Teaching Her a Lesson

Dinner sounded like just what they needed. A night out, a few drinks, a nice meal might help to ease all the tension they had felt lately. While they were still a young couple, the flame had been flickering lately. His desire for her was as strong as ever, he loved his wife. She unfortunately had given in to the pressures of reality. The place in her mind used in the past for sensuality and desire now was occupied with things from the office, the mortgage, the kids. She just worried everything to death, they had no real problems. They both had good jobs, no one was coming to repossess anything, the kids were healthy and happy. But for some reason the wanton woman her husband had fell in love with slipped away.

So here they sat, the husband trying to numb his throbbing libido. There were three empty rocks glasses on the table, and he was working on emptying a fourth. He listened to his wife drone on about ineffectual things, all hopes of any romance with her this evening was gone now. Her figure still appealed to him, but to her, things didn't fit the way they should, the way they used to. Even after he had explained that years pass, things change, including they way they both looked, his words fell on deaf ears. She had went through her usual ritual that evening before they had left home, trying on a thousand different things, complaining about her aging form. She had aroused him, walking around in her undergarments like that, tearing off one thing, buttoning up another. Each time he reached for her, she slipped away, promising later. He knew later would never come, it never did. She would beg off, telling him she just didn't feel desirable. He would try to convince her, try to prove to her she was, but always to no avail.

The thing his wife failed to understand always kept ringing in the back of his mind. To him, the most arousing and alluring thing about any woman was confidence. The way she looked came after that, but really didn't have much bearing on her sensuality. A woman confident in her appearance, however slightly flawed, was much more arousing than some slut in spandex. You could tell women like this from their eyes. the way they held your gaze. While in many cases the gaze was the extent of contact, knowing the fires burning within was always exciting.

Cocktail number four was history now, and his wife was still droning on. Without showing his disinterest in her conversation, his eyes wandered the crowded restaurant. The lighting was somewhat dim, like most establishments with prices on the menu such as this. You still could see your fellow patrons, or at least the ones close by.

From behind his gin clouded eyes, he first saw her. She was sitting with a man somewhat older than she, at the table just adjacent to theirs. As always, he noticed her eyes first. She appeared disinterested in her companion. She never really looked him in the eye. He didn't appear to notice though, he seemed to be more interested in listening to himself talk. And talk he did, on and on, from what you could hear from the next table, about himself. She was busying herself with her meal, glancing around, trying to find something, anything to hold her attention.

As he glanced up from his wife again, he finally caught her eyes. She had finally found someone in this restaurant who appeared to be as bored as she was. Her eyes met his quickly, smiling slightly, and quickly returned to her companion. He however, didn't look away as fast. As quickly as he could without alerting his wife to his wandering eye, he drank in her charms. She was petite, but for some reason, her legs appeared miles long. Maybe it was the short skirt, or perhaps the silk stockings, they seemed to caress each other each time she crossed her legs. The silk slid against itself, generating heat across the narrow aisle, heat he felt burning, growing.

Her hair framed a gorgeous face, pouty, full lips framed blood red. He watched her eating and his imagination started to run away from him. Each time her lips closed around another bite, he felt the same lips closing around his member. Each time her legs uncrossed and crossed, he felt her silken thighs wrapped around his waist. With every breath she took, as her chest rose and fell, he could feel her breasts in his hands. He had gone too far now, slipped into a fantasy that excited him to the point of arousal. His erection pressed against the inside of his pants, and he shifted uncomfortably.

She was aware of his stare now, and her discomfort coupled with something confusing. She detested being stared at like a tart. She dressed this way because it made her feel good. It also made her companion happy. Sometimes men would stare, they could hardly help it, she usually dismissed them with a flip of her hair. But this man seemed to be looking through her, into her soul. His burning gaze wandered up and down her body, and she was beginning to feel something. What it was she couldn't tell, but she liked the fact that he was looking. His dinner companion was a beautiful woman, she was almost complimented that he found her so alluring. She sat up straighter now, thrusting her breasts against her lacy bra and silk blouse. She rubbed her thighs together a bit more than she needed to when she crossed her legs. She didn't know why, perhaps it was the boredom, perhaps it was all the wine she had drank. But this man seemed interested in her, unlike her companion. He babbled on about himself, his business, talking constantly but saying nothing.

She wasn't in the habit of enticing strange married men, but it seemed like good clean fun. It wasn't like she had torn her clothes off, or made some sort of suggestive comment to him. She was just enjoying her meal, and shifting around in her chair. Of course her skirt kept riding up while she moved, and she neglected to pull it back down, but for some reason she wanted him to look. And she continued to give him reasons to keep looking.

