Cat o' Nine Tales

"By the way, what is the 'law' I continuously break?" she asked; now getting back up and walking toward their closet.

"If I told you that, there wouldn't be anymore arrests, now would there?" he replied mischievously; propping his pillows up to look at his girlfriend; dressed now in a long nightgown; hair pulled up in a twist; going through the costumes they had accumulated over the last two years for their fuck acting fun.

"Hey, we haven't done it in these in a long time!"

Coming across the Little Red Riding Hood and wolf costumes, she pulled them from the rod; a smile forming on her now cum free face as she continued.

"You know, we can make it a threesome this time! I'm already dressed as the grandmother."

"Yeah! Maybe you can get that wild coworker friend of yours; the bi chick with the innocent doe eyed look and big tits to be Little Red and have her watch the action." He sat up; excitement stirring in his voice.

"Or better yet; have her be a part of the action" she offered. "After all, the grandmother getseaten by the wolf, doesn't she?" They looked at one another with lust anew. "Then once ‘Granny' is devoured, the big, bad wolf can turn his attentions to Red and getreally big- andvery bad!"

She dialed her friend's number as he changed into the wolf costume.

"Hey girl! It's me. Whatever you've got planned for tonight – change it. You've got a storybook date with me anda real animal"...

*******

Fetish Way

"From Soup to Nuts"

An exotic décor; an erotic dinner

Mmmmmmm...

I remember every detail from earlier this evening; every move; every thought; every delectable feeling. I've been replaying them all in my mind while lying here in the jacuzzi; while lying here masturbating to the evening's every sensuous moment... It is a supper club really. Something reminiscent of an era where big bands played throughout the evening, the dance floor was the size of a small gymnasium and men's attire was mandatory jacket and tie. The restaurant we frequent holds the same ambiance and boasts a five star rating for its food and service. But the one thing that keeps us coming back is not the award winning cuisine or the 1930's circa décor or even the Maitre d' that has your car brought up to the front door precisely when you're leaving. The main reason we love the place is for the floor length tablecloths draped over each table. They provide delicious opportunity for a multitude of equally delicious sins.

There are just a few tables that are in a secluded area of the "reservations required" restaurant, and our favorite is the one in the corner; a curved leather tufted booth nestled into it; the one where the thick foliage of palm trees partially hide us from the others dining. It's as if we're on an island all by ourselves; just the three of us- me, my husband, and our ravenous hunger – our ravenous hunger to feed our near insatiable sex, that is.

The sex we enjoy is different variations of vanilla; like the ice cream. And like the ice cream, the sex we sometimes have is the soft kind; sweet, romantic, dreamy. Other times we prefer the harder variety - real fucking; intense, passionate; wild. But in any form, always great to have as a dessert anytime; anywhere. And sometimes the anywhere is at our table at the restaurant, and the anytime is when we offer it to one another – like we did tonight; our yummy version of dessert decadently served underneath it.

Our favorite waiter, Sebastian, had just finished presenting our appetizers and already my husband's cock was out of his pants; stiff; bobbing with erotic anticipation. I knew he was craving for my touch when suddenly; he reached over and took the soup spoon from my hand; taking my hand then into his and slipping it beneath the table and filling it with his manhood. As I caressed the bulging head atop his lengthy shaft, his left hand slid my skirt up to reveal the garter belt and crotchless panties I was wearing. It was the ultimate turn on for him; his fingers seeking the moist heat of my pussy between the lace framing my swollen folds and the tremulous flesh of my clit. I could tell he was hot and getting hotter by the ultimate hard on I felt throbbing within my hand the moment he discovered I was as excited as he.

I casually glanced over to the guests sitting at the table across from us; two couples deeply engaged in their own conversation and {thankfully} oblivious to the pair across from them that was engaged not in conversation, but in each other's masturbation. I lifted my salad fork to my mouth with my free hand; enjoying the meal, but enjoying more the appetizers now being served beneath the tablecloth.

Assured we were undiscovered, I once again began pumping his shaft slowly; teasing its every inch. Stretching the skin taut on the down stroke, I reached into his suit pants and scooped his engorged sac from its Fruit of the Loom bed without skipping one beat of my hand job. As we fed each other our soup from the table above; our other hands continued to feed one another our passions below. My pussy left a small puddle beneath me now; his demanding fingers thrusting in and out as another gifted finger strummed my clit to its mini erection; a pulse so strong I felt its tingling rhythm caress the inside of my bellybutton. I squirmed in our booth; his massage of my clit catapulting the urge to cum so badly that my nipples ached with raw desire. His cock was steel hard; frothing with precum that I then coated it with; like an erotic textured painting; his cockhead my perverse artist's palette. As our waiter approached, I dared to touch my finger of glossy cum artistry to my lips; his orgasm's prelude oozing from its slit; licked with the tip of my tongue; this as my husband watched; entranced. My unquenchable desire to taste him; my voracious need to consume him was gluttonously clear.

