Within the hug, she tipped her face and began to nuzzle at his neck, kissing first his chin, his cheek, then sliding up his jaw to his ear. She sucked and nibbled at it - - - breathing warmly into it as his breathing increased. She kissed down his neck, feeling his quickening pulse under her lips, until she got to his chest. There, she suckled his nipples as he had done hers, and listened to his sighs. But she was far from finished. Her wet tongue made a trail down his belly, his dark hairs matting wetly against his skin. She blew a fine, cool, burst of air onto the wetness, causing him to suck in his breath and goosebumps to appear on his arms. He ground in mock protest, and she grinned at him ..... and cocked her eyebrow as if to say, "you woke me up ... now suffer!" Suffering was the LAST thing on his mind when he felt her hot mouth envelop him.
He groaned lowly as her mouth sank down him. Her tongue teased him to attention, and her hand encircled him at the base. She tasted his nectar on her tongue as he became more and more aroused. She sucked gently on him until he asked her to suck harder. He then wondered aloud if that had upset her, but she assured him that the only way she would know what he wanted is if he asked her for it. He relaxed into her attentions, as her mouth went back to work. He asked her to get in between his legs, and she did, never releasing him from her mouth. His hands found her hair, and he buried his fingers in its softness, trying to guide her pace. She suckled slowly, teasingly, her lips tightening around him until his own hand moved and began to take over. She held the tip of him in her mouth, and stroked his thighs and around his manhood as he stroked himself. His moaning told her what to do and how hard to do it ... she watched his hands intently, trying to learn the right movements to please him. She felt his legs tensing around her, and she knew he was close, so she leaned her mouth into his scrotum and began to lick and suck there. That was all it took - - - he released a torrent into the air and onto her and himself. She eased out of the bed and retrieved a soft towel and began to gently clean him.
He beckoned her to his side, holding his arm out for her to slide into. She lay next to him, molding herself against him and wrapping her leg over his, and they kissed lingeringly. This was the part she cherished most. She had never been with anyone who cared enough to stay awake ... let alone hold her afterwards and just talk to or caress her. They had lovely, intimate conversations about life and love and everything in between. Often, it culminated in another lovemaking session, but on this morning, they were content just to hold , caress, and kiss each other - - - to just be there together. His strong arms wrapped tightly around her, and she stroked his chest, arms and hands - - - and they talked about where this all would lead. They were beginning to realize that while they neither one had any answers, they both were content to continue waking up with one another like this for a long time to come!
Lauren and Michael's Sexy Date Night
“It’s nice to have an evening off,” Lauren said as she slid into the secluded corner booth in one of the most exclusive restaurants in town.
“Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Michael replied as he took the seat adjacent to his wife.
Finding an evening when they were both free had been a challenge. The couple own a small, very successful bookstore, and with Lauren as manager, business had been booming, with several recent book signings featuring big-name authors. Those events, coupled with a few art exhibits that she had recently hosted at the store, had kept Lauren’s schedule full. Michael’s calendar has been just as booked lately as well. His catering company had been busy every night for a month, but he left his manager in charge of tonight’s dinner party. It was a meal for 20 in a private home, and Michael had all the confidence in the world in his staff.
So tonight would belong exclusively to Lauren and Michael. He had used his connections in the food business to secure a last-minute reservation, and the chef at the restaurant was a friend, so they were assured of a wonderful meal. They had dressed to the nines for this rare dinner out, with Michael trading his daily outfit of chef’s whites for a dark suit, white shirt and a tie Lauren had given him for Christmas last year. Lauren, in turn, was wearing an ankle-length black skirt, topped with a black jacket and an electric blue silk blouse, with a couple of buttons undone, showing the smallest hint of cleavage if she moved just right. Her tanned legs were bare underneath the skirt, and black pumps with three-inch heels completed her outfit.
The waiter had uncorked a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses. After taking a sip, Michael gave his wife a sly grin.
“Remember our deal?” he asked.
She smiled in return: “I do.”
As they were dressing for their date, Michael had persuaded Lauren to agree to whatever he suggested for the evening, from the meal selection to whatever might take place at home after their evening out.
“Good,” he said. “I was just checking.” She could tell he had something planned, and the anticipation excited her. Lauren trusted her husband, and was looking forward to whatever he had in mind.
They finished the bottle of champagne with their appetizers, and the waiter then brought a bottle of wine to their table, refilling their water glasses in the process. One thing in particular Michael had remembered from his days at culinary school had served him well over the years. For every sip of wine, follow with a drink of water. This prevents intoxication and a hangover the following day, he had learned in his classes on wine and food pairing. Skeptical when he first heard this advice, he now wholeheartedly endorsed the practice.
