This is a print version of story MY BITCH by gag9gag from


Her fingers touched mine as she removed my empty, soup bowl. Her skin was soft, warm to the touch, almost hot. I looked up at her but she had already turned and was heading to the kitchen.
That was the second time she had touched me. After appetizers, she had reached around my shoulder to slide away an empty plate. The knuckle of her thumb grazed my wrist.
"Excuse me," she whispered, her minty breath tickling my ear.
I flinched back to give her room. I couldn't tell if she had touched me purposely. Aloof as a cat, almost frigid towards me, she betrayed not the slightest sign of being flirtatious.
After the hostess had seated my three buddies—top executives in a booming internet company—and me, I was attracted to her from the moment she came to our table. "My name is Crystal," she announced in a dark sultry voice. A bulbous, gold stud twinkled on her tongue. "Cocktails, gentlemen?"
She treated my buddies with deference and formality, but towards me, she was short, casual, almost rude. “And you?” she asked.
Her large red lips were pressed together in a scowl giving her a haughty expression that made me feel like an insignificant worm. She scanned her tables while waiting for me to order.
“Martini,” I said, “Extra dry.“ Then I added: “You have pretty arms. Do you work out?”
The question was met with an icy stare through emerald green contact lenses. "What business is that of yours?" She turned and left.
bl**d rushed to my head. I felt embarrassed by my clumsiness. "Pretty waiter,” I remarked to my buddies.
“Yeah,” they agreed.
“Tiny breasts though,” Mark said. “Too thin. You know . . . I like . . ." He held his hands about a foot away from his chest, then said, "Anyway, I think the company could turn a fucking huge profit with our cloud . . . “
"But she’s kind of a bitch," I added.
They all paused and stared at me for a moment.
"Nah," Joe said. "She's friendly enough. Just busy. Check out all the tables she has. Look, Mark, I'm not saying that we have to undercut our employees and automate . . ."
I couldn’t help spying on Crystal as she worked the other tables in her section. One of the most graceful waiters on the floor, she pivoted and deftly changed directions on her high heels, gliding like a skater even while carrying six plates of food to her biggest party. Her lean calf muscles bulged in black stockings while her hips gyrated smoothly. “Strong girl,” I murmured. While talking to two amorous women in the corner, her laughter pealed away quite easily, her tongue wiggled out between her lips with the jewel flickering on the tip like a pendant fruit. In spite of her indifferent behavior towards me, I couldn’t stop focusing on her. Perhaps, to be honest, her coldness increased my interest.
She brought the drinks, landing them in front of each of us delicately and with an elegant flair. “So what’ll you have, gentlemen?” she asked. Everybody ordered. Then she turned to me. “You?”
“The ribeye, medium rare . . . ” I stammered, intimidated by her harsh tone.
“Didn’t hear you?” she frowned.
I repeated my order, then said: “And . . . mm . . . could I have the Béarnaise sauce on the side?" I smiled broadly. "I love that sauce."
"No," she said, snatched my menu, and left.
Her treatment of me brought up some feelings of insecurity. Should I complain to the manager? I’ve never experienced a waiter being so rude to me.
Later, carrying our four entrees on her arms, Crystal spun the plates into position with long brown fingers, the fingernails manicured, painted dark green, and plastered with little ruby rhinestones. "Anything else?" she said.
I looked at my plate and found not only that the Béarnaise sauce was on the side in a little ramekin, as I had asked, but there was a little extra. I smiled up at her. “Thank you!”
“For what?” she snapped.
I pointed at the speckled yellow sauce.
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Don't know what the chef did that for?" She looked around the table. "Bon apetite, gentlemen?"
Each time Crystal rushed behind me, I felt the breeze of her passage like the light caress of fingertips across the nape of my neck.
After dessert, when we were finished eating lunch, only three tables in the restaurant were still occupied—romantic couples sitting shoulder to shoulder in the booths. Crystal's section was entirely empty except for our table. “I’ll be right back,” I said and headed to the bathroom.
