A Dinner Out, part II

by Ivy

I squirmed in my seat, trying not to smile.

In this high-end restaurant, with dozens of people around us, he had begun to punish me. Of course, it should be clarified that the punishment was meant solely for his pleasure, and the torture was me trying to deny my own. I looked up at him through my long eyelashes, smiled my sweetest smile, and purred, “My apologies.”

He nodded. But there was no lessening of the buzzing on my clit.
The waiter brought us our glasses, mine full with the dark, rich liquid. I waited for him to sip first, and raised my own glass to my lips. The bitter taste of the wine slid into a fruity bouquet as I swirled it in my cheek, finally swallowing. I smiled in gratitude. He had picked a fine wine, one that wasn’t produced in mass quanity year-round. A special choice. For me.

We made small talk, and I made special effort to please him: I kept my back straight, which caused my breasts to stand at attention; I giggled demurely, and waited for him to prompt my responses; I kept one hand in my lap at all times, to keep him guessing. Secretly, I adored pleasing him, and the benefits were always on my behalf as well.

He ordered fish for me and a steak for himself. When the food was placed in front of us, I made sure to follow his lead and only sample the dish after he had. I told him I was pleased with the choice, and thanked him for choosing something for me. Then, having pleased him thus far, he threw a challenge my way.

He dropped his napkin from his lap, on the floor.

“Get that for me,” he commanded. “Under the table. And I fully expect you to serve me dessert while you’re down there.”

Here, admist the elite of the city, I was being asked to perform fellatio on him, with only a thin linen tablecloth to hide me. And how was I to gracefully slip under a table? And what if I were to be found out? I began to tremble with fear, which he quickly noticed. This caused him to smile.

“Now,” he said. I shook my head, ever so slightly, and then realized what I’d done. His hands, already at his lap, moved to his pocket. The buzzing intensified, causing me to jump. “How long can you sit there, without moaning?” he asked. He was right; the throbbing of my clit was beginning to cause other reactions in my body, and it wouldn’t be long before I wouldn’t be able to contain myself.

“What if someone sees me?” I whispered frantically.

To this, he winked. And the buzzing got stronger. I worried now about my wetness staining the linen seatcover I perched on. Could the people around me hear the buzzing that now seemed to pound in my veins?

Finally, I consented, and began to move gracefully under the table..

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About Between the Sheets

Cock. Hard. Pussy. Wet. Tongue. Throb. Sweat. Impale. Well, you made it so far; you might as well make yourself cozy. Isn't it amazing how all of those words have completely mundane definitions until you link them all together?

Welcome to Between the Sheets, where no aspect of sex is taboo and nothing is sacred. So come in and stretch out. Leave a comment. Browse around. You'll leave either appalled or enthralled, but you'll definitely remember your first time. (And it only gets better AFTER the first time.)

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