Dinner with Laura

It was supposed to be a quiet dinner where we could talk and get to know each other. We had set it up that way because it was our first meeting and neither of us wanted to commit to anything ahead of time. However, I was determined to press ahead if the signals were right.

The restaurant was almost empty and I indicated to the hostess that I wanted the table in the back corner. All the tables had crisp white table cloths, but this particular one had an oversized cloth that reached almost to the floor. I noticed this right away and thought it might prove to be useful.

I knew from our correspondence that you were 45 years old and recently divorced. Your two children had long since left home and made lives of their own. It was time for you to live life for yourself, which meant letting go of old inhibitions and rules and living some of your sexual fantasies, especially those that involved submission. No man had ever recognized that part of you, or if he had, he had been afraid to go there. You wanted to explore this side of yourself, but like me do it in a way that would not interfere with your normal life or other relationships.

I am 55 years old and have had some experience with women like you. The internet has opened up a new world of relationships. You can engage someone with a low key email and over time get to know them better than their closest real world friends. They feel safe behind their secret name and email address and want to correspond with someone who is empathetic and shares their fantasies.

I am the same way. It is a relief to find that there are women out there who want what I have to give. I like to stimulate them with the written word until they hunger to try the real thing. Then I arrange to meet them and push them to become my submissive. Some might call it manipulative, but I don't see it that way. We are all free to choose what we want to experience in life. I am careful to protect the woman's privacy and my own.

From the scores of emails I had exchanged with you I knew what you wanted. You had put up with a pure vanilla life long enough. I sensed that you trusted me and needed me to take charge of you at our first meeting, which is what I intended to do. You were gutsy and you were ready.

We sat down and I ordered a bottle of good wine with some chips and salsa, telling our waiter that we would wait a while before ordering our dinner.

"No problem," he said. He was a good-looking young man who seemed anxious to please. "Just signal me when you are ready."

He was trying but failing to keep his eyes from staring at your breasts in the tight, low cut top that hugged your figure. I understood because I was having the same problem. Eventually he turned and left us to go get the wine.

"Laura, you are a naughty girl for wearing a top like that," I said. "Our waiter is undoubtedly going to screw up our order."

You smiled coyly and spoke in that sweet Southern draw. "Whatever are you talking about? I came straight here from work. This is way all healthy women dress in Texas. Besides this is what you told me to wear. Remember?"

I laughed. "I said a low cut top, short skirt, stockings, and heels. I didn't say the top should be skin tight."

"You want me to take it off?"

I knew then that we were going to get along fine. You were brazen, cute, and sexy as hell. It was going to be a struggle to keep my hands off of you.

Before I could think of an answer our waiter was back with the wine and our appetizers. He put the basket down and began to work his cork screw into the bottle, while at the same time stealing glances at your chest. You were relishing the effect your tits were having on him and teased him some more.

"You do that so well," you purred. "I'll bet you have screwed the corks out of lots of bottles."

"Yes ma-am," he stammered, twisting the tool furiously.

I sat back and enjoyed the show. From all our correspondence I knew that you were a free spirit who liked to have fun with sex, but I had not expected this much action so soon. I half expected you to reach out and squeeze the bulge in the young man's pants.

You picked up a chip and licked your lips. "I hope these chips are good and firm. I hate dipping limp chips into my salsa, don't you?"

"There's nothing worse," I agreed, laughing.

A chip dripping with salsa found its way into your mouth. "Oh my, this is good -- a crisp hard chip and a smooth hot salsa." Somehow you managed to leave a little dab of salsa on your lower lip.

The waiter looked at you like he wanted to say something but didn't know what. Instead he took a deep breath and jerked the cork out of the bottle. We both looked at him and smiled as he poured a small amount into my glass. I took the approval sip and nodded to him that it was okay.

He extended the bottle to fill your glass and you turned toward him while holding your glass in such a way that he had to lean over the table in order to reach it. The result was that he was looking almost straight down into your cleavage. At the same time you wiggled your shoulders just enough to make all that exposed flesh ripple like vanilla custard during an earthquake.