No one noticed. "But Mark, this is a big company, we don’t need to . . . “ Robert began.
While walking across the dining room, I searched the room and kitchen for Crystal. She was nowhere to be seen. I turned down the long narrow corridor towards the bathrooms. I heard a click and she slipped out of the second bathroom, pushing back her long, blond streaked hair with her fingers. With bright eyes fixed on me, she approached with an unwavering gaze. Taller than I had realized, she made me feel short. As we got closer, I squeaked a hello.
"Not so fast," she smiled, her ivory teeth radiant.
With surprising strength, she grabbed my shoulder, spun me around, and pushed me against the wall. Her mouth opened slightly and she pressed her lips against mine, slithering her tongue into my mouth. The piercing skittered across the roof of my mouth and grazed the inside of my cheek. It felt like she was eating me alive. Although confused by her aggression, I was so turned on, that I just melted into her embrace and kissed her back. In her apron, a thick waiter’s tool of some kind pressed firmly against my groin.
Then, after what felt like too brief a time, she pulled away and smoothed down her dress uniform.
"Mmm! I wanted to do that for a long time," she purred, flashing her eyes.
I felt lightheaded as if I was about to faint.
With her pinky, she rubbed away the smudged red lipstick around my lips, her warm breath splashing my face. She walked away.
I called after her: "You are so gorgeous . . . so sexy . . . so hot . . . I loved loved loved that."
She turned her head, grinned, and blew me a kiss. Dazed, I walked down the hallway into the ladies room. "Whoops," I said aloud, backing out. Puzzled, I stood in the hallway and looked at the two doors. Odd, I could have sworn Crystal had come out of the second door. I entered the men’s room filled with lust for this beautiful amazon.
"Now that's the hottest thing that has ever happened to me, for sure," I said to myself. "Like a wet dream."
Although I was feeling quite lucky and grateful for making out with her, I wanted it to continue. The splashing sound of my pee accompanied the replay of sensual memories racing through my brain—the taste of her tongue, the cushy feel of her thick puffy lips, the raking of her piercing across the roof of my mouth. As the trickling came to an end, I heard someone open the door and enter. I hoped it wasn't one of my buddies, since only a few people were still remaining in the restaurant. Feeling shy and embarrassed, I kept my gaze down and pressed closer to the urinal to hide my waning erection. The sharp click of heels stopped behind me.
"Who?" I wondered, shaking my cock and preparing to stuff it back in the zipper.
Long brown fingers with dark green nail polish encircled my cock and pulled me around. The porcelain urinal and metal lever pressed hard into my back and rear as Crystal's large warm mouth swallowed both my cock and balls. Squatting on her heals, Crystal devoured me with a passionate berserk greediness I had never experienced. Catatonic with pleasure, I closed my eyes. How did she do that? Her long bejeweled tongue lapped circled and probed between my legs while she slurped. I opened my eyes and looked down. Her dress uniform hiked above thigh-hi stockings to dark-green lacey panties, her tiny nipples released from the bra bared through an unbuttoned white blouse, Crystal was watching me expectantly with wide eyes. Warmth and energy started erupting upward from my groin and I could feel my head getting lighter and lighter . . . But before I could cum, I felt myself lifted, spun around, and pinned with a thud on the tiled floor. Now Crystal was sitting on my chest, huffing and puffing like a wrestler and holding my shoulders down with her hands, her face within inches of mine. Leaning forward, she slowly licked my lips then gave me a long kiss.
“God I want you!” I blurted out when she pulled back.
She smiled, slowly reached down, and pulled her panties aside. I lifted my head to see . . .
Many times in newspapers I have read about people who are thrust into shocking or unexpected situations and I wondered how they dealt with them. Were they afraid? Did they panic? Did they . . . ?
