Our triangular relationship was not fully symmetrical. While Ricardo and me would sometimes meet on our own, go on a date, I would dress up, he would say romantic things, that kind of stuff, Paul was always just our buddy, part of the inventory of the appartment, and always happy to help out with a hand or a cock.
That evening, I had gone out for a meal with Ricardo, I wore a knee long flowery summer skirt and a slightly see-through low cut white blouse under my black cardigan. We got a table in a corner, where nobody could see us. I had insisted not to go to the cheap but good Indian around my corner. I felt very much like fumbling, and since that traumatic party where it all started, I was much more careful to maintain a minimum of discretion. I was in an excellent mood that day, because, to my delight and surprise, Stepan had contacted me, he wanted to meet up with me the next day. We sat down, and I took off my cardigan. I did not look up, but I could feel both Ricardo's and the waiter's eyes glued to the outline of my nipples through the transparent blouse. I did not wear a bra and the anticipation of the effect had aroused me sufficiently for my nipples to become erect and visibly stick out through the thin fabric. I looked up and ordered
"Can we have the menue, please, and some poppadoms already. Oh and a jug of water as well, please."
I stretched like a cat, leaned back and smiled mischieviously at Ricardo, who scanned with his eyes up and down my body, smiled very broadly and petted my knee under the table. I had my legs crossed and stretched out the one that was on top to briefly press the side of my sandal against his calv, with a conspirating look on my face. This would be a three-course foreplay. We kept giving us promising and longing looks across the table, touched our hands and arms openly over the table, or our knees and legs secretly underneath it. Ricardo could not take his eyes off my nipples that shone through the blouse and had to reach out a couple of times to touch them. He touched them twice through the blouse, but once he simply opened a couple of buttons of my blouse and shoved his hand in. Sligthly louder than intended I told him off
"Ricardo! You can't just take my tit out in the middle of a restaurant!"
The bloke at a table close to ours turned his head in a reflex, which gained him a punch against his chest and an evil hiss from his girlfriend. Ricardo and I giggled, I blushed and buttoned up my blouse again. We relaxed back and continued to eat.
Coming back from the toilet, I thrived on the looks that I was given. A tall long-legged woman with a round butt, showing herself off in a flattering and shape revealing summer skirt, her naked breasts visible through the thin fabric of the transparent blouse. The entire staff, who were bored behind the counter of their not very busy restaurant, followed me with their eyes. I pretended not to register. Without a comment I handed Ricardo my handbag. He looked at me questioningly.
"Open it!"
I nodded at the bag. I crossed my legs, feeling my trimmed pubic hair touch my thighs where normally my knickers would sit. Following an impulse, I had taken them off in the toilet and stuffed them into my handbag that I had just handed to Ricardo. With puzzlement, he looked at the pair of worn knickers. Sometimes, he really is not the sharpest tool in the box. After a worryingly long period of time, he smiled and shook his head
"You dirty little fuck!"
and bent down to stick his hand under my skirt. I was too far away for him to check I really was naked down there, he only reached my lower thigh - which I did not regret, because I preferred him work his way there slowly. He leaned back. I slipped my foot out of the sandal and rested it on his lap under the table. He started caressing my calv, my knee and my foot. I stroked his cock with the ball of my foot. By the time we were given the bill, I had moved around the table, bit by bit, so he could secretly move his arm underneath my skirt all the way and finger my naked pussy. Sitting there, it wasn't too obvious that I had spread my legs in a not very ladylike fashion, even though people may have wondered about my flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. When we walked out, Ricardo was walking a step behind me, pushing me gently forward with his hand on my bum, gaining envious looks from the other men.
