An Evening Filled With Envy
Dear C|Suite,
I attended a New Year's dinner with my partner of 7 years, and I am quite positive that I witnessed a woman at the adjacent table from us climax in her panties.
To provide some context, I am a 42-year-old woman (she/her) residing in Austin, Texas, and I work as an HR manager for a local start-up. I met my current partner, who is 50, while I was in college working towards completing my PhD on 'period poverty in Africa and the human response.' Although it took longer than I anticipated and resulted in more debt than I preferred, I completed my degree after seven years.
My partner, Richard (he/him), runs a microbrewery and has achieved considerable success. He began by brewing beer in his bathtub, but now he owns a building with a bar/restaurant. Did I mention that I am vegan? Additionally, we have two cats named Caramel and Snickers; we don't have children because, for some reason, I am unable to get pregnant.
So, at the end of every year, my partner and I have what I like to call our ‘Annual Partner Summit’. This is how we ‘reset’ for the new year as a self-proclaimed power couple: We each get a report card that we both fill out at the table titled ‘Year End Review,’ and it is categorized with different columns with a variety of questions and space to answer those questions. I made them myself while watching The View one day years ago.
While enjoying drinks and appetizers, we typically share our favorite memories from the past year and discuss what we've learned. We then set individual and team goals for the upcoming year. We talk about how we can support each other—for instance, what he might focus on, such as his addiction to porn—and then we compile everything into a mission statement. It's somewhat like an HR review. We turn this into a three-hour date night, and honestly, I look forward to it every year!
Anyway, fast forward to our New Year’s dinner at this new restaurant that had just opened downtown. It was a very nice place; however, when I asked if their coffee was ‘fair trade,’ I didn’t get the answer I was looking for. So, long story short on that issue, I did leave a fairly negative review on Yelp as soon as my partner and I got home. Richard wanted to have sex, but by the time I was done writing the 3,268-word review, I was just completely bushed!
I was already in a dreadful mood due to the restaurant's failure to support the struggling black bean farmers in Laos, Uganda, and Nicaragua. My fingers and hands were so sore from typing that the mere idea of giving Richard a hand job, resulting in him ejaculating on his own stomach before bed, soured me in a way that I can't fully describe.
It was a busy restaurant, and we found ourselves seated at one of those two-person tables. A waiter, maybe in his late teens or early twenties, came to take our drink and dinner orders. I looked at his name tag; it read 'Josh' on it.
Josh was cute, attractive even. He reminded me of my initial high school crush, whom I never had the courage to approach or even talk to in school. Instead, I would go home and masturbate by humping my hand to his yearbook picture about 1-7 times a week, typically at night before going to sleep.
Richard, my partner, ordered their house beer on tap and a salad to start.
As my maladroit partner stumbled through his order, I found myself unable to look away from our waiter’s physique—his butt, arms, and chiseled jawline reminiscent of a quarterback's. A thrill ran through me, my pussy twitched with a sharp tingle, and I started imagining how the evening might have unfolded if I had come to the restaurant solo, enjoying the attention of our attractive young waiter, Josh.
The spell was quickly broken once Josh departed with our orders. I glanced at Richard briefly, and fortunately, my pussy began to calm down. My clit slowly stopped prairie-dogging out of its hood; I was concerned he might have noticed my face flushing.
However, just as I was calming down and settling into our annual Partner Summit, this younger couple walked into the restaurant and were seated at the table beside us.
They looked cute together; however, what caught my attention, my partner Richard’s, and the attention of others in the restaurant was that, objectively, the man with her looked much older than her for sure. Not old enough to be her father, but enough for people to take notice of the dynamic. She looked as if she was still in college, and he had to be almost 30 was my initial guess.
I caught Richard staring at the young girl and I hissed at him, “Richard! Knock it off, I can see you... you’re old enough to be her dad!”
“I-I wasn’t…” Richard deflected.
“I was looking at him…I mean...he’s a good looking, guy don’t you think?”
“Well, yes, Richard, but that is beside the point… it’s impolite to stare. You were looking at her; stop pretending to be a homosexual for once! This happens all the time when we go out, and I am tired of it!” I whispered.
After this exchange, Richard sank and sulked a bit in his chair while sipping sheepishly on his IPA; we were trying to do our partner assessment on our report cards that I spent a lot of time and effort making for him and me. Let me tell you, that night I absolutely knew what I was writing down in the ‘needs improvement’ category for Richard.