Michael and Lauren ate at a leisurely pace, enjoying each other’s company while discussing the latest goings-on at the bookstore and with the catering company. They were sitting near enough to each other that they could easily reach out and stroke an arm, or intertwine their hands between courses. As the meal progressed, they both began anticipating what was to transpire once they arrived back at their house, a four-bedroom Victorian on just over an acre in the country. The nearest neighbor was nearly a half-mile away, so clothing was optional in their backyard. They had spent many evenings nude in that backyard, taking advantage of the swimming pool in the summer and the hot tub during the winter.
The waiter cleared the sorbet dishes from the table, and told the couple that their entrees would arrive shortly.
Michael leaned over and whispered in his wife’s ear: “I’m getting really warm for you.” He had felt that familiar swelling in his slacks for several minutes now, and hoped his wife was experiencing the same sort of excitement.
“Me too,” Lauren replied, blushing slightly. While she loved the physical relationship she and her husband shared, she was still embarrassed to talk about sex. She was an enthusiastic partner in their lovemaking but she was sometimes reluctant to try new things. Michael hoped to change her mind on this romantic evening.
The waiter returned with their meals, and they quickly dug in: salmon for her, lamb chops for him. They could see the lustful fires burning in each other’s eyes, and the sexual tension at the table grew strong.
With the dinner plates cleared and the chocolate soufflé for two on its way, Michael again leaned toward his wife.
“Take off your panties,” he whispered.
“Michael!” Lauren said, surprised at this suggestion. “People will see.”
“No they won’t,” he assured her. “That’s why I chose this booth. It’s in a corner, away from most other tables, and besides, the tablecloth will hide you.”
“Still,” she whispered. “I can’t take off my panties in public.”
“Sure you can,” he said. “Just reach under your skirt and slide them down. Nobody will see a thing.”
Glancing around to make sure none of the other patrons were looking their way, Lauren began raising her skirt, making sure she was hidden by the floor-length tablecloth.
When she had the skirt up to her thighs, she reached underneath and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. She raised her bottom slightly off the cushion of the booth and slid the underwea
r down her legs. As they reached her ankles, the waiter came around the corner with dessert. She blushed again, this time a deep crimson. She just knew that the waiter was aware of what she was doing. Whether he did or not, he never let on. He placed the soufflé before them, and poured coffee as well. Lauren could not bring herself to look him in the eyes as he did all this.
“Do you think he saw anything?” she asked Michael after the waiter departed.
“Of course he didn’t,” Michael assured her. “Now, let me have your panties.”
Having come this far, Lauren wasn’t going to stop now. She reached beneath the table and removed the panties from around her ankles and discreetly handed them to Michael under the table. He laid the panties in his lap, atop his napkin, and looked down. She had surprised him tonight and had worn a thong, a black, silk thong. That swelling in his trousers increased even more as he fingered the silk. It was still warm, having just come from between his wife’s legs, and the thin strip of material was very moist, suggesting that Lauren was indeed as excited as he.
He gathered the napkin and lifted it as if to wipe his mouth, but instead raised the cloth to his face and took a deep breath, inhaling that aroma that he knew so well.
“Michael! Stop it,” Lauren whispered. While Michael may have outwardly embarrassed her, she was secretly excited that he was so enthusiastic about her panties, and her aroma trapped in them.
Michael returned the napkin to his lap, and began feeding Lauren spoonfuls of the soufflé.
“Baby, it turns me on so much knowing how wet you are right now,” Michael said. “I can’t wait until we get home.”
Lauren was past her embarrassment by now; she just wanted to get home and ravish her husband.
They finished the soufflé and each had another cup of coffee. Michael’s chef friend came out of the kitchen and visited with them for a few minutes, and had the waiter bring a pair of after-dinner drinks, on the house, of course.
Finally, with the dishes cleared and the bill paid, Michael and Lauren stood to leave. She discovered that her wetness now extended to her thighs; she could feel it as she walked.
“Michael, wait,” she said as they passed a hallway. “I need to visit the restroom.”
“Can you wait until we’re home?” Michael asked slyly. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she replied. “Please, I’ll just be a minute.”
“Nope,” he said. “Remember our agreement?”
Lauren reluctantly agreed, not quite if she could survive the 30-minute drive out into the country.
Michael had intentionally parked their SUV in a remote corner of the parking lot, directly under a streetlight. He opened the passenger door for Lauren, and she slid into her seat. Before she could swing her legs around, Michael said, “Pull up your skirt. I want you to flash me.”
Lauren, turned on more than she had been in ages, quickly scanned the parking lot. With no other cars nearby, she complied. She raised her skirt to her waist, giving Michael a quick look at her closely-trimmed patch of dark hair.
“Let me see more,” he instructed.
This time, Lauren didn’t hesitate at all. She parted her legs, allowing the streetlight to reflect in the wetness between her legs and on her thighs.
“Mmmmm. Very nice,” Michael said as Lauren shifted in her seat and brought her feet in front of her. He got in the driver’s side and began the trip home.
