Date Night

We arrived back at home, quite content from a lovely evening on the town. It was Date Night, and naturally we were coming home to finish the evening properly. I kissed my wife and pointed to the bedroom. She smiled coquettishly and turned, walking into the darkened room with an exaggerated sway of her hips. I watched her disappear through the doorway, then went to the kitchen, selecting a bottle of honey and a can of aerosol whipped cream. I turned off the light and followed.

My wife was standing in the middle of the room with the overhead lights out, facing me with a seductive look in her eye. But I had plans for this evening, so, ignoring her, I walked past her to the head of the bed, placing the honey and whipped cream on the nightstand. I turned off the light in the closet, which we leave on when we're out. In the darkness, I walked to the window and opened the blinds, allowing moonlight to filter into the room.

She had turned to face me and I motioned with my hand for her to turn back around. She did so, but her eyes lingered petulantly in a half-smile. Returning to the nightstand, I opened our special drawer and pulled out the long blindfold. Quietly, I walked up behind her and quickly wrapped the silk around her eyes, tying it securely over her beautiful black hair.

My eyes wandered down her lithe frame, admiring her slim curves and the way her shimmering black dress hugged her perfect behind. The urge to grab her and ravish her rose like a tempest in my loins; her body could drive me wild in a heartbeat. But tonight was about restraint and control--both over myself and over her--so I allowed the reckless desire to spill through my body and out into the darkened room. Calm once more, I gently stepped out of my shoes, then leaned down and threw them loudly against the wall by the closet. The jarring noise made her jump, but she did not look over and I heard her exhale loudly from the sudden excitement.

Barefoot I stepped around her, remaining as close as possible without touching her. I breathed with slight exaggeration to impart my proximity and movements. Standing before my beautiful wife, my eyes took in her elegant neck and shoulder, the lovely mounds of her breasts, the hint of her leg through the slit in the dress. This time I focused my rising urges into delicate movements as I methodically removed her bracelet, necklace, and earrings. I avoided touching her as much as possible, moving around her still frame to reach the small catches and backings. I backed away from her to the dresser, upon which I placed the jewelry piece by piece, the metal-on-mahogany ticking through the room.

I undressed, not bothering to hide the sound of my belt or the rustle of my shirt and pants as they fell to the floor. I paused when I got to my underwear, debating nudity or restraint. Remembering my original intent and the difficulty I would face in holding my naked self in check when her nude form lay before my, I dropped my hands and faced her.

She radiated feminine sexuality from across the room: her backside was more prominently illuminated by the window, but the mirror on the far wall cast just enough light on her front to glitteringly reflect the outline of her breasts as they rose and fell with her breathing. Still, there was much to do before I would enjoy the pleasures of her body.

The carpet muffled my soft footsteps as I slipped past her to the bed. Taking the comforter and sheets in hand, I violently yanked them off to the side, throwing them just behind her. The passing wind ruffled her hair and she rocked forward slightly in surprise, but quickly righted herself.

The cleared bed revealed my intentions, though she could not see it: straps criss-crossed the memory foam mattress in an X, awaiting a victim like a spiderweb. I untied the square knot in the middle, pulling back each strap to its respective corner.

Stealthily I walked up behind my wife, breathing slowly through my mouth. I waited a full minute, enjoying the tease and savoring the self-denial. Finally I leaned in and deeply inhaled the scent of her hair while simultaneously releasing the knot of her halter. The form-fitting dress clung to her body, but the long strings dangled down her back as I leaned around and exhaled down the side of her neck and shoulder. She gasped and turned her head toward me. Quickly I backed off, stepping around to her other side.

Before she could relocate me I reached down and swept my arm behind her knees, catching her fall with my other arm. She gasped, then tightly wrapped her arms around my neck as I lifted her. Standing, I carried her to the side of the bed and gently placed her on the mattress. I lifted her head, sliding a pillow beneath it while sweeping her hair out to the sides. Ensuring the blindfold was secure, I moved down and straightened her dress, fussing over the hem until it was even.

