I dropped by Caribou for a quick snack. It was one of those perfect spring days, just a little warm with a fresh breeze; the type of weather that entices women to abandon their winter clothes and strut their summer dresses. I chose a table outside, across from an attractive brunette in her late 20s wearing very short jean shorts, a black T-shirt and flip-flops. She was reading from her iPad and sunning herself as she sipped an iced coffee. Her legs were long and luscious ending in the most adorable little pink painted piggies. As I nibbled my scone, I was constantly distracted by her cute toes and soon found myself fantasizing about taking them into my mouth, suckling them, swirling my tongue around them and drawing her big toe completely into my mouth, deep-throating and massaging it with my throat muscles. To my surprise, she seemed to respond; at first looking at her toes with an odd mix of confusion and pleasure on her face. She seemed to flush slightly as I pursed my lips around her big toe, sucking hard as my tongue flickered against her pink nail. She took a deep breath and held it as her toe slid down my throat. I slid back, taking more of her foot into my mouth and my tongue fucking the space between her big toe and first toe. Looking at her face, I saw her close her eyes and lean slightly back in her chair, stretching her legs and pointing her toes. Intrigued, I stopped, wondering if I was imagining her reaction. After a moment, her eyes reopened, and she looked at her feet again, still confused but now a little sad.
I decided to take the experiment a little further and imagined standing behind her. I slid my fingers into her hair and began to gently massage her scalp. Her reaction surprised me as she literally turned around as if to see who was there. Seeing no one, she returned to her reading. I continued the gentle massage, working my way down her shoulders. I guess she must have decided why fight it as she closed her eyes and relaxed into her chair again. Wondering how far I could take this, I imagined my hands sliding over her shoulders and began to massage her chest above her breasts. Her eyes closed, and my hand slid under the collar of her T-shirt and onto her bra. I could feel the soft lace and the gentle mound of her nipple under my palm. I rotated my hand, palm grazing her nipple. I could feel it harden pressing out against my hand. From my vantage point, I could see her nipple grow, defeating the thin lace of her bra and creating a delectable pokie in her T-shirt. In my mind, I pulled my hand away, knelt behind her and reaching around, slid both hands under the bottom of her shirt, sliding across her tight stomach (which spasmed as I caressed her), under her bra and pushed it up and out of the way. I cupped her breasts in my hands, delighting in their softness and weight. My hands contracted and relaxed, gently kneading this delicious flesh that belonged to her but was now mine. I took her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers and began to squeeze, slowly increasing the pressure. Her breath became erratic and her thighs began clenching rhythmically together.
Wondering if I could bring her to orgasm this way, I shifted my weight, leaving my left hand caressing her breast and pinching her nipple while my right slid under the waistband of her shorts, over her satin thong and cupped her mound with my middle finger pressed against the entrance to her cunt. I felt her warmth and wetness though the panties as I began moving my hand in slow circles, rotating her labia against her clit, my middle finger pressing her panties into her. Her hips began to move against my imaginary hand, trying to increase both the speed and pressure of the contact. But I resisted bringing her to a quick climax, opting instead to bring her slowly (one might even say tortuously) to her petit mort. I watched her face as she slowly lost control. Her breathing became ragged, her hands clenching tightly to the arms of her chair.
As her orgasm neared, I felt her lips engorge in my hand; her entire mound seemed suddenly heated, swelling against the soft satin. Her legs opened and her hips pressed into my hand begging for my finger to enter her. The sense of power I felt was unimaginable. To be able to give her this pleasure without causing guilt or fear, without breaking the vows represented by the ring on her finger was a profound gift. Looking at her eyes, I slid her panties aside and pressed my middle finger up and into her, curling it back, pressing and kneading her G-spot as my palm pressed against her clit. Suddenly, her body tensed, her hands clenched the chair ferociously, her legs clamped together engulfing my hand, and the walls of her cunt began to convulse. I could see her jaw tense as she labored not to scream but she could not contain the primal moans that were forced from her as she came. Her pussy erupted and her wetness poured from her soaking cunt onto my imaginary hand. I held her as she came by her pussy and breast, pulling her body back against mine. As her orgasm subsided I slowly slid my hand out of her shorts and released her breast. I gently kissed her neck and withdrew completely from her mind.