First Date (M/FF, con, impalement, de-breasting)

Work of fiction; all characters are fictional adults with randomly generated names.

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Emily hurried through the heavy doors of the restaurant. She was late, more than a little, and for a first date of all things. The high-end place shimmered with soft golden light, the kind that made every surface look expensive. She smoothed her tight black one-piece dinner dress over her willowy frame, the fabric hugging her C-cups and the long lines of her body, her curly black hair slightly frizzed from the rush.

The sleek, professional figure behind the reception desk looked up and offered a polished smile.

“Good evening. Reservation?”

“Yes… under Chris, please,” Emily said, her voice a little awkward. “I’m… late. Traffic was a nightmare.”

Lorenzo nodded, already stepping out from behind the desk. “Of course. Right this way.” As he guided her through the dining room, he glanced over. “You look lovely. That dress suits you. First date?”

Emily felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Yeah. We matched online. First time meeting in person.”

“Well, best of luck,” Lorenzo said, gesturing toward a table at the corner of the room. “You’ll see me again soon enough. Enjoy the evening.”

Chris sat there in a casual dinner outfit, relaxed, one hand resting on the hip of the woman in his lap with shoulder-length dark blonde hair. Elegant and statuesque, her long legs folding gracefully as she rode him in reverse cowgirl. Her expensive, shiny gold open-back dress was hiked just high enough to bare the full curve of her hips and the place where she sank down onto him. She moved with slow, rhythmic grinds, controlled, graceful, hips rolling in a steady, liquid motion that kept the wet slide of him inside her quiet. Around them, other diners continued their conversations, treating the scene as nothing out of the ordinary.

Chris looked up as Emily approached. “Hey. You made it.” His voice was easy. “This is Veronica. She’s here for the first date too.”

Veronica turned her head, still rising and sinking in that unhurried rhythm. “Hi,” she said, voice warm and polished. “Nice to meet you.”

Emily felt the familiar flutter of social self-consciousness, she pulled out the empty chair and sat hurriedly. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was brutal.”

Almost immediately, a curvy waitress appeared, offering the drink menu. “Good evening. I am Cory. I will be your waitress today,” she said in a bubbly voice. “Can I get you started with something to drink?”

Emily glanced at the list. “Sixteen-ounce of the house red, please.”

Cory smiled and slipped away. Chris shifted slightly to face Emily more directly, though Veronica never stopped her measured strokes.

“So,” Chris said, “how was the drive over? You said traffic?”

“Yeah. Construction on the main road.” Emily’s fingers toyed with her hair. Veronica’s polished figure was distracting her. The confident way she moved, her D-cups filling the gold dress, the long legs that looked perfect. Emily felt her own willowy frame, the slight awkwardness in her posture, the self-conscious curl of her black hair. Veronica looked like she belonged here. Emily felt like she was still trying to catch up.

Veronica spoke without missing a beat with her hips. “I had to rush over too. Client meeting ran long.”

Emily eyed her impeccable makeup, liar, she thought

Chris changed the topic. “I work in logistics. Nothing glamorous. You?”

“Graphic design,” Emily answered. “Freelance mostly.”

“hmmmm…. Professional model.” Veronica added between a soft moan.

The conversation flowed, jobs, the app they’d all matched on, favorite neighborhoods, while Veronica continued her elegant, rhythmic grinding.

Chris’s breathing shifted. “I’m getting close,” he said, voice still conversational. “You are tight, Veronica. Feels really good. But you should let Emily have a turn too before we order food.”

Veronica slowed, then lifted herself with practiced grace, the shiny gold dress falling back into place as she slid off his cock. The thick length glistened, slick with her. She gestured toward his lap with a polite smile. “Your turn.”

Emily stood. The jealousy sat heavy in her chest. Veronica’s body, the easy confidence, the way she’d taken him so perfectly. She didn’t trust her own pussy to measure up. Blowjob then. Safer.

She knelt between Chris’s legs, the carpet soft under her knees. His cock was warm and wet, the scent of Veronica’s cunt still strong on the skin. Emily parted her lips and took him in, the slick head sliding over her tongue. She worked deeper, cheeks hollowing, tasting the lingering sweetness of Veronica’s juices and finding herself annoyed that it tasted good.

