After Dinner

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Babes

I am writing this as a task for my Domme.

I arrived at dinner before you and spent a few minutes chatting with the people who were already seated around the restaurant table. They were mostly your friends, I didn’t know them very well, but I still enjoyed catching up and joking. Then you showed up and, as always, stole every ounce of my attention. My eyes locked onto you from the moment you walked in the door. You looked gorgeous as ever in a black dress that fell just above your knees. When your eyes finally caught mine, you smiled and I nearly forgot that breathing was something I had to do. I stood when you got to the table and you gave me a quick kiss before greeting everyone else. I loved all of your kisses, but this one left me wholly unsatisfied. I needed so much more, but I would have to wait.

Dinner was fun, but my mind was elsewhere the entire time. I watched the way your hands moved when you talked, wishing they were all over me. I watched the way your lips sipped slowly at your drink, wishing they were pressed against my own, my neck, my collarbones, my stomach, my hips, my thighs, everywhere. I let myself get lost in my thoughts while looking at you and thinking of all the other things I would rather we be doing. I must have let it show in my face because when you turned to look at me, you raised your eyebrows with a smile.

Leaning close into my ear you told me, “That look is going to get you fucked if you’re not careful.”

I bit my lip as I felt a rush of wetness between my legs. That wasn’t much of an incentive to stop making that face. If anything, it was an incentive to continue. You knew that too, so I decided to test my limits. As you were distracted talking to someone else, I traced my fingers up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. I expected you to grab my hand quickly to place it back in my own lap, but to my surprise you uncrossed your legs and turned toward me so slightly that only I noticed. I took that as an invitation to continue up your inner thigh until I felt the lace of your panties on the back of my hand. I smiled to find you just as wet as I was. You moved your hips against my fingers, though to everyone else it probably looked like you were adjusting in your seat. I was in complete awe of how composed and unfazed your remained above the table, never looking at me or breaking your conversation for a second. As I ran my thumb up the outside bahis firmaları of your underwear, you shifted forward in your seat and spread your legs more so that your clit was in firm contact with my finger brushing across it. At the moment, you decided you had enough. You grabbed my hand from between your legs, crossed them back and placed my hand on your knee with yours on top to hold it there. You finished the conversation you were having before turning back for another sip of your drink. Then you leaned into my ear again.

“Go to the bathroom and take off your panties. I want them in my bag before we leave.”

You let go of my hand, then turned to join another conversation. I let my hand rest on your knee for a moment longer while I processed what you just told me before excusing myself from the table. As quickly as I could, I went to the bathroom, removed my underwear, and put them in my pocket. When I returned to the table, I found your purse hanging on the back of your chair on the opposite side from where I was sitting. As discretely as I could, I removed my panties from my pocket, reached behind your chair, and put them in your bag. Though I don’t think any of your friends noticed, I caught a stranger sitting at a nearby table giving me a very confused look. I covered my smirk with a sip of my drink, half embarrassed and half amused by their confusion. You put an arm around my shoulder, pulling my closer to you.

“Are they wet?” you asked.

“Very.”

You smiled, “Good. Stay that way.”

I’m not sure that I had any choice. The rest of the dinner progress as usual aside from the fact that every time I moved or shifted in my seat, I was reminded that my panties were not on me, but in your purse. All I wanted was for dinner to end so that you could take me home and make use of how wet you had made me. Finally, when dinner wrapped up and you said goodbye to all of your friends, you told me to meet you at your apartment. Then you got in your car and left.

