Dinner With Isabelle

It's a damp night, and the cab was late so we're in a hurry when I pick you up. We barely have time for a quick kiss before we're off for our dinner reservation.

In the car you keep your coat tight around you. I notice but don't mention it as we chat about the movie we plan to see after dinner. Quickly enough the car arrives at the restaurant, and we run through the rain to the door. I have reserved a corner table, far enough from the crowd so we'll have some privacy. The waiter takes your coat, and I can feel every eye in the room lock on you. You are wearing the shortest skirt I've ever seen you in, and the sheerest blouse. Even in the dim light of the dining room it's very obvious you're not wearing a bra. "Wow!" I sputter, "You look great!"

"No panties either," you whisper, "just the thigh highs you like."

"Is this my surprise?"

"Part of it, just the beginning." The smile on your face is decidedly wicked. All the men stare at you, waiting for you to sit down. Only when their dates catch them do they look away. You look so hot, and your nipples almost poke through the fabric. What a sight!

A waiter comes to the table for our drink order. He can barely keep his eyes off your cleavage as he recites the wine list to me. As he leaves I say, "You sure tortured him, you tramp."

"I hope so," you reply, "and you too?"

"God yes, its gonna be tough to sit here and stare at your breasts all through dinner."

"Good!" you grin back at me. The wine arrives, the glasses are filled, and you propose a toast. "To an evening of surprises" you say, raising your glass. "It has been already," I say. The waiter, his eyes never leaving your chest, asks for our order. "We want the raw vegetable platter," you tell him, "with the house dressing, for starters." He leaves and I notice how the wait staff seems to be doing all they can to busy themselves at the tables near to ours. You've caused quite a commotion.

The veggies arrive. You lift a carrot from the tray and examine it. Dipping it in the dressing you lean across the table and offer it to me. "Do you like the dressing?" you ask. "Its ok," I answer. "Maybe you'd prefer this one then," you say. You take another carrot from the tray, and it disappears under the table. In a moment you offer it to me, covered in your juices. "Try this," you say as you pop it into my mouth. "Mmmmm, delicious," I reply. You take a celery stick and very slowly suck it into your mouth, running your tongue around it as you stare into my eyes. I wince when you bite down onto it. "Oh babe you know I'd never do that with my teeth," you laugh at me. "More carrots with your 'special sauce', please" I ask.

You have a very sly look on your face. "Remember my fantasy?" you ask, twirling the bottle in your hands. "You know how much I like it when you do me with a cold bottle," you say. "You don't dare" I say. "Watch me," you whisper.

You shift in your seat, letting your skirt ride up your thighs. Spreading your knees you lower the bottle under the table and press the neck between your legs. You slowly push the bottle into your pussy, gasping slightly at the chill. You push as far as you can, then withdraw the bottle. "How about that?" you ask. "You're such a slut," I answer, "and I love it."

You slowly work the bottle back and forth, fucking yourself with it. I sit in awe as you fuck yourself with the bottle, your breathing deep and labored, and your nipples poking against the sheer fabric of your blouse. I can't take my eyes off the show you're putting on for me.

The waiter stops by the table and is confused by the absence of the wine. I wave him away while you just grin at him. I can hear the sound of your wet cunt as the bottle moves in and out, and you start to slide down in your seat, leaning your head back. I remind you where we are, and you slow for a moment. The urge takes over and you thrust the bottle into you. You gasp, a little too loudly, and redden as you realize that you're being watched. More than a few people have guessed what you're doing. I'm

leaning back in my chair, drink in hand, bulge in pants, just barely able to see part of the action. I can hear it and it's making me crazy. "Do it again" I urge, "I want to hear you cum"

One hand on the bottle, the other on your clit, you go to work quickly. It's only a moment and your whole body shivers, then a soft moan escapes your lips. "My god," I say, "I think the whole room just came in their seats. I certainly have." All I get is a weak smile in return.

"May I take you dinner order now?" The waiter's eyes dart around the table, looking for the bottle he's sure he'd left here. He looks at me, at you, at your nipples, back to the table. You redden even more, and can barely get out what you'd like. . As he steps away, looking over his shoulder in confusion, you start to laugh. "I didn't see him coming," you giggle. "But I think he may have seen you cumming," I say. "You are so bad."

"Mmmm, felt so good too," you say.

I reach across the table and take the bottle from your hand, placing it on the table. As I look around the room I make a big show of uncorking it and refilling my glass. "What a vintage this is! An excellent bouquet!"

End of the first course...