Payback Isn't Always Hell

"Hey. It's been a long time." I instantly recognized the voice on the other end of the phone. I belonged to Dave, one of my best friends from college.

After graduation we had drifted to opposite sides of the country following work. He went to California after landing a dream job, and I headed South to the Carolinas. We had kept in touch via email, Facebook and the phone, but it had been many years since we'd actually seen each other.

"I'm going to be in your neck of the woods on business and would love to get together," he said.

"Absolutely. Just name the date and the time. We'll make it happen," I answered back.

"Unfortunately I've only got one night in town and it's next Wednesday. I've got a big meeting the next morning, so we're not talking about anything too wild."

Dave and I had done some pretty serious partying during our college days. Thankfully that was in our distant pasts, but I smiled thinking back to everything we'd experienced together.

"Yeah. I've got to be at work in the morning too. No rest for the wicked," I reassured him. "There's a really good Irish pub that just opened. They've got all kinds of good beer on tap and the food's excellent. Why don't we meet there?" I suggested.

"Sounds good to me. Be sure to bring that lady of yours so that I can finally meet her. I've heard enough about her and seen plenty of photos, but I'd really like to see her face-to-face and get to know her a little."

"Will do," I said.

We chatted for a few more minutes, and set the details for dinner before hanging up. I recounted the conversation to you and was really glad that you were interested in going to dinner with us like Dave had suggested.

"I think it would be fun to meet one of your buddies from college. I might learn all of your dark secrets," you said with a wicked smile.

Dinner that Wednesday was excellent. We ate, drank and talked for hours. It was great to reconnect with my old friend and the two of you got along well together. Lubricated by a lot of excellent draft beer the conversation drifted over every topic imaginable, from our past history, to jobs, to politics. Not unexpectedly considering how close friends we all were, it got very personal before long.

"So what's the most outrageous sex you've ever had?" you asked Dave over your beer.

"Holy shit!" I thought to myself. "Honey!?!" I said out loud, trying to reign you in even though I knew that I had little chance of doing so.

"No way!" Dave exclaimed.

"Yes way!" you shot back.

"Only if you go first," Dave parried.

"Dear," you looked straight at me. "Do you remember that night in the dressing room?"

"What night?" I replied trying to sound as if I didn't remember, but obviously failing in my ruse.

You raised your eyebrow threateningly at me. I absolutely remembered that night, and I knew that you wanted me to tell the story; and I knew that you wanted me to tell in exquisite detail. I frantically searched my brain for a way to tell it to Dave while you sat at my side without feeling embarrassed. In a flash the solution came to me; I'll tell the story as if I were telling it to you.

I turned to Dave and began explaining, "In order to really understand this story, you need to know a little more about us. Then it all makes sense."

I turned back to you and continued telling the story to its conclusion.

First, we are adults, and by that I mean that we're over 40. We make an effort to stay as healthy as we can by going to the gym together and eating well. Because of that we look substantially younger than our chronological ages. However, being grown-ups means that we've had our knocks in life. We both have had individual bad marriages that thankfully are in the past. We are a little scarred, a little rough around the edges, but also wiser and happier. We connected mostly by accident, after we had each resigned ourselves to be content with lives alone, but away from poisonous relationships. What we have now, together with each other, is far from poisonous, and we are at last experiencing the joy of being truly connected.

Second, you are far more sexually open and adventurous than I. You have an easy comfort in discussing and taking action on your sexuality and carnal interests. I marvel at how you will stride into an adult store and openly ask questions about toys, clothing, lubricants, etc. Me, I'd feel more comfortable talking about my smelly gym socks, or problems with the sewer system at home. I enjoy every bit of your openness, and willingly followed your lead to all kinds of pleasures. You're not slutty, just wide open, and I love it.

Third, I trust you beyond measure. With you I have discovered the incredible happiness of deep intimacy and absolute trust. You have my heart, my soul, and my body. I will do absolutely anything that you ask. Every time that I do, I'm rewarded with the unspeakable joy of my trust being kept and honored by you. So it doesn't matter what you ask me to do, the answer will always be yes!