He was just shy of his breaking point now, he had to get control of himself. This woman was teasing him, and she knew it. This was cruel, it was torture, he couldn't take much more. His erection was throbbing now, threatening to start leaking into his pants. He had to get away, clear his head, otherwise his desire for her might get him in trouble. He excused himself from his wife, told her that he was going to the bar for a cigarette. She readily agreed, her disgust for his habit was far greater than the discomfort she would feel sitting in a crowded restaurant alone. He buttoned his double breasted jacket as he rose, but not before the woman across the aisle noticed a large bulge in his pleated pants. His legs were a little unsteady as he walked back to the smoky bar. He steadied himself on the wall, reaching inside his jacket for his cigarettes. As he withdrew on and put it to his lips, he felt some semblance of balance return to him. He ordered another cocktail and tried to forget the woman across the aisle.

She was curiously aroused by his condition when he rose to leave the table. Her amazement in the effect she had on him was quickly surpassed by her own desire. Her companion didn't excite her anymore. She would endure his pawing, hold him close as he climaxed, and then watch as he rolled off and fell asleep. She had been forced to indulge herself more and more lately, and as her lover slept next to her, she would bring herself to satisfaction. But she wasn't really satisfied, there was no passion in her bedroom, only obligation. She longed for a slow tease, someone to attend to her needs. A man that would love her long and slow, knowing her every desire, asking no questions. The only way to achieve this now was to imagine it, and imagine the hands touching her were not her own, but those of her dream lover.

Her mind continued to wander, where had this man gone? Her mind raced at with nasty thoughts. Had she frustrated him to the point where he had to go and relieve the pressure? She had to know, maybe her self confidence needed a boost, maybe she was bored listening to her companion, but all the same she excused herself. As she walked across the crowded restaurant she heard her companion call to a friend. The two old friends sat down at the same table she had just left. She confidently walked down the hall, knowing she wouldn't be missed anytime soon.

As he stood at the bar, hoping to get control of his emotions, she entered the room. She walked around to the opposite side of the bar and sat down. He wasn't sure if she was looking at him or not, she appeared to be looking for something in her purse. He gazed at her silken curls, the side of her face, and all of the composure he had gained in the last few minutes vanished. She had finally found what she was looking for, and her fingers wrapped around the tube of lipstick as she drew it from her purse. He was still watching her, she could tell out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure why she was so interested in teasing him, she only knew this game couldn't end just yet.

He watched as she caressed the lipstick tube open, she wasn't holding it like a cosmetic, she was holding it like a treasure. As she removed the cap and twisted the base, his lust grew. She touched the crimson tip to her lips and gently traced an outline. She rubbed her lips together longer than she needed to, continuing to perform for him. This was all he could take, it was probably the liquor, but his desire for her was pushing him to frightening points. As he rose to go over and talk to her, she flipped her hair and got down off the bar stool. She blew him a kiss and walked out the door.

His anger for her seethed, the little tease. His inebriated mind rationalized that she needed to be taught a lesson. You could not so blatantly tease someone as she had, and then just walk away. Any other night, he would have been a good boy and returned to his wife, but not tonight. He was frustrated long before he had ever laid eyes on her, now he had to have her. He followed her out the long hallway back to the restaurant, watching her firm ass swing under her short skirt, her high heels clicking on the marble floor. She turned to enter the ladies room, glancing over her shoulder at him as she did. She blew him another kiss, and went inside. The end was here, he could stand no more, his hand rose to the door she had just went through, and much to his amazement, he followed her.

She stood at the mirror, checking her long hair, adjusting her clothing. She checked the door in the mirror when she heard it open, and when she saw him, she froze. Apparently she had underestimated her feminine charms. She had given this poor man the impression that she wanted him to follow her. After the initial shock, she turned to speak to him. She told him that he should leave, that he was in the wrong room. It was then she looked into his eyes. Her fear mounted as she saw the raw passion and anger in his eyes. She had went too far, and her only way out was blocked by his massive frame.

He didn't answer when she asked him what he wanted. He only crossed the tile floor and reached for the object of his desire. She felt the counter press into her back, barring any escape. He continued to advance towards her, and she opened her mouth to scream. No sounds came, she had never been so frightened in her life. His hand rose to her face, caressing her soft cheek as he tangled his fingers in her long hair. As his grip on her hair tightened, his other hand rose to her chest. He looked down at her breasts, heaving as she breathed. He was satisfied that he had scared her, and the silk of her blouse filled his hand. He pulled her face to his to kiss her soft lips, lips that were quivering now with fear.

For someone appearing to be as frightened as she, she didn't do much to resist his advances. He reached to the low cut neckline of her silk blouse, as it pulled away from her flesh, he eyed the breasts she had been thrusting at him all evening. The fabric tore as he pulled on it, he pulled so hard it tore the garment from her body. She stood before him now, naked from the waist up except for her lacy white bra. He eyed her breasts hungrily as they rose and fell. She stared into his eyes with disbelief. She was frozen now, unable to speak, unable to move. This wasn't the sort of thing women like her did. She was a lady, not some bar room tramp. She couldn't escape his hungry eyes, his hands reached now for her breasts. She felt her nipples harden under his hands, so hard now they ached for his touch. Her arms hung limply at her sides as he filled his hands and kissed down her neck.

