Dinner and a Show Pt. 01

You were very well behaved at dinner, which makes me think you're up to something. You didn't even respond when I ran my toe up your trouser leg over dessert, and you just smiled politely as I seductively swirled my finger around the rim of my wine glass. You helped me on with my jacket as we left the table, but you just smiled and leaned away as I tried to catch your lips with mine. Now as we leave the restaurant, I start to wonder what diabolical evening you have planned.

We leave the restaurant and head to the parking lot in the rear. As we turn the building's corner, I feel you hand on the small of my back, and my stomach flutters. Finally!

We're not five paces past the huge picture window when you scoop me into a long, intense kiss - the kind that lets me know something's starting. The kind that makes me moan around your tongue. The kind that makes me chase you mindlessly with my mouth when you pull away. And you do pull away, far too soon.

You twirl your finger in the air, and I obediently hold my arms over my head, wrists together. You enclose them in one large, vice-like hand, pressing them against the rough brick wall. You clamp your mouth on my left breast, tonguing it through the fabric and teasing my nipple. When you let it fall from your lips, I look down to see the red silk dark and wet, clinging to my hard nipple.

You kiss me again, softly this time, and I can feel your hand sliding between my thighs. On your orders, I'm not wearing any panties tonight, even though the shortness of my skirt makes me nervous. I'd been tugging at it all night, but you were too much of a gentleman to smirk at my discomfort. At least, until now.

As you pull away from the kiss I feel two fingers slide into me. They slip in and out slowly and easily - I'm already dripping from the kisses. Your thumb makes contact with my clit and I moan and close my eyes. The pleasure builds with each stroke of your fingers, each flick of your thumb. My hips start swaying with the movement, riding your hand eagerly.

Suddenly, I feel your fingers withdraw. I open my eyes with a cry of protest on my lips, and discover we've gained a small audience. A blush rises to my cheeks, and I find myself thinking it's probably just as well that you stopped before things went too far.

But that's not why you stopped. You hold your dripping fingers to my lips, and I open my mouth obediently. I suck my juices off of you, lick your fingers clean, and you lower the hand to my chest. You unbutton my blouse one-handed, then lift one heavy breast out of its cup and leave it hanging there, nipple pointed at the small crowd behind us. I see one man, at least one man, slowly grabbing himself through his jeans, and I'm simultaneously mortified and throbbing.

Your hand creeps back between my thighs, and I feel three fingers now inside me. You start moving them slowly, but this time you get fast and rough quickly, fucking me hard with your hand. I forget the crowd, forget my shame and fear. I close my eyes and throw my head back, moaning. I sink into a place of pure sensation, my entire world revolving around my cunt and the hand on it, in it.

And then I'm there, at the edge, whimpering in my need to release, silently begging you with my hips to keep going, to help me over that final barrier.

Fireworks explode behind my eyelids and I let out a bellowing moan of release as my body clenches around your fingers. I blush as I hear a smattering of applause from the crowd.

You allow me to tuck my tit back into my bra, but make me leave the blouse unbuttoned. The crowd disperses as we make our way to your car, you having to support me on my shaky legs.

As I slide into my seat, I wonder if the knee-squeeze that tells me to give you head is not far away, but it doesn't come. You smile at me innocently, back to your good behaviour face I saw all through dinner. This night is far from over.

"So. Off to the movies then, dear?" You smirk and start the engine.