Carl was sitting by himself in the third floor restaurant of the Juniper Inn. It was a dimly lit and classy place. Candlelight, soft piano music and an enchanting ambience accentuated the luxurious service and tablecloths. Carl had checked in about 45 minutes earlier, dropped his overnight bag off in the room on the twelfth floor and headed to make the restaurant reservation on time. Daphne had been running behind which left Carl more than enough time to stew in his own lust and embarrassment at the table. He played with his wine glass until he noticed his wife walk in.
Daphne looked like a symbol of monolithic beauty. Her thick figure was clad in a lovely emerald green dress which went down to the knee. She carried a small black handbag and was wearing a necklace that Carl had given her at the restaurant the previous year. Four inch black high heels accentuated her naturally large and muscular calves. She headed over to wear Carl was seated and he got up to greet her and open her chair.
Heavens she looks amazing. Her pumps! She never wears heels that high, must've worn them just for me.
Carl's dick began to lift up in his pants. A slight throbbing sensation grew steadier in his balls and a bead of sweat ran down the small of his back. Daphne had done her hair differently. It was pulled into a tight French braid ponytail that was perfectly symmetrical and draped down between the back of her shoulder blades.
Regrettably as soon as the excitement began it seemed to go. After a warm greeting, the conversation seemed to dissipate. Steak tartare and quail were consumed, wine was savored, the candlelight was appreciated but the conversation lacked substance.
"Do you still love me Carl?" Daphne purred.
Carl looked up extremely surprised and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"Of course I do Baby! What on earth would make you question that?"
"You haven't said anything about my dress or the way I look," she looked away slightly hurt. "Whenever you usually do it's about my ass, legs or feet. We never really talk anymore."
"I love your French braid," Carl blurted. "You've never had your hair like that before and I really like it. It shows off your bangs and your gorgeous neckline and face. I'd like it very much if you wore your hair like that more often."
Daphne grinned and reached across the table where she grabbed his hand.
"Do you trust me Carl?"
"Of course." he said firmly.
Daphne got up from her seat and walked around to where Carl was seated. She bent over and put her arms around his neck and moved her mouth to his ear. She smelled amazing and Carl could feel the warming weight of one DD size breast resting on his shoulder. His cock immediately sprang up in his pants. Sweat formed on his forehead.
"Go have a drink at the bar," she whispered. "You're going to need it before you experience what's going to happen to you tonight."
Carl's blood went cold with anxiety and anticipation. His cock throbbed in his pants. He watched his wife walk slowly out of the restaurant, calm and collected but not before she glanced around once and shot him the most scheming evil grin he had ever seen.
Carl paid his tab, left a generous tip and immediately went over to the bar. He was the only one there on this unusually slow evening. He ordered a French 75 cocktail and the elderly bartender nervously shined tumbler glasses as he watched Carl stare at his drink in a kind of stupor.
What will she do to me? What am I to experience? Are you being overdramatic? Of course you are Carl! Daphne is your wife! Your humble, wholesome wife. Why she would never do anything to you...
Carl sipped his cocktail. Before gulping the rest down in a moment of anxious compulsion.