The young couple had been chatting and laughing when they walked in, and already seemed to be a glass of wine or two into their evening. They were both kind of hot too if I am being honest, which gave me a pang of jealousy and made me feel a little silly to be sitting at a table with Richard directly parallel and in the vicinity even of them. When our waiter came around, I upgraded my regular fries to truffle and parmesan fries to cheer myself up.
Anyway, about a half hour had passed, and one of the first things I noticed after that was that the young woman’s hands were gripping the edges of the table, her knuckles going white. I was trying to do my mission statement with Richard, but I was too distracted by the couple next to us and was curious as to what the heck was going on. She seemed… tense. I thought she might be anxious, maybe shy. Maybe it was their first date? Maybe she was being held against her will, sex trafficked? I’ve been watching a lot of Dateline with Richard lately before bed.
But then, suddenly, her face started flushing, and her breathing picked up, her date grinning at her whilst seemingly playing on his phone, and I started to realize what might be happening.
They continued talking, but her cheeks took on a pink hue. She laughed suddenly and gripped the edges of the table again.
That’s when I realized exactly what was happening. “Wevibe?” I thought.
His hand was nowhere near her, but he was in control. It’s something I had wanted to try before with a stranger, and the thought of being controlled like that instantly made my pussy wet. I crossed my legs and continued to watch, trying very hard to pretend I wasn't.
Her breaths got shallower, her mouth parted in a soft "o," and she bit her lip hard. I could see her thighs tighten, pressing together beneath the table, her body riding the edge of an awesome wave. Her boyfriend's/date’s thumb swiped over his phone screen and she gave a little gasp, her hand loosening her grip on the table. She looked at him with admonishment, wiping an errant strand of hair from her face.
She mouthed something to him and they both laughed.
Fuck I wished I was her is what went through my mind.
My own panties were creamed at this point, filled with hot envy.
It was going to be an evening filled with envy.
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Richard had no idea; he was still working on his year-end review and was still writing down what he needs to do better as a partner in the New Year going forward.
I wished I were the one being controlled by her date. I thought about whether Josh, our waiter, would Wevibe with me. I wished I were the one controlling her, also. My inner dyke was growing at the same time.
At that moment, I realized she [the young woman] was stunning—a goddess sitting just feet away from me. She wore a tight red dress that hugged every curve, with a low neckline that showcased her full, round breasts. They rose and fell with each shaky breath, almost spilling over the top, which only added to the heat radiating from her.
Her skin had this gorgeous glow, slightly dewy with a thin sheen of sweat as she tried to keep her composure. Blonde curls framed her flushed face, making her look wild and a little undone, her cheeks red, lips parted as she bit down to keep herself from making a sound.
I looked around the room. No one else had noticed but me, it seemed. I felt special knowing this, as if I had been secretly invited to a taboo party of three. Or, if the rest of the restaurant had noticed, they were pretending they hadn’t, just like me.
She exhaled slowly and attempted to eat a piece of beef, lifting the fork to her mouth. It was at this precise moment that I no longer wanted to be a vegan.
She dropped the fork suddenly, and it landed on the floor with a loud clatter; the piece of beef still stuck to it. People turned to look, and her face flushed even redder, her pleasure mixed with embarrassment now.
The waiter, Josh, brought her a new fork, and she seemed to be apologizing to him. As soon as Josh had gone, her date whipped out his phone again and laid it on the table. She shook her head, but he only smiled and slowly dragged his finger across the screen.
At that moment, she stopped trying to hide it. She couldn't hide it. Her eyelids fluttered, and her hips gave this tiny, shivering movement against the seat, and I knew, without a doubt, she was coming right there, so close I could almost feel the tension radiating off her.
Watching her and seeing her surrender made my own body clench. I squirmed in my seat watching her, desperate to touch myself, to slide my hand under my dress and move my panties to the side, but I didn’t dare move, afraid someone would notice just how turned on I was. I was afraid at the thought that someone would actually notice me instead of her. I am sure people always notice her though wherever she goes, how could she escape that? It must be a blessing and a curse. I wouldn’t really know.
She finally exhaled, shaky and spent, giving her boyfriend this wide-eyed, almost embarrassed look. He looked smug, amused even, like he'd known exactly how far he could push her.
She blushed furiously, casting her eyes down and running her fingers through her hair again as if she were trying to regain some slight sense of dignity. And yet, she looked more satisfied than embarrassed, as if she knew she’d given in to something daring and filthy, and didn’t regret a second.
I wished I could be her in that moment, to feel that break, to be free and relieved of everything around me. The thought also scares me to death. I looked at Richard for some sense of familiarity, comfort, even for a moment.
