Vacation Sex Ch. 02

We spent the rest of the day sunning ourselves and then napping. Midday, I began to contemplate what we would do for dinner. One of the reasons we like to rent a house is the degree of privacy it offers. I find cooking very relaxing so even when we're away, we still find ourselves in the kitchen at night. My mind was trying to come up with an evening follow-up to our morning escapade when my wife awoke from her slumber, much like Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With The Wind, yawning with a look of satisfaction on her face.

"What's for dinner tonight?" she asked.

"Let's go out for dinner tonight," I replied.

"Sounds good to me."

I suggested that we get dressed for dinner. Our usual attire is very relaxed jeans or shorts and sneakers but I had something else in mind.

"How about that short leather skirt I saw you pack and some heels?" My wife was not really the short skirt type, always complaining that her thighs were too fat but she must have had something in mind when she packed the skirt in her bag along with a pair of high heels. "Ok. I can handle that but what should I wear for a top?"

I loved her heavy breasts with their tan aureoles and ½" nipples. "How about your white silk man-tailored shirt and definitely no bra?" My mind was painting a picture that was sending signals to my cock. I felt a stir of excitement as if I was reading some internet erotica. Thank God for Levitra! I pictured her standing in front of me in her well-washed silk shirt that was virtually see-through. The top 3 buttons were open so that her awesome cleavage was visible. Her nipples strained against the cloth. Her black leather skirt was a great contrast to the white shirt. Her legs were swathed in black hose going down to a pair of black patent leather heels. High heels always define a woman's legs, giving them shape and style.

"I'm starved. Let's have a drink now, and then I'm going to hop into the shower."

"Works for me. How about a glass of champagne?" That was a question that didn't need an answer. I had packed a few half-bottles of Veuve Clicquot, which went into the refrigerator minutes after our arrival. I popped the cork on the Veuve and then poured myself a healthy shot of Balvenie 12yr. I poured some champagne into a chilled crystal flute and handed it to my wife.

"To good health and good sex," she toasted.

"I'm with you all the way, honey," as we clicked our glasses together.

We downed our drinks and she went off to take a shower. As soon as she was out, I jumped in. I would have taken a shower with her but that would have ended up in bed and I had other plans for the evening.

I could see that she was into the playfulness of our evening out. Her makeup is always stylish and impeccable. But tonight I saw that she was going for the black eyeliner, some iridescent eye shadow, and false eyelashes. She emphasized her cheekbones and applied a bright red lipstick to her succulent lips. I could only imagine the ring of lipstick that was going to end up on the head of my dick.

I put on a tight black mesh tank top and a matching pair of boxer briefs that I bought from a catalog. My nipples stuck out through the mesh. Before I put on the briefs, I put on a purple cock ring. I love wearing a cock ring. Its tightness around the base of my cock and scrotum keep me constantly aware of my cock and gives me an "out-front" look. I finished off my outfit with some black slacks and a tan silk T-shirt. As I looked in the mirror, I could see my nipples sticking out through the mesh and pressing against the silk top.

My wife had her shirt on with some black thigh highs. She was about to put on a tiny thong from Wicked Weasel when I asked her why she was putting on underwear. She looked at me and realized that wearing underwear was over-dressing. She smiled and threw the thong back into the drawer. I told her that I had something else for her to wear. I took out one of the butt plugs I had brought for our playtime. I told her to bend over the sink.

As she submissively did as she was told, I grabbed the jar of Vaseline and greased up the butt plug. I took a dollop of the lubricant, spread her cheeks, and applied to her asshole, inserting first one and then a second finger. I stood there with two fingers in her ass as she pushed back for deeper insertion. I took out my fingers and pressed the buttplug against her anus. She backed up a little, accepting the tip into her rectum. I slowly pushed the plug in, spreading her asshole. The plug was at least an 1½ inches in diameter at its widest. Slowly but surely, the plug reached its maximum size, stretching her anus and then, in an instant, it was almost sucked into her, with her sphincter closing tightly around the base. She let out a gasp as the buttplug found its home for the evening.

"Now, you can put your skirt on. I expect that the butt plug will stay exactly where it is until I take it out!"

Her response was a little salute and a "Yessir!" This would never happen at home. Home is a place where everything is laid out in front of you. Spontaneity is harder to find than the winning lottery number.

