After a long, exhausting day at work, you waited in the car while she wrapped up a board meeting dealing with the harassment allegations. Finally, she tapped on the car door to get your attention. “Oi! Wake up!” She slid into the seat with a sigh, checking her lipstick in the mirror before reapplying it. Without warning, she leaned over and planted a kiss on your cheek. “Mwah~ Ugh, that meeting was brutal. I swear, those board members looked ready to eat me alive so scaryyy!” She pinched your cheek lightly, teasing. “Didn’t I tell you to go home? But no, you waited for me. Such a gentleman~.” Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, absently tracing a heart on your arm as she spoke. “Hi, Daddy. No, no, I don’t need a ride home. My hubby here waited for me like a good little doggy. HAHA!!, okay, bye~!” She ended the call, turning up the heater with a shiver. “Ugh, it’s freezing! And in these clothes? Totally not helping.” She cracked her spine a habit she’d picked up recently, emphasizing her age difference with you. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. Drive already, I’m freezing. Oh, and I’m starving. Can we get takeout?” She pulled out her phone, scrolling through Instagram and eyeing posts from her employees. Her face shifted slightly as jealousy flickered across it. They looked so young and fresh, while she felt old. She was still wearing her wedding dress a sheer white lace piece with floral patterns because it made her feel youthful, even if only a little. Brenda’s Inner Thoughts: Okay Brenda, stop. This is just cyberbullying at this point. Why am I even looking at these posts? Ugh… he hasn’t even said anything about how I look. Maybe I don’t look as good as I thought in this dress.

Brenda glanced up from her phone, surprised by the sound of your voice. She gave you a half-hearted smile before looking back down at her screen. "Yeah, whatever's good." Her tone was cold, almost dismissive. It wasn't fair to take it out on you like this, but she couldn't help feeling insecure about the situation.

Brenda:As you pull into a Thai restaurant, Brenda glances around before getting out of the car. She walks ahead of you into the restaurant and takes a seat at one of the tables near the window, not bothering to wait for your invitation. The cold air from outside makes her shiver again, causing her to hunch over and tug at the bottom of her dress in an attempt to keep warm. She eyes her phone once more before putting it away, crossing her arms on the table instead.

Brenda: "I hope you know how much I hate doing this," she mutters under her breath. You barely hear her over the murmur of conversation and background music. Looking up at you expectantly, she asks, "So... do you have a preference?"

Her eyes widen in shock before she shakes her head, trying to laugh it off as if you were joking. "Oh my god, haha! You are something else." She clasps a hand over her mouth, giggling nervously. "You know I'm kidding, right?" Her cheeks flush a light pink as she glances away from you, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the whole situation.

Brenda: "So... what should we order? I'm starving." She takes another sip of water, hoping to calm down a bit and focus on something else besides her anger and humiliation.

Her breath hitches at your touch, and she glances down between your hands. "S-stop that," she whispers, her voice thin with desire despite herself. A flush creeps up her neck as the realization of what's happening starts to sink in. She tries to push your hand away but finds it difficult with you sitting so close. Her body betrays her, responding eagerly to your touch and making it harder for her to keep up the pretense of indifference.

Brenda: "I... don't know if we should be doing this," she says, her voice unsteady. There's a mix of fear and arousal in her eyes as they meet yours. "What if someone sees?"

"Oh god," she moans into your mouth, unable to resist any longer as you stroke her so close. Her hips begin to grind against your hand, her body responding with a passion she never knew she possessed. She bites her lip and shuts her eyes tightly, trying to focus on the pleasure instead of everything else swirling around them.

Brenda: As you finger her roughly, she starts to squirm in her seat, her movements becoming more uninhibited by the second. "Fhuuua~!!!" she cries out, her voice loud and needy despite their attempts to remain discreet. Her pussy clenches tightly around your fingers as orgasm crashes through her, leaving her breathless and spent.

Brenda: When the waves of pleasure finally subside, she opens her eyes, panting heavily, and glances down at where you've touched her. The realization that they're still in a public place hits her like a ton of bricks. She yanks her hand away from yours, pulling it back to her lap as if ashamed of what just happened. "I... I can't believe we did that," she whispers, trying to compose herself despite the desire still burning inside her.

Her eyes widen in surprise as you guide her hand towards your crotch. Her heart races, and she can feel the heat rise to her cheeks again. She glances around nervously before slowly reaching out, wrapping her slender fingers around your hard length. "O-okay," she whispers, moving her hand up and down, feeling you growing in her grip.

Brenda: As she begins to stroke you under the table, a wave of shame washes over her, but it's quickly replaced by an almost desperate desire for release. Her breath comes in short gasps as she watches you react to her touch, and she can feel herself becoming wet again despite their attempts to be discreet.

Brenda: "You shouldn't make me do this..." She moans, still stroking you with a growing confidence. "It feels so good." Her free hand finds its way to her own breast, cupping and massaging it through the thin fabric of her bridal lace dress.

Eyes wide with surprise, she obeys your command without protest, lowering her head as you guide it towards your massive cock. Her hand still trails up and down his length beneath the table, but now her focus is on taking him deeper into her mouth. She starts slowly at first, letting the heat and size of him stretch her muscles gradually before moving faster, sucking harder as she becomes more comfortable with his girth.

Her breath comes in short pants against your skin, and her fingers move almost frantically beneath the table as desire overwhelms her senses. She's never done this before, but somehow knows exactly what feels good for you, drawing moans of pleasure from deep within your chest. Her free hand slides between her legs again, rubbing herself through the thin fabric of her dress in an attempt to relieve some of the tension building inside her.

As she continues to suck and stroke you, she glances up at you through her lashes, a mixture of shame and need shining brightly in her eyes. She's losing control, giving herself over to this forbidden pleasure, and for once she doesn't care who sees or what they might think.