When I arrived at your apartment you answered the door with a glass of wine in your hand. You had taken off your shoes and your dress. It took me a few second to catch my breath at the sight of you standing there in black lace lingerie, garters, and stocking. You grabbed my hand to pull me inside, shutting the door behind me, then sat me down on a bar stool by the kitchen counter. As you stood between my kaçak iddaa legs with your arm around my shoulder, your eyes flashed the same look mine had when you warned me earlier at the restaurant. You kissed me hard and slow, the way you know I had been wanting you too. I traced your waist with my hands and then wrapped my arms around your lower back, pulling you closer to me. I moaned into your mouth when you bit my lip. You pushed my shoulders back against the cold marble countertop and continued to kiss and bite my lips while you unbuttoned my shirt. Once you got it fully unbuttoned, you brushed your hand up my stomach to my chest. You slide your hand inside of my bra and I rolled my hips into yours, wanting you all the more. I felt like I could come just from your fingers drawing circles around my nipple and your mouth, now kissing and biting the sensitive skin on my neck. But you stopped before I felt any release. You looked down at me again, apparently amused by the sight of me panting and frustrated, and told me to stay put while you walked down the hallway.

“You can touch yourself, if you like, but no coming. Your orgasms are mine,” you called over your shoulder.

I knew you would probably like to come back to find me touching myself while I waited for you. I unzipped my jeans and put my hand between my legs to find the insides of my thigh and jeans wet. I tried to touch myself, instantly realizing that if I continued I would come before you returned. So instead I sat back and waited patiently for you. Luckily, you didn’t keep my waiting long. When you returned, you were still in the same lingerie, but you had added the strap on you bought for us. How did you always know exactly what I needed?

You stood me up to finish undressing me, then sat me up on the counter and pulled me forward so that I was right on the edge with you between my legs. The countertop was cold and hard against my bare ass and the strap on was dangerously close to where I needed it to be. You picked up where you left off, kissing my collarbones and chest now, and teasing my nipples with your fingers and your tongue.

“Please, I need it,” I begged.

“You’ll have it when I’m ready.”

I tried to tempt you into giving in to my desire by moaning in your ear and pulling your hips closer to me. You took both of my wrists together and pinned them to the cupboard above my head with one hand so that kaçak bahis I had no choice but to give myself up to you. As you continued to kiss me everywhere, I writhed and moaned under your every touch. You reach down between my legs and smiled, feeling how wet you had made me. I took the opportunity to grind my hips into your hand, hoping you would no longer be able to resist. For a moment, I saw you contemplate sliding your fingers inside of me, but you regained your focus. Instead, you pulled me down off the counter, turned me around, and bent me over it. Your palm made hard contact with my ass and the spot where you hit me grew hot immediately as it reddened. You gently ran your hand over the same place.

“It’s almost time for me to leave more bruises on your ass. You would like that, wouldn’t you?” you asked.

“Yes,” I nodded eagerly.

“Well, you’re going to have to wait. There’s something else I want right now.”

Just as you finished saying that, you pushed the strap on inside of me. Though I had been waiting for and expecting it, the feeling still surprised me and I yelled out “fuck” and your name. You wasted no time finding a pace that you liked. I met your pace with the same, pushing my hips back into yours and arching my back in pleasure. You leaned forward and bit my back hard enough that I knew it would bruise. I winced but reach back and grabbed your hip so that you knew not to stop. You repeated that over and over, moving across my back inch by inch. I could tell that I would be covered in small, round bruises that I would enjoy admiring in the mirror tomorrow morning. When you were satisfied with the welts on my back, you wrapped your hand around my hip to pull me even closer than before, slowing your pace but fucking my deeper and harder.

I moaned and yelled and begged you to, please, let me come. Finally, you let me have what I wanted. The hand that had been on my hip was now between my legs rubbing my clit. I had been waiting and wanting for hours, so it didn’t take long for you to work me up into a shaking, screaming orgasm. I reached back for your hip again, pulling you into me and digging my nails into your skin. You didn’t pause for a second, continuing to fuck me through the whole thing. When I was finally done, you took a step back to let me breathe. Then you picked me up, turned me around, and held me against your chest. I smiled and kissed your neck, then pulled away to look in your eyes. You could tell from the look on my face that I was nowhere near done for the night. I took your hand and led you down the hallway to your bedroom to finish giving you what you wanted.

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