Fourth, I love everything about our sex life: doing it, talking about it, thinking about it, dreaming about it, writing about it. Sharing physical pleasure with you by any and all means, makes my heart soar, and I want that as much as possible. For example, early in our relationship we took up teasing each other with mild sexual innuendos via email and text messaging. It quickly evolved into very explicit messages detailing exactly how we could and would please each other. Even today, a long time since those initial phone sessions, when I "sext" you, I know that you get very aroused and wind up with wet and sticky underwear. I love giving you damp, achy pleasure via my cell phone. However, you often warn me how you will deliciously retaliate. "Payback is hell," you say.

Fifth, summers in the Southeast are very hot, with outside temperatures frequently 95 degrees and with 95% humidity. So, the summertime dress code is primarily t-shirts and shorts, loose, baggy, and comfortable. I usually add boxer-style underwear to my outfits to maximize airflow to my "intimate parts". When going out to dinner, I might dress up a bit with a polo shirt, or a short-sleeved button-down shirt, but shorts are de rigueur in the hot weather. You often remark that you enjoy how my summer clothing combination allows you to have "easy access" to my cock and balls. With your sexual openness, you take advantage of that whenever you can, by sliding your hands up my shorts to fondle me. In over-compensation for the outside air temperatures, many, if not most, public spaces are excessively air-conditioned. Malls, shops, restaurants, and just about every venue are very cool or downright cold during the summertime. We usually have to carry sweat shirts or sweaters to wear when we go inside just to keep from freezing.

It was a typical hot summer evening, and it had been a long day for both of us. We decided not to cook at home, and to eat out at one of our favorite Italian restaurants in the local mega-mall. It was part of a big chain, but the food was consistently excellent, and the atmosphere very nice, with lots of cloth-covered tables and widely separated booths. Like many places in the area, the dress was casual, which, as I said, was important at that time of year. Before leaving home, we changed into our summer, out-to-eat wear. I picked out a pair of nice shorts and pulled them on over some synthetic silk boxers, the coolest combination I could come up with. I matched that with a short sleeved, brightly colored button-up shirt. You donned a snug-fitting pair of shorts that nicely showed off your rear without revealing any panty lines because of the teeny thongs you had on (one of my favorite pair). Your top clung to your luscious 38D breasts, and I could faintly make out your nipples through the cloth. I knew it would be easier to enjoy seeing them once we got into the air conditioned restaurant. As usual, you looked stunning. We checked each other out, gave our silent nods of approval, and headed out to eat. For some reason, I decided not to bring a sweater. That was my first mistake and one that I would later regret.

We passed the time in the car ride to the restaurant chatting about our days, and holding hands while the radio played our favorite classic rock. Like you often do when we're sitting and holding hands, you pulled them into your lap. I could feel lusty heat radiating off you through your shorts. My cock stirred and I noticed your eyes roaming over the growing bulge in my shorts. You pulled our hands even tighter into your crotch.

Once we got inside, the hostess escorted us to a booth toward the back. We sat side-by-side, ordered drinks, and began scanning the menu. The air conditioning was indeed pumped up high and it was pretty cold in the restaurant. Despite the sweater that you had wisely decided to bring, you were obviously chilled (I was right about being able to enjoy the sight of your nipples in the air conditioning) and began rubbing your leg against mine in an effort to warm yourself up. The feel of your skin against mine, and your rubbing made my cock began to stir again. I was glad that I had plenty of room in my shorts to accommodate my expanding hard-on. The waitress came by a moment later with our drinks. We placed our food order, and settled back into our seats to enjoy our dinner together.

Our conversation was as easy as ever, and drifted from talk about work, to the kids, to plans for the rest of the evening.

"I'd like to do some shopping in the mall after dinner. There are a few things I want to get," you said. You had never been a recreational shopper and I knew that you wouldn't ask me to shop with you unless you either needed or really wanted me to come along.

"Sure," I replied. "Where do you want to go?"

"I need to pick up some things at Victoria's Secret and I could do with your input on them."

My interest picked up. I loved seeing you in beautiful lingerie.

"Would that be okay with you?" you asked.

