Midlife Surrender Ch. 05

"You know, I could order you to remove your panties," he stated matter-of-factly. "And even though you'd plead with me not to make you, you would, in fact, do it." He paused, but continued stroking her pussy through her panties while the egg hummed softly inside of her.

"You see," he continued, "I'm beginning to realize that being forced to do things that put you at risk is a turn on for you. And despite the fear and nervousness that come with the risk, the high that comes from playing the game is something you're unable to pass up." He paused. "Isn't that true, slut-toy?" And even as the question was leaving his lips, his hand was pulling the flimsy fabric of her panties to the side to expose her pussy, even as his other hand was increasing the speed of the egg.

"Oh, shit," Amy gasped. And then, when her husband's fingers came into direct contact with her pussy, she gasped again. Then she closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip, trying to maintain some semblance of composure as he slipped the hood from her clit and began lightly stroking the swollen bud it concealed.

"Please, Brad," she managed to plead between breaths.

"I believe I asked you a question," Brad retorted. Then he switched the egg to full power and went hard to work on her button. "Do you or do you not like being dominated?" he fired, his voice suddenly taking on an even more demanding tone.

"I do!" Amy gasped, now writhing under her husband's dominance.

"And do you or do you not like being exposed and fondled in public?" he continued.

"I do!" Amy gasped again, even as she arched her pussy from the seat to bring it into greater contact with her attacker's hand.

"And do you or do you not like being made to cum by your Master?"

"Yessssssss!" she gasped, barely able to keep her voice below a scream as her body exploded in orgasm. "I doooooooooooo!"

And then the egg switched off and the hand slipped away, and a moment later the still gasping woman opened her eyes to see not only her husband sitting beside her, but their waitress and the manager standing in front of the table.

Amy's initial reaction was pure panic. her hands automatically scrambling to cover her pussy and panties with her skirt. It wasn't until that task was more or less accomplished that she turned to her husband, finding a sly little smile that bordered on a smirk where she'd expected to find a look more resembling the wide-eyed terror she was experiencing.

Once their eyes met, Brad offered his wife a curt nod of the head and a subtle little wink, and then redirected his gaze towards the uninvited guests before them. When Amy turned her head to follow her husband's eyes, taking a close look at the waitress and manager for the first time, she realized that they were at least as nervous and befuddled as she was.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you two to leave," the manger managed to say, shifting his gaze quickly back and forth between the two of them before finally settling on Amy. "I'll escort you to the door as soon as you finish putting yourself together."

Buoyed by her husband's sense of calm, Amy quickly began regaining her composure. She even began to feel a little bit feisty.

"So," she said to the manager, her bravado now very nearly back in full form. "You haven't seen enough yet? Now you're going to stand there and watch me get dressed?"

"Wwwwhat?" the manager stuttered. He hurriedly shifted his gaze to Brad, then back to Amy. Then he turned to the waitress, took hold of her arm, spun her around and pulled her away from the table, not stopping until the two of them were a good ten feet away and facing the other direction.

In actuality, it wasn't the act of redressing that was foremost on Amy's mind. Instead, she turned sideways so she was facing directly at her husband, then leaned against him, making sure to press her bosom hard against his side, even as she was sliding her hand down to his crotch. She couldn't help the shiver of anticipation that shot through her body when she realized that her husband's cock was rock hard. "So, Master," she cooed softly into his ear as she rubbed his manhood. "Are you going to fuck me tonight, . . . or are you going to play your faggot card?"

For the briefest of moments an angry look flashed through Brad's eyes at his wife's slur, but it faded quickly when he saw the playful look that now occupied her face. Realizing then that she was embracing the game completely, a small smile slid to his face, even as he was sliding his hand inside her blouse to take hold of her breast.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Slut, when I'm damn good and ready to, and not one minute sooner." And then he squeezed her breast hard. "Understand?"

"Ow!," Amy gasped. Then she pushed herself away and playfully stuck her tongue out. Only then did she begin going about the business of putting herself back together, lifting her ass from the seat, repositioning her skirt and slipping the buttons through the holes.

Once the skirt properly attached, her hands reached instinctively for her blouse, taking the lowest button and slipping it through the hole. But then, even as she was reaching for the next button, she froze. And as a mischievous little smile slid across her lips, she dropped her fingers back to the lower button and undid it. And then she turned to look at her husband.

"Ready when you are, dear," she said in a mockingly sweet voice.

Brad snickered softly, then nodded his head approvingly and slid out of the booth. He turned and offered his hand to his wife, who slid out behind him without making the least effort to keep her skirt from riding up her legs, even as she was arching her back to put her ample chest even more on display than it already was.

