Tonight's story begins, on the surface, as any routine night in middle America. We have both had a hard day at the office, so we meet at our local burger joint on the way home so neither of us has to cook. Today Samantha gave a presentation to the vice president of marketing so she wore a dark wool suit, the skirt just above her knees. Her silk blouse, burgundy and gray, was high-necked with a bow at the throat. My wife always looks stunning, but this evening she had an extra air of confidence about her, that aura that adds beauty without physical cause.
The restaurant, a small place with only three booths and four tables, caters to the working man, generally the construction trade. Her entrance into the restaurant, striding in on red heels, drew plenty of attention. And if they only knew what I knew ...
I had called her before leaving work and whispered our magic word into her ear. She acknowledged the word, thus signalling that she accepted the role I had crafted for her that evening.
As a sign of her acceptance, she entered the bathroom after we ordered our dinners, then removed her undergarments and loosened her suit jacket. She also rolled the top of her skirt three or four times, thus raising the hemline to mid-thigh. When she sat at the table, she thus barely avoided exposing the tops of her stockings. The other patrons noticed her changed appearance--the wiggle of her bosom swaying gently against the silk, the careful way she walked in her suddenly shorter skirt--and approved or disapproved based on gender.
As she sat down, she winced briefly, then smiled at me. She had remembered to insert the pocket dildo inside her moist recess. Part of her cautious gait was due to this slippery intruder. She had to walk carefully since only her powerful muscles held it in place. (Once it had squirted out and clattered on the floor. When that happens she has to announce, "Oops, my dildo fell out" and pick it up. You can be sure she's very cautious now.)
And so it is we're chomping on burgers and fries at a hole in the wall restaurant, both of us dressed professionally, and she with a sex toy lodged insider her. She tells me about the successful meeting today. I listen intently while staring at the shape of her lips. I can't wait to get them ovaled around my dick, and I tell her so.
My wife is right handed, but as part of our game she's required to keep that hand in her lap and eat only with the left. Merely a symbolic action, it's another way for her to demonstrate her willingness to accept her submissive role for me.
In many ways she has the easier job in our relationship. She merely needs to follow my commands, knowing full well that I'd never truly injure her, nor damage her reputation. In contrast, my part requires creativity--I must continue to come up with new ways to demonstrate my dominance that meet the dual criteria of safety and eroticism, while giving her the chance for explosive sexual release that we both enjoy.
Again I digress from the current scene, so we return to my wife carefully eating fries with her left hand while a plastic phallus fills her cleft and her underwear is stashed in her purse.
My manhood is straining against the trousers of my suit. I think the waitress has noticed: she seems unduly attentive to our table this evening, and keeps glancing towards my lap. I draw the girl to my partner's attention. Naturally, she's already noticed the actions of our server--women are uncanny in detecting when another female is interested in their man.
Remember the difficulty the dominant has in creating exciting new forms of enjoyment? When the waitress, whose name is Wanda, returns with more iced tea, inspiration strikes me. I remind my wife again of the magic word and ask if she's willing to try something new and exciting. If not, she can withdraw her toy and quietly hand it to me beneath the table. Instead of calling the game short, she repeats the magic word in my ear again, along with "I love you."
Smiling, I whisper a few instructions to her. Soon I spot Wanda approaching the table, my wife's back to her. I nod to give my wife her cue, so she recites quietly, "I can't wait to suck your cock--how about a blowjob in the parking lot?" No one but Wanda and me have heard the invitation. I smile knowingly to the waitress and ask for the check. She smiles back, embarrassed to be caught, her blush complete from bosom to scalp. I leave her an outrageous tip, along with a note. "You can watch if you like. Blue Volvo, Nevada plates, back parking lot." I watch as she reads it, her blush redoubling in intensity.
