The Last Cigarette Ch. 02

The Last Cigarette 2

(I used this story as a VERY heavily adapted version of my The Pub as an episodic installment reward each night if she hadn't smoked in the day. Each night she got the next couple of paragraphs! It follows on from the events of The Last Cigarette.)

*

The Reward Coffee

Leaning forward and closing the small gap between them, her bare leg the obvious game, he ran the very edge of a finger slowly across her knee.

Sensing the sharp intake of breath at the merest brush with her thigh, the touch is electrifying and her look of serenity is encouragement to continue.

As he carelessly traced it back; she couldn't help but smile and for a few moments, her whole concentration was on that gentle movement back and forth whilst he betrayed no visible signs that he understood the effect it was having.

Shifting her position in the cafe seat, she re-crossed her legs. The slow creep of her shortish skirt exposed more of her gorgeous legs, now hinting at the tantalisingly forbidden area above the hemline, the point of her shoe heel dangling seductively from her floating foot.

Did she know what she was doing? Did she understand the implications of her dress sense that lunchtime? A slow breath in and then out to calm her excitement. It was only meant to be a coffee and yet she had dressed to impress.

Finding his target now better presented, he resumed his slow trickle.

Instinctively, she relaxed the crossing fold of her legs... not consciously wanting to, but compelled somehow and unable to resist. She swallowed hard and her reaching hand trembled slightly causing her cup to rattle in its saucer. Not trusting herself, she observed with almost disinterest the remaining half cup of latte and withdrew her hand to her lap.

Encouraging him almost, but not blatantly, it had been so long since she had felt so giddy. A burning desire to feel how far he would go right there at the table. A feeling of naughty recklessness. Her neck felt flushed and her nipples like hard nubs now beneath her silky blouse. Suddenly aware, an unfortunate glance down emphasised them to him and she watched his eyes scan her chest, a smile on his lips.

The conversation over the friendly coffee to this point had been fun, but she realised with a spark of amusement that she had not followed it for the last few moments. All around her, the bustle of weekend coffee shop patrons, the swirl of movement and calming hubbub of people doing what people do.

And then there was his finger. Desperate to maintain decorum in public, she was also aware that no one was paying them any attention and it had been a long time since a man had teased her in such a fashion.

She regarded his deep blue eyes and humorous expression at her predicament. That finger was driving her crazy.

.....

Eye to eye, his conversation did not falter but her mind wasn't totally on it. He could be saying anything and her only response was a smiling nod. That fucking finger was everything. His voice so soothing. Captivating. Seductive. That finger so all-consuming - the slow trace around her knee and then back into her thigh. The merest brush down towards the chair and the jangle of a tickle almost beginning in her muscle.

She was suddenly aware that she was breathing deeply through her mouth. Why wasn't she using her nose. Excitement coursing through her now and an acknowledgement that her skirt was riding really quite high now. She softly bit her bottom lip.

How far will he go? 

Why was it so hot in here?

Could anyone see?

She felt a familiar moistening between her legs and prayed for that stray finger to go further along her inner thigh. She daren't ask, but did she need to?

He's backed it away!

It's on her calf now.

Oh no! Trace it back again.

Her eyes are begging. Pleading.

Please, Sir.

Please.

He responded to her shallow breaths and the half closed eyes, and his trailing finger rises once more, lazily almost, following a circular route up her knee and down into her thigh. Her standing leg quivering now, raised on a point as it is by the stiletto heels she wears. Uncontrollable.

Her knickers must almost be visible as each shift of her body had pulled the hem of her skirt slightly higher. She hadn't planned for this to happen - hadn't expected this course of events and was glad she had chosen nice underwear. Thankful that she had put some on that she felt good in. But suddenly wondering if the material would show how wet she was? Would that be embarrassing? Could she care?

Sensations coursing through her flesh; through her body; a direct route to her very soul.

Seeing her cheeks blush, he whispered a single word instruction.

Should she respond?

Should she agree?

She wanted to so much...

Swallowing hard. There is only one thing to reply. One thing to say in response to him. His command. His quiet authoritative 'wider'.