Once on her feet, Amy turned to her husband and lifted her arm. "Master," she said, lowering her head submissively yet speaking in a voice not only loud enough for the waitress and manager to hear, but loud enough to turn a few heads in the main part of the restaurant, as well.

There was an approving smile on her husband's face as he slid his arm through hers. "This way, Slut," he replied in an equally loud voice. And then, in a very slow gait, he proceeded to make his way towards the front door, taking care to present a full frontal view of his wife to as many patrons as possible.

Once outside in the still warm early evening air, they turned and made their way to the overflow parking lot in silence, still arm in arm, looking for all the world like two normal people leaving a restaurant after a nice meal. That facade vanished the instant they reached the car, as Amy, knowing from her prior experience with Derek just exactly how secluded they were, decided it was time to take matters into her own hands.

Catching her husband completely off guard, Amy spun him around and shoved him against the side of the car. Then, before he had an opportunity to recover, she tossed her purse on the hood of the car, grabbed hold of the front of her blouse and ripped it open, sending the remaining two buttons flying to the ground, even as the garment was slipping down her arms and floating to the ground. Then the completely topless woman stepped forward and pressed her naked chest against her husband.

"You didn't answer my question," she started in a coarse, husky voice. "Are you going to fuck me, or are you going to play your faggot card?"

Brad had read about the blow job Amy had given Derek right in this very spot, and he'd seen the parking lot earlier and knew just exactly how deserted it was. But he also knew that it was not at all unusual for Murphy's to start getting busy between eight and nine, at which point the overflow parking lot could suddenly become much busier than they'd like. But eight o'clock was still well over an hour away, he reasoned. And besides, he had to admit that seeing his wife completely bare her upper body in a public place was sparking feelings inside him unlike any he'd ever experienced.

He took a deep breath and looked around furtively, confirming that were there no people and only one other parked car in sight. And then he turned his eyes back to his wife, who by now was rubbing herself wantonly against him, even as her hand was drifting down to his crotch in search of his hidden treasure.

It was Amy's hand coming into contact with his crotch that finally snapped him from his daze and stirred him to action, moving him to once again reclaim control of the night. He grabbed his wife's arm and pulled it away from his pants, then he slid his own hands between their bodies, grabbed hold of the front of her skirt and ripped it open. Before the skirt could even reach the ground, he grabbed hold of her biceps and spun her around, not stopping until their positions were completely reversed and her backside was pressed against the side of the car. Then he backed away just enough to grab hold of her panties and rip them down her legs. That's when he reached behind her head, grabbed hold of a tuft of hair and pulled her away from the car. Then he spun her around and guided her to the side of the hood, pushing her chest downward until it was pressing against the hood. Only then did he release her hair and take two small steps backwards.

A short pause followed, a pause aimed not so much at allowing Brad to regain his composure or admire his handiwork as it was at allowing his wife's lust and hunger to build. Even so, he couldn't help taking a moment to drink in the erotic sight before him -- his wife, now dressed in nothing but a pair of high heel shoes with dainty ankle straps, bent over the hood of her own car in the back corner of a public parking lot. Just the thought of it was enough to cause a shiver to shoot through his body.

Several seconds passed before Brad stepped up to her left side, placed his left hand on her back and his right on her ass. Then he pulled his right hand away, detouring just long enough to switch the egg on high, before returning his hand quickly and firmly to her ass -- WHACK!!!

Amy gasped, her body jerking against the hand on her back as the egg sprang into life and the blow landed firmly on her buttocks.

"It seems to me you're getting a little uppity for a slut-toy," she heard Brad comment, even as she felt him withdraw his hand and -- WHACK!!! -- deliver a second blow to her buttocks.

"Oh, shit!' she groaned, instinctively pushing her ass back against his hand.

"First, you take not one," -- WHACK!!! -- "but two young men as your Masters," -- WHACK!!! -- he continued, even as she continued her wincing and groaning beneath him.

"Then you deceive me," WHACK!!!

". . . and argue with me," WHACK!!!

". . . and sass me." WHACK!!!

"Oh, my God," Amy gasped, her shaking body hovering dangerously close to release.

"And then, to top it all off," he said, leaning down to her ear, "you call me a faggot!" WHACK!!! WHACK!!! WHACK!!!

That's when Amy lost it, her body exploding in her second orgasm, jerking spasmodically before slumping to the car as her husband delivered yet another blow to her rear end -- WHACK!!!

