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“It’s nice to have an evening off,” Lauren said as she slid into the secluded corner booth in one of the most exclusive restaurants in town.
“Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Michael replied as he took the seat adjacent to his wife.
Finding an evening when they were both free had been a challenge. The couple own a small, very successful bookstore, and with Lauren as manager, business had been booming, with several recent book signings featuring big-name authors. Those events, coupled with a few art exhibits that she had recently hosted at the store, had kept Lauren’s schedule full. Michael’s calendar has been just as booked lately as well. His catering company had been busy every night for a month, but he left his manager in charge of tonight’s dinner party. It was a meal for 20 in a private home, and Michael had all the confidence in the world in his staff.
So tonight would belong exclusively to Lauren and Michael. He had used his connections in the food business to secure a last-minute reservation, and the chef at the restaurant was a friend, so they were assured of a wonderful meal. They had dressed to the nines for this rare dinner out, with Michael trading his daily outfit of chef’s whites for a dark suit, white shirt and a tie Lauren had given him for Christmas last year. Lauren, in turn, was wearing an ankle-length black skirt, topped with a black jacket and an electric blue silk blouse, with a couple of buttons undone, showing the smallest hint of cleavage if she moved just right. Her tanned legs were bare underneath the skirt, and black pumps with three-inch heels completed her outfit.
The waiter had uncorked a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses. After taking a sip, Michael gave his wife a sly grin.
“Remember our deal?” he asked.
She smiled in return: “I do.”
As they were dressing for their date, Michael had persuaded Lauren to agree to whatever he suggested for the evening, from the meal selection to whatever might take place at home after their evening out.
“Good,” he said. “I was just checking.” She could tell he had something planned, and the anticipation excited her. Lauren trusted her husband, and was looking forward to whatever he had in mind.
They finished the bottle of champagne with their appetizers, and the waiter then brought a bottle of wine to their table, refilling their water glasses in the process. One thing in particular Michael had remembered from his days at culinary school had served him well over the years. For every sip of wine, follow with a drink of water. This prevents intoxication and a hangover the following day, he had learned in his classes on wine and food pairing. Skeptical when he first heard this advice, he now wholeheartedly endorsed the practice.
Michael and Lauren ate at a leisurely pace, enjoying each other’s company while discussing the latest goings-on at the bookstore and with the catering company. They were sitting near enough to each other that they could easily reach out and stroke an arm, or intertwine their hands between courses. As the meal progressed, they both began anticipating what was to transpire once they arrived back at their house, a four-bedroom Victorian on just over an acre in the country. The nearest neighbor was nearly a half-mile away, so clothing was optional in their backyard. They had spent many evenings nude in that backyard, taking advantage of the swimming pool in the summer and the hot tub during the winter.
The waiter cleared the sorbet dishes from the table, and told the couple that their entrees would arrive shortly.
Michael leaned over and whispered in his wife’s ear: “I’m getting really warm for you.” He had felt that familiar swelling in his slacks for several minutes now, and hoped his wife was experiencing the same sort of excitement.
“Me too,” Lauren replied, blushing slightly. While she loved the physical relationship she and her husband shared, she was still embarrassed to talk about sex. She was an enthusiastic partner in their lovemaking but she was sometimes reluctant to try new things. Michael hoped to change her mind on this romantic evening.
The waiter returned with their meals, and they quickly dug in: salmon for her, lamb chops for him. They could see the lustful fires burning in each other’s eyes, and the sexual tension at the table grew strong.
With the dinner plates cleared and the chocolate soufflé for two on its way, Michael again leaned toward his wife.
“Take off your panties,” he whispered.
“Michael!” Lauren said, surprised at this suggestion. “People will see.”
“No they won’t,” he assured her. “That’s why I chose this booth. It’s in a corner, away from most other tables, and besides, the tablecloth will hide you.”
“Still,” she whispered. “I can’t take off my panties in public.”
“Sure you can,” he said. “Just reach under your skirt and slide them down. Nobody will see a thing.”
Glancing around to make sure none of the other patrons Escort Beylikdüzü were looking their way, Lauren began raising her skirt, making sure she was hidden by the floor-length tablecloth.