Yes, Sir.

I do as I'm told.

She can't help herself anymore, and her legs part; subtly; imperceptibly; barely to begin with, but part they do. Millimeters to begin with, then further at his raised eyebrow.

Involuntarily she dropped her hand to the table and gripped his other wrist. She looked him directly in the eyes and know exactly what's about to happen.

That trailing finger is going higher.

Ignoring the distant conversation around as though on another planet - the only thing that matters is how that fingertip is moving. The clatter of a dropped spoon on the table behind them; raised voice of a mother to her child; the hiss and spit of the coffee machine behind the counter. All as though in another room. No one could see what he was doing to her and no one was interfering.

Both of her legs are now square on the floor.

How the fuck did that happen?

As they maintained eye contact, a mischievous smile on his lips, a submissive pout on hers, she realised that her thighs were now very apart.

.....

She swallowed again as his finger made it's way discreetly up under her skirt. He's not stopping now or just teasing her. The trail against her flesh feels like a series of electric shocks.

No one can see. No one can know. The viewpoint of his intrusion is masked by the coffee table, the table cloth and their bodies.

The only thing that matters right now is Sir before her and the path his hand was taking into her thigh.

It was now at the gusset of her knickers.

Her soft, silky, inner thighs  palpitate with excitement as the finger traces her lower slit through the thin material, feeling the swell of her lips and the dampness within.

Slowly and unhurried, the finger is building within her a burning desire. Should she say something or do something? Close her legs perhaps and prevent the most erotic experience she had had in a very long while? He had instructed her to open her legs? That edict didn't engender any discussion. If she didn't do as she was told, it would all be over. She had no doubt whatsoever of that and fhe moment would be ruined.

She had no choice.

She needed that attention.

This was her reward for not smoking in a whole week.

Would he go further? Would he take her that far? Dare he? Here? He doesn't care! Her body was his, right there, right then and yes, she would happily submit to him. Open herself for him.

Creating a further gap, the finger is hooked in under the strip of material and she gasped as it immediately becomes his flesh on her flesh.

Unhurried.

Relaxed.

Languorous even.

The bastard! Can't he see what he's doing to her? Can't he see that she is on fire? That he has taken her too far? That there can only be one result now?

Why is he still stroking across her lips and up into the very top of her thigh? Trace it back and put it in. Please. Feel how wet I am! How much I need it! How open I am for you!

She can't keep her eyes from him, tracking down from his face to his powerful looking shoulders, to the bicep below his t-shirt sleeve and then to the taut sinew in his lower arm which disappeared beneath her clothing. There was no way she was going to stop this moment.

Back to his face again, her eyes spoke volumes.

Please Sir.

I'll do anything.

And then it's on her clit.

Her soft nub at the top of her slit swollen in response to his touch and then her feelings magnify exponentially. She is moments away now. A heat in her face feeling like it was about to blow her head off.

Leaning forward, she didn't care who was watching as she needed a kiss; other contact of sorts. Half closed eyes as she watched him mirror her actions and lean in too. His lips slightly parted, her tongue nervously moistening her own before they meet.

Their first kiss in the cafe, and then as they break apart, the thinnest stream of saliva momentarily connects them before it falls away as her lips open wider in response to his touch below. 

She can't help it.

Her body twisted to shield her waist and his hand, she closed her eyes for another kiss. Everyone else is irrelevant and they are the only two people in the world and their lips are then locked together.

A shift in his weight and the finger sinks deep into her pussy. She gasps out loud at his brazen intrusion, feeling it filling her; an undeniable, unforgiving and irresistible strength and her eyes open and widen to take in the visual stimuli whilst her body appreciated the physical. She grips his other wrist even harder and feels his calm strength radiating back.

And very slowly and extremely methodically, he starts to finger-fuck her, right there at the table in the corner of the cafe. Every so often returning to her clit, a couple of fingers circling softly before almost plunging back in to her pussy.

.....

A swift self-preservation glance around. No one around. No one watching. No one caring. Thank fuck for that, because she wasn't going to last much longer.