She put her skirt on and there she stood, looking so fucking hot. Like I've never seen her before.

"You look awesome!!" I said barely able to control myself. I would have grabbed her right there and threw her to the floor and then I would have... but wait! I knew that the evening was young and there was an incredible night ahead of us where we could play out some of the fantasies that we had talked about. We were about to make our own porno movie that we would be able to play in our heads for a long time.

"Why, thanks, sweetheart. You don't look so bad yourself."

"Are you ready to go? Remember that you have to keep that butt plug in your ass until I take it out."

"Believe me, I'm not about to forget," she said, "And by the way, I could have an orgasm from it."

"The more the merrier, I always say. Let's go have dinner. I thought Michel's, the French restaurant with the nice bar in the front, would be a nice place for a pleasant and leisurely evening."

One thing really great about northern New England is that the temperature can drop down even on summer nights. We stepped out into the cool evening air, walking to the car. I could feel my nipples tense as the sea breeze hit me. I hoped that the same thing was happening to my wife. I didn't want to be an idiot and ask, " Hey hon, how are your nipples?" so I figured I would wait until later when I could see exactly what was going on. I was more interested in how she was going to negotiate the butt plug that she had to keep in her ass. Every time she sat down was going to be a challenge. I opened the passenger door for her and she gently backed onto the passenger seat, testing her new situation. She swung her legs into the car, spreading them apart, giving me a momentary flash of her ultra-smooth pussy framed by the tops of her thigh highs. I walked around to the driver's side of the car with a big smile on my face. The night was off to a good start.

Michel's was about five miles of twisting road away. I put some Teddy Pendergrass on the radio to set the mood of the evening. As the car negotiated the road, I kept my eye on my wife. Every curve and bump in the road caused her to adjust herself in her seat. Often she would close her eyes for a more than a moment and I could hear a sigh coming from deep in her chest.

"Everything OK?" I asked.

"I'm just enjoying the ride," she replied.

We pulled into Michel's parking lot. I ran around the car and opened her door for her. She took her right leg and swung it out of the car, spreading her legs as wide as she could. The short leather skirt had ridden up a bit on her thighs. I could definitely see the tops of her thigh highs but her cunt was hidden in the shadows. I knew what was there, though, shaven so smooth and silky with a sensual fragrant body cream. My imagination told me that her inner labia were probably swollen and hanging between her legs, coated with her internal liquid. Her anus was holding on to the butt plug for dear life. She extended her hand, which was hot to the touch. I pulled her gently up out of the car seat and we walked towards the restaurant.

As we walked, I leaned over and, blew gently on her neck with a warm breath and followed with a kiss. What I got was a guttural moan and then she asked if we should just get back in the car and head home. I replied that this is a special evening and we should enjoy it and just see where it takes us.

"We have a reservation," I said to the hostess, giving her the name in which I made the reservation. I never use my real name just in case we decide not to go.

"Follow me," she said. I had asked for an intimate round booth that gave us a little more privacy than the other tables offered. We sat close together, bathed in the soft glow of three candles in the middle of the table. I looked at my wife. Her face glistened in the candlelight. I don't know if it was her makeup or she was just flushed from excitement. She looked exotic with the dark eye makeup and her full red, red lips. I focused my eyes on her chest and watched as she breathed. With every breath her chest would fill and her nipples would push against her shirt, which was almost diaphanous. Her aureoles and nipples were usually a light tan color against her creamy white skin but tonight I could definitely see them through the flimsy material.

"I made my nipples dark, the way you like them," she said, catching my stare at her 34C chest. She was right. I always told her how much I like the big dark nipples of many of the women in the porn that we watch. In fact, more often than not, my wife would point them out to me as if she was looking at them for her own excitement. She seductively unbuttoned the fourth button on her shirt, which allowed me to see the rich dark brown of her nipples.

"You always know just what to do," I told her, reaching for her hand and giving it squeeze that transmitted the warmth that I was feeling.