When she had the skirt up to her thighs, she reached underneath and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. She raised her bottom slightly off the cushion of the booth and slid the underwear down her legs. As they reached her ankles, the waiter came around the corner with dessert. She blushed again, this time a deep crimson. She just knew that the waiter was aware of what she was doing. Whether he did or not, he never let on. He placed the soufflé before them, and poured coffee as well. Lauren could not bring herself to look him in the eyes as he did all this.
“Do you think he saw anything?” she asked Michael after the waiter departed.
“Of course he didn’t,” Michael assured her. “Now, let me have your panties.”
Having come this far, Lauren wasn’t going to stop now. She reached beneath the table and removed the panties from around her ankles and discreetly handed them to Michael under the table. He laid the panties in his lap, atop his napkin, and looked down. She had surprised him tonight and had worn a thong, a black, silk thong. That swelling in his trousers increased even more as he fingered the silk. It was still warm, having just come from between his wife’s legs, and the thin strip of material was very moist, suggesting that Lauren was indeed as excited as he.
He gathered the napkin and lifted it as if to wipe his mouth, but instead raised the cloth to his face and took a deep breath, inhaling that aroma that he knew so well.
“Michael! Stop it,” Lauren whispered. While Michael may have outwardly embarrassed her, she was secretly excited that he was so enthusiastic about her panties, and her aroma trapped in them.
Michael returned the napkin to his lap, and began feeding Lauren spoonfuls of the soufflé.
“Baby, it turns me on so much knowing how wet you are right now,” Michael said. “I can’t wait until we get home.”
Lauren was past her embarrassment by now; she just wanted to get home and ravish her husband.
They finished the soufflé and each had another cup of coffee. Michael’s chef friend came out of the kitchen and visited with them for a few minutes, and had the waiter bring a pair of after-dinner drinks, on the house, of course.
Finally, with the dishes cleared and the bill paid, Michael and Lauren stood to leave. She discovered that her wetness now extended to her thighs; she could feel it as she walked.
“Michael, wait,” she said as they passed a hallway. “I need to visit the restroom.”
“Can you wait until we’re home?” Michael asked slyly. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she replied. “Please, I’ll just be a minute.”
“Nope,” he said. “Remember our agreement?”
Lauren reluctantly agreed, not quite if she could survive the 30-minute drive out into the country.
Michael had intentionally parked their SUV in a remote corner of the parking lot, directly under a streetlight. He opened the passenger door for Lauren, and she slid into her seat. Before she could swing her legs around, Michael said, “Pull up your skirt. I want you to flash me.”
Lauren, turned on more than she had been in ages, quickly scanned the parking lot. With no other cars nearby, she complied. She raised her skirt to her waist, giving Michael a quick look at her closely-trimmed patch of dark hair.
“Let me see more,” he instructed.
This time, Lauren didn’t hesitate at all. She parted her legs, allowing the streetlight to reflect in the wetness between her legs and on her thighs.
“Mmmmm. Very nice,” Michael said as Lauren shifted in her seat and brought her feet in front of her. He got in the driver’s side and began the trip home.
By now, Lauren was a little tipsy. She had not strictly followed Michael’s advice about drinking water with wine, and she could feel herself loosen up as the alcohol took effect. She slid as near Michael as she could in the bucket seats, and began stroking his right leg. She quickly moved her hand up to his thigh, and then began massaging the hardness inside his slacks.
“Not yet,” he said, removing her hand. “You can have that when we get home.”
“But baby, I want you,” Lauren purred. She again placed her hand in his lap and began stroking.
“You’ll just have to wait,” he said, and removed her hand again. “There’s something I want you to do first.”
“What’s that?” she asked, now ready for almost anything.
“Take off your jacket,” Michael instructed. She did, and deposited the jacket in the backseat.
“Now, take off your bra,” he said, “but don’t take off your shirt.”
This move fascinated Michael, how a woman can remove a bra but leave her shirt intact. He glanced over at Lauren as she reached under her blouse to unhook the bra, and then watched as she Escort Bahçeşehir wriggled and squirmed and soon slid the bra – black silk, matching her panties which were now in his jacket pocket – out the sleeve of her blouse. The bra joined the jacket in the backseat.