Sebastian had reached our table; presenting the main course with fanfare; describing its culinary creation by their renowned chef in detail. Unbeknownst to him, as he then bowed and asked if there was anything else he could get us to enjoy with our meal, we both just smiled and shook our heads "no" as our fingers nodded "yes" on each other's dripping genitals beneath the table. We both unmistakably knew we were going to enjoy one another with our meal.

Alone once again; my husband leaned over to kiss me; his tongue thrusting into my mouth to mate with mine; kissing my cheek; my neck; my breathing suddenly becoming erratic as he licked; then whispered in my ear,

"I want you to place your hands on the table; folded, and keep them there until I've finished."

He began to feed me as his other hand resumed its clit foreplay; feathering my sensitive nub with the tip of his middle finger. With each morsel of food he placed on my tongue, another droplet of my sex flowed; trickling down the sides of his exploring fingers. He worked my bud with the speed of a hummingbird's wings; the rapid flutter of his attentive digit making it quiver wildly in response. I eased my one leg atop his; my flower inviting more of his fingers' strumming. I felt my clit tremble; then quake, as I bit down on the fork he placed to my lips; the threshold now reached through his masturbation talents to my throbbing, drenched pussy. His fingers waded in my pool of juices as I continued to spasm; the string of climaxes seemingly endless. It was so difficult; controlling my moaning and writhing, but the tiny squeaks that escaped through my lips were telltale signs that ecstasy had washed over and drowned me. He smiled; a knowing smile that he had done this to me; masturbated me to multiple orgasms while all my screams and thrashings of climax uncontained at home had to be restrained here at the restaurant.

Time was suspended as I came; then came down; spent, but yet still aroused and so wanting to please my husband in my own daring way. We finished our dinners; still kissing and petting; still realizing there was more to be had of each other as our own personal, delectable desserts.

"My wife and I will have coffee, Sebastian" my husband said as the bus boy cleared our table.

"And would you and madam like to see the dessert cart tonight, sir?"

My husband looked directly at me; lust still aflame in his eyes as he answered our waiter.

"No, Sebastian; not tonight. There is nothing on the dessert cart we are in the mood for."

Sebastian bowed and headed off to the kitchen; stopping to allow the foursome to get up from their table and take leave. We now had our section of the restaurant all to ourselves. I wasted no time slipping beneath the table as I, concealed by the cloth, reached for my dessert hung between his legs. I eagerly sucked his balls into my hot, demanding mouth; alternating turns bathing them in their moist surroundings. My lips brushed against the base of his thick cock as my sensual sponge- my tongue – washed his heavy, cum filled balls in their carnal sauna environment. I took his rigid shaft in my hand; stroking it gently at first; his sac tightening as I siphoned both balls into my mouth. His hand reached down to cup my chin as my tongue snaked around his scrotum lying within its oral hotbed.

"Sir, may I suggest an after dinner drink to go with yours and madam's coffees? Perhaps an anisette?" Sebastian had returned; pouring the coffee from an ornate silver carafe as was the house custom, and placed the crystal cream pitcher down as he awaited a response. From above, I heard my husband's near the brink of no return reply as I continued to suckle his endowments uninterrupted; silently below.

"No, I...I think not Sebastian. My wife is... ahhhh... is... in the ladies room. She would have mentioned it before leaving the table if she had wanted anything more. But... thank you for suggesting it."

Again I heard Sebastian's footsteps fade as my husband's hand descended; finding its way to mine; covering it. We together masturbated his much needing to cum shaft as I vacuumed his balls still deeper into my throat; devouring them with passion. His grip on my hand around his cock tightened as his strokes grew faster; his cum racing up his shaft at urgency's speed as my mouth replaced his balls with his cockhead, and I drank my liquid dessert down in one long swallow.

I was still licking the last of his cream from my lips as I slid back into the booth; no one the wiser of our decadent dinner sex.

"That was soooo fucking incredible!" he murmured; shaking his head in breathless amazement. And he was right - it had been incredible; the titillating risk we took. Our waiter standing only inches away while I gave my husband head; the mere thought a new fantasy to masturbate to... like right now.

Subtly, he zipped his fly as we finished our coffee; satiated now in more ways than one. We paid our bill and rose to leave; the tablecloth a sole witness to our naughty deeds.

The Maitre d' summoned for our car, as Sebastian, helping us into our coats commented,

"I hope you both enjoyed your dinner this evening."

"Oh yes, Sebastian! We loved everything tonight! From soup...to NUTS." I replied; winking at my husband; my annunciation and innuendo devilishly clear.

"I'd like to make our reservations for next Friday now, Sebastian" my husband suddenly said. "And may I request the table across from the one we sat at tonight?"

"Certainly, sir. I will place the reservation and table preference in the book immediately."

As we pulled away from the restaurant, I asked; puzzled, why he had changed our seating.

"Simple" He replied; a huge grin eclipsing his face. "I should have enough room underneath that table for MY dessert then."

Ooooooooooh ... I just came...

*******

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