We ordered drinks and perused the menu. We decided that we would split a few things so that we didn't end up feeling over-stuffed. Michel's is famous for its foie gras so we chose that as our appetizer. Since we were in a coastal community we ordered a delicate lobster entrée in a rich butter sauce. A rich sauce is sensual and seductive. I always picture the scene in "Tom Jones" when Tom is having dinner with a seductress who, unbeknownst to Tom, turns out to be his mother. Their eyes were locked as they gorged themselves, showing a passion for each other that could only end up with a bedroom romp. That was the way we ate dinner, looking at each other eat. I watched as my wife tasted the foie gras, sighing deeply as she savored every morsel of this gourmet delight. The lobster was given the same detailed treatment. A bit of the rich butter sauce dripped from my wife's mouth, down her chin. It might as well have been cum, it looked so hot!

We filled up on dinner and decided that dessert would be later. As the waitperson prepared our check, I reached under the table resting my hand on her inner thigh, right below the lace top of her thigh highs. Slowly I moved my hand up on her soft inner thigh heading. She spread her legs raising her very short skirt to allow my searching hand to move unimpeded toward its intended target. My hand rested on top of her pubic mound with my fingers gently touching her swollen labia. I could feel the hardness of her clit protruding from her enlarged cunt lips. My middle finger bent in, pressing between her lips, to find a tunnel filled with her moisture. I could feel the buttplug which was still buried in her ass. She hand her hands on the table, palms down. I thought she was going to have an orgasm like Sally in When Harry Met Sally, banging on the table. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened her mouth as if to whistle. At that moment, her body shuddered and she exhaled with an expression of release. I pulled my hand out from under the table and stuck my middle finger in her mouth. She took it in as if it were a penis, sucking out all of her juices.

"Wow," was all she could say. The smile on her face said the rest.

Her timing was just right. Moments later the waitperson put the check on the table. He looked at me and looked at my wife and asked, with a knowing smile, if everything was as we had hoped. "Better than ever," was my response. I paid the bill and left a generous tip.

We stepped outside into the refreshing night air. An offshore breeze filled the air with an intoxicating ocean scent. The cool light wind evidently had an immediate effect on my wife's chest because her nipples became immediately erect. "I found a really nice little spot by the water where they play soft jazz. We can have an after dinner drink and contemplate the rest of our evening." I opened the passenger door for her and she dropped her ass down on the seat, as if to ram the buttplug in a little further. I could see that she was into it. She put her left leg in the car with her right leg still on the ground. Her legs were spread as far apart as they could be. She took her right hand and stuck it between her legs. Seconds later, she showed me her middle finger covered with what looked like a clear gel. She stuck her finger in her mouth and winked at me. Damn!!! She pulled her leg into the car and we were off to our destination, The Ocean Jazz Club.

As we drove to the Ocean Club, I looked at my wife through the corner of my eye. She had her eyes closed and was humming to the music on the car radio. I sensed she was rocking slightly in her seat. I asked her if she was OK and she responded slyly that she was better than OK. Her breathing was very heavy and her breasts were pressing against her shirt. I knew that she was enjoying the butt plug that her ass held so tightly. I pulled into the parking lot at the jazz club and asked her if she wanted to go back to our vacation hideaway. She said she was looking forward to the music and the club environment and that the night was still young.

The Ocean offered a very intimate atmosphere, with just the kind of jazz that you might have heard in a Parisian jazz club. Some Billie Holiday or Oscar Peterson, with jazzy renditions of old Gershwin songs like Embraceable You and Some On To Watch Over Me. The music and songs were love songs, heartfelt and meaningful. It was just the kind of music we loved.

The hostess asked us if we'd like a regular table or one of the smaller glasstop round tables with the high stools back in the corner. As a person who likes to watch the crowd, I thought the table back in the corner would give us a nice view for people-watching. We made ourselves comfortable with our backs to the wall looking into the center of the club. There were lots of couples and there were several men and women who looked like they might be there just to enjoy the music or maybe were looking to hook up.

The waitress, a cute little thing around 22, took our drink order, a single malt for me and a pony of Godiva chocolate liqueur for my wife. We toasted to love and happiness and good sex. We looked at each other with knowing smiles. In the background, the vocalist and a 3-piece combo were doing a great job on an old classic. The music was at a level that was enjoyable but still allowed for private conversation. We were really enjoying ourselves in the warmth and comfort of the club. My wife knocked the small pocket book she was carrying onto the floor and it fell under the stool of the woman sitting at the table next to us.