Chris and Veronica picked up their wine glasses. Conversation continued above her. Small talk about weekends, travel, the usual threads, while Emily sucked. Chris looked down now and then, meeting her eyes, brushing a stray curl of black hair behind her ear with careful fingers.

Cory returned with the wine. She paused when she saw Emily’s mouth full. “I can leave this here…”

Chris interrupted gently. “Give it to her now. We’ll be ordering soon.”

Emily, still sucking, lifted the back of her tight black dress with one hand, exposing the bare curve of her ass and the tight ring of her hole. She kept working her mouth, tongue pressing along the underside of his cock.

Cory poured the wine into an enema funnel then pressed the cool glass nozzle against Emily’s rim, sliding it in smoothly. The wine began to drain into her, spreading a warmth filling her insides. The alcohol hit fast, a pleasant tipsy buzz that made the cock in her mouth feel even better. She moaned quietly around the shaft, hips shifting, sucking deeper, while the wine settled warm inside her.

The pleasant fullness in her ass and the buzz in her blood made everything sharper. Chris’s cock twitched hard against her soft palate. She took him deeper, throat opening, and when he came, she held still, swallowing every thick pulse so nothing spilled onto the expensive carpet. Emily worked her throat until he finished, then drew back slowly and looked up into his eyes, lips open, making sure he saw she’d swallowed it all.

She stood, pulling out the wine funnel, and smoothed her dress back down. The residual warmth of the wine lingered inside her, the taste of him still on her tongue. Rejoining the easy conversation, she felt the soft, tipsy glow settling deeper. She was starting to enjoy this date more than she’d expected.

Cory reappeared a moment later, turning to Chris. “Are you ready to order?”

Chris glanced at both girls one more time, then up at Cory with an easy smile. “We’ll have Emily.”

“Excellent choice, sir. I’ll fetch the manager right away.”

Emily smiled, a little awkward, and rose from her chair with as much poise as she could muster. Half an hour late. What else did she expect? The thought flickered through her mind with a quiet acceptance.

Veronica stood as well, stepping close. Her polished hands found the zipper at the back of Emily’s tight black dress. “Let me help,” she murmured, voice low and elegant. Cool air touched Emily’s bare skin as the fabric loosened and slipped from her shoulders. Veronica’s fingers brushed the curve of her breasts, guiding the dress down over her willowy frame until it pooled at her feet. “You’re beautiful,” Veronica said, sincere and unhurried. “The soft lines of you… The way your curls fall. Really lovely.”

Emily stepped free of the dress, fully nude now under the warm restaurant lights, C-cups rising with each breath. Self-consciousness still hummed, but Emily refrained from the childish impulse of covering herself with her hands.

Lorenzo appeared a moment later with a knowing smile. His eyes moved over Emily with calm appraisal, taking in the long curly black hair, the modest but firm breasts.

His hands rose and cupped her tits, squeezing gently, testing their weight and give. His thumbs brushed across her nipples, feeling them tighten under the attention. “Nice density,” he said conversationally. “Good shape. Responsive.”

He turned her with light pressure and bent her forward over the edge of the table. The polished wood was cool against her stomach and her breasts. Lorenzo’s cock pressed against the entrance of her pussy. He pushed in with a few deliberate, measuring strokes, the thick head stretching her open. At the same time, two of his fingers pressed against her asshole, sinking past the tight ring to feel the meatiness inside.

“Pussy’s tight and warm,” Lorenzo observed, voice steady as he fucked her in a measured way, like he was sampling wine. “Good grip. Ass is meaty—nice and elastic. She’ll take a proper filling without trouble.”

He pulled free after a few more strokes, the wet sound of his exit quiet in the ambient noise of the restaurant. Then he straightened Emily up so she faced Chris again, one hand still resting possessively at the small of her back.

“Grade A,” Lorenzo declared. “I’m prepared to offer two thousand dollars for her.”

The number landed in Emily’s chest with a surprising warmth. She felt flattered was worth that much.