With the moon roof of the SUV slightly open, a cool breeze flowed through the vehicle, and Lauren’s nipples quickly hardened and strained against her silk blouse. This only added to her excitement, and she felt herself producing even more wetness between her legs.
She again tried to stroke her husband’s hardness, but he again told her she had to wait.
“Unbutton your shirt,” Michael told his wife. “Show me your hard little nipples.”
She unbuttoned her blouse, starting at the bottom and slowly working her way up. When finished, she teasingly held her blouse together, grinning at her husband.
“Come on, come on,” he said impatiently. “Let me see.”
Lauren quickly threw open her blouse, allowing her husband to view her high, full breasts and small pink nipples, which were hardening even more as they were exposed directly to the cool breeze.
As Michael had turned off of the sometimes busy four-lane highway onto the narrow two-lane road that led to their house, Lauren decided to go one step further and removed her blouse. It quickly joined the growing pile of clothes in the backseat.
Emboldened by her partial nudity and the alcohol she had consumed, Lauren began caressing her own breasts, exciting Michael immensely. She cupped each breast in her hands, lifting and showing them off to her husband. She rubbed her palms over her sensitive nipples, causing her to close her eyes and sigh with pleasure. Using her thumb and forefinger, Lauren gently squeezed each nipple. She moved her fingers back and forth, exciting herself, and her husband, tremendously.
“Baby, take off your skirt,” Michael said, now having a difficult time watching the road.
Lauren didn’t hesitate, reaching back to unzip the long black skirt and sliding it down her legs. After that, she sat beside her husband, totally nude.
“Lean back against your door,” Michael said, double-checking to make sure the door was locked before Lauren turned to face her husband. She brought her legs up into the seat, her knees demurely together.
“You know what I want to see, don’t you?” he asked. And, of course, she did. She was teasing him.
She stretched her legs toward Michael, still keeping them together though.
“Put your foot up on the dashboard,” he told her, “and your other one on the back of my seat.”
She did as he suggested, so, in the front seat of their SUV, two miles from their house, Lauren faced her husband, her feet wide apart.
The moon reflected on the wetness between her legs and on her thighs, and Michael could barely concentrate on driving. He reached up and rubbed Lauren’s right leg, and gave her one more instruction:
“Touch yourself, baby. I want to see you touch yourself.”
Hesitating just for a moment, and then remembering “the agreement,” Lauren placed her right hand on her pubic hair, letting it rest there before slowly sliding it downward. Her fingers reached her wetness, causing her to draw in her breath. She knew that she was wet when she had taken off her panties back at the restaurant, but she had no idea the extent of her wetness. She could never remember being this aroused, and her body was responding to that arousal. She needed no further prompting from Michael as she slid her fingers up and down on the outer lips of her vagina. Her fingers were quickly soaked, and Michael could see this.
“Taste yourself,” he said. “Lick your wetness from your fingers.”
Lauren didn’t need a lot of encouragement, even though this was something she had never done before. She had tasted herself on Michael’s lips as they kissed after he had brought her to orgasm with his mouth, but this was the first time she had ever tasted herself from her own fingers. Tentative at first, she licked the tip of her index finger, tasting the hot, sweet, slightly salty flavor of her secretions. Excited beyond her wildest imagination, Lauren enthusiastically sucked her finger into her mouth, no longer aware of her husband watching, caught up in her own erotic world. She moved from finger to finger, sucking them clean of her flavor and producing even more wetness in the process.
Lauren snapped out of her fantasy as she felt the SUV turning into the driveway of their house. She looked over at her husband and saw him watching her, his hand stroking his erection through the material of his slacks.
“You ready to go in?” he asked. She could simply nod in agreement.
He got out and walked around to her door, helping from the car. She stood in the driveway, nude except for high heels, feeling the cool air on her body. She began to walk across the patio to the back door, but he stopped her.
“Wait. I want to do something before we go in,” he said.
