So, What’s for Dessert?


I finish applying make-up and pick up my purse. I have to get going to meet you for dinner. A smile crosses my face, seafood – shrimp, lobster, crab….yum! I check myself in the mirror one last time. My auburn hair is down, because I know you like it that way. I rake my fingers through it, pushing it back from my face. I smooth my dress down over my lean stomach and appreciate the effect that the hours at the gym have had on me. The dress is a sleek silvery almost pewter color. The hemline reaches just above midthigh and it’s a halter top, tied behind my neck. You specifically requested that I not wear underwear. I complied, wondering briefly at what you have in mind. The thought of your hands on me already starts to turn me on. Sucking in a breath to ease the excited flutter of my stomach I head out the door.

All the way to the restaurant I’m jittery….it’s been so long since we’ve had time to spend together. When I arrive you’re already there, waiting. I walk up, knowing that the strappy black heels I wear make my hips sway. You pull me close and give me a kiss. “Good to see you, darling,” you tell me in a low voice. “Mmmm hmmm,” is all I can think to say in return.

Just then the waitress appears to tell us that our booth is ready. She leads us to a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Your hand trails over my ass as we stop while she sets menus on the table. I smile at you, enjoying the contact. The waitress steps out of the way and you gesture for me to sit down. I slide in, feeling the slick cool seat all the way up the back of my thighs. It’s one of those unexpectedly erotic sensations. I look up, expecting to see you sitting opposite me, instead you slide into the same side of the booth as me. I briefly raise my eyebrows and then decide that the pendik escort closer you are the better.

I lean over and nuzzle at the side of your neck, enjoying the way that you taste and smell. “Hey, sit down and figure out what you want for dinner,” you tell me. I sigh, and comply. Trying to seduce you before you’re ready is an exercise in frustration. I scan the menu and decide on a combination platter with everything I like: shrimp, crab, and lobster.

I feel your hand on my thigh as you peruse your menu. I sip at my water and try to act like it doesn’t affect me. Then I feel it sliding higher and am glad that I didn’t wear underwear. If I had it would have gotten me in trouble. Though the consequences for that could have been entertaining as well. I feel your fingers brush along the lips of my pussy. Then I stiffen with wide eyes and a sudden intake of breath as your fingers jar the ring in my hood piercing, sending little shocks through me. You smile and ask how my day was. I look at you in disbelief, you’re doing this to me and now you want to have a conversation? I smile and tell you, “Fine, I think….and getting better.” You grin, an ornery look that says that you haven’t even started.

Then the waitress comes back to take our orders. As she’s asking if we’ve decided I can feel you sliding a finger between my slick lips. You look at me and say, “Tell her what you want, dear.” As I open my mouth to speak you push a finger into me. I swallow. “Ummmm, the combination platter,” I manage to tell her, trying desperately to sound normal. As she asks if I would prefer soup or salad, you hit my clit with your thumb. I can feel my stomach muscles clenching as I try to stay still. “Salad, Italian dressing, and the baked potato with sour cream and butter,” maltepe escort I say in a rush. “And a margarita on the rocks with salt,” I tell her, shooting a look at you, as if to ask what you’re doing to me. You place your order calmly, all the while keeping your fingers inside me.

As she walks away with our orders you lean over, nipping the side of my neck, making my eyes go half shut. You ask, “Problems, dear?” I inhale, trying to compose myself, and tell you, “not at all.” You grin, knowing that I’m lying through my teeth. “Well, in that case, what have you been up to?” you ask. Somehow I manage to tell you what has been going on in my life recently. You fill me in on your life, in between driving me to the edge of cumming and then stopping short. Now, not only am I having to deal with you making me crazy with your hand under the table, but you won’t give me the satisfaction of an orgasm. I moan low in my throat and tell you that you’re evil. “Probably so,” is the answer that I get. I make it through the salad and somehow hold a conversation about the other people that we know and what they were doing.

I know that by now my nipples are hard and showing against the slinky fabric of my dress. I’ve tried to slide my hand into your lap to torment you as well. You aren’t having any of that, you bump my hand away with your leg and give me a sharp look. I content myself with focusing on breathing and toying with the slender straw in my margarita. Your fingers have me so wet that I can feel it making the seat slippery beneath me. Occasionally they slide down and your nails trail up my inner thighs, giving me shivers. Then our food arrives. I sigh in relief, sure that I’m going to get a reprieve. I’m surprised as I feel you slip something into kartal escort my hand under the table. I can tell by the feeling that it’s a slim vibrator.

As the waitress leaves, you lean over and kiss me, sucking on my lower lip a little, nipping at it. I purr under the attention. Then you nip my earlobe and whisper to me, “Put it in. And turn it on.” I stare at you in shock and disbelief. I’m thinking, “you expect me to eat like _that_?!?” After a few moments I comply, not believing that I’m actually doing this. I hold my breath as the vibrations push me closer to the edge. You grin, sensing my distress, and then proceed to start eating. I can’t do anything except try to focus on my food. I pick at my shrimp and lobster while you talk to me and I try to answer back, completely unable to focus on the conversation.

After about ten minutes of watching me attempting to eat dinner, and gauging how close I am to cumming you lean over. You suck my breath out of me with another kiss and then ask me in a low whisper, “So, do you want to cum?” I nod and manage to moan, “yes…please!” You smile and bite down on my shoulder, where it meets my neck. I stifle another moan. “Ok,” you tell me, and cover my mouth with yours, swallowing the small whimpers that escape me. Your thumb hits my clit and I stiffen against you. My hips buck against you. Another couple strokes, combined with the teasing as we ordered, the vibrator while we ate, and the knowledge that we’re in a restaurant with other patrons merely feet away, sends me over the edge. My back arches, pressing my body against you, holding back moans and whimpers, fingers digging into your shoulders. You keep me locked into orgasm for several long minutes with your thumb against my clit, your fingers replacing the vibrator.

Finally you let me breath again. I gasp for air as quietly as I can and try to pull myself back into reality. Finally I look at you with the heavy lidded eyes that I have after a good orgasm.

Smiling, I ask, “So, what’s for dessert?”

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