Date Night Ch 01 1

Awhile back, a girl I was dating was home visiting family for the holidays while I was stuck back at our apartment, having to work. She called me that night, in the mood for some fun phone talk. We were a little new to phone sex, so we didn't really know how to get it started. We giggled a little bit back and forth until we were about ready to give up. We were both horny, but we didn't want it to be so blatantly cheesey that it seemed like we're watching a $1 porno. Finally, she said to me, "How about you tell me a story?"

"A story about what," I asked.

She replied, "Hmmmm, tell me a story about taking me out on a date. A date where you really spoil me and give me whatever I want. Something fun. And don't leave out any details."

I replied, "Well, I need to know more than just that. What would you be wearing on this date?" Without missing a beat, she replied, "Short black skirt, thigh highs with garters, low cut colorful satin shirt, knee length high heeled boots."

That was enough for me to set my mind in motion. I replied, "How about this..."

"We start the night with dinner at a restaurant/bar. We sit far enough from the bar that the bartender isn't our waiter, but close enough that it isn't awkward to send me to the bar for drinks. We are seated side-by-side so that you can reach over and "play" all you want, get me revved up, and then make me walk to the bar for another round of drinks while you watch me walk, embarrassed with a big hard-on and noticeable wet spot.

Following this thoroughly embarrassing dinner in which you stroked/teased me under the table while flashing me your wonderful breasts and thighs, we're off to the theater. Not a movie theater, but live theater. Your favorite play is in production, and we have box seats above everyone else so you have unfettered access to my "parts." After taking off my pants at your insistence, the fun REALLY starts."

"How the story so far," I ask. "I hope it's doing the trick."

She replies "If I had on panties, they'd be wet. I like it so far, very much."

Note to self, when a girl wants to go out, remember that when you make your plans: It all depends on her outfit.

I continue with the story, "With my pants completely off , rather than around my ankles because you like the idea of me being "caught" by the waitress, you use my precum for lube as you tease me while watching the play. You make a show of your cleavage and thighs which makes me practically drool.

Since this is your favorite play, you've seen it ten times and know the story. Just to tease me, you quiz me throughout, warning that a wrong answer will have dire consequences.

I have a difficult time concentrating on both your tease AND the production. You're so good at administrating a Mind Fuck Deluxe!

You give me a break on the 5th correct answer and move your hand to your own crotch for some nice playtime while I watch. After a minute, you bring your hand up to my face and rub juices on my upper lip. Now I have your scent filling my lungs on every breath. Such exquisite torture!

Just as I get used to the new scent in my nose, you replace your hand in your skirt and play some more. While I watch, mouth agape, you bring yourself to a hushed, but nice little orgasm in just a couple of minutes. All the while, I'm panting, tongue hanging out, trying to lick the juice from my upper lip, imagining being between your legs, cock THROBBING and LEAKING all over.

You pull your fingers out and tease me by waving them in front of my face but not letting me lick. The aroma is pungent and makes me swoon a bit. Then without warning, you wipe them all over my face. Then, as if on cue, there is a tap at the door to our box, and we hear "It's the waitress from the bar. You care for a drink?"

You tell me to go fetch drinks, and I gulp in response. I stumble on weak knees to the door. Since I'm not wearing pants, I merely poke my head around from behind the door. The waitress tries to come in, but I don't budge. She takes the hint and stands outside.

As I order the drinks, she's looking at me and hears a loud *SMACK*. I jump into the partially opened door and yelp! The waitress' eyes are big as saucers, knowing that could only be the sound of skin on skin contact. The direction I jumped gave away what obviously just happened. Upon turning seven shades of red at both ends, she retreats to get our drinks. Luckily it's intermission, otherwise the entire theater would have heard the spank.

After closing the door, I turn to see that you have a shit-eating-grin on your face, and your eyes are sparkling like I've never seen. You look so playful and happy. My heart swoons. I look down and see that you have my wallet from my pants in your hand and a $20 bill lying on my chair. I step toward and reach for the money, and you say, "Leave it right there. You can't pay her until I'm enjoying my drink." Instantly, my swooning heart sinks into the pit of my stomach, as that means just one thing.

