Fantasy Date

I've often imagined you making extensive plans for an evening with me. Special plans. Daring plans that stretch your boundaries. Plans that are all about seducing me.

You're wearing a new outfit, something you feel almost naked in. Your blouse is tight and low-cut, showing off your curves, and even a hint of the delicate white lace of your bra. Your skirt is scandalously short, ending only halfway between your hips and knees. Your stockings end just below your hem-line, showing just enough skin to keep me thinking about the rest. You're even wearing heels to complete the look. Everything is white, and I tell you that you look like an angel, though I'm thinking you look more like an evil temptress.

As you drive to our destination, you tell me that picking out the outfit, thinking about wearing it for me, and getting ready for our date made you horny. You tell me that you decided you couldn't wait, and started touching yourself. I touch your knee as you tell me and start to move my hand up your thigh, but you move my hand away, telling me I'm not to touch you -- not yet. You continue your story as we go, every now and then looking pointedly at my crotch, making sure you have my full attention. I can't help wondering whether or not you're wearing any panties, and make more than one attempt to find out, each quickly intercepted by you.

I'm surprised when you pull into the parking lot of an apartment building. You've told me we were having dinner with friends, but with the way you're dressed, I've assumed it was a ruse, and I've been unable to imagine you even getting out of the car. When I open your door, you make a show of getting out, giving me a very unladylike view up your skirt, confirming that you are indeed wearing panties, lacy white ones to match that bra. You let me look for a few moments, then climb out, pressing your body to mine as you stand, close enough that I can feel your pelvis pressed against my erection.

You lead me by the hand through the parking lot to one of the buildings, then up the stairs to the top floor. Just a step behind you, I pay a good deal more attention to your legs and your clothes than where I'm walking, and almost trip more than once.

A tall brunette (all the women in my fantasies look suspiciously like you) answers the door and invites us in. I've never met her, but you mentioned her name was Karen (and reminded me earlier that evening, since I'd forgotten). She looks you over and comments on how sexy you're looking as you walk by, and barely glances in my direction. She leads us to the dining room, making small talk and mentioning that dinner is almost done.

I'm slightly confused to notice only three place-settings, and you ask our host about it. Karen lets distress take over her smile for a minute. "He . . . won't be joining us. He left Monday. He moved in with that whore in 3C." You hug Karen to console her, even though you know perfectly well she's lived alone for years. Her imaginary boyfriend is all part of your plan.

Your hug lingers a moment, then she breaks away and heads toward the kitchen. It's your turn to watch her leave. She's not dressed as provocatively as you, with her charcoal skirt quite a bit longer and only the top button of her white button-up blouse unfastened. For my part, I've barely noticed, much more intrigued by the way you're watching her. You blush as you notice my smirk, and lead me by the hand to the table. As we take our seats, I whisper teasingly in your ear. "You were totally checking her out." You look down, still blushing, then press your lips to my ear, whispering back, so quiet I can barely hear you, "I was just thinking maybe somebody should console her". With the words out of your mouth, you turn and stare fixedly straight down at your place, unable to look me in the eye.

Karen brings out three plates of food and joins us. For a few minutes there's little talk, as we're all savoring the meal, then you and Karen start talking and then joking about the food. Your hand moves to my leg under the table, and then works it's way up my thigh and rests on my crotch. You massage me through my pants while you eat, and for a minute or two I entirely lose track of the conversation.

My attention is brought back sharply when I hear you make a comment regarding "licking it off". You notice me stiffen in response and give me an extra strong squeeze, and continue with your talk, increasingly laced with sexual innuendo and tension. I notice that she's leaning much closer to you than she was a couple minutes ago.

Just as I think you're going to bring me to orgasm right there at the table, she stands up. "I'd better take care of these dishes real quick." You're extremely quick to stand up too, "I'll help". You seem exceptionally eager. "Wait here for us?" you ask, almost as an afterthought.

From the dining area, I can't quite hear exactly what the two of you are whispering and giggling about as you work, but I can see your bodies occasionally "accidentally" brush against each other. At one point she drops a dish she's washing into the rinse-water and accidentally splashes you, and you start splashing each other in play.

When the two of you are done you come back into the dining area. Your splashing has definitely left it's mark. One of her breasts can be seen through her blouse, and a large spot on you gives me a view of the shape of your panties.

Karen leads you by the hand to the living room, and I follow like a shadow. There's a loveseat and a chair, and Karen takes a seat on the loveseat, forcing us to choose seats separated from her. Not being an idiot, I choose the chair, leaving you to sit close to our host.

"Want to watch a movie?" She turns on the TV without waiting for an answer. On the screen, a man and woman are deep in the act of passion, the woman mounted atop her lover and moving her hips rapidly while he fingers her clitoris. "Oh shit!" Karen exclaims, quickly stopping the movie. "How embarrassing!"

Not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, you tell her it's ok. She looks relieved, and asks if we want her to turn it back on. You look at me for a moment, knowing how turned on I'd be to watch such a thing with you, but I try not to give away any of my thoughts, and you tell her that you'd rather not, that you don't like pornography.

She looks ashamed again, somewhat dejected. "You must think I'm a slut for watching that."

"No" you answer reflexively, your first nature to tell her everything's ok, then you take a deep breath. "I don't think you're a slut for watching pornography. I think you're a slut for trying to seduce me in front of my husband." You look anything but offended, with the hint of a mischievous smile at the corners of your mouth.

Karen looks shocked for a moment, stutters a second, then looks at me as if for help, which I'm far too speechless to provide. Finally she rolls her eyes and asks, "So . . . how am I doing?"

"Better than I would have thought a woman had a chance at doing." You try for sultry, but what mostly comes across is nervousness, just as erotic for its sincerity.