By now, Lauren was a little tipsy. She had not strictly followed Michael’s advice about drinking water with wine, and she could feel herself loosen up as the alcohol took effect. She slid as near Michael as she could in the bucket seats, and began stroking his right leg. She quickly moved her hand up to his thigh, and then began massaging the hardness inside his slacks.
“Not yet,” he said, removing her hand. “You can have that when we get home.”
“But baby, I want you,” Lauren purred. She again placed her hand in his lap and began stroking.
“You’ll just have to wait,” he said, and removed her hand again. “There’s something I want you to do first.”
“What’s that?” she asked, now ready for almost anything.
“Take off your jacket,” Michael instructed. She did, and deposited the jacket in the backseat.
“Now, take off your bra,” he said, “but don’t take off your shirt.”
This move fascinated Michael, how a woman can remove a bra but leave her shirt intact. He glanced over at Lauren as she reached under her blouse to unhook the bra, and then watched as she wriggled and squirmed and soon slid the bra – black silk, matching her panties which were now in his jacket pocket – out the sleeve of her blouse. The bra joined the jacket in the backseat.
With the moon roof of the SUV slightly open, a cool breeze flowed through the vehicle, and Lauren’s nipples quickly hardened and strained against her silk blouse. This only added to her excitement, and she felt herself producing even more wetness between her legs.
She again tried to stroke her husband’s hardness, but he again told her she had to wait.
“Unbutton your shirt,” Michael told his wife. “Show me your hard little nipples.”
She unbuttoned her blouse, starting at the bottom and slowly working her way up. When finished, she teasingly held her blouse together, grinning at her husband.
“Come on, come on,” he said impatiently. “Let me see.”
Lauren quickly threw open her blouse, allowing her husband to view her high, full breasts and small pink nipples, which were hardening even more as they were exposed directly to the cool breeze.
As Michael had turned off of the sometimes busy four-lane highway onto the narrow two-lane road that led to their house, Lauren decided to go one step further and removed her blouse. It quickly joined the growing pile of clothes in the backseat.
Emboldened by her partial nudity and the alcohol she had consumed, Lauren began caressing her own breasts, exciting Michael immensely. She cupped each breast in her hands, lifting and showing them off to her husband. She rubbed her palms over her sensitive nipples, causing her to close her eyes and sigh with pleasure. Using her thumb and forefinger, Lauren gently squeezed each nipple. She moved her fingers back and forth, exciting herself, and her husband, tremendously.
“Baby, take off your skirt,” Michael said, now having a difficult time watching the road.
Lauren didn’t hesitate, reaching back to unzip the long black skirt and sliding it down her legs. After that, she sat beside her husband, totally nude.
“Lean back against your door,” Michael said, double-checking to make sure the door was locked before Lauren turned to face her husband. She brought her legs up into the seat, her knees demurely together.
“You know what I want to see, don’t you?” he asked. And, of course, she did. She was teasing him.
She stretched her legs toward Michael, still keeping them together though.
“Put your foot up on the dashboard,” he told her, “and your other one on the back of my seat.”
She did as he suggested, so, in the front seat of their SUV, two miles from their house, Lauren faced her husband, her feet wide apart.
The moon reflected on the wetness between her legs and on her thighs, and Michael could barely concentrate on driving. He reached up and rubbed Lauren’s right leg, and gave her one more instruction:
“Touch yourself, baby. I want to see you touch yourself.”
Hesitating just for a moment, and then remembering “the agreement,” Lauren placed her right hand on her pubic hair, letting it rest there before slowly sliding it downward. Her fingers reached her wetness, causing her to draw in her breath. She knew that she was wet when she had taken off her panties back at the restaurant, but she had no idea the extent of her wetness. She could never remember being this aroused, and her body was responding to that arousal. She needed no further prompting from Michael as she slid her fingers up and down on the out
er lips of her vagina. Her fingers were quickly soaked, and Michael could see this.
“Taste yourself,” he said. “Lick your wetness from your fingers.”
Lauren didn’t need a lot of encouragement, even though this was something she had never done before. She had tasted herself on Michael’s lips as they kissed after he had brought her to orgasm with his mouth, but this was the first time she had ever tasted herself from her own fingers. Tentative at first, she licked the tip of her index finger, tasting the hot, sweet, slightly salty flavor of her secretions. Excited beyond her wildest imagination, Lauren enthusiastically sucked her finger into her mouth, no longer aware of her husband watching, caught up in her own erotic world. She moved from finger to finger, sucking them clean of her flavor and producing even more wetness in the process.
Lauren snapped out of her fantasy as she felt the SUV turning into the driveway of their house. She looked over at her husband and saw him watching her, his hand stroking his erection through the material of his slacks.
Defiled Seduce Night Page 175