Warning: this is not meant to be a hardcore / extreme story...
It’s late in the afternoon on a Thursday nite and I decide to give you a ring to see what your plans for the evening are, knowing good and well that any plans that you may have in store would be canceled with any invitation I lay before you. You claim to have no plans, just a nite of passing the dragging time…perhaps reading a romantic novel, watching Pride and Prejudice and playing some Jason Mraz on your acoustic, though nothing outrageous. I ask which Pride and Prejudice you are planning to watch and you quickly respond with the Keira version, hinting at a darker mood influenced by glasses of wine. After assessing your nite I recommend you put that nite on hold and entertain me for the nite, me being famished and lacking any notable company all day…and naturally since I have flattered you in a nonchalant way as to you being my preference for company over any other, you must accept.
By 6:30 in the evening you shield your eyes from the flooding headlights invading the semi-darkness of the candles you have lit on a nite like you had planned…you are always sensual like that. You check yourself one last time, for the hundredth time, smooth your skirt, sigh, and smirk at yourself…thoughts of possibilities swirling through your head.
Naturally I do the same before knocking on your door, making sure everything is out of place, thus in place, smooth the collar of my black button down shirt with thin white pin stripes, sigh, and smirk to myself…thoughts of possibilities flooding my head.
As I knock, you open, and there we are, only a screen door between us, casually commenting on how impressive we look, taking in each other’s familiar yet always enticing scent, both acting ever so cool and in control. As you proceed out the door we, in sync and as if scripted, open our arms to embrace, just as any two would do in the moment…and as I run my hand up your back and my nails dig gently into the back of your head, through your curls, I graze your cheek with mine and whisper, “Good Evening, Love”.
As we drive to the restaurant I have chosen for the nite we engage in typical conversation, saying plenty but in essence nothing at all, never a pause for silence. You comment on the music, Explosions in the Sky, and I reply that I felt instrumental only music felt right, more like a soundtrack to our nite. Rather than music with words dictating the evening, I felt our conversation and your intellect is the preferred music of the night. This causes you to smile in that seductive way you have mastered, perhaps invented, and tell me I know just what to say.
Upon our arrival at the restaurant, you adjust your shirt, intentionally pulling the tank top you have on underneath down ever so smoothly, revealing the luscious cleavage that has been strategically pushed together by your silky black bra, and I find myself trying to figure out if it was just the lust in my eyes playing tricks or did I actually see the top of your right nipple…I wouldn’t put it past you so I lean towards the latter. As we walk towards our table that just so happens to be located in a corner of the restaurant I casually graze your hand with mine and drag it upwards to your elbow and then to your back, directing you to the L-shaped booth as a tingling sensation runs up your back to your neck. The waitress brings a drink menu and I order us a bottle of white wine, not even looking at the menu, and two ice creams. You smile at me, contemplating what I have in mind and say, “Dessert first? I do recall you saying you were famished.” To which I reply with a you’re gonna get fucked tonite smirk, “I AM famished.” Slowly working through the ice cream but quicker through our first glass of wine and on into the second you coolly inch your way closer to me until our thighs are pressed noticeably against each other. The nite has been full of clever comments filled with hints of desire and it is now obvious to one another, as if there may have been doubt, that we both have thoughts of possibilities swimming naked through our heads.
With the restaurant low on employees and customers scattered conveniently throughout, I top off our glasses with the last of the wine, motion to the waitress for another bottle of wine, and slowly scan the room for any wandering eyes. With no attention directed to our low-lit corner and a fresh bottle of wine resting before us, I lean to whisper in your ear. As you wait for my warm breath, you feel the moisture of my tongue on the back of your earlobe and a slight tug from my teeth, followed by a long exhale from my warm breath in your ear. Your eyelids drop and you bite your lip, wondering how far I would take this and if I was merely teasing. Your answer comes soon after when you feel my nails grazing the inside of your thigh, back and forth back and forth, each time traveling further up your trembling thighs until I lightly run my fingers across the silky fabric of your damp panties.
Your eyes dart open and you reach for your wine, taking slow draws from glass but keeping the rim of the cold glass resting against your bottom lip. I then hike up your skirt slightly and flip up your skirt so that your moist panties are exposed, and slip four fingers between your panties and your pussy so I can pull them down to your shaking knees. As I spread my hands between your thighs to prompt your legs to open wider you take a larger sip of your wine and with my free hand I grab my glass and finish it off, pour myself another glass and take a couple sips of that one as well, enjoying the rush of excitement from my hand between your bare thighs and the alcohol to my head. With another warm breath in your ear and another stroke of my tongue I encourage you to put your glass down, so you finish your glass and set it down, clumsily, distracted.
With your left hand now free I take it in mine, tracing your palm and the top of your hand, occasionally folding my fingers between yours…and with my right hand I slowly, gently begin massaging your clit. Barely suppressing your moans, you begin breathing heavily as I slip a finger in and then out of your dripping pussy, moving back to your clit. I then slide back down to your pussy inserting one and then two fingers, feeling your grip tighten on my hand and on the cushion of the cheap leather of the booth. Gradually, with smooth motions, I begin pushing both of my longest fingers in and out of your wet pussy, in and out, in and out, picking up speed…in and out…adding a third finger…in and out…removing the third finger and moving my two fingers in a circular motion.
At this point I whisper in your ear, “Would you like to cum?” And your only capable response is a slight nod. So I take another long stroke behind your ear with a more moist tongue and whisper, “Why don’t you help me?” So you take your grip from the cushion and begin massaging your clit as I plunge three fingers in your waiting pussy. No longer having and regard for anyone in the restaurant, we begin our journey to your orgasm together…my fingers pumping inside your pussy and you massaging, vigorously…As I whisper in your ear, “Cum for me love, cum all over my fingers,” you are taken over with trembling sensations and your pussy becomes wetter and begins dripping down my palm to my wrist on onto the seat beneath your ass.
As you gasp and grip my hand harder, let out the slightest exhaling scream, you tense before going limp on my hand. With my fingers still inside your pussy you look up at me with begging eyes and say, “Can I cum again, please?” And I look at you with a controlling, seductive smirk, and whisper, “Not right now love,” and take my fingers out of your still dripping pussy, place them one at a time in my mouth, and lick your juices clean. With that please fuck me now gaze in your eyes, I breathe in your ear, “I wanna bend you over this table and fuck you from behind, with the sound of my cock gliding in and out of your pussy and the slapping of our naked bodies as the only sounds filling this room, accompanied by your screams, saying my name, begging me never to stop fucking you, until you cum over and over and over and over again, not stopping til your knees can no longer hold you.”
And as you sigh, with thoughts of possibilities swirling, possessing your head, I say, “Check, please.”