Karen glances at me again, mostly at the erection that's growing even more obvious, and takes that as permission. She moves toward you slowly, catlike, looking at you almost like a predator at her prey. In a few moments, she's straddling your lap. You can feel the skin of the inside of her thighs pressed against the outside of yours.

She unbuttons the top could buttons of her blouse, inviting you with her eyes to look at her breasts. From my angle I can see nothing, only your lingering gaze, but it's all I need to drive me wild.

She moves closer to you, until her lips come to rest at the top of your head, her breasts brushing against your chin. Then she starts kissing her way downward. Your forehead, your eyelids, the cheekbone just below your eye, the tip of your nose, your soft cheek, your chin, and then finally your lips. At first it's just the lightest brush of her lips against yours, giving less sensation than her breath, but it's followed quickly with another, this time more firm, lingering. Then another, and another, until her lips are locked to yours, nothing between her body and yours but a scrap of cloth. Her kiss is passionate, hungry. Her hands start at your fingertips, trailing a line up the back of your hands, along the skin of your arms, up to your shoulders, where her hands begin to knead and dig, pulling you even tighter. Her lips move to your ears and whisper very quietly, "He's loving this."

"Yes" you moan, and I assume you're responding to her advances. I'm squirming with my reaction to your intimacy.

She whispers again. "I know the plan was just a little kissing, but we could do more if you want." Her fingers trail down slowly, touching the side of your breast. "I'll be he'd love to watch me slide down, kiss my way up your thigh, tear off your panties, and lick you 'til you explode all over my face." Her hand continues moving down while she speaks, until it's pressed between you, her fingers exploring your pelvis.

Sometimes when I have this fantasy you relent, and she pleasures you even better than I can, until you orgasm with yells and screams, not moans and whimpers. Usually, though, the kissing is enough for me.

It's your turn to whisper, "Let me think about it. I'm not ready. This was terrifying already". You pull her hand away from your crotch and lift it up to your face, kissing her palm. You both sigh audibly, and you pull away. "I think we should go" you tell her, and she climbs off of you.

We say our goodbyes and you kiss her one more time before we leave, soft and chaste, but lingering on her lips. She takes a deep breath and jokes about needing to watch some more TV before bed, and you lead me out the door.

I try to tell you how exciting the evening was for me, but you don't answer. Uncertain how to respond, I open your door for you, and you start to get in, but leave your legs on the pavement, giving me another glimpse up your skirt. You grab my pants by the belt and pull me closer. In moments my pants are open and both of your hands are working on me, one massaging my balls while the other strokes my shaft up and down.

Your performance on the couch already has me so turned on I can barely think, and your hands jerking me off quickly bring me near to orgasm. When I am seconds away, you take me into your mouth and I let out a gasp. Your hands move to my bottom and start leading me, pushing me in and out of your mouth, and in less than a minute I'm pushed over the edge, wave after wave crashing through me.

You climb out of the car and push me down in the driver's seat. I get my legs in just in time to avoid the door as you close it, then run around to the passenger side. You let yourself in and tell me to drive.

I feel awkward with my pants still down around my knees, but obey. We drive in silence for a minute, and you finally announce, "I am so fucking horny."

I grin. I love when you talk dirty for me. "Can I help you with that?" I glance over and catch you lightly brushing your fingers against the inside of your thigh.

"I think you need to focus on the road."

You recline your seat about halfway back, then pull your lacy white panties down to your ankles. I split my attention between the road and your hand as it begins to caress your beautiful body. You giggle a little as you slide a finger between your labia, surprised at just how wet you are.

"You should touch this," you tease suggestively, but when I try to do so you swat my hand away. "But I don't think I'll let you. I think I'll just play with my pussy and make you listen. I'll just pretend this finger moving up and down across my clitoris is Karen's tongue."

I can hear the noise as you touch yourself, and occasional glances let me see enough to make my heart race. "Are you getting hard again?" you ask, though you can see for yourself that I am. "Do I make you hard? Do I make you want to fuck me?"

By this point, your body has started moving in time with your stroking, and your breathing has quickened. A light moaning has started, which drives me wild. Your left hand has moved up under your shirt to play with your nipple, sometimes caressing and sometimes pinching. Several minutes of this drive us both wild.

Finally, you tell me I need to pull over. The moment the car is parked, you take my face in your hands and lead it to your vagina, where I eagerly start lapping up your juices and flicking my tongue across your clitoris.

"Ooh Karen," you moan playfully. "That's just as hot as I thought it would be." Your pelvis rocking against my mouth tells me you've waited 'til the last moment, and despite all your playing, you're all mine. "Oh yes. . . . faster. . . yeah, just like that. . . now don't stop," and finally you're exploding for me, filling me with your lust. Your hands are entwined so tightly in my hair that it would likely be painful if I weren't full of adrenaline due to the rush you give me when you orgasm across my lips.

I move my tongue in and out of you, not yet satisfied but knowing that to continue would cause you discomfort. After a few more moments of this I pull the latch on your seat, letting you fall roughly backwards the remaining foot or so, then slide up and into you.

You gasp and giggle at once. "Sex toys? Karen, you naughty girl. But don't stop. I've never been taken with a strap-on before. It feels so real." Your tongue makes it's way down to my nipples, where you lick and tease, ignoring the lack of bosom, while your fingers work their way to my bottom, guiding me in and out of you.

I speed up, moving against you with the rhythm I only possess while making love to you, and in little more time I reach an overwhelming climax, fueled by an entire night of arousal.

Your eyes are still closed as I lay atop you, trying to catch my breath. "That was nice," you coo, "but don't tell my husband. He'd be jealous if he found out I didn't let him watch."