Lena's New Life Ch. 13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first erotic series I ever wrote, back in 2005-7, long before posting my first story. I have revised and edited (hopefully well) the chapters, but they are pretty much as they were when I wrote them. It is the story of a married couple in love and exploring a new version of their relationship. It is a fairly long series, although some of the chapters are quite short.

You may want to read Chapter One to get the setup. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this tale, and for voting and leaving civil comments.

*

Lena was dressing for a date with John.

John had given the slave command, and while she dressed she wondered if it was really necessary. When she had first "asked" to be his Sex Slave she'd needed something to help her experience this new world, new life. She'd needed the direction, the permission, the freedom from guilt that the Slave arrangement provided; it gave her the opportunity to do so many things that she never would have tried before. As a Slave she didn't judge herself for her wanton desires, or criticize herself for liking the depraved things she did. Since she was his Slave, she had to do what he said. But now that she had adjusted to her new desires, was the Slave command still needed? She thoroughly enjoyed the wild and kinky things they did, and looked forward to more. What could he tell her to do that she wouldn't willingly enjoy?

She looked at the clothes he had commanded her to wear. An excellent selection, she mused. A few months ago she wouldn't have walked out of the house in them, but now she got flushed just thinking about wearing them. She knew that when she was with him in this red leather skirt and silk blouse she would be the center of his attention as well as everyone else in the room. The ½ cup red bra didn't just hold her breasts, it presented them; the stockings accentuated her stunning legs, enhanced by the heels. She would feel as sexy as she looked, and looking hot made her feel hot. Best of all, she knew that she was hot for him. She knew that he would be thinking about the smooth shaved delight between her legs every time he looked at her.

She dressed, happily. They had reservations at a restaurant. As he had in the past, John was taking them some distance away from home for their adventure tonight.

*

It was mid-week, and a little after dinner hour, so the restaurant, while classy and popular, was not very crowded. The few patrons were scattered throughout the dining area. Lena and John were given a table along the wall, near a window. They sat next to each other instead of across, so they could both see the room. The waiter brought water, then drinks; he left menus and left them alone. Two other waitresses worked he room, although there was little to do.

Lena sat carefully in her seat, knowing she had no underwear on. The leather skirt came only barely to her mid thigh, and it rode up a bit when she was sitting. Most of her thigh was exposed, and while she thought her legs looked great (they really did), she was grateful that there were very few people in the main room, and even more grateful that the tablecloths draped over the edge enough to give her some cover. After a few minutes adjustment she began to relax a little.

They played "watch the people" for a little while, while they made small talk, catching each other up on their recent projects. He was doing some woodworking, and had rented a garage near their house. She had joined a non-profit group, doing volunteer work, and fundraising. Both of them wanted to stay busy (not that being home and having sex all day was boring), so that they didn't become shallow and dull.

There was a young couple a few tables away, closest to them, who were talking intently and watching the crowd, kind of the same way John and Lena were. In the back of the room, an older couple, dignified and very handsome and well dressed, not old enough to be old. And in the opposite corner, the loud table: a group of eight friends, five men and three women, drinking, laughing and eating.

Lena stood to go to the ladies room. As she rose up awkwardly in the skirt, John took her hand. When she turned to him he pulled her down for a kiss. She kind of half-crouched so her ass wouldn't pop out of her skirt. He gave her a peck, and said, "On your way back, I want you to flash me." She flushed, stammered, and he released her. She walked unsteadily to the ladies room, eyes darting around the room, just knowing that everyone knew what she was planning to do. She flushed with embarrassment and hurried her step, then felt suddenly foolish, catching herself being ridiculous. Of course they couldn't know what she was going to do!

She half squatted over the bowl (she never sat -- ugh!) and thought about what she was going to do, how she would flash John. When she first came out? As she sat? On the walk to the table? She realized she wasn't peeing and stood, getting uncomfortable. What the hell was she so worked up about, she thought. She'd flashed in public before! This was no big deal, this little restaurant!

Or was it?