Next, I took her arm and lay it above her head, leaning over and tying the far strap around her wrist, palm-up. I did the same on the other side so that her arms crossed above her head. Lovingly I scooped her hair over her shoulders and laid it down her body, long enough to cover the swell of her breasts in the manner of a classical painting.

Kneeling at her side, I crossed my arms like hers and laid my fingertips on the upturned underside of her wrists. Slowly, my fingers began tracing down her body, from the wrists to the elbows, down her triceps to her shoulders, over the dress and down the sides of her breasts, along her belly and finally coming together at the top of her hip on the leg closest to me. Then they continued, down her thigh to the knee, dragging my fingernails along her shin and the side of her calf to her delicate ankle, where I placed the next strap. I did the same to her other leg, tracing down to her foot still wrapped in its strappy heel. The knots were tight, but there was enough give for her to bend her legs to the side if needed.

I stepped off the bed and went over to the open drawer of the nightstand. I reached in and took out the other items I would require this evening, placing them beside the honey and whipped cream. The last item from the drawer was a pair of scissors, which I took with me to the foot of the bed.

The dress had been bought earlier today for this night and this night alone, though my wife did not know that yet. She believed it was a thoughtful gift, happily accepted and all the more so because I had requested she wear it tonight. In it, she was striking and beautiful and memorable as I knew she would be, a living fantasy of glittering sexuality. But to fully worship my wife as she deserves to be requires sacrifice, and while the dress was a marvelous creation, it was really only so because of the perfection beneath it. Thus, with its intended one-time purpose fulfilled, the destruction of this lesser beautiful thing would serve to elevate my wife's worth all the more.

Kneeling between her legs, I lifted the hem and placed the scissors in the nock of the slit. Steadily I closed the blades, severing the material with a satisfying snip. My wife tensed, suddenly nervous of the metallic sound, but she relaxed as I slowly moved up her body, careful to never touch her skin with the cold metal. At the end, I carefully moved her hair out of the way, then cut the last strip of material under her arm. Her body was moving beneath me, breathing rhythmically but forcefully as her hips twisted back and forth gently and her arms flexed and lightly strained against the bonds. Beneath her hair and the loose halter straps of the dress I could see the aroused flush of her skin.

I placed the scissors off to the side and stepped off the bed, realizing I was missing something. In my haste I had forgotten an essential part of my plan, and I chided myself as I quietly stole from the bedroom back to the kitchen, shutting the door behind me. With great care I filled a glass with ice and water, never making enough sound to carry through the door and give away my activities. Satisfied, I returned to the bedroom, pausing at the door to look upon my moonlit wife, tied to the bed and awaiting my attentions and devotion. She was waiting for me, writhing and almost primed for release, but that was still a long time coming; my gratitude and love, manifested in pleasuring her body, was not to be rushed, even by her.

I walked to the side of the bed, since the next part required access to her body with minimal contact. Grabbing the headboard for support, I leaned down above her hands and flicked my tongue across her fingertips, moving back and forth between her hands. Taking a sip of ice water, I slipped my mouth around her forefinger, sucking on it like a straw. I released it and went to her middle finger, then her ring finger, and finally her pinky. I did the same to the other hand, drinking the cold water and alternating between hot and cold as I sucked on her fingers.

Next my lips and tongue brushed down the hairless underside of her forearms, one after the other, reinforced with cold drops of water. I kissed and nibbled down one arm while my fingers played on her skin around my mouth. When I reached her shoulder, I leaned back, carefully resting the cold glass atop the bone pressing up from inside her elbow. My tongue and fingers danced down her other arm as the cold condensation sweated down the glass, onto the cleft inside her elbow. I placed the glass on the nightstand again, warmly licking the water from her elbow as I reposition further down the side of the bed. Pressing one hand on her chest to keep her hair in place, I slid the lightweight material of her ruined dress from her torso. Pausing to gently lay her hair across her naturally flattened breasts, further tormenting myself by hiding her glorious body under nothing but her hair, I took the corners of the dress and laid it open on the bed beside her body, revealing her toned stomach and lacy thong, dark blue in the store this afternoon but black in the darkened room. Her legs quivered and flexed in the open air.