The flimsy bra tore from her body as easily as the blouse. A sound finally escaped her lips as his mouth closed around her nipple. She gasped, not sure if it was from fear or pleasure. A shock shot through her body as his teeth sank down on her taut bud, her hands rose to hold his head in place. She couldn't help herself now, this was almost rape, but her body told him she wanted more. His hands fell from her body for a moment to unbuckle his belt. He pulled back on her hair again to stand her up straight. He pushed his pants aside and hauled on the prick she had been teasing all night. The moment she spied the throbbing flesh her body betrayed her again. She felt a flood of honey fill her panties as she reached for it. He pulled hard on her hair again, pushing her back against the sink. He was in charge, she was only here to pay for the teasing.

He turned her around abruptly, his hand going to her soft belly and pulling her ass towards him. He bent her over the cold marble sink, pushing her head down. The moment her nipples touched the cold marble of the countertop, she felt her flower spasm in orgasm. It had been so long since a man had taken her at all, she almost forgot how forceful this one was. He pushed one hand into the middle of her back to hold her in place. She tried to rise because of the cold marble against her nipples, only to be pushed back into her prone position by his huge hands. She felt his erection grind into the cleft of her ass, his hands fell to her hips, pulling her quivering ass closer to him.

He pulled her short skirt up over her hips, exposing the white silk panties pulled up tight against her flesh. He pulled on the panties hard, tearing yet another piece of clothing from her young body. She felt his hand run down her naked hip, then up again on the back of her thigh. She quivered as his fingers pushed into her folds. He was finally satisfied when he felt her wetness. He knew now that she felt the same things he did. No matter how much she protested, he knew the truth. She might say she didn't want him, but her body told on her, her wetness told on her.

He told her to reach back and hold her flesh open for him. She complied quickly, more out of desire than fear. She longed to be filled by his throbbing flesh, and would do anything to be satisfied. Her breasts pushed down into the cold marble hard now, taking all her weight. She didn't feel the cold anymore, only slight relief as her hard nipples pressed down into the counter. He took his erect prick in his hand and ran it down the cleft of her ass. She moved her hips to meet it, only to have it pulled away. She was whimpering now, being deprived of his thick organ. She wanted it badly, she needed it more than anything, but still he waited. She spoke, asking him for his manhood, begging him for it. She heard no words, she only felt his cock sliding over her. He ran it over her throbbing clit gently, back through her moistened folds, and over her tiny pink rosebud. She moved her hips with him, asking again and again for him to enter her. Finally when she could take no more, she spoke, "Please stop teasing me!" she cried. It had taken longer than he had hoped, but she at last had spoken the words he wanted to hear.

"What's the matter, you don't like to be teased?" he asked. She only whimpered and thrust her ass at him again. As he continued running his member through her folds, he spoke again. "What do you want?" he said. She was beside herself, she had never begged a man for sex in her life. Her desire overcame her shame, she begged him to enter her. "No, what do you want me to do?" came his taunting voice again. Her mind raced, she couldn't say it, she never even uttered that word even to herself. It was so filthy, so base, but never the less, it perfectly described what she wanted him to do. "Fuck me, please fuck me!" came her reply. She heard the words, but it wasn't her voice saying them. She didn't want to believe she had said it, that would be admitting she was completely out of control. Realizing that her body had betrayed her, that she was helpless against this man, against her own desires.

From the moment he pierced her searing flesh, until she felt his balls nestled against her, she came. Her climax ripped through her like a freight train, leaving her weak in the knees. He felt her folds spasm around him as he pushed deeper into her, he felt her go limp from her orgasm. It was then that he grabbed her hair again, tangling his fingers in her beautiful mane. He pulled her to him with it, thrusting deeply, pushing her into the counter harder. He was lucky that she was prone over the counter as she was. Otherwise she might have collapsed in a heap on the floor. When the mist cleared, she realized that he was still pumping into her deeply. She reached back again, holding her flesh apart for him, throwing her hips back to meet him with each thrust. Her flesh gripped him like a glove, milking his orgasm from him. He wanted it to last longer, he wanted it to last the rest of his life, but finally he could wait no longer. He reached down and pulled her up, grabbing her breasts roughly. As she felt his fingers close around her heaving breasts, he came. He continued pumping, squirting his scalding come deep inside her, grabbing her breasts. That was all she needed, his fingers pinched her nipples roughly, as she felt him fill her with his come, she came around his squirting prick once again.

She fell forward, exhausted from the ordeal. She held her face in her hands, unable to believe the heights that this man took her to. She watched him silently in the mirror as he dressed. He turned without a word, and walked out of the ladies room. It was then she realized her predicament, most of her clothing had been torn from her body. How could she leave, how could she explain this to her companion? Before the full weight of her predicament occurred to her, the door opened again. It was the same man, the man who had so completely had her. He handed her a raincoat, his raincoat. She took it from him, not sure what he was giving it to her for. He apologized for tearing her beautiful things, and said this was the least he could do. As she wrapped it around her, smelling his cologne on it, she promised herself that she would be in charge when she returned it.