One Hour with Sir

One Hour with Sir - The Sixth Course

soppingwetpanties

This is the sixth installment of the series. You don't need to read the prior chapters to enjoy this one. It's short and sweet. I hope you like it.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

Chapter Six

"So when are we going to set a date, Cat?" Sir asked me.

We were engaged four months ago and we'd never discussed a specific date. His question out of the blue caught me off balance.

We were in an exclusive New York City restaurant, one of the hot new Peruvian restaurants in SoHo, in which Sir was an initial investor. We were seated in a private dining room enjoying a twelve course tasting menu. We were on the fourth course, a ceviche with calamari and sea scallops, and I just had a delicious explosion of flavor in my mouth.

"It's so nice of you to ask," I said, maybe with a tinge of sarcasm. "I've been waiting four months for you to ask me that question."

"All in good time babe. Haven't you enjoyed the last four months of premarital sex?"

I have to admit it was good, better than this meal. We tried just about everything we could think of within the limits I set for him, which were generous. When I wasn't Sir's fiancé I was his slut.

"You know I have," I said. "And on that note, shouldn't we have the raw oysters next?" I asked, pointing to the small platter in front of me.

"It's the sixth course," He said, "after you that is."

I speared another piece of delectable calamari. "Me?"

"Of course, didn't you read the printed menu?" He asked, handing me His copy. Mine was still under my plate, unread.

I scanned down the menu:

Fifth Course - Catherine Martin-DuPont, chef's selection

"You dog," I said, waving the menu at Him.

"Careful, I'm the chef," He said to me in a threatening manner.

"Now you've got me worried."

Then He smiled. "Don't worry, you'll like it. Consider this a palate cleanser between courses."

Sir got up and locked the door to the dining room. I knew what that meant. Playtime. He hadn't given me a clue that we were going to have sex so dangerously close to the restaurant staff and dozens of well-heeled patrons in the adjacent dining area. Sir knew that semi-public sex like this was way high up on my list of sexual kinks. That's one of the reasons I loved Him.

His probing dark eyes fixed on me. "That's a lovely gown Cat. But I like what's underneath it better."

Sir had bought me a new Christian Dior gown for the opera gala we would be attending after the dinner. It was a flouncy dress made of red silk, low cut, with an exposed back. It enhanced all of my assets (which Sir said on many occasions were considerable). My hair was done up in a fancy French twist, thanks to a two hour visit to the hairdresser.

"I better not have my hair messed up," I warned Him.

"That's up to you," He said. "And you're stalling."

I started unzipping the back of my gown. "No I'm not. Clearly you can't wait."

"If you were in my shoes, would you... wait, that is?"

He had a point. "No, I wouldn't. I'm a prime piece of ass."

"Well said counselor."

I was a lead litigation partner in a big-time law firm. I considered myself to be the sexiest slut lawyer in New York City.

Sir watched me unhook my bra and sling it over the back of my chair.

"Satisfied?" I said, holding my chest out for Him and shaking my big rounded tits.

I'd never got tired of seeing Him lay His lust filled eyes on me. "Very," he said.

I was down to my heels and panties. I got on my knees in front of Him like the dutiful slut I was.

"Now it's your turn," I said.

He looked handsome and dashing in His Armani tuxedo. He just took off his pants, boxers and shoes with due deliberation. Even though there was a risk of discovery, neither of us seemed to be in a hurry. I thought He looked sexy still wearing His tuxedo shirt and bowtie. Hopefully He brought an extra shirt. His sausage sized cock was flaccid, but was waking up. I helped by putting it in my mouth - - all of it.

"Jesus!" Sir said. That was confirmation all was good. One of the first things Sir did during our one hour sessions was to teach me to deep throat. Those lessons were paying dividends for him.

I tilted my head back so He could see the bulge in my throat where the head of His cock was resting. It was hot for Him and oh so slutty for me. I went up and down on Him, savoring my possession of Him in one of the most intimate ways possible until He put a stop to it by resting His hand on my head.

"Careful with the hair," I said after I pulled off of Him, a mixture of drool and His precum dripping off my chin.

"You're not supposed to make me cum yet," He said, admonishing me.

"You showed me how to do it," I said, pushing back.

"You're getting too good at it," He insisted.

"And whose fault is that?" I asked Him.

I got the better of Him. He acknowledged as much by giving my ass a slap with His open palm to reestablish His primacy.

"Shut up and bend over," He growled. His bark was definitely worse than His bite. He'd never, ever really hurt me.

I spread my legs apart slut width and placed both of my hands on the edge of the table. I wiggled my shapely booty to make sure I had His complete and undivided attention.

"You're such a slut Cat," He said, spitting on the palm of His hand and rubbing it on the head of His penis.

"Thank you Sir," I said, acknowledging the compliment. He pushed the head inside my pussy, filling me up. I was already wet, so He went balls deep, pinning me against the table. His chest was flush against my back and His face was practically touching my ear. It was His way of asserting His ownership over me.

"Tell me you want it slut," He said to me. It was the hot talk I wanted.

"Fuck me Sir. Fuck my pussy hard," I begged Him. The moment crackled with sexual energy, the best kind.

He started banging against my ass, upsetting the wine glasses on the table. Our almost full bottle of Riesling that was paired with the ceviche toppled into the serving platter, returning the seafood to an ocean of fine German wine.

I felt His hot breath on my ear. "You want it, you want it slut, now beg for it," He demanded with His haunting voice.

I wanted to beg. I wanted Him to punish me with His fucking. I wanted to howl at the moon.

"Give it to me Sir. Give me your cum," I implored like the needy slut that I was.

Our fucking noises merged with the distant conversation in the restaurant and the clattering of our dishes and dinnerware. The smell in the impeccably decorated room changed from fine dining to raw sex.

"Pull my fucking hair... Sir!" I shouted, probably loud enough for the staff to hear. I was far beyond the point of caring about my personal appearance. All I wanted was for Sir to cum inside me... to give me His seed.

He grabbed my perfectly coiffed blonde hair and scrunched it into a ball with his clenched fist. He moved my head around like a rag doll before tugging hard on it, pulling it back so I was staring at the high ceiling. It hurt wickedly good.

"Fuck me! Fuck me Sir!" I screamed.

I was so close. He knew it and rewarded me with two magic words.

"Cum slut."

I came all over His thick pistoning cock, my legs violently trembling and threatening to push the table over. It was a glorious feeling of euphoria triggered by physical pleasure and my submission to Him. My pussy gripped His cock like a vise, the muscles rippling and holding Him inside me, milking His cock of the cum I so greedily craved.

Sir thrust into me one last time, stopping and pulsing His cum into me. I relished the last vestiges of my orgasm and the feel of His cock softening and slipping out of me.

Sir took the silver platter of oysters and held it between my legs. I grunted and pushed until a fine stream of His cum dripped on the oysters, making them glossy with clots of His pearly white cum. He waited until there was no more before putting the cum coated oysters back on the table.

"Enjoy the oysters," He said.

It was the sixth course, which the menu simply said,

Sixth course - Glazed oysters

They were delicious.

* * *