My heart was pounding, my own body thrumming with heat. My panties were soaked, the ache between my legs making me shift in my chair, desperate to feel some relief. My body and brain were conflicted. I wanted to be her, to have someone who knew just how to push me to that edge in public, to make me lose control. I looked down at my Year-End Review sheet and took a sip from my glass of white wine.
For the third time that night, Richard had to leave the table to use the bathroom due to his stupid, fucking enlarged prostate! Shortly after, I heard the man and his younger date exchanging words. He excused himself, mentioning that he would settle their bill and use the bathroom before they left.
I was relieved because it felt awkward just sitting there by myself with both of them just feet away, while Richard was in the bathroom probably struggling to get a few drops of pee out of his fucking penis.
I attempted to avoid glancing over, but it was only she and I, seated at our own tables as we waited for our partners. I sensed some tension and figured it might be more awkward to remain silent than for us both to sit there, pretending to be busy by looking at our phones.
I swallowed the last of my wine in one go. She noticed me watching her as I did so, which sent a sudden jolt of anxiety through me.
"Business meeting with your boss?" she inquired while smiling.
I nearly spat out the wine in my mouth.
"oh my god, no, I am with my husband....partner I should say." I laughed nervously.
"I figured, I was just joking...it's New Year's day...that would be a horrible thing to do for a boss. Work dinner on a holiday." She giggled.
"Yeah. I can see why you might've been looking at Richard and I or noticed...we do this thing every year where we assess our relationship, we call it our annual partner summit"
"Ohh, I see. Well, that's cute. Did you both finish?" She said in a weird tone.
My face got so flushed and my mouth went dry suddenly when she said that last part.
"I finished... I mean, I am all good over here... Richard still hasn't finished his mission statement, is what I meant..." I laughed again, probably way too loud.
She smiled and took a sip of her drink too.
"I am sorry," I said quickly. "You probably saw me looking over at both you and your..."
"Oh, he's my boyfriend." She cut me off and finished my thought off for me.
"It's okay... I noticed a lot of people look at us when we go places... he is a tad older... I know. I'm 22, just graduated from college, and he's 29. Not a big deal, we have a lot in common."
"Oh, no, no... I didn't mean that. Well, I mean, I can see why people would stare and think those things. I didn't; I was just going to say that you both are a very handsome couple."
"Oh my God... thanks, you're so sweet! But yeah, I did notice some other people looking over at us tonight. Like I said, it happens a lot; we can deal with it. I think people just sometimes can't handle the fact that he's an older man dating a younger woman and that we are having fun together."
"He was literally making you cum in your chair with his phone," is what I wanted to tell her. But I held my tongue instead of biting my lip like before.
"Umm, yeah that's probably the exact reason why people were shooting glances over at your table" I said, pretending to be assuring.
"I apologize for being so direct and genuinely curious, but could you tell me where and how you met him?" I added.
"It's fine. He went to prom with me. I've known him since I was in high school.
Before I could even wrap my mind around what she had just told me, her boyfriend returned to their table and motioned to her that he was ready to leave. As she was getting her purse and phone in order, she looked at me.
"Well, it's been nice having a quick chat with you, and I hope you and your partner have a nice rest of your evening," she said while glancing over at me and fixing herself. I said the same to her. Her boyfriend smirked at me and nodded. However, just before they were ready to go, Josh came by with a few complimentary mint candies and wished them a happy anniversary.
My brain was spinning as I watched her walk out with her boyfriend.
Richard finally joined me at our table.
"So, what did I miss? he asked.
I shot Richard a look of complete irritation, and then Josh, our waiter, asked if everything was satisfactory and whether we wanted dessert. Naturally, Richard, my overweight diabetic partner, was about to secretly order chocolate cake when I interrupted him.
"No we are good on dessert" I told Josh sharply. " Hey, sorry for being nosey but I couldn't help but overhear that it was that couple's anniversary that sat beside us. I wish we could've at least bought them a drink." I asked in an attempt to seem flirtatious and also a good person.
"Oh, that's very cool of you both. I believe they've left for good, however. The man mentioned to me when they arrived that it was their 5-year anniversary," Josh said to me, glancing back as he moved to another table.
My mouth dropped as I quickly did napkin math in my head.
At that moment, Richard fumbled his pint glass somehow on the table, knocking it over, spilling beer all over the place, and in his attempt to salvage the glass, knocked a fork onto the floor tile, which made a loud clatter.
I glanced around the restaurant awkwardly, embarrassed by what my klutzy partner had just done, anticipating judgmental leers that should await us. But it didn't matter, since nobody cared or seemed to have noticed us.
Yours Truly Horny,
Ms. Green
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