A typical family restaurant. At a typically family-oriented hour.
My thoughts are anything but appropriate for children.
I’m watching you from across the bar, sly smile playing on my lips. Maybe you can sense my intent. Perhaps you caught a glimpse in one of my furtive glances. A glance that lingered just a fraction too long.
We’re surrounded by wholesome Americana but rather than Apple Pie, I’m thinking of the taste of your cock.
Throbbing in my mouth, bulging with desire. Thrusting deep in search of release – a favorite, if unacknowledged American pasttime.
There could be a wife, a girlfriend, even a daughter not that far from my age. Doesn’t matter. I’m still going to sit here and give you Fuck Me eyes.
Because it is a typical Thursday evening.
Because I’m surrounded by wholesome images.
Because you smiled at me when you walked in.
Because I wanted to.
Because I can.