Had I not grabbed his arm he would have poured wine all over the table. He was looking no where near your glass as he tipped the bottle.

"Why don't you just leave the bottle," I said, laughing. "We can pour our own. You'd better go see to your other customers while you can still walk."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," he said, backing away as fast as he could.

You grinned at me and licked the salsa away from your lip. "That was fun."

"It was indeed. You really did a job on him."

"That's the kind of thing I want the freedom to enjoy in life. I know I have what it takes to excite men and it makes me feel good doing it. The men enjoy it too, so why not? The only problem is that society then brands you a slut and ostracizes you."

"It's because you are a threat to ordinary women. They can't let you take their men away."

"Yea, I know. I guess I just have to hide my true nature except when I am with special like-minded people."

"And here we are," I said.

For half an hour we enjoyed the wine and a frank discussion of the same issues we had explored together on the internet. Having you there in person and seeing the fire in your eyes as you talked about your kinky fantasies was generating butterflies in my stomach. Several times you let crumbs from the chips drop onto your chest and I had to flick them away with my finger tips. Whenever that happened you pulled your shoulders back and made it clear that I was free to do whatever I wanted.

At one point a chip that had been dipped in the salsa landed squarely on your nipple. The hard little point was sticking out so far that the chip was hung up like a piece of pasta on a fork.

"Oh my," I said. "That salsa is going to stain your blouse unless I clean it off right away. Now hold still."

Carefully I grabbed the chip between by thumb and index finger and dropped it on the table. A little piece was left, which gave me an excuse to return to your nipple and pick at it. You sucked in your breath as I moved my fingers around, giving your nipple little pinches. At this point the remaining chip pieces were little crumbs on your blouse, which I had to scrape off with my finger nail. Your eyes opened wide and I thought you were going to levitate out of your chair.

"Steady now," I said. "We have gotten rid of the chip, but the sauce has left a stain that's going to take water and some rubbing to get out."

I dipped a corner of my napkin in my water glass and began to dab the spot on your blouse. You began taking deep breaths and making little noises in your throat. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the waiter standing by the kitchen door looking at us.

"We're ready to order now," I called to him, as I added more water to the napkin and continued to soak your nipple through your shirt. The wet fabric was now clinging to every jutting curve.

The waiter came over with his order pad. His eyes were big.

"Help me a minute, would you?" I asked. "My friend has a stain on her blouse that needs rubbing to get out. I will stretch the fabric tight and you rub the red spot with the wet napkin. Can you do that?"

Something came out of his mouth that sounded like "glubbbbrrrrr". He dropped the order pad on the table and accepted the wet napkin that I handed to him.

"Lean forward, my dear," I said to you. "And pull your arms back so we can stretch the fabric tight and the waiter can work the napkin into the weave where the stain is."

You had started this little game by teasing the poor waiter, and now you were going to pay the price, or get the reward, depending on how you looked at it. Judging from your shining eyes I think it was going to be a reward. You relished the idea of this young man's fingers rubbing your stiff nipple.

I pulled the fabric tight against you so that your breasts made twin little circus tents. The red stain was the flag on a pole at the peak of one of the tents. Our waiter held the napkin with his index finger pushing out the wet corner. He leaned over and positioned his finger right over the stain, and then as if he suddenly realized he would be touching your nipple, he stopped and looked at me.

"Go ahead," I said. "Rub it hard. You can see she won't mind."

"Okaaay....."

His finger made contact with you and he began a gentle back and forth motion. You gasped and gripped the edge of the table.

"Harder," I said. "And use more water."

I put my water glass where he could reach it to dip the napkin. This time he soaked it and returned it to your breast dripping. He was breathing hard, oblivious to where he was. Fortunately his body blocked the view from any of the other tables. Then, giving up any pretense of getting out the stain, he pinched your engorged nipple in the wet napkin. His hard cock was inches from your hand, too tempting for you to resist.

