I kissed your zipper before looking up at you for permission to sit up. You nodded. When I sat up, I felt like I was blushing all the way down to my toes. We were in the parking lot of my favorite restaurant. We rarely have the opportunity to come here, as it is generally packed and requires reservations.
"What are we doing here?" I asked.
"Having dinner, what else? This is a date after all darlin'. Now, get presentable and let's head in. I'm starving."
You hopped out of the car as I readjusted my dress. Just as I reached for the door handle, you opened it for me. Small, romantic, gentlemanly gestures do it for me and you know it. You put your arm around my waist and walked us to the door, opening it for me as we went through. The hostess walked us to our table and you ordered our drinks. Moscato for me and sweet tea for you. I rarely drink and one of us needed to be able to be relatively sensible.
We sat and talked while the waitress went to grab our drinks. I had finally begun to calm down. The need and want for you was still there, as always, just not quite as intense and emergent as it was in the parking lot. We were settling back to normal. Then the waitress returned.
"Have we decided what we want?" She smiled at you sweetly.
I could tell she found you attractive. Who wouldn't? I'm quite proud to call you mine. That's exactly what you are. MINE. When she touched your shoulder and bent forward to point out her recommendations, her chest rubbed against your hand and I let out a growl. She just looked at me and went right back to her flirting. Most women that look like her tend to dismiss me without a thought. You're gorgeous and I'm...well...me.
My 5' tall chunky body and occasionally uncooperative wavy, not quite curly, hair aren't exactly the things men like you look for. I'm overweight and have a tummy. Yes, I have a big booty and large chest, but the tummy is usually a dea lbreaker for most men. She, on the other hand, was like a model. She had long blonde hair, perfect breasts, big blue eyes, a flat tummy, and a perky tush. I'd have estimated her height at about 5'7". My face fell a bit, as it generally does when I feel I've been reminded why you're out of my league. You caught it.
Knowing what I was thinking, you reached over and pulled me to your side. You laid the menu down and turned to face me, softly sliding your hand over my cheek. I looked up at you.
"Stop. You know better than to think what you are. YOU are who I want, and YOU are mine. No one else. Understand?" I could see the fire in your eyes as you reiterated to me what you have so many times before.
"Yes Daddy. I'm sorry," I lowered my eyes sadly.
Disappointing you always breaks my heart a little. I've come a long way since we met and you started showing me how I should be loved. I still have a way to go though.
You growled and hungrily pressed your mouth to mine, pouring all of your love and need for me into a very thorough, passionate kiss. I pressed my thighs together, feeling my juices begin to trickle down them as you reignited my fire. One kiss, one touch, hell sometimes just a look are all it ever takes for you to have me writhing for you. I buried my fingers in your hair and let out a whimper. As I slid my thigh over yours, the waitress cleared her throat.
I had completely forgotten where we were. Grinning, you pulled back and ordered our dinner. Her flirty, super friendly demeanor was gone and she was suddenly Polly Professional. Funny how asserting an individual's place in your life will do that to some people. When you finished our order she flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked away.
"Babygirl, when she gets back with our food, you had better enjoy it. We've only stayed because you love the food. That little twit almost got her face ripped off for disrespecting you. The manager will be made aware of it as well. Don't argue with me about it either. If she did it to us, she's probably done it to others and no one should be allowed to make someone feel like less than the amazing person they are just because they feel superior. Now, for what I originally planned for this dinner..." you reached in your pocket and turned the nearly forgotten toy back on low.
I instantly squirmed and let out a whimper. My pussy began a slow steady throb, pulse seeming to match the low pulse of the vibe. I picked up my wine and took a long pull, the bubbles scorching my throat. I sent my mind into a dozen different directions, trying to distract myself from the sensations you were creating.
"Mmmmm having issues princess? No response? Guess that means I can turn it up a few notches," you grinned wickedly.
Before I had a chance to protest, the vibe increased. My body jerked as I came dangerously close to orgasm. I buried my face in your shoulder and bit back a moan. God, how was I supposed to make it through an entire meal with you doing this to me? My legs began to shake as you turned it up once more. My head snapped back and I gripped the seat so hard my knuckles turned white. Not only had I not been given permission to cum, I didn't want to scream my release for everyone to hear. Suddenly, you flipped the toy off.
"Food's here," you grinned as the waitress set out the dishes.
I gave you my "you're an asshole" look before digging in. The spicy arabbiata sauce went perfectly with the wine. I moaned as the flavors danced on my tongue. We ate as most couples would, chit chatting about this and that. It was wonderful.
