First Date

“Is that what you like? Spanking?”

“Yes”, she whispered across the table.

He leaned in closer.

“Do you like a hard spanking? Swats that leave a nice, red bottom?”

“Yes”, she whispered again. Her heart was beating fast and loud and she could feel the moisture gathering in her panties. She had been looking down at the table, trying to focus on the salt and pepper shakers. But now, she looked up and found his eyes on her. When their eyes met a little smile, a devious smile, crossed his face.

“Shall I pull you across my lap when I administer this punishment?”

She nodded.

“Hmmm…That pretty skirt you’re wearing up around your hips, your panties dangling from one ankle.” He paused for a moment, seeming to be in deep thought. “I love the sound of my hand meeting a bare bottom. That slap rings in my ears sometimes when I least expect it.”

She could tell he was becoming aroused. With a deep breath he awoke from his reverie and leaned back in his chair.

“Can I ask you to do something for me? I realize we’ve just met and don’t know each other, but I feel comfortable with you and I hope you feel the same.” He paused here for a response and she nodded her head. Still unable to verbalize what was happening inside her.

He leaned in again, slowly.

“Would you spread your legs for me? Here, under the table. That’s all, just spread your legs. I’m not going to touch you under the table or ask you to do anything else. I just want to know you’re exposed to me.”

With that and a gasp, a fresh gush of fluid poured out of her clenching cunt. She paused for a moment thinking, this is a little crazy. I don’t know this guy from go. But this is so fucking hot. I have to do this. It’s not going to hurt anything. I even still have my panties on. Curious he didn’t ask me to remove them. Maybe that’s a turn on for him. This is a total turn on for me. God…

So under the table, with slow intention, she spread her legs apart, almost as far as they could comfortably go. This pulled her short skirt up her thighs, leaving her clad sex exposed. Just this simple gesture produced a thrill in her that translated immediately into a throb between her legs. He obviously could tell she had done it, maybe by her motion or maybe by the look on her face. Her lids became heavy, her mouth formed into a small o and she pulled in a breath, almost unnoticeable. He smiled and they quietly sat staring at each other with the knowledge that they were both extremely turned on. She could tell she was pleasing him, that he was satisfied with the result of his request and with her willingness to comply. This only added to her increasing excitement.

And then the waiter arrived with dessert and coffee. She looked up at him to see if he could sense anything, could tell something was going on. His obvious indifference to, what seemed to her, the palpable sexual tension at the table, relieved her. She was grateful they were sitting at a booth with a table cloth.

They drank their coffees and ate dessert, a piece of chocolate cake they had decided to share and made chit-chat. He talked about his work, she listened and responded with questions. He asked her about her work, her colleagues, projects. All the while the both of them distracted by the knowledge that her legs were still spread apart.

He watched as each piece of cake entered her mouth as if he was studying her technique. Committing to memory the way her lips closed around the fork. Even this, just the way he watched her eat, added to the growing intensity of her excitement. She began to wonder if she could orgasm just sitting there. She so longed to touch herself, it was close to unbearable.

There was a lull in the conversation and before she even knew what she was saying she quietly blurted out, “I’d like to touch myself.” They both knew this was a request. She was asking permission to masturbate right here in this restaurant.

His eyebrows flew up in surprise and he chuckled. “Would you?”, he said with somewhat sardonic amusement. “Right here in this restaurant? You’re that excited by simply spreading your legs for me?”

“Yes, I am.”, she said with a blush, embarrassed at what felt like an admission of being ‘easy’.

“I’m almost inclined to say no. To make you wait. But just the idea that you would take the risk is very exciting. Yes, please, go ahead.”

Before he had even finished the sentence her hand was off the table and between her legs. She slipped two fingers underneath her panties and pulled in a breath at both the feeling of pressure on her clit and amazement at how wet she was. Quietly, she began to rub, making slow circles on her very hard nub. He watched her face and the pleasure that crossed it as her fingers began their work.

“You’re very wet, aren’t you?”

“Yes, very. Very.”

“Will you do as I tell you?”

She nodded, grateful for his guidance and participation.

“You’re rubbing your clit now, yes?”

Again, another nod. Her eyes were beginning to close with the pleasure and her breathing was quickening.

“Open your eyes”, he said sternly. “Look at me, eyes on me.”

“Slip a finger inside your cunt. Just one. Good. Pull it out and push it in again quickly. Fuck yourself for me.”

After a brief moment, “Now another finger. Two fingers in your cunt, for me.”

She plunged her fingers in and out, going as deep as she could reach and as fast as she could without being obvious in her movements or noisy. She knew she was on the edge of moaning and had to consciously prevent this which distracted her from her task, but also made her aware of the ‘danger’ of being caught.

He watched as a flush rose up her cheeks, her mouth slack and moist and her breath almost giving her away.

“Rub your clit, now. Imagine it’s my tongue,” he said, licking his lips obviously for a long moment so that she could see the tip.

“I’d like to crawl under this table, put my hands on your thighs and press my mouth hard up against your sopping wet pussy. Licking up all around your lips and your clit before plunging my long tongue into you. Deep into you, darting my tongue in and out before pulling out and focusing my attention on your clit. Flicking it lightly, then applying more pressure, just enough pressure to create the storm. Not faster, just a steady, quick rhythm and pressure, just as you’re doing now with your finger. So close, you are so close now…”

“Yes, yes”, she whispered, so close. Almost at the edge, then at the edge, the brink, the precipice that lasts for longer than a second before falling over into the whirlpool of throbbing, dripping ecstasy.

She let out a cry, louder than she wanted, but only the one, then released the rest of this blinding orgasm in only breath and a few small moans from her throat.

“Good, good”, he cooed at her. Pleased and encouraging. “So beautiful.”

As the sweet spasms slowed and her awareness of where she was returned she began, with some difficulty, to compose herself, pulling her right hand up to the table and smoothing her skirt down with the left. She hoped there wasn’t too much of a puddle on the seat or mark on the back of her skirt.

He reached over and took her hand into his two hands, wanting to feel the wetness from her cunt, wanting to smell her and know her scent. He pulled her hand up to his face and after a deep breath, taking in her aroma, he kissed her fingers, unobtrusively flicking his tongue to get a taste of her juice. Knowing his own release was not far away, standing up from this table would not be easily achieved.

In silence they smiled at one another, feeling connected to each other in their shared secret. She wondered if maybe this was the start of something. Obviously, they were on a very similar page.

And then the waiter came to the table. She thought, oh my God, he MUST smell that! This table reeks of sex! But, without any sign of recognition or shock, he blithely asked if they wanted anything else and left the check.

They looked at one another and burst out laughing. If they had pulled this off in public…

Yes, this was the beginning of something good.