Driving around town at lunch, I daydreamed my way through traffic (scary but true)…
“I want to take you out tomorrow night. No kids, no family, just the two of us, for once,” you say over the phone.
“Sure! That sounds like fun! What do you want to do?”
“Well, I’m still broke, but what about dinner and a movie?” you suggest.
“Sounds lovely to me. You know me, I’m happy with Netflix and a bowl of cereal,” I respond. And I really do mean that.
The next evening, I drive to your place. As always, I take great care with my appearance – not too casual, not too dressy. Everything has to be just so. The good bra that makes my breasts look enticing – and like gravity isn’t taking over; just enough make-up (I know you hate “war paint” as you put it.); something done with my hair – but not so much that it looks like I tried too hard. I wonder when I’ll stop worrying so much and believe that you think I’m beautiful just the way I am.
You must have been watching for me from the window because the door opens right as I step out of the car. Your arms envelop me, pulling me in close for a hug. I could stay like this forever. I feel secure and safe.
“You ready?” you ask. I nod silently. Does the hug have to end? Can’t we just stand here like this all night?
You drive to our favorite restaurant. I can sense that you want to tell me something, but you’re uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“I wanted to bring you here because we both love it, but to do both dinner and a movie, well, it’s just too damned expensive,” you stammer. “And I refuse to let you pay for a thing! So…um…what do you think about dessert instead?”
I have no problem with dessert for dinner. And I know for a fact this place makes a dessert so sinful, I might be inclined to go to church later.
“The cheesecake?” I ask.
You smile at me. You look relieved. But I see something else in your eyes, too – a devilish look.
We sit, order the cheesecake, make small talk. Our waitress brings the best cheesecake created by man – banana cheesecake with a caramel wine sauce. There are two spoons, but you take both of them.
“I want to feed you,” you say. You stare into my eyes, and I know this is just the beginning.
For the next twenty minutes, you watch me lick caramel sauce off the spoon. You watch my mouth as taste the delectable cheesecake; you watch my throat as I swallow. Your eyes follow my every move – my mouth as it opens wide, my tongue as I lick my lips. I run my finger through the sauce and suck on the caramel-covered digit. Your eyes widen. I smile.
Eventually we finish and leave. As we drive to the theater, you hold my hand, gently. Few words are spoken between us. There’s no need. I can feel the anticipation. My pussy is beginning to pulse and throb.
Standing in line to buy our movie tickets, you ask if I’d like my usual popcorn and Diet Coke.
“Extra butter?” I ask. “Want to share with me?” I know money is tight, and as good as that cheesecake was, we both need more than that.
“Sure,” you say.
We buy our tickets, get our snacks, and settle into our seats. The lights go down and the movie starts. Something mindless and funny.
I nibble on the popcorn, coating my fingers in butter and salt. You grab my hand and beginning sucking on my fingers, thoroughly cleaning them, never taking your eyes off the screen. Every stroke of your tongue makes my cunt throb. I can feel the wetness in my panties. I begin to squirm in my seat. I can feel you smile with my fingers in your mouth.
Two can play this game, I think to myself.
You’ve been holding the drink in between your legs, snug against your cock. I consider asking for it, but decide on a different course. I lean over, my head in your lap, to take a drink. My face brushes against you, and I can feel you – hot and hard – through your shorts. I know you’re looking down at me, imagining me sucking on something other than the straw. I feel your hand on my head. Your fingers run through my hair and hold me down for just a moment. I smile to myself.
The movie ends. We wait a moment before leaving, letting the crowd dissipate. You lean over and kiss my cheek, tenderly. I smile and bite my lower lip – a habit I’ve developed recently, when I’m a little unsure.
“Don’t do that,” you say, firmly.
I look at you a little uncertainly. You don’t usually use that tone of voice with me.
“The only person who gets to bite that lip is me.”
My pussy pulses again. My panties are soaked through. My stomach clenches and ripples with excitement. Tonight is going to be…
The light changes to green, and I turned the corner, continuing my errands.