Wet Tamara - Sex Stories

Wet Tamara

... against my shorts. Her fabric is drenched. For me.

"I can feel it."

"Now leave my legs alone. Thanks. Later." She almost glared, I sat up a little surprised, until over my shoulder the main course arrived. I smiled at Tamara and busily wiped my hands dry on the napkin.

I had splashed the cash on us both, a lobster and crab sharer. Between mouthfuls and chews Tamara was guzzling the wine. She was having fun. There were bones everywhere. The mood improved a little. There was quite a bit of giggling and grunting breaking the shells, but the meat was delicious. It was an extremely messy meal. The napkins for both of us to wipe our faces. But it was extremely tasty.

But all I could think of was Tamara being cold and damp between her thighs. The glorious whiff of urine on the fabric and wanting to get down between it.

The waiter comes and clears our plates. He asks if we want the dessert menu. I looked at her thinking we would be getting back to the rental. I now only have one thing I want to eat. Devour the taste, the smell and her.

"Oh yes please, I will take a look." She states. Smiling sweetly at me. Taking another gulp of wine. Oh, I see.

When the menus are returned, I choose the chocolate brownie with ice cream. She has the Eton Mess.

She also chooses a double espresso coffee. I now know there are no thoughts about sleep any time soon. That's good news. She wiggles again, I know her now cold buttocks and inner thighs must be uncomfortable in the ...

... wetness on the hard wooden chair, in her soaking wet panties. Or as she moves around, maybe she wants to pee again.

Talking of pee, that needs to happen for me. I run to the toilets before the dessert arrives. She smiles, shrugs her shoulders, and starts swiping through her phone. Not needing to go anywhere.

It's awkward trying to pee with a hard on, but sitting down, it happens.

I rush back as fast as I can. She is still sitting there lost in her own world swiping on her phone.

We eat, I settle up. She very slowly gets up from the chair. My eyes can't believe the obvious puddle sitting on it. There are fresh streaks flowing down her thighs.

She quietly bends over and with a few napkins quickly mops up some of her mess, before stuffing the yellowed wet ones in her bag.

As she bent over her arse cheeks were still glistening, her panties practically visible through the soaked stretched fabric.

All I just wanted to do was undress her there and then.

***

There we were sitting on the sand, a few metres down from the restaurants in the semi darkness. The white of the waves reflecting in the moonlight. She was sitting on top of me, just as she had done earlier in the afternoon. I did not care if anyone saw us. One hand was stroking her wet crotch, the other up inside her bra squeezing her breasts as she moaned as she gushed another wave of her hot urine all over my shorts. I had to wear them the following day and did not care. I loved every second of it.

We ...