Chris inclined his head. “Deal.”

With that, Emily’s fate was sealed.

Lorenzo produced a pair of smooth metal handcuffs and locked her wrists behind her back with practiced efficiency.

"How would you like the young lady prepared?"

"I’d like a flame-grilled tit," Chris said.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, looking at Veronica with a playful glint in his eye. "And you? Would you like the other tit? We are offering our special 'Two Tit, One Spit' package where, if both tits are ordered, we do a free live spitting right here at the table. A dinner and a show."

Veronica eagerly agreed, her eyes widening with excitement. "Yes! I would love that!"

Lorenzo smiled. "Excellent choice. I will leave the young lady here while I get the equipment from the kitchen."

He walked away, leaving Emily standing naked with Chris and Veronica. The awkwardness returned as she was unsure how the main course should interact with its diners.

Veronica took a delicate sip of her wine. "Chris," she purred, "You should provide Emily some lube for the spitting later. The spit is quite thick."

Chris apologized for his absentmindedness and got up from his chair. He walked behind Emily, positioning himself between her legs again. Aiming his dick directly at her ass, he pushed forward slowly. The entry was tight but welcoming. He began to pump gently, keeping her open while resuming his conversation with Veronica about their upcoming vacation plans.

Emily remained respectfully quiet, her eyes fixed on the wall ahead. She wasn't part of the dinner anymore; she was the dinner. The sensation of Chris’s cock stretching her insides was grounding, a familiar anchor amidst the rising anxiety. Cory returned shortly after, carrying a small bowl of spice oil mixed with herbs. She began to rub it over Emily’s tits, coating every inch of skin in a glossy, aromatic sheen that smelled of rosemary and garlic. Chris continued his rhythmic pumping behind her, as the oil warmed on her skin.

Lorenzo returned carrying a small, portable charcoal grill which he set up directly on the table surface. He instructed Chris to bend Emily forward onto the hot grate. As Emily leaned down, a moment of apprehension hit her, the realization that heat would soon be applied directly to her most sensitive features.

Chris slowly pushed her tits onto the grill. The metal bars were already glowing red at the edges from Lorenzo’s pre-heating. Sizzle. The pain hit Emily like a truck. Sharp, searing burn that made her gasp and arch her back involuntarily. Her ass clenched tightly around Chris’ dick in response to the shock, milking him with involuntary spasms. Chris groaned softly as he came into her rectum.

Veronica watched, fascinated at Emily’s breasts cooking on the grill, steam rising from the contact points where skin met metal. "Look at that color change," Veronica whispered appreciatively. "Perfectly seared."

Emily managed a corky comment through gritted teeth, "My mom always said I couldn’t sear to save my life."

Lorenzo stepped into the space between Emily’s legs as Chris slowly pulled out, and lined up a six-foot spit against Emily’s ass. The steel rod was thick, three inches in diameter, and blunt-tipped. Emily reached back with her bound hands to spread her cheek open, accepting the intruder.

Lorenzo pushed the blunt tip slowly through Emily’s anus. The sensation was immense, starting with a sharp, burning fullness as the steel breached her sphincter. Thankfully, Chris’s cum coated her inner canal, providing a slick lubrication. Then came the stretching pressure, a deep, rolling ache that moved upward, shifting her intestines with a wet, sliding rhythm. She bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting iron to keep from crying out.

The rod continued its journey, pushing into her abdominal cavity. Emily’s breath hitched in short, shallow gasps. The steel grazed against sensitive internal walls, sending sparks of pain down her thighs. Spit now bridged her entire core. She clenched her jaw, willing herself to remain silent so as not to disrupt the quiet elegance of the other diners nearby.

Lorenzo informed Emily to say her last words as he held the rod steady in place.

Emily looked up, meeting Chris’s eyes. "Thank you, Chris," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly but sincere. "For asking me out... and for a lovely evening."