"It's so nice of you to do this for me," you whispered to him, your sexual arousal clear in the tone of your voice. If you were faking it you were doing a great job. Sighing as if you couldn't help yourself, your hand closed on the long hard bulge in the front of his pants.

"Ahhhhh...."

I let you two massage each other for half a minute and then called a halt. "That's enough. The stain is gone. We want to order our main course now."

You responded immediately to the sternness in my voice. The bulge was given a final squeeze and the napkin pushed away. It took the waiter a good ten seconds to recover enough to pick up the order pad. The front of his pants was wet.

"We will both have the baked salmon," I said. "And bring another bottle of the same wine. By the way, what's your name?"

"Tom," he breathed. "You two are really something. I hope no one saw that."

"Don't worry," I said. "Nobody saw anything. Now go put our order in."

Tom backed away and I turned to you. "How do you feel?"

"How do you think? My nipple is tingling and I'm hot as hell. When you asked the waiter to help you clean my blouse I thought I was going to wet my pants. You are not wasting any time putting me to the test."

"Why should I? We've been talking about this kind of thing for a long time. I know what you like."

"But in a public place like this?"

"I was careful to be discrete. If people are curious and want to go out of their way to watch, that's up to them. Besides you know it turns you on."

"God yes."

Your facial expression told me that you were ready for more. I put my hand under the table and onto your bare knee. The short skirt you were wearing made it easy for me to slide my hand up over your stockings and find the flesh of your thigh. My finger nails were scrapping lightly on your panties over your pussy when the waiter returned with another bottle of wine.

"Thank you, Tom," I said. "Please open it and refill our glasses. Laura, keep your hands to yourself this time."

Your face got red at my reference to your grabbing Tom's cock. Then you recovered and gave it right back to me.

"Don't worry," you said. "I wouldn't want Tom to spill wine on your pants that we would have to clean off."

You winked at Tom and stuck out your tongue to me. I absolutely loved it. You were really fun to play with. As for Tom, his hands were shaking as he worked on the cork, and the bulge was growing again in his pants.

"My, you are naughty," I laughed. My fingers were still resting on your pussy under the table, and at that point I dipped my shoulder and slid two fingers under the edge of your loose boy panties and onto your spongy wetness.

"Ahhh......" Your back straightened and your eyes got wide. It was obvious to Tom from the motion of my arm and your reaction something had happened under the table. I looked at him and matched his twisting of the cork screw with my twisting of my wrist. When he paused, I paused. He could tell what I was doing by the movement of my arm. He took a long time getting the opener fully imbedded in the cork.

At that point he just froze, not wanting to extract the cork and end the show. I froze too, except for the tip of one finger, which was searching for your hard little nub. You seemed to be holding your breath.

"Ummphhh...... ohhhhhh...." My finger had found the right spot.

"Godddd.....", he exclaimed as he jerked the cork out of the bottle.

I picked up the bottle with my free hand and filled your glass. "Here drink some more wine. It will calm you."

"Ummm.... . There's no way I am going to be calm with your fingers doing what they are. But I would like some more...'

You drank half the glass in one gulp, all the while twisting your hips slowly against my hand. I looked at Tom and indicated with my eyes that he was to leave us. He took a step back and headed slowly toward the kitchen.

It was then that I noticed that the hostess was looking at us. She was well-dressed and attractive. I figured she might even be the owner. When I caught her eye she turned and followed Tom into the kitchen.

"You are making a spectacle of yourself Laura. You are going to have to get under the table. Slide down now while no one is watching. From this moment you will do exactly as I say."

This was something you clearly had not expected, but at this point you were game for anything. "Yes, sir," you said, and down you went, letting the table cloth flap down so you were completely covered.

"Open my pants but don't touch me with your hands or lips. I want to feel only your tongue."

"Yes sir," came your muffled voice from under the table.

Undoubtedly you were surprised when you pulled down my zipper and discovered bare flesh. In optimistic anticipation of our meeting I had omitted wearing any underware. My linen slacks had been deliciously rubbing against me all evening.

"You will have to undo my belt in order to do your job," I said, as if you were sitting beside me at the table. "I want you to lick my balls as well as my cock."

