Gordon had taken me out for a nice, romantic dinner at a beautiful upscale restaurant. The atmosphere was very seductive - the lights were turned down low, candles were lit, and we were seated in a corner booth. Trellises covered with vines surrounded the booth, and we were partially hidden from the rest of the diners. We were eating, and kept feeding each other . . . and sucking each other's fingers clean. I was feeling a bit naughty, so I leaned over to him and whispered:
"I'm not wearing panties."
He was distracted when I leaned over, because a very low cut top revealed my breasts. He peeked at the short skirt I was wearing, and must have noticed how it barely covered the top of my thigh-high stockings. In fact, I slid my skirt up a bit so he could see the bare flesh of my legs above the stockings. His hand slid beneath the table . . .
I whispered to him again: "I am yours tonight. You are my master for the evening. Whatever you wish me to do, I will do. Whatever you tell me, I will obey immediately. If I hesitate, even for a second, you can punish me in whatever way you desire. Tonight, you may use me in whatever way you want, and there will be no argument from me. I will obey your wishes gladly."
I noticed the pleased look that came into his eyes, and as my gaze lowered to his lap, I noticed that he had become excited. I spread my legs slightly, and brushed my hand over a breast, pressing the fabric close so he could see my hard nipple. His hand, resting on my thigh, slid between my legs as he began to take control of my evening.
He told me to spread my legs wider, and I did. He told me to squeeze my nipple, and I did. His hand found its way to my hot, wet pussy, and rested there. My face began to flush, as I ached to feel his hand pleasure me. He continued to feed me with one hand while the other, ever so slowly, started to caress my pussy. His thumb was pressed against my clit, and he moved it in agonizingly slow circles while the tips of his other fingers slid up and down my moist pussy. I began to breathe heavily, and could barely contain myself as his fingers started to slide more deeply into me.
At that moment, the waiter returned to our table, asking if we would like dessert. I expected Gordon to say no, so he could take me home and use me. He instead ordered strawberry shortcake, and asked me if I wanted anything. I could not speak; all I could do was shake my head no. As the waiter took the order, I was trying with all my might not to squirm and moan audibly - for Gordon's fingers had slid deeply into me and his thumb was pressing more firmly against my hard, round little clit.
Finally, the waiter walked away, after a few curious glances in my direction. Gordon just smiled, and ordered me to kiss him. I lifted my lips to press them against his, and drew away as he removed his fingers from my wet spot. I pleaded with my eyes for him to continue - but he didn't. Instead, he lifted his fingers to my lips, and I noticed they were glistening with my juices. He told me to clean his hand - so I picked up a napkin to wipe his hand off. Grabbing my arm, he growled -
"Clean me using only your mouth."
I was surprised, but I obediently sucked each of his fingers, making sure to thoroughly clean my juices off of each one. After his hand was clean, I hoped that he would resume pleasuring me . . . as the scent of my own arousal was making me squirm. But I had to wait a bit, as the waiter had returned with the strawberry shortcake and the check. When we were once again semi-private, I wondered what Gordon would order me to do next.
He put his finger in the whipped cream of the dessert, and lifted up a dollop. I watched in anticipation as he lifted his finger to my mouth. I closed my lips around it, tasting the sweetness. He whispered in my ear:
"Place your hand on my cock."