She flushed for effect and came out of the stall. She looked around the room to insure she was alone, then approached the sink to look in the mirror. She smoothed her skirt (if had bunched a little from trying to pee) and looked at herself, took a deep breath. She realized that she was nervous because there were not enough people here; she wasn't an anonymous person in a crowd, like a the mall, there was no way they wouldn't see her. When she'd walked in here she had been the only thing moving in the room, she was sure that every eye followed her. They'd be watching as she walked back, and they would see...

And?

And they'd see, she told herself.

So?

And she didn't have an answer. So what? So what if they saw her flash John. Half of them would not believe what their eyes showed them, they'd think they imagined it. Some would be astounded, some amazed or intrigued. Some jealous, she thought, admiring how good she looked. When the hottest chick in the place lifts her skirt and flashes some pussy, you better believe that the plain girls go home jealous!

She glanced at the door, insuring she was alone, then back at her image. She touched the hem of her skirt and nonchalantly lifted it and dropped it, as though she'd done nothing. Not enough. Another glance at the door, and she bunched the skirt and pulled it up, got a good look at her pussy, and dropped it. That was the move she needed, she hoped she could do it walking.

She was a little anxious now, kind of looking forward to the excitement, the danger? Would everyone be talking about her the rest of the night? Would the men pretend to their partners that they hadn't seen anything, all the while suppressing boners? John would get hard, she knew. What man wouldn't? Maybe, she fantasized, they'd all surround her table and line up to fuck her while John watched ...

She lifted the front of her skirt again, entranced by the mental image of herself, on her back, men crowded around, fucking and sucking ... she looked at her bare pussy in the mirror. With her other hand she touched it, felt the wetness of her excitement, and was so distracted that she jumped when the door suddenly opened. She hurriedly pulled her hand away, smoothing her skirt down and pretending to act normal before glancing at the door. The three young girls from the group of friends were coming in, the trailing two engaged in conversation, but the one in the lead was looking intently at Lena. Lena looked back, their eyes met, and Lena knew that the girl had seen her, but she could tell that the girl wasn't sure what she'd seen. Lena pretended to wash her hands, dried them, and walked out, disturbed by the fact the girl had seen her, but oddly, realized her excitement didn't dim at all.

She walked up the hallway, entering the main room, and started for their table. She saw John look up at her, and as if on cue, with her eyes locked on his, she lifted the front of her skirt for him to see her shaved pussy in all its glory. She counted three steps before releasing it, acting as though nothing had occurred, and smiled as she approached the table. She resumed her seat.

Her pussy was singing, she was so excited!

John leaned over the kiss her. She smiled at him, and he whispered to her, "That was very, very good. You are the most beautiful woman here, but more importantly, I love you."

She whispered back, "That's great, honey, but I am so excited right now that I need you to fuck me, and I mean now." She dropped her head, and looked up at him from lidded eyes, speaking now in a hoarse whisper. "My pussy is so wet I think I might cum right in my chair!"

She stopped suddenly, as the appetizers arrived. The waiter placed them carefully, took their empty glasses away for refills. They both acted naturally, thanking him, smiling. When he left, she exhaled and relaxed. "Damn, it's hard to carry on a conversation when all I can think about is your dick!" She was trying hard not to squirm, and not succeeding.

"Try to think about the food," John said, grinning. He took a bite, chewed, still grinning. "Never mind," he quipped, "it doesn't help. I'm so distracted I can't even taste it!"

They talked in hushed whispers while they picked at their food, avoiding looking around the room. Each confessed how excited they were, how horny they were. Each tried to make the other one more aroused by describing how badly they wanted sex. Dinner progressed awkwardly. Finally she crossed the line after the waiter took the appetizer dishes away, almost untouched.

"John, I swear that if I don't get some sex soon I'm going to have to take care of it myself."

He stopped talking, then leaned to her, "OK."

"OK what? We're going to have sex?"

"No. I want you to take care of it yourself." She looked at him, not comprehending for a second. Then she nodded.

