The Date

When you pick me up to take me for dinner, all you can say is “Wow” when I open the door. I’m wearing a loose white dress that is high-waisted so that it’s tight across the chest. There is one “cup” for each breast and no material in between, so I’m showing off a lot of cleavage, and that’s where your eyes immediately go.

That’s when I launch myself against you and kiss you with such passion and hunger that you wonder if we’ll make it to the restaurant. I press myself tight against you, molding my body to yours so that you can feel every inch, and as your hands wander over my back you get the pleasant surprise of not feeling a bra. I reach behind me to move your hands lower, and you find that I’m not wearing panties, either. That’s when I break the kiss with a grin and suggest we leave because I’m starving.

In the car, I let my skirt slide almost all the way up my thighs, and I put my hand high up on your leg. You realize that it’s going to be a long evening.

We settle into the secluded booth in a dark corner of the restaurant and order our drinks. While we peruse the menu, I subtly adjust my dress, and when you look up at me to ask if I know what I want, you find yourself confronted with a lot more cleavage. You can actually see my areolae peeking out from my top. The poor young waiter, not more than about 17 or 18 years old, has noticed the same thing and stares, mesmerized, until I clear my throat and place my order.

You and I continue along our usual conversational lines… geeky, funny, interesting things of no real importance, but as we talk, I reach into my water glass and take out an ice cube. You swallow hard as you watch me circle the ice cube around first one nipple and then the other, making them hard and rendering my dress transparent. Then I put the ice cube back and slowly lick the water from my fingers.

You whisper to me how sexy I am how you can hardly believe I’m doing these things, and in response I just grin again, raise an eyebrow, and pull my top aside a bit more to reveal one hard, pink little nipple. Our waiter almost drops our food when he sees it.

We eat our meals, still talking of casual things, and I “accidentally” spill some sauce on my breast. I look at you, and instead of using my serviette, I lift my breast up and lick it clean, pinching and twisting my nipple a bit as I put it back down. It feels so good that I do the same to the other breast, revealing that nipple, too, in the process.

The waiter stutters when he comes back and asks us if we want dessert. order “whatever has the most whipped cream.” When it comes, I dip a finger into the cream and lick it clean with just the tip of my tongue, then put it in my mouth to suck it for a moment. I make a little moaning sigh kind of noise and tell you how much I love whipped cream. Then I reach into my dessert again and gather up some more whipped cream, this time coating my nipples and part of my breasts. You expect me to lick this off, as well, but I just go about calmly eating my dessert. You can’t take your eyes off my decorated breasts.

You look a bit concerned when the waiter comes back with our bill, but I was waiting for him. “You can either get a tip,” I tell him, “or you can lick my breasts clean. Which would you prefer?”

He looks around to be sure no one will see, then sits down beside me in the booth and looks hesitantly, first at me and then at my chest. I smile encouragingly, then guide his head down. “Make sure you do a good job,” I say. I look over at you as I arch my back and give him better access to my breasts. I can see how hungry you are for me, and I feel the same way about you. The boy finishes his task fairly quickly, but continues his attentions until I tell him to stop, then I straighten my top and we leave the restaurant, you walking close behind me to hide your erection.

When we reach the parking lot, I demonstrate why I wanted you to park in the furthest, darkest corner. I kiss you the same way I did at the beginning of the evening, and your hands come up to pull my top aside, freeing my breasts completely. You bury your head in my chest, feeling how sticky it is from the whipped cream and another man’s tongue, and you suck and bite my nipples just the way I like as I sit on the hood of the car and wrap my legs around your waist.

We’re both so hot that we know we can’t wait until we get home, but I’m still momentarily surprised when you bend me over the hood and lift up my skirt. My breasts hang down and touch the cold metal of the car and my nipples get even harder… so hard they now hurt, and you stare at my ass a moment before you undo your pants and ram your hard cock into me.

My gasps and moans are incoherent as you fuck me, but you know I’m trying to tell you how much I want you and need you and how incredibly hot I got teasing you like that. And you reach around me and play with my breasts, just like you’ve wanted to do all evening. Soon, you tell me you have to cum and I tell you I want it on my tits. You turn me around and get me on my knees and spray your cum all over for me.

We drive home, me with my breasts still on display, though now covered in your spunk, and you with your pants unzipped so I can play with your cock.