Brad switched the egg off and backed slowly away. Then, as the last few shudders were working their way through Amy's body, he kicked off his shoes and began undoing his belt. It was less than a handful of seconds later when, now naked from the waist down, he slipped up behind his wife, pulled the wire that was attached to the egg, removing the now quiet ovate object from her dripping pussy and tossing it nonchalantly towards her purse. Then he brought his very erect cock to the gates of her womanhood and eased the tip just inside, moving his left hand quickly to her back when she instinctively jumped at his intrusion.

"So, you want to get fucked by a faggot, do you?" he said, slipping his cock out of her pussy and rubbing it over her swollen lips.

"Yessss," came the guttural response.

Brad smiled to himself. "Yes, what?' he questioned, even as he eased the head of his cock back into her pussy before quickly withdrawing it.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Amy groaned wantonly before lifting her head and turning back to her husband. "Yes, Master," she wheezed. "I want to get fucked by a faggot." And then she dropped her head back to the hood and, in a voice that left no doubt that the game was finally over, whispered, "Please . . ."

"So be it, slut," he replied. And then he eased his meat back to the gates of her hunger, slid his hands to her hips, hesitated briefly, and slammed his cock home, clutching onto her hips as she pushed her chest off the hood and let out a yelp that was loud enough to be heard at the other end of the lot.

Brad began pounding his meat into his wife, to far gone to be concerned with any danger Amy's scream may have presented. He slid his hands up her sides and around to her breasts, grabbing hold of the pendulous orbs and pulling her towards his chest, even as he continued to attack her, thrusting into her pussy even as she pressed her pussy back in opposition.

They were both grunting now, overwhelmed by the hunger and lust their little game had stirred up, neither concerned with anything other than satisfying their pure animalistic needs. It was no wonder that, as fiery and hot and rough as their assault on each other had been, it was equally short, with both of them exploding at very nearly the same time.

Their body's went nearly rigid as they jerked the final spasms from their systems. When Amy's body finally went limp, she slumped forward, her breasts slipping from Brad's hands as she settled back to the hood of the car. An instant later Brad fell forward on top of her, supporting the majority of his weight on his elbows. And for several moments that's how they stayed, each struggling to refill their lungs with air and quiet the pounding in their hearts.

Eventually Brad pushed himself from the hood and backed away, followed a second later by Amy, who pushed herself upright and turned to face her husband.

"Wow," she said in barely more than a whisper as she slid forward into his arms.

They held each other for some time, her still naked, him naked from the waist down, neither with a care or concern for anything but the other. They were nearly completely recovered when Brad slid his hands to Amy's hips, turned her slightly and backed her up so her backside was pressing against the passenger door. Then, as a sly smile made its way across his lips, he lowered his right hand to her left thigh and lifted it towards his waist.

"Well, well," Amy smiled, rocking her pussy slowly against him. "Who say's you can't teach an old dog new tricks." And with that, she wrapped her arms firmly around his shoulders and lifted her right leg, wrapping it around his waist and locking it with her left. A soft coo left her throat as she felt Brad easing his cock against her pussy. And then, while leaning against the side of the car in an overflow parking lot, they made soft, tender love for the first time in a very, very long time.

* * *

They'd both climaxed some time earlier, yet neither was willing to let the other go. It was as if they both finally realized that, as much as they'd always loved and needed each other, something had been missing in their lives, and having only now rediscovered it, they weren't quite willingly to let it go -- at least not just yet.

It was a pair of headlights sweeping into the parking lot that finally got their attention, bringing the two of them instantly awake. They held their position, bodies together, arms wrapped around each other, and listened . . . and waited.

Although they couldn't see the car, they could tell that it had come to rest in a parking spot some ways away. The engine went off and the doors opened, and then the sound of young men's voices began filling the air.

About 30 seconds passed before the car doors closed. It was that long again before the voices were finally far enough away for Amy and Brad to exhale the breaths they'd been holding.

"Maybe we should start thinking about getting out of here," Brad offered. Amy smiled and nodded her head, before reluctantly releasing her arms from Brad's neck and easing from his hug.

She looked around, quickly locating her discarded clothes. She went for the blouse first and slipped it on, and then realized the buttons were no longer attached. Her panties had landed in a muddy, greasy spot and no longer looked fit to be worn. Her skirt, although also ripped in several places and missing its buttons, was nonetheless clean enough to at least keep her pussy from dripping on the seat.

She smiled to herself, sighed softly and turned towards Brad, who had just finished fastening his pants and slipping on the belt.

"Maybe we should take the the back roads home," she said.

Brad looked at his still mostly naked wife and smiled. "Yeah, I think that might be a good idea."

* * * * * * *

Thanks for reading. As always, I look forward to your comments and suggestions.