"I got you. I'll just go to the ladies room, and --"

"No. Here." He took her wrist, gently, and stopped her from getting up. "Here, at the table. I want you to take care of it." He held her wrist, firmly, and moved her hand to her lap, below the table. "I want you to play with yourself here, at the table." He was leaning close to her, she could feel his breath on her ear as she spoke, and her spine tingled to the base. "I want you to touch yourself, touch your hot pussy, all wet and steamy, and play with your little clit." She couldn't move her hand, even though he had released her wrist, but she didn't pull it from her lap either. "You see the other tables; see how the tablecloths hang, how they cover everyone. No one will see you, no one will know but us." He kissed her lightly on the cheek, then sat back up, leaning back in his chair. "We'll keep talking, like normal. Anyone looking over will see us having a conversation, like this." Then he leaned back to her, "but they won't know that your fingers are playing with your pussy, rubbing yourself, making yourself cum right here at the table." He sat back again.

She watched her left hand, still on the table, playing with her napkin. She took a sip of her drink, then played with the napkin again. And her right hand, below the table, began to move. She adjusted her legs, trying to maintain a natural posture, as her fingers crept between her legs, under her skirt.

Her left hand gripped the napkin as her fingertips touched her labia, just brushing the sensitive aroused flesh. She teased them lightly, feeling them respond, feeling the rush of fluid as her entire pussy twitched at the stimulation. He fingers drifted up to the top of her slit, dancing, teasing; circling her clit, then touching the hood that covered her little button. She fought not to gasp as the impulse shot through her. She glanced around the room, then spoke, probably too loudly.

"So, how is the woodwork going?" she asked, sounding false to her own ears, as she slipped a finger between her labia, feeling the moisture. "Did you get that new tool?" She realized too late that her question sounded sexual, at least to her. He picked up on it, and grinned as he pretended to answer seriously.

"You know, I know you were concerned about my tool, but I decided that there was nothing wrong with the one I had." Her finger slipped in, fluid rushed out, and she slid the wet digit to the top of her slit. "I figured out that if I used my old tool the right way, I'd be able to do anything I wanted to with it." She flicked her clit with the slippery finger. "I've actually had better results now that I'm using it more." She grinned at him, and pressed her clit, clenching her legs, then returning her finger to her wet slit to play there again. "But let me tell you about the wood I got the other day!" He took a sip of his drink, smirking at her. She was struggling to hold still, she wanted to shout, to scream and pant, and she wanted to cum. Her finger was alternating; wiggling inside her, then moving to her clit, slick with her moisture. "Remember that wood you gave me for my birthday last year. It was wood like that. And now that I'm getting better use of the tool, well, let me tell you, I can do some amazing things with that wood!" She felt her orgasm building, and then suddenly the waiter approached the table with their dinner.

As the dishes were placed, she stood suddenly, and strode on unsteady legs back to the ladies room. Her body was a rush of sensation, and she knew she must look flustered and flushed; she felt it, and knew that everyone could see it on her, and she didn't care, didn't care and then she was inside, and closing the door of the stall, and she stood there, and her hands were back at her sex and she was rubbing herself furiously with one hand as the other pushed two fingers into her hole, and she stood, fucking herself, rubbing her clit, and her orgasm crashed onto her, standing in the bathroom stall. Her knees trembled, and she almost collapsed, the hand fucking her pulled out, and steadied her against the wall of the stall as she shuddered through her climax. She was suddenly aware of how loudly she was panting in the stall, and stopped, wondering too late if there was anyone else in with her. Her hand covered her mouth, and she smelled her musky scent, breathing through her nose now as her orgasm passed and receded.

Her legs were still weak, and she suddenly had to pee again (remembering last time, when she was too nervous). She stood in front of the bowl, skirt still pulled way up. She stepped slightly forward, straddling the bowl, and peed, standing, her hips pushed forward and one hand holding her lips spread so that she got a solid stream. As she finished, she heard the sound she had been dreading.

A cough from another stall! Done peeing, she tried to be quiet, knowing full well that it was too late. She stood still, listening as she heard clothes rustling, then a flush; a stall door opened and water ran. It seemed to take forever. She wondered if she could see through the crack in the door, but she still had her back to it, and was afraid to move. The water turned off, the towels were pulled. She wondered then if the other woman had noticed that Lena's feet were facing the wrong way, and she flushed with embarrassment. Finally she heard footsteps, and the door opening, and closing. She waited a few seconds, then exhaled, flushed and came out of the stall, smoothing her skirt.

