair?" I asked. "Do they not teach you how to do birthdays in India?" "Shut-up," Shriya retaliated. "Open it." Dutifully, I tore the wrapping paper from the chair. Yes, it was exactly the same chair that I'd sat in that morning for breakfast. "Thanks, babe," I said without much enthusiasm. "It's great." Honestly, I didn't give a damn about ...