"Excuse me," my wife said to this very interesting looking woman, "but I've dropped my clutch under your stool."

Our neighbor looked down, saw the bag and got off her stool to pick it up.

"Here you are," she said smiling, as she handed my wife the small little bag. Her hand touched my wife's hand as my wife took her bag. I watched the exchange very carefully and it seemed that this stranger touched her hand intentionally.

"Thank you very much,' my wife said. "Are you alone?"

"Why yes, I am."

My wife turned to me and gave me a look I don't think I've ever seen before. She turned back and said, "Would you like to join us?"

"Thank you. I'd like that very much." She climbed off the stool that she was sitting on a joined us at our table. "My name is Susan but my friends call me Sonny." With that, the stranger was no longer alone and she wasn't a stranger any more. Within seconds, she and my wife were engaged in conversation. Sonny was from California and was on the last day of her vacation. She must have been about 44 or 45 years old, with short blonde hair and sun-bronzed skin. At first glance, she had a hard look to her but as soon as she smiled there was a warmth that came through that immediately softened her looks. What was really interesting was the she and my wife were dressed very similarly.

Sonny was wearing a very short black leather skirt with fence net stockings and 4" heels. She had a tight long sleeve black see-thru top with a black demi-cup bra that accentuated a full bust. She was wearing a black leather vest that matched her skirt. She was definitely hot! Although the room was dimly lit, the candle on our table allowed me to see that Sonny was perched on the stool with her knees about a foot apart. She was relaxed and seemed unaware that I was looking at her legs.

I wasn't even there as far as the two women were concerned. My wife told Sonny our simple story, two people on vacation looking for some time away from work and the doldrums of our every day life. Sonny, on the other hand, had more to tell. A California girl, who was a gymnast and cheerleader in high school, Sonny went to college in Las Vegas. In order to make some extra money while in school, she tried her hand as a chorus girl at a Las Vegas hotel. She ended up dancing topless in a chorus line for four years. It was easy to see that Sonny's body language was not overt. She wasn't flaunting her body. She was just very comfortable with who she was and how she looked. Her see-thru top and half-bra showed some of the best cleavage I've ever seen. My dick was feeling the tightness of the cockring around my scrotum and my nipples were getting hard.

The two women had developed an instantaneous bond. They were leaning into each other as they talked, like old friends sharing intimate secrets. Their hands touched in a very natural way, hand-in-hand, or one woman's hand on the forearm of the other. If I weren't sitting at the table, you would definitely assume that these two women were together. As a matter of fact, as far my wife and Sonny were concerned, I wasn't there. I ordered another round of drinks and sat back to enjoy the show that was happening at my own table. Sonny excused herself to go to the powder room. My wife asked if she wanted company but Sonny said no she would only be a minute.

Sonny returned to the table and I noticed a difference in her appearance. She had taken off the demi-bra she was wearing, leaving just the tight sheer top. She also had unbuttoned her leather vest. The vest hung straight but as she turned to the side I could clearly see her breasts. On her left breast was a pretty little tattoo of a sun. Her nipples were huge and they were pierced with gold hoops. This bitch was super hot. My wife saw what I saw. She turned and gave me a quick wink.

Through the glass top, I could see Sonny put her hand on my wife knee. My wife did the same during their very animated conversation, accentuated by laughing and giggling, like two high schoolers. First one would lean forward and their heads would almost touch. A whispered secret would pass between them. The listener would erupt in laughter. Then the other would do the same.

This went on for a half hour. I watched these two women with pleasure. My wife was having such a great time with her new friend. Looking at my wife's nipples pressing against her shirt and Sonny's magnificent chest with its prominent jewelry was having its effect on my primal urges. My cock was firming up and I could feel the restraint of the cock ring. I looked at my watch and decided that the evening was coming to a close, at least at the jazz club. I wanted to get my wife out of there, get her home, and into bed. I leaned over to let my wife know that it was time to go. She looked at me with an exaggerated look of sadness, her lower lip pouting. "I'm having such a good time. Sonny is so much fun to talk to," my wife said. Sonny said that she had to get going, too. This was her last night and she had to get up fairly early to catch a plane back to California.