And she turned to see the young girl from the group, the same one that came in on her in front of the mirror, standing next to the door, waiting, arms crossed. She stumbled and stammered as their eyes met. She tried to talk without knowing why, but only stuttering sounds came out. The girl looked her straight in the eye, smiled a knowing smile at Lena and turned to leave for real this time. Lena noticed the girl's nipples were hard as her arms moved away, and she pulled the door open and exited.

Lena washed her hands and tried to convince herself that the girl had no idea that she had fingered herself in the stall. By the time she was drying her hands and leaving, she half believed that the girl maybe suspected something odd, but had no idea what Lena had done. But deep inside she knew that the girl knew everything.

As she returned to the table she saw John paying the bill, the food in "to go" containers. He stood as she reached him, said "Let's go," and slipped an arm around her waist, lightly, and kissed her on the cheek. She took her purse and they headed for the car.

"I told them you weren't feeling well," he said as they exited, "and asked them to pack the food." He held the restaurant door, and they stepped into the warm evening air. "Once I assured then that it had nothing to do with the food, they were more than helpful." They walked to the truck, which was parked alone, near the wooded area next to the parking lot. John put the food in the back seat, and went around the truck to open Lena's door. As they passed the back of the truck, with the car between them and the restaurant and the woods behind them, Lena grabbed him, spun him around and kissed him deeply, a sexy wet kiss; and John returned it lustily. She pushed him up against the truck, and she felt his hand creeping up her thigh to her bare ass, firmly grasping her butt cheek, squeezing it. His other hand was suddenly on her chest, groping her breast through the bra. She had both her hands at his face as they kissed and he felt her up. She pushed her pelvis forward, rubbing against him, feeling his hardness in his pants, wanting him, moaning her desire through the kiss.

She rammed her tongue into his mouth as her hands explored his body, rubbing his shoulders and chest, around his back, grabbing his ass, rubbing his leg. She draped one arm around his neck as she began kissing his chin, his throat, running her tongue into his ear. Her other hand wedged between them and went for his crotch, finding his stiff member in his pants, grabbing it through the cloth. She heard him moan and she squeezed the head, and felt his fingers behind her ass creeping up into her wet pussy. She was panting with excitement, she wanted his dick inside her, wanted him to fuck her hard, to pound her pussy until she came. She wanted her pussy filled with his cum, wanted to hear him shout and feel his body tense and shudder as he pumped his load into her. Her arm came off his neck, and she worked his fly down, got a hand into his underwear and pulled out his hard rod, stroking it.

"Oh, yeah, that's what I want, I want this hard cock in me. I want to be fucked good and hard." She was stroking it smoothly, then squeezing a little harder near the head. His fingers were in her pussy now, fucking her, pinching and teasing her clit. She pushed him against the back of the truck and lifted her leg so her foot was on the bumper. She pushed her pussy at him, grabbing his dick and pointing the head at her wet hole. She rubbed the tip up and down her slit, wetting it, rubbing her clit; she lowered herself onto it in a single motion, she was so wet he slipped fight in!

She groaned loudly as she felt it penetrate her; she felt him push up into her, filling her, felt his pelvis mash against her clit, and her chest constricted with pleasure. His hands were on her ass now, and under it, pulling her into him, and she lost herself in the manhandling she was getting. She felt herself pulled in, smashing into his cock; she started panting and grunting with each thrust. Suddenly his hands clenched on her ass; she thought he might be coming, but he lifted her, she felt her other foot leave the ground and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. And impaled on his stiff dick, he lifted and carried her to the side, and opened the passenger door.

He opened the door, turned, and sat her on the edge of the seat. When she started to move back to make room for him, he pulled her back to the edge. With the door open and the dome light on, he opened his pants, let them drop to his ankles and resumed his vigorous fucking. She resumed her ecstasy. She lay back, letting him fuck her, then sat back up, so she could push back against him. As she did, something in her peripheral vision caught her eye; motion at the rear of the truck. John kept fucking her as she turned to see the girl from the ladies room step from the shadows behind the truck!