Still gripping his wrist, she succumbed to the lightning bolts of emotion, exhaled a deep breath, eyes now tightly shut, and relaxed through the all-encompassing orgasm, a hiss of appreciation escaping her pursed lips.

Did anyone hear? Did anyone notice? Could she care less? Her body shuddered briefly to compensate for the release of emotion and she kept her eyes tightly shut to enjoy the last few strokes he was making across her clit and down through her slit.

Too much! She opened her eyes to see him smiling broadly at her as she shook from the increased sensitivity on her most intimate place.

He removed his finger and offered it to her. Almost greedily she sucked it quickly into her mouth to taste her own arousal, nervous of being watched but desperate to cling to the lingering eroticism of the moment and prove her continued subservience.

As he removed it and used it to hook his own coffee cup up to his mouth, there was only one thing left to be said...

Thank you Sir.

Thank you.

How had it got to this point? Soaking wet and wobbly as fuck. Heart beating like the clappers and not knowing if she was coming or going.

Come on girl, she thought.

Pull yourself together.

She excused herself, needing a few moments alone to compose herself; to readjust her clothing and to centre herself once more.

...

She stood looking into the mirror in the toilets, checking that her lipstick was perfectly reapplied. Puckering, her lips were a lovely, glossy slutty red. She smiled at her reflection. Checking too that her mascara was still emphasizing her sexy eyes and not running with the heat and emotion. Her eyes crinkled excitedly.

Hunching herself forward for the mirror, she checked the alluring swell of her breasts. The lacy bra was doing a reasonable job, but at the back of her mind was the nagging thought that maybe today she should have been braless. What good was a bra when you are just aching for it to come off?

Using her fingers and freshly painted fingernails carefully, she hooked each breast in turn back up and square in it's respective cup and smiled in appreciation of the created cleavage behind the low-cut top. More than mortal man deserved. She took a moment to feel relieved that she had taken time the previous evening to prepare her nails and outfit for today's coffee date.

Standing back she smoothed her clothing down across her belly and straightened the skirt. Short, but not too short, it finished a little above the knee though a light enough material that it frequently rode up her thighs.

Clinging, her top exaggerated her figure with her voluptuousness in all the right places.

The heels set her outfit off. Plain tan stilettos match any outfit and with the effect of lengthening her legs, pulling the calf muscles into place, they created a tempting gap between her legs. She had been aware of his eyes following her as she had sashayed to the toilet from the table. He had been panting. A quick glance over her shoulder as she had entered the toilet door had confirmed it.

The drink had been fun so far and she had already had a fantastic orgasm, but it still seemed early in the coffee date and, after she had finished draining herself on the toilet, an itch between her legs had started up again.

.....

Sir had been very much in control so far during the drink, and she had submissively allowed him to be. It was implied that she was to obey him and doing so had shifted her thinking and helped her to make some decent adult life choices just lately.

Though he had been teasing and pleasing her for the last half an hour, there was still a restraint about him. He seemed to know how far to push her but keeping complete control of his own desires.

Mischievously, she wondered if she could test his resolve and wondered what was the worst thing that could happen doing so? Perhaps caution when she was sitting down tomorrow? He was quite willing and definitely big enough to dish out a spanking if he seemed it necessary.

Meh. Such is life!

Making her choice and fixating on her image in the mirror, she pulled up the skirt and hooked a finger into each side of her panties. A swift pull down and within moments she was untangling the lacy nothings from her shoes.

Wet and sticky, they betrayed her obvious excitement; the smell of her previous elation a pleasant pervasive odour.

She pushed them quickly into her handbag so as not to forget them, but then took a moment to contemplate herself in the long wall mirror.

The vision of her bare thighs and fully exposed pussy, though regularly seen and just as regularly dismissed, all of a sudden had a different viewpoint.

She saw for a moment what he would see; what he had just been touching and caressing; what he would perhaps taste at some point?

Her lower lips were still engorged and the nub of her clit still protruded arrogantly. Still fucking wet. Her pussy looked wanton and needy.

