God, he looked good.No, he didn't. He didn't look bad but, objectively, he wasn't going to blow anyone away. But he looked good to me, and that was more than enough. Then again, maybe he did look good but suffered by comparison to the museum-quality specimens I had dated before.We had reservations at The Brass Rail. It would have been quite expensive for Jeff. For me, it was cheaper than McDonald's."Nice place."He was looking around as if he was a little surprised that a place like this existed in a college town and a little uncomfortable to be in it."Probably not what I would have picked" he said in a charming bit of understatement."That's the advantage of having different backgrounds. We get to share each other's knowledge and experience."A waiter approached."Nice to see you, Miss Fine."He put down a small Caesar Salad in front of each of us."Thank you, Arnault." He retreated."Do they give everybody a Caesar no matter what they order?" No. I took the liberty. I know your tastes so. " Not prepared to...? I had no time to explore the thought. "Are you enjoying yourself?" I nodded, but she was looking in the mirror at the bulge in the panties, straining to burst out. "I can see you are."She turned me to face the mirror fully, then stepped right behind me again. She brought her hands to where my hands were, along my side, and lifted them up to the cups of the corset. "Press and fondle your breasts, Dawn, like you did in the sports bra." Yes, Miss Lisa." She squeezed along with me for a few moments, until I was kneading my chest like there were breasts to fondle, as I'd often seen my wife, sitting above me and riding my cock, do to herself.Lisa's hands dropped to my hips. Her body pressed into my back. I could feel her breasts squished up against me. I could feel her thigh pressing against my bare ass where the peek-a-boo panties left me exposed. There was a lump in her pocket, smaller than an egg, pressing into my crack. I froze for a moment. Her hand reached down.
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