"Of course it would," I replied, thinking that lingerie shopping with you could be fun. My cock grew again, shifting in my shorts.

"I can tell," you said, and began stroking my growing hard-on. "Tell me, how much would you like shopping with me?" you asked, and reached up into my shorts to stroke me even harder.

"I would really, really like to go shopping with you," I said, and spread my legs wider so that you could have better access to caress me.

"Mmmmm. I think you would," you said, continuing to rub me under the table. You casually took a sip of your white wine with your other hand.

Our food came shortly after that. While we ate, we kept chatting, and you intermittently rubbed my cock so that I stayed rock hard all through dinner. We skipped dessert, but I ordered a cup of coffee, both to enjoy it and to stretch out the under-the-table attention you were showering on me.

"You know that my pussy was swollen and wet and aching for your cock all day long because of all those sexy text messages you sent to me," you murmured to me, as I raised the cup to my lips. Startled by your blunt declaration, I almost spilled it.

You chuckled. "Still can't handle me and a cup of coffee at the same time, I see."

"Most definitely not," I replied. "I'd much rather handle just you."

"I didn't have any dry underwear to change into, and I suffered all day long," you pouted.

"Poor you," I quipped back. I noticed a wry smile on your face, but didn't really pay it any mind. That was my second mistake of the evening.

"Have I told you recently how much I like summer?" you purred, sliding your hand farther up under my shorts, stroking my balls. Thankfully, my coffee cup was on the table so I didn't spill it a second time as I gasped in pleasure at your touch. "Such easy access to my cock. It is my cock you know," you went on, stroking me. "Please, continue to enjoy your coffee...if you can handle it without spilling any more," you teased.

I tried my best to maintain my composure when the waitress came around with the check. Rather than let me embarrass myself trying to talk to the waitress while you fondled me under the table, you reached out and grabbed the check with your other hand. "Thanks. I'll take that." You added nonchalantly, "We have some shopping to do."

"Where are you shopping tonight?" the waitress asked politely.

"We're going to Victoria's Secret. He's going to help me buy a G string and corset to wear for him."

The server blushed, but smiled. Then you added to the torture and unzipped my shorts and pulled my hard-on free. As you handed your credit card to the waitress, you pumped on my cock hard under the table, practically making me cum. I nearly fainted from pleasure.

The waitress returned a few minutes later with the credit card receipt. "I hope you both have a wonderful evening."

"I know we will," you said with a hint of wickedness in your voice.

After paying the bill, you stood up, barely pausing from stroking me, and pushed the table back so we could leave.

"Payback is hell," you leaned down and whispered in my ear as I struggled with my zipper. I barely had enough time to get my cock back into my shorts before you pulled me up from my seat. "Let's go honey," you said loudly enough to attract the attention of nearby diners. My hard-on was straining against my shorts in the most obvious way. And I knew that's exactly what you had planned, showing me off in public.

"Payback indeed," I thought. If only it had been that simple.

We made our way leisurely around the mall. My cock was barely deflated and anyone who even glanced toward me probably saw the bulge in my pants. I could practically feel you grinning about that. I was sure that was the payback you had intended. Thinking that that was the extent of your revenge was my next mistake.

Before long we arrived at Victoria's Secret, your planned destination. The store was very crowded with lots of women browsing through the clothing, while men awkwardly stood around trying to look cool and inconspicuous.

"Come on and help me find what I want," you said slightly louder than necessary, emphasizing the word "want" with a hint of desire to it.

I felt as if every eye in the store turned to look at us. You led me by the hand back to the lingerie section where the sexiest and most revealing lingerie was located. On the display mannequins was the kind of underwear that pent up teenage boys masturbate to while fantasizing about unreachable women.

"What do you think of this?" you said, holding up high a slinky corset.

I was sure that the whole store was staring at us.

"I think it would look good with this," you said, even more loudly and held up a red lacy thong that had less fabric to it than a napkin.

"I think it would look fantastic," I said, trying to be cool. "Why don't you go try it on?"

"Okay," you replied. "Come with me." It was a command, not a request, and I knew better than to try to resist you.