He took Lauren by the hand and walked toward the row of rose bushes planted just off the patio. He stopped at the edge of the concrete, released her hand, and slowly unzipped his trousers. He reached inside and withdrew his penis, still somewhat excited but not quite as erect as it had been on the drive home.
“Give me your hand,” he told Lauren, who was standing to his left. She snuggled close to him as he took her left hand in his. He placed her hand, with its manicured nails painted a shiny red, around the base of his manhood, joining his right hand, which was also encircling his penis. She felt the weight of it in her hand, exciting her even more. She adored his manhood, loved how it felt inside her when they made love and in her mouth when she pleasured him.
“Watch,” he instructed. She did as he said, and looked down at his manhood. He aimed at the roses, and let loose. The champagne, wine, water and coffee had built up, and he had needed to pee since before leaving the restaurant, but had decided to wait until they had gotten home. Lauren watched as the strong, golden flow left his penis and landed among the roses. With her hand wrapped around him, she could feel the amber liquid as it rushed through his semi-erect penis.
The flow seemed to Lauren like it lasted forever, but it slowly dissipated, and Michael shook the last few drops away. As he turned toward the house, Lauren again began walking toward the door. Michael’s display there on the patio had just reminded her of her own need to pee. Michael had insisted that she wait until they were home, and here they were. He got to relieve himself, and now it was her turn. Or so she thought.
“Wait,” he said. “I want you to do something else.”
“But I really, really have to go,” Lauren replied. “Please?”
“Just wait a couple of more minutes, I promise,” he said.
Resigned to waiting, again, Lauren walked over to where Michael was still standing at the edge of the patio, his slacks still unzipped and his manhood now fully erect.
“I want to feel your mouth on me,” he told her. “Please.”
Not wanting to kneel on the hard concrete, Lauren squatted down in front of Michael. Her feet were together and her knees apart. She could once again feel the cool air on her as it reached the damp area between her legs. Gripping one of his thighs for balance, she held his penis with her other hand and began licking. There remained on the very tip a few golden drops from Michael’s output earlier, and her tongue flicked those away. She could taste the hot, salty liquid, and, though she never would have thought it could happen, it aroused her even more. She then took most of him into her mouth, running her tongue around the bulbous head and sucking hungrily. She began bobbing her head up and down, sliding his hardness in and our of her mouth. She didn’t want to wait to make love to her husband. She wanted him to come right then. She wanted to feel Michael’s strong penis throb in her mouth, and deposit his thick, hot load onto her tongue.
Michael was, indeed, close to coming, but still had other things he wanted to do. So he reached down and took Lauren by the arms, gently lifting her. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring the mouth where his penis had just been. Many times in the past, Michael had kissed Lauren after her mouth had been on him, and she always eagerly shared the mouthful of come he had given her. They both thought that was one of the most intimate moments a couple could share, kissing passionately and sharing each other’s taste.
They finally entered the house, and Lauren immediately turned left down the hallway, heading toward the nearest bathroom. Michael again stopped her, took her by the hand and led her toward the other end of the house where the master suite was located. This time, she didn’t bother to protest. She remembered that she had agreed to do as he said, and by now, her desire for sex had overtaken her need to pee.
Michael led Lauren through their bedroom to the master bath area, where his-and-her closets opened onto a large vanity area. Michael pulled out the vanity chair and lifted Lauren onto the marble countertop. He slid the chair in front of her and placed her feet, still in their high heels, onto its cushioned top. He stood in front of her with his hands on her knees. He pressed her legs apart, and stepped close and kissed her once again. He then left her and went into the bathroom, where he turned on the hot water in the large shower and aimed the shower head at the tile bench that ran along one wall.
Returning to the vanity, Michael opened his walk-in closet and stepped inside. As he began to undress, he instructed Lauren to once again touch herself. She didn’t hesitate, and quickly placed her right hand between her legs. As wet as she was, she didn’t need any preliminaries. Her middle finger was immediately inside herself, and she began sliding it in and out, loud moans escaping her lips as she closed her eyes and lost herself in solitary pleasure. She quickly decided that one finger wasn’t enough, so she slid her ring finger inside herself as well, doubling the thickness she was using to masturbate.
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