A thick, dark brown cock popped out of her panties and thumped against my chest like a sack of flour. Twice as big as mine, its raw slick pink head peeked out from thick folds of flesh, drooling a clear liquid from a gaping hole my pinky could fit in. I struggled to escape but she held me firmly. The tiles felt cool against my neck and back, and a scrap of toilet paper lay scrunched beside me. I was afraid, and when she saw the fear appear in my eyes, she growled, “Suck it! If you want me, suck it.”
She tried to push her cock between my tightly closed lips, then slapped it against my face. Strings of drool covered my face with each blow. They stretched like filaments of a spider web from the tip of her cock to my cheek, eye lids, and forehead. But I refused to open my lips. No! Penises just aren’t my thing.
“Suck it,” she ordered again. Then, lifting her cock, she sponged my face with her low hanging balls, spreading the slippery moisture and scent of her cock into my nose, eyes, lips. Her dark earthy smell inundated me. My face and lips were now covered with her slick viscous precum. In spite of my reticence, my bared cock was standing up straighter and harder than I’ve ever experienced, even as a teenager.
I don’t know when it happened. Perhaps her smell so suffocated my will that I couldn’t help but relax and submit to her desire. But both humiliated yet ecstatic, I finally allowed her huge cock to f***e open my lips and plunge deep into my throat. Was that a moan? Yes I was moaning. Not because her cock tasted so surprisingly sweet and delicious; not because she had grabbed me by the hair and was fucking my face heedless of my gagging; not because she was masterfully stroking my cock; not because her beautiful brown face was contorted in joy and lust; but because I was honestly turned on. I wanted to suck, lap, lick, drink, slobber on, chew on, nibble, slurp up, tongue, . . . her nasty beautiful penis as long as possible. I bucked and croaked in a guttural cry as I felt a sharp spurt splash against my face, then a few more, two in my eye and several in my mouth. The bittersweet taste matched my mixed feelings perfectly: guilty yet so turned on. Soon most of my face was splattered with Crystal’s cum.

After washing up, she said: “Yeah, as soon as Marie sat you in my section I knew I would make you my bitch.” She winked and smiled at me in the mirror.
“How did you know?” I asked drying my face with a paper towel.
“I just knew,” she said. “Watch.” She curled her right pointer finger at me and held out her dick with her left. Without hesitation, I went to her, knelt, and nuzzled her cock, lapping up the white strands pendulating from the end of its pink head. These were sweeter than the gobs that had shot against my teeth and the back of my throat. I was shocked at how much I now yearned for her cock. She was right: I was her bitch.
“Mm! See!” She said and started powdering her face. “Next time your virgin ass is mine.”
After writing her phone number on a torn piece of a paper hand towel, she painted on her lipstick, stuffed her cock back up in her panties, and left.
I gave her a little head start then followed.
The guys were waiting for me at the hostesses desk, chatting and laughing with Marie.
“Long time, Buddy,” Mark said, peering closely at me. “Are you alright? You look . . I don’t know . . . different.”
“Fine fine,” I said, shaking my head and waving my right hand while tightly grasping Crystal’s phone number in my left.
“Sure?” Robert said. “Missed a spot.” He pointed at my face, then handed me a napkin.
I quickly wiped my lips and cheek, wondering if they knew.
“Sorry you got sick,” Joe interjected. “Nothing ruins a meal more than the old upchuck. Eh?”
"Alright, fellas,” Mark announced. “Enough fun. Let’s get back to work.”
As my buddies left, I turned to see Crystal standing beside a table, a hand propped on her thrown out hip, watching me with a steady gaze. Her scent had stained my nostrils and made trying to erase the feeling of her cock on my face and lips impossible. She clearly mouthed the words “my bitch” and circled her lips with the tip of her tongue, the piercing sparkling as it caught the light. Fearful yet also hoping that she would curl her pointer finger towards me and compel me to kneel before her right there in the middle of the dining room, I abruptly turned and dashed out of the restaurant after my buddies.

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