Slowly you released my belt and pealed back my pants. I raised my hips so you could slide them down part way over my ass and expose my genitals. Your hot breath caressed me and I pictured your head moving around studying me from different angles. I was very hard and erect, proud of my power over you and how my cock was responding.

The first touch of your wet tongue sent a chill up my spine. "Niceeee.....," I murmured.

"You like that, uh? How about this......" Your tongue started at the base of my cock and licked slowly upward, finally reaching the tip and swirling around it. It was exquisite torture.

"Now my balls," I ordered.

"Yes sir. They're a little difficult to reach, but I'll do my best. If I carefully put my head just so ...."

I felt your hair on my thighs as you wiggled down to be able to bring your mouth up between my legs. Then the flat of your tongue was lapping my balls like a kid licking all around an ice cream cone to keep it from melting. God that felt good.

At that point I just leaned back in my chair and pushed my hips forward to let you do what you wanted. That soft, hard, cool, hot, wet tongue moved up and down my cock and around and under and over my balls until I thought I was going to explode. Precum was leaking from me and you were eagerly lapping it up. You even licked up under my shirt and darted your tongue in and out of my naval. It was fucking fantastic.

As you shifted your body to get better access my foot ended up between your thighs in a very fortuitous position. I found that I if I raised the toe of my shoe and it would fit right between your legs and against your pussy. The tip was tapered and provided the perfect hard surface for you to rub against and receive some measure of the pleasure you were giving me.

For a long minute you kept licking and rubbing and making little moaning noises. "Ohhh.... soo goooood...... .godddddd......"

Then, not satisfied with just the tip of my shoe, you pulled the shoe off and my sock with it. My bare toes were then available for you to slide under the leg of your boy shorts against your pussy. I obliged by wiggling my toes in a way that was guaranteed to stimulate all your right places.

This was too much for you. I don't think you knew where you were or what you were doing. Contrary to my instructions you wrapped your hand around my cock and thrust it into your mouth. Three times you took me deep into your throat, and on the last time I erupted. You swallowed and sucked and swallowed some more, still squirming your pussy against my toes.

"Bad girl," I muttered when I finally started breathing again. And just at that moment our waiter arrived with our dinners.

I sat looking like a little boy who had been caught with his pants down, which I was. In the meantime the waiter, not seeing you at the table, was confused.

"Perhaps I should take the dinners back until your friend returns," he said.

"No need," I smiled. "She's right here."

I lifted the corner of the table cloth. You were sitting with my foot buried between your extended legs and white cream on your lips and chin. When you saw us you smiled sheepishly. "Can I come out now sir?"

"My god," said Tom the waiter. "Where can I find a woman like that?"

I laughed. "They're out there. And when you find one you have to treat her right."

Tom put down the plates and left us. I saw that the hostess had been watching the whole thing. "You can come up now," I said. "You don't want your dinner to get cold. But don't wipe your face."

I managed to pull up and buckle my pants and help you get back into your chair without bumping your head on the table. You obeyed and did nothing to clean my cum from your lips and chin. I loved the way you looked, but I took the wet napkin we had used on your blouse and gently wiped you clean.

"You have the potential to be a good sub," I said. "But you screwed up badly when you sucked me off and climaxed without permission. There will be consequences."

"I know. I couldn't help it. Your big toe touched my clit and I went crazy. When I took your cock in my mouth my feminine core began to spasm out of control. My inner muscles were contracting and releasing with the movements and suction of my mouth. In my minds eye I was not sucking you, but you were fucking me as I sat in your lap with both of your hands groping my ass making me bounce up and down in front of everyone in the restaurant."

"Wow. You are incredible. Eat your dinner now. I think our waiter has told the manager of the restaurant about us, and she will probably be coming to talk to us. It could get interesting."

We ate our dinners in silence, occasionally looking at each other and smiling. The unspoken communication was that we were letting our bodies recover and our hormones build up for the next adventure. The evening was young and we were excited to explore each other.