I had planned on hanging outside the dressing room while you tried on the lingerie. It was a silly plan. Since it was busy in the store that evening, the clerk who unlocked your dressing room quickly left to help another customer in the store. We were alone for just a second.

"Come on," you said, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the dressing room with you, quickly closing the door behind us. "Ssssh. You need to be really quiet," you whispered to me. "Sit here and keep your feet off the floor so nobody knows that you're in here with me. And don't make a sound." Somehow you silently made it clear to me that you also meant "whatever happens."

You took your time getting undressed, and it was a fantastic strip show. When you put on the G string and corset I practically drooled.

"What do you think?" you asked quietly.

"I think I could attack you right now," I whispered.

"Really? " you answered with raised eyebrows. 'You like it?"

I silently nodded.

"Let's see how much you like it," you said, and stepped over to me then reached up my shorts. I gasped at the touch of your hand on my cock.

"Sssh. Quiet!" you commanded, as you continued to rub me. I arched up against your touch, pushing myself more firmly into your hand. "Mmmm. You do seem to like this," you murmured with your eyes locked on mine.

"I wonder if you'll like this too." You slowly ran your other hand up the inside of my thigh, raking my skin with your fingernails until you reached my balls.

I was practically panting. I braced my feet against the walls of the dressing room, trying to keep them off the floor like you had told me to, and thrust my hips up toward you.

"Having trouble holding still? Are you so excited? Do you need to be satisfied?" you teased as you rubbed and stroked me under my boxers. You slid your hand up and down the full length of my now throbbing cock with one hand while you massaged my surging balls with your other hand. The sensation of your hand on me inside the silky smoothness of my underwear was incredible. A steely look came into your eyes as you focused on stimulating me.

"Remember how you tortured me all day today? I was wet and swollen for hours. I was unsatisfied. Payback is hell!"

You quietly unzipped my shorts and freed my cock to bob and sway under the harsh glare of the dressing room halogen lights. I could see and feel pre-cum at the tip, before you engulfed the head of my cock with your mouth.

"Shit!" I blurted out.

You abruptly raised your head and put your finger over my lips.

"You have to be very quiet," you again commanded. "Poor baby! Are you having trouble being quiet? Is it just plain torture for you?" you teased, wrapping your hand around my hardness, now slick with your saliva. Once more you pulled my shaft past your lips and deep into your eager mouth.

"How are you doing in there?" The store clerk called from the other side of the door. You froze for just a second my hard-on still pulsing in your mouth.

"I'm okay," you answered after taking my cock out of your mouth. Your saliva ran down the length of my throbbing rod and pooled in your hand, which was wrapped around it. With a twinkle in your eye, you jacked my cock and said, "It's a bit hard. But I'll figure out how to make everything just right," your double entendre almost made me laugh.

"If you need any help let me know," the clerk replied, clearly in a rush to get back to the other customers in the store.

"No, no. I'm sure that I'll get it worked out," you answered back, punctuating your reply by re-swallowing my cock. I bit my lip, trying my best to remain silent. As you raised your head up again, a thick string of saliva pulled from your smiling lips to my cock. I was panting and my vision was blurred as my pulse raced.

"You really tortured me today with your text messages, you know," you said quietly as you resumed jacking me. "I even warned you that I would pay you back, but you just didn't stop. I was so horny for this cock all day, and there was no relief in sight. I practically had to put a towel on my chair, I was so wet from reading your texts!"

You swept my cock with your tongue once again drenching it. The puddle of saliva that was lubricating your hand job grew bigger. You unbuttoned my shirt with one hand and raked your fingernails up and down my chest. The next thing I felt was a glorious sting as you bit my nipple.

"Aaah," I again moaned, forcing my chest forward against your mouth.

"Quiet lover. You really have to be very quiet," you hissed, and squeezed my hard, and now drenched cock.

"I was dripping for you all day. And with all the air conditioning, my poor, wet pussy got cold. Cold and lonely." You were leaning over me so that I could feel your breasts bulging out of the corset and brushing against me. "I so wanted to feel this cock in my hand." You were now stroking me with more determination. "I wanted to feel it explode."