You wore that short, shiny metallic black dress--low cut and sleeveless--that drove me crazy, wanting to rip it off you and fuck you like an animal in heat before we left the house. I know you weren't wearing a bra or panties, as was my directions to you for this dinner date and later, sex play. Most nights, after long busy workdays, if we felt inclined to make love, or fuck, or both, it was your typical stuff. No complaints here, we came made each other cum. But on our maybe once or twice a month dinner dates, well, we planned something hot and special. This time it was my turn.
The rules were simple: I was in control...anything goes.
Any. Fucking. Thing.
We managed to get to our favorite little dining spot downtown, an Asian-Mexican fusion joint with quiet dimly-lit booths mostly shielded from others. The waiter dropped off our menus and I ordered a bottle of wine. Then, as I met you sultry gaze from across the cozy niche, I reached into my coat pocket and retrieved one of three items I had smuggled inside: smallest of the three objects, and they came in a pair. Carefully, so the nearby diners or wait staff passing by, I slid the padded nipple clamps across the table to you. Smiling coyly, you picked them up, closing them in your hands as the waiter brought the wine.
After he left and we savored that first deliciously dry sweet sip, I said, "Put those on, carefully, my dear."
I loved your nipples. Touching them, with my fingers or lips or tongue or teeth, they were highly sensitive and almost always big and hard. Although the black dress didn't visibly show them braless, the clamps were small enough to not be noticeable. Plus, I knew wearing them would make you instantly wet. I could see that smoldering aroused look in your eyes as you glanced out of the booth and slipped one hand inside the top of your little black dress.
You winced as you clamped one nipple. Moaned deeply, but quietly. Then, you put on the second clamp. You squirmed in your seat, flashed me a grin, licking your upper lip, and sipped more wine.
"God, I'm wet already," you remarked.
I grinned devilishly. "And we just started, my sexy babydoll."
The waiter knew us from previous visits and didn't rush us to order entrees yet. We wanted to enjoy the wine for a while, light conversation , among other things, so he left us alone. I told you to come over to slide in beside me. Seeing the arousal in your eyes and the breathy, husky tone in your replies made my cock twinge, already half hard inside my dress pants.
I leaned close, lightly kissing that spot below your ear and on the side of your neck that made you shiver. I whispered, "I'm going to give you the second object and I want you to slip it inside your pussy."
You purred and nodded imperceptibly. From the same coat pocket I removed a small silvery egg shaped vibrator. It was slightly more oblong than round, and you took it. I pulled out the wireless remote, which was about the size of a credit card, but thicker. You slipped one hand between your parted thighs and uttered a small groan of pleasure when it brush over your clit.
Then I switched it on, and kept the setting at Low. Your whole body tensed up for a few seconds, visibly trembling under the vibrations emanating and stimulating your wet pussy, making it wetter. You writhed slightly in your seat next to me. My cock grew hard and erect, tenting in my pants.
"Try not to move," I said. "And don't touch yourself...yet."
I adjusted the vibration on the wireless, remote-controlled vibe to Medium and you tensed up again and I smiled to myself. My cock ached at watching you fight against wanting to let go, to touch your clit or touch me, and when you looked at, snaking one hand to my bulging crotch to squeeze me, I let you. But I reminded you not to touch your pussy.