Continuing my work, I swirled cold water just behind closed lips, cooling the flesh but keeping my tongue warm. I leaned forward and placed my lips high between her breasts and barely opened my mouth, letting the water dribble out and slide up between her collarbones around the base of her neck. She gasped sharply, and I quickly moved up and suckled her neck, the cold of my lips encircling my hot tongue as I lightly bruised the skin in my sudden assault. She moaned then, the first vocalized noise either of us had made since returning home.

I couldn't resist kissing her, knowing that she wanted it, too. Though brief, it was intense, and I strained to reign myself in. Stepping back from the bed I swapped the ice water for the honey. Nimbly I stepped onto the bed around her armstraps, kneeling above her head.

I opened the honey and held it over her slightly agape mouth. The viscous fluid slowly gathered inertia and fell on her lips, which opened to accept the sweet offering. Soon her mouth closed in reflexive swallow, and I continued dribbling the honey on her lips, across her chin, down her throat to her chest. I lifted the bottle away as she giggled, then I leaned down and kissed her upside down, licking the honey from her lips. My tongue followed the sweet trail, swirling down her neck and on to her rising and falling chest. I took my time, savoring every flavor of her skin and the honey, making sure to leave nothing but my saliva on the line from her mouth to her cleavage.

By the time I reached the end of the honey, I was up on all fours, my hand planted beside her, my face pressed between her breasts as I licked her perfectly clean chest. Slowly, as if suddenly realizing where I was, my efforts slowed, and I haltingly slid my lips from her sternum, brushing aside the first few strands of hair. Emboldened, I nudged a few more hairs out of the way, moving up the side of her breast. I could see the outline of her nipple poking up from the glossy strands. Baring my teeth, I moved over the bump in her hair and placed my teeth around it, pressing but not quite biting, holding it between my incisors for several of her panting breaths. I released the nipple and sat back on my haunches, closing the honey with my teeth and placing it beside her on the remains of the dress. I reached over and picked up the whipped cream, contemplating my next moves as I silently shook it. Progression to the next level would happen swiftly and required coordination.

Leaning over her, I blew forcefully, spilling her hair over the side of her chest and freeing her nipple. As my hot breath still flew over her breast, I placed the nozzle of the whipped cream and pressed it, making a small circling motion to leave a dollop of shockingly cool whipped cream on the peak of her breast.

A breathy "Oh!" escaped her, and before the sound faded my lips were on her nipple, lathering the cream around her breast and greedily licking it up. She moaned as I took the hardened nipple between my teeth again, this time nipping gently before swirling my tongue around the sensitive skin to soften the sharpness. I lavished attention on her breast, my mouth in constant motion as I circled the soft mound, returning continually to the sensitive tip. Her body moved beneath me and soon I felt her hands searching for me, sliding up and down my legs. Quickly I disengaged, leaning back and firmly pushing her hands into the mattress. I lightly slapped her cheek, barely enough to make a sound, but I pressed her arms down for emphasis. I was never harsh with her, but right now I demanded absolute obedience, really for her own benefit. She visibly calmed and looked properly chastened, though her body continued to slowly move and her breathing came heavily.

My hand remained on her cheek, caressing the soft skin as I stared down at her semi-bare torso. One side lay open, the trail of my tongue glistening in the dim light; the other side remained tantalizingly hidden beneath her long hair. Absently I slipped a finger into her mouth. Eagerly she sucked on it, coating it with her saliva.

Still pressing her arms into the mattress, I withdrew my finger and deftly slid it beneath her hair to the nipple. My wet finger ringed the tender flesh as it hardened, transferring her saliva and adding a cooling sensation to my touch.

Gently I raised my hand, spilling her hair onto the bed. At last her breasts lay fully exposed. The struggle to remain in control thrummed the tendons in my neck; I fought my lust as I traced the areola with my fingertips. My lips curled back in a snarl as I quashed the vision of her mouth around my cock, welcoming me into her as I knew she wanted. My eyes narrowed and the snarl shifted into a broad smile as I pinched her nipple, her gasp a symbol of my infinitesimal advantage over her at this moment when her catastrophic sexuality threatened to overwhelm my discipline. I kissed her, fiercely, then broke off, pommeling off the bed and landing lightly on the carpet.