She didn't need panties on; they were just an obstruction. Though she had just met the man still outside at their table, he had already seen her soul as naked as her body was now. His fingers had been inside her. In the most intimate way possible and driven her mad with pleasure. Knickers were now an irrelevance; her modesty already compromised.

She had given herself to him to fix; to put right, and trusted him to do so. Efficiently. Passionately. Brutally at times. Fixated on the outcome. Harsh and compassionate in equal measure.

If she behaved, it was fun.

If she didn't, well, that would be a very different story. And as much as she idly wondered how it would feel, there was a nervousness about pushing him to that point.

Better to err on the side of caution rather than incur a punishment. She decided that she would just remain open for him and completely at his convenience.

Seeing the gape of her pussy and still feeling uncomfortably wet, she pulled a handful of toilet paper from the cubicle, and dried between her legs.

The sopping wet mess of paper thrust into the toilet, she composed herself enough to rejoin Sir at the table.

.....

His eyes lit up when she approached the table, as though he was aware of her change in wardrobe. Did he know how she was dressed now? His eyes lingered on her breasts for a few moments longer than was strictly appropriate in polite company, then raked up to her face to meet her smile with his own.

At his question as to what to do next, they decided to leave the cafe.

...

They strolled through the town in the early afternoon enjoying the warm dry weather, and the sounds of the hustle and bustle around them accompanied their arm-in-arm amble.

Heavily populated areas didn't offer much scope for naughty behaviour though he did have his hand on her ass for much of the journey.

Each time he removed it however, she felt almost lost without it and a overpowering desire to guide his hand back and on to her still extremely wet pussy.

Reaching a secluded path they walked for a while before pausing to stand at a safety rail to look out at the river. He eased her gently before him so as she could see the sights easier.

Still feeling heady, she leaned forward as though looking at something in the water, well aware of how her movement had pulled her skirt up at the back. She encouraged it up with a nonchalant arch of her back and a coquettish look over her shoulder.

Would he notice she was no longer wearing her underwear?

Would he notice that she was still aroused?

Would he notice that she was still feeling and trying to act submissive?

His hand cupped a buttock.

Good start.

She breathed a sigh of relief at his hold, willing him to feel down and how open she was.

She shifted her weight and parted her legs wider without trying to make it obvious, heels clacking softly on the tarmac path.

His other hand clamped around her other cheek and he squared himself behind her. She almost groaned with lust.

Damn that bra. She should have left it off. Left unfettered, the weight would have gaped her blouse for his pleasure and he could have seen how stiff her nipples were. Too late now.

Never mind; she could feel his body hardening against her. She softly changed which foot took the most weight, aware that the wriggle brushed the front of his trousers.

It could have been mere moments or above an hour; as time seemed to have moved at a different speed to the Autumnal afternoon; before she became aware that her skirt was becoming hoisted just a little higher and that her stance had somehow widened too.

So public and yet so private.

His body blocked all from the view of her, not that there was anybody about. If he'd commanded, she would have shed all her clothes where she stood and to hell with any passing public.

I am his today.

Right this moment, all she wanted was to be commanded. To relinquish every semblance of personal control. To be taken. To be used. To submit to his every whim. To see how far over the edge her sexy look and compliant attitude could take him.

All of a sudden she felt his hands beneath her skirt guide it up her remaining flank to bare her ass completely.

Instead of concern, she closed her eyes. She trusted him to look after her. To know what was best for her.

'Naughty girl!'

Oh, he had no idea. No idea at all of how naughty she was feeling right at that moment.

She sighed and wiggled her ass. 'Go on then,' she thought, 'spank me.'

She detached one of her hands from the rail, and eased it onto her wet pussy, a finger instinctively and immediately finding its way into her slit.

The slap was hard but not too hard. A sting but not painful.

She felt her flesh shake but recover and glow ready for another.

She had been waiting for this.

.....

She took three smacks on each ass cheek before she came. Each a stinging reminder that her body, at that moment in time, belonged to him. Her head was spinning with the events of the day; his dominant voice and body language, the control he had had over her and how he made her feel. How, over the course of the last month, he had steered her back to feeling happier about herself and the fact that today had been all about her, as a reward for her quitting that awful habit.