*Knock Knock Knock*

My head shoots up, eyes wide. You take your seat at the rail as the intermission nears the end. I'm torn between wanting to please you, not wanting to be exposed, wanting to get your drink, not wanting to be seen with a hard dripping cock.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

The knock is louder this time. You whisper to me, "If I have to answer that door then I'm leaving with your pants in my hand." My heart thumping, sweat on my brow, panic surely showing on my red-hot face, I turn and grasp the door knob.

Turning it slowly, I step aside and behind it as I pull it open. The waitress quietly enters as the theater dims and the audience goes quiet. She makes eye contact with you, and you smile at her. Then you whisper, "He's paying," as you nod towards me. The waitress turns to me, smiles as she looks me in the eye. Holding the just below her breast level, she must not have seen my bottom half yet. However, she notices my obvious panicked look and sweaty brow. Instinctively, I look down at the floor in shame. Her eyes follow mine, and then it happens. *Gasp*

As the dialogue on stage begins, I hear your giggle as you await my next action. After a momentary pause, the waitress holds her tray to the side as she gives me the head-to-toe-and-back-up appraisal. She smiles, pauses for a moment, and then whispers, "That'll be $12.25 for the drinks." Obviously, she's not planning to give me the drinks without being paid first. So I start for my chair with the money on it. This being a theater box, there isn't much room for maneuvering, so she steps to the side as I squeeze between her and the back of your chair. My cock catches slightly on her apron and leaves a wet streak on her notepad. I grab the cash and we exchange the money and drinks. She then puts the empty tray under her arm and reaches down to her apron for change when she sees it. She sees the streak on her notebook. She looks up at me, and I look at her. Then I feel you grab my balls from behind and between my legs. You pull down firmly and whisper, "Don't be rude. Clean up your mess." I reach to hand your drink to you, but you do not take it. Instead, you tug down harder on my balls.

Getting the picture, I gingerly kneel down in front of the waitress. I reach to set down my drink, and you whisper, "No." Understanding your thoughts completely, I strain to reach forward with my mouth, but the waitress steps back, unsure of what's happening. You giggle and tell me to stretch, all the while keeping a firm grip on my balls and squeezing them a bit. You then look up at the waitress and smile at her as you dart the tip of your tongue out and slide it across your lips from right to left. Then you give the waitress another big smile and nod towards me. Looking apprehensive, the waitress takes a half-step forward and watches, mouth hanging slightly open. I strain forward, stretching my neck and ball sac and reach with my tongue. Barely able to reach the waitress, I swipe at her notebook with my tongue. The waitress, looking a little panicked glances back to you. You whisper, "It's okay. He's well in hand." You reaffirm your control over me with an additional squeeze to my balls as you speak to the waitress. I grimace a bit and emit a soft groan. Apparently this finally relaxes the waitress a bit. She takes another half-step toward me, and I reach out and lick my precum from her notepad and apron.

You whisper "good boy," which brings a renewed reddening of my face and sweat on my brow. The waitress reaches in to make her change when you whisper, "That's okay. Keep the change."

My head spins around to look at you in horror! My mind screaming to myself, "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!?!" But of course, I don't say anything as I notice a bit of laughter from the audience obviously responding to a joke in the production.

Somehow, you and the waitress exchange looks, giggles and have an entire unspoken conversation in the 3-4 seconds before she leaves closing the door behind her. How you women do that is beyond male comprehension. You then give my balls a super-hard squeeze and tug downward for a moment. I drop my head, hunch my body down and grimace in pain, trying to keep quiet as the theater is also quiet. After a few seconds you release me. I pause for a moment to regain my composure, and then straighten back up. Still on my knees, I spin to face you and extend my hand to offer your drink. You smile, take it from me and take a sip. Smiling at me again, you nod to my drink and whisper, "go ahead."