So far I had endeavored to stimulate her upper body, and now it was time to work from the bottom up. I knelt at the lower end of the bed and unstrapped her shoes. I had debated leaving them on her, since the heeled leg is so very sexy, but instead I decided to feed her foot fetish.

Years before, in a haze of lust, my wife asked me to suck her toes. Her arousal had been transcendent; afterwards she had no recollection either of the request or the orgasm which followed. As a result, whenever I need to elevate my foreplay, I know where to go.

I started with a simple foot massage, trading sexuality for sensuality in order to shore up my rapid earlier advances. As I kneaded the soles and and arch and lightly pulled on her toes, her body subtly responded. Her breathing and heart rate slowed, and she stopped straining against the bonds. The flush on her chest, however, did not go away.

I worked for several minutes, moving up to her achilles tendon and calf. Deep sighs of pleasure could be heard from further up the bed as I pressed my knuckle along the nerve running outside the tibia. I continued down her ankle and across the top of her foot to the toes.

Gently I pulled her big toe away from its neighbor and licked the cleft. Releasing the smaller toe, I took it into my mouth and sucked it like I had done to her fingers. Slowly I worked my way down to her pinky toe. She was squirming again--only a little, but tellingly.

Still, this was only her left foot; I had another one to work over. And so I did, repeating the process over the next ten minutes, finishing with enthusiastic toe-sucking that brought forth audible moans.

Having satisfied her pediphilia, my schemes returned to the sexual. Only one final tease remained: the ultra-sensitive inner thigh. No matter how careful or erotic my attentions are to the rest of her body, nothing I do elsewhere comes close to producing the reactions I get from teasing this portion of her magnificent body.

Still kneeling on the floor, I rested my torso on crossed arms and began softly kissing the inside of her knee. Inch by inch I moved up, kissing and dragging the tip of my tongue in a lazy, winding path up her thigh. Whatever sexual tension placed on hold from the massage came roaring back. Soon I had to free my arms and hold her legs in place as she tried to move lower on the bed or press her leg against my face to negate the tickling sensation. I would have none of it, pressing my weight on her leg and punishing her with ever more-delicate whispers of tongue across the skin as I inched closer to her pussy, whose heat I could feel from several inches away.

Resting on her leg, I limply dragged my fingernails up to her crotch, stopping just short of the pantyline. I held them there, perfectly still, as my tongue followed the path they had taken. As my tongue reached my fingers I abruptly lifted and returned to the area between her legs.

I smiled as her hips rose from the bed, searching for my touch. Pressing her other knee into the mattress, I began biting my way up from that side. Where my touch on the first leg had been tantalizing, my attention toward her other leg was primal and dominating. This leg was mine, as this body was mine, as this woman was mine.

My wife responded to my assertiveness quiescently, halting her movements and lying quietly as I marked her leg with my teeth. I stopped when the whiskers on my jaw brushed against her panties. Steaming heat wafted across my cheek as I sucked deeply on her uppermost thigh, leaving a darker bruise to match the one on her neck.

I finished with a loud pop and faced my quarry. I could smell her, intoxicating and enticing. I reached back and slipped off my boxer briefs. It was time.

Pushing up firmly I stood and walked to the nightstand. I smirked as she whimpered; patience, my love: I will reward you soon enough. I selected the item I required and returned to my shrine between her legs. Reaching over, I picked up the scissors and lifted the elastic band of her g-string. Like the dress, this dainty piece of lingerie had been purchased solely for this evening and would be retired with due elegance. I snipped the elastic on both sides, leaving the thin lace strip in place. The scissors were returned to the side of the mattress, and I picked up the dildo I had taken from the nightstand.

I reached up and tossed one elastic strand to the side, then the other, and finally, pausing appropriately and with great reverence, I flipped down the lace and beheld my ultimate treasure.

Her perfectly bald pussy glistened in the moonlight; the lace had been damp all the way to the waistband. The pheromones were overwhelming. My mouth watered and I felt my heart hammering against my sternum. Taking a deep breath, I slowly blew across her slit. She shivered and sighed pleadingly. The teasing was over--I indulged.