Lorenzo gave the rod a sharp, decisive jerk upward through her esophagus. With a wet shluck sound, the spit emerged from Emily’s mouth, protruding about three inches past her lips. Emily watched it in horror as it kept going for another foot until the entire six-foot rod was threaded through her body like a kebab on a skewer. Her head lolled slightly to the side, tongue lolling out around the steel shaft that pierced her from anus to mouth.

Lorenzo gave one final adjustment to the rod’s angle, balancing her weight so that Emily’s sizzling breasts rested securely on the hot grate before stepping back with a satisfied nod.

Emily bent over the table like a grotesque centerpiece, while steam curled up from the contact points where her breasts met the metal bars below. The spice oil crackled softly, releasing an intoxicating aroma of roasted garlic and seared meat into the air.

Chris picked up his wine glass again, swirling it lazily as he turned back to Veronica. "So, tell me about that villa in Tuscany," he said casually, ignoring Emily between them.

Veronica smiled, leaning forward slightly to rest her chin on her hand. She watched Emily’s chest rise and fall with shallow breaths, the heat turning her breasts a deeper shade of brown. "It’s been on my list for years," Veronica replied, taking a sip of wine. "I always imagined having dinner like this there... perhaps under the stars."

They resumed their conversation, discussing travel itineraries and restaurant recommendations as if Emily were nothing more than an elaborate garnish placed between them.

An hour later Cory returned with a chopping board and knife. Lifting Emily off the grill by the new handle coming out of her ass, she placed the steel rod end into a tilting stand, presenting Emily’s cooked tits to the table. The two mounds of flesh were now a deep, appetizing golden brown, glistening with the rendered fat and spice oil.

Cory slid the sharp blade beneath Emily’s left breast, feeling the resistance of the cooked tissue give way under pressure. With a decisive schlick, the first breast detached with a soft, wet thud onto the plate below. The sensation was electric and overwhelming. Emily’s body convulsed violently around the six-foot intruder, trying to roll into a fetal position but couldn’t.

Cory repeated the motion on the right side. As the blade severed the last ligaments holding Emily’s second breast to her torso, the sudden release of tension triggered an explosive orgasm in Emily’s overloaded nervous system.

Cory plated the two breasts, arranging them neatly with a sprig of parsley. She stepped back. "Perfectly tender," she noted, satisfied with her work.

"Tender," Chris noted, after sampling a piece. "And slightly sweet."

"Perfectly grilled," Veronica agreed, wiping a drop of juice from her lip.

Emily hung there, her eyes half-closed in blissful exhaustion as she was lifted by the spit and carried off to the kitchen by Cory and another assistant for further preparation.

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Cory returned once their plates had been cleared and set the check on the table, alone with a neat stack of cash beside it.

“Fourteen hundred for the sale of a grade A roaster,” she said brightly, sliding both toward Chris.

Chris glanced at it, then up at her. “How much tip should I give you for the lovely evening?”

Cory’s smile widened, bubbly and knowing. “Just a few strokes is fine, sir”

Chris stood. Cory turned and lifted the back of her skirt, baring her ass. Chris stepped behind her, freed his cock, and pressed the tip against the entrance of her pussy. The tip pushed in, stretching her open. He gave her the first stroke—slow and deep, sliding the full length through her until his hips met her curves. He drew back until only the tip remained inside, then thrust in again for the second. He kept the rhythm steady. Cory’s breath caught on the sixth stroke, a soft moan slipping out. On the tenth, he buried himself to the root and held for a moment before pulling free.

Cory lowered her skirt and turned with a wide smile. “Thank you so much, sir. That was such a really generous tip.”

Veronica watched from her seat at Chris being so open-handed, then let her gaze drop to the pile of bills on the table. Quiet calculation moved behind her blue eyes. He had sold Emily for two thousand, yet the restaurant had only returned fourteen hundred. The dinner had clearly been expensive. A flicker of amazement showed on her polished features before she smoothed it away.

Chris pocketed the cash and turned to her. “Ready to go?”

Veronica met his eyes, “Yes.”

She stood and leaned towards him. Used two fingers to tug the collar of her gold dress a little wider, letting the fabric part enough to show the deep line of her cleavage. “And I have plans for the rest of the evening to leave a lasting impression.”