It was, she reflected later, a type of re-creation of her current favorite fantasy: the girl in the tree house surrounded by horny, drooling young men all holding their cocks awaiting their turn to enjoy the feeling of slipping into her warm, creamy-pink cunt.
She had looked forward to this Tuesday evening for a month or more now. She dressed under his watchful, approving eye. She must look the part, perfectly; slip into and around the socially acceptable world of a high-end restaurant as well as offer a visual tease to him and others. He did not want her sexual, exhibitionistic side to manifest itself until much later.
He sat and watched her zip into the skintight, shiny Lycra dress with garters attaching her black and red stockings. The look was too obviously slutty. But a second later she had on a fingertip length black wool jacket that neatly covered the dress. A brush through her blonde hair, a touch of makeup later, she was ready to go. He helped her into her long black cashmere coat. With no underwear on, she felt entirely desirable.
At dinner she slipped her bootless foot into his crotch under the table. She felt his thickening, smiled impishly at his discomfort. What fun to tease this man!
A few glasses of merlot later, they had finished up their meal and took off into downtown. He wanted to show her this particular sex store. They found it, parked her van, and went inside. Four seedy walls greeted them, covered in ads and sex toys and other 'adult' playthings. He bought her a purple dildo that spun and vibrated and promised complete sexual pleasure. She was secretly delighted and thanked him for the gift. They both enjoyed the artful beauty of the glass dildos. Then, taking her arm, they headed toward the back, passing several booths taking change. The smell of testosterone and cum hung in the air like an electric haze. She, already acutely aware of men's desire, felt charged by the secrets spoken here.
They walked past a series of booths, some containing women who beckoned to her. She stopped, looking at him quizzically. No, he had other plans for her, so they continued on until they reached the swinging door of a room. Beyond the door came the unmistakable sounds of a woman enraptured in pleasure.
He pushed the door ahead of her, taking her elbow and steering her past the first rows to a lighted seat in the end of a row. The seat just so happened to catch the brighter glow of an overhead recessed cam, so that it appeared spotlighted. As she took this seat, she noticed approximately eight men already in the theatre. The electricity in the air increased an amp or two as the men watched her take her seat and slip off first her coat, then her jacket. A woman was onscreen, a close up of her pussy being rammed, hard, by a hugely thick cock. But no one was watching the artificial, manufactured desire of pornographic images; they were hoping for the real event about to unfold in front of their eyes, to feed their fantasies for weeks to come.
She felt their excitement: it fed her like no other food could. However, not being completely aware of the rules in this unknown male world, she whispered to her man,
"How fast shall we go? What are the limits?"
"As fast as you are comfortable with...there are no limits," came his reply. It was all the permission she needed. She might not understand the unreal world of man-made porn, but she was completely comfortable in the world of male desire. She knew men; knew their unspoken, dark dreams that arose in the middle of the night. She knew what turned them on, how to take, and give, how to excite and tease, how to hold back, how to use her potent female power. She smiled, slowly, teeth white in the dark.
