Who Was Watching Whom?

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He awoke; exhausted but still feeling sated, his face warmed by her thighs, between which he had fallen asleep the night before.

A smile crept across his lips as his mind began to recall the events of the previous evening. As he rolled over he glanced at their clothes strewn about the room. His white shirt, crisp and fresh the day before, was now draped limply across her dressing table. Her black sweater hung across the foot of the bed. Not all clothing had been removed, however. He glanced back at her, as she lay still dreaming of who-knew-what (almost certainly something saucy though, to be sure). Her lacy, black slip barely covered her wonderful womanhood. He had left it on her, pushing it slightly higher, then higher still, slowly, teasing her, but ultimately pleasing her as well.

She too awoke. She still felt his hands upon her – his hands, his lips, his admiring, longing gaze upon her pleasing body. And yes, it was pleasing. She sometimes had her doubts, but after last night, they seemed far away and insignificant to be sure. Her body brought him great pleasure, of that she was sure. And it had brought her much pleasure as well.

He had arrived home soon after seven o’clock last night, hurrying in out of the cool damp evening. She did not respond to his first call, or even his second. She must be upstairs getting ready, he thought. They were going out to a new restaurant that had opened a couple of weeks previously. It had been a busy, and at times tense, week for both of them, and they were looking forward to relaxing in the company of those they most enjoyed – each other. It wasn’t that they didn’t care for others – they had many acquaintances and friends. And it certainly wasn’t that they lacked invitations to join others – they were frequent. They simply enjoyed each other most of all.

He wondered what she would be wearing. If he knew her, she would be wearing a black turtleneck sweater and one of her favorite long, slinky skirts (black also, of course), both of which played delightfully across her voluptuous form. And she would wear her new, black high-heeled, “fuck me” pumps, of that he was certain. She’d been so pleased when she found them (as had he, truth be told). He was less certain of what she would have chosen to wear beneath. He knew what he hoped she would be wearing, though – a lacy black bra, perhaps the demi cup, lifting her creamy breasts, and barely concealing their plump, pink nipples. And of course, the garter belt he had recently purchased for her, holding up the black, thigh-high stockings that encased her long, lovely legs. He was becoming aroused simply thinking about her and the evening that lay ahead of them.

As he came up the stairs he caught the scent of candles and he detected music. As he drew closer to the bedroom door he could make out the strains of Slave to Love by Bryan Ferry. And, he could also detect the unmistakable strains of his wife’s erotic pleasure. He slowly, quietly opened the door, just enough to peek inside and there she lay, sprawled across the bed, her hands exploring the delicate but demanding folds between her legs. Her head was thrown to the side, turned slightly away from him, and her eyes were closed. He did not move closer, simply stood and watched her, feeling himself grow harder. Well, he thought, if she can…

She’d planned to be ready on time, really she had. But her skin felt so delightfully soft and smooth after her bath, bahçelievler escort and it had been such a long week, and she just needed a little stress reduction. And he wouldn’t be home for another 35 minutes.

She had started to get dressed after drying off. She decided to put on some music and light a candle just to help get in the mood for later. The only problem was, as she felt the cups of her bra encasing her breasts, feeling their pleasing weight and saw the delightful sheen of the stockings on her legs, she began feeling a warmth in her belly. But when she slid the thong panties up her legs and between her thighs, it was no longer just in her belly that she felt warm.

She lay back on their wonderfully big bed. She convinced herself that she would just lay back and enjoy the feeling for a couple of minutes, then finish getting dressed. And she did. But after a couple of minutes, she was feeling warmer than ever, and somehow, without her knowledge or permission, the fingers of her right hand had placed themselves on her Venus mound and begun a gentle massage. I really shouldn’t, she thought. We’re going to have plenty of time for lovemaking later. Yes, a voice in her head said, but you are multi-orgasmic. And he wouldn’t have bought you all of those wonderful sex toys if he didn’t want you to enjoy yourself, right? She had to admit there was a certain amount of logic in both of those points. Plus, in the meantime, her fingers had once again moved without her knowledge (although she would almost certainly have given them permission this time), and were slipping beneath the small, lacy covering of her panties, caressing the slick, wet warmth of her slit.

It was then that she heard the door open and close downstairs. After an initial flash of feeling that she must straighten her self and the bed before he came upstairs, she realized that she was tantalizingly close to an orgasm. And she also realized that she really wouldn’t mind if he found her this way. She closed her eyes and turned her head slightly from the door. She heard the door handle turning slowly and felt her heart skip a beat. Although she had pleased herself before in his presence, it had always been a part of their joint love play. This felt different somehow – exciting, dangerous. She didn’t immediately sneak a glance in his direction, afraid that he might know that she knew he was there; she simply continued pleasing herself. After a moment she slowly, carefully turned her head toward him and opened one eye ever so slightly. It was dark in the room except for the candle she had lit earlier, so he didn’t notice. She felt her heart skip again, but this time it was because his fingers too had begun a ritual of pleasure, slowly stroking himself while he watched her. She lusted for him as her eyes took in his form. He still wore his long trench coat, over a crisp white shirt and black pants. He had drawn down the zipper, and his manhood stood out starkly in contrast.

He had become aware that she knew he was there, but continued to slowly stroke himself. He knew he would want to make love to her later. He also knew, looking at her, admiring her, loving her, that he would have no problem doing so even if he came now. And that was a good thing, because he was getting dangerously close to doing so. And besides, there was more than one way to give her pleasure…

They arrived at the restaurant balgat escort and because of the rain, he dropped her off at the door. The hostess showed her to a booth in the back, quiet and private. She watched with pleasure as he entered the room and strode to their table, tall and strong. It made her feel joy knowing that she would be going home with him later. Not that she couldn’t have had others – she was aware of eyes following her entry when she first came in. But as pleasurable as it was to know that she was appealing to other men, her love for, and loyalty to him were complete. And unlike so many married couples, their sex life had not diminished; it had, in fact grown stronger.

He was pleased to see that they had been seated at one of the booths in the rear. The light was low, the booth was tall and the table cloth would nicely conceal his intended actions.

He slid in beside her and planted a kiss on her full lips, then placed his hand low on her thigh. As they perused the menu, he slowly slipped one finger then two inside her stocking top and gently massaged her thigh. She managed to maintain her composure, despite the waiter standing across the table asking if she had found anything she liked. She grinned but said she would need a minute longer to decide. As the waiter turned and left them, he slipped his free hand into his coat pocket and removed a small item. By this time, his other hand had climbed much higher up her thigh and was slowly massaging her tantalizing triangle through its sheer fabric covering.

She was confused – although she had slowly begun to spread her legs to allow him easier access, he immediately removed his hand. “What a tease,” she thought – I’ll show him later. She was just about to straighten herself when she felt his hand return. This time, however, it was more than just his hand and it did not stop outside her panties. She felt him carefully slip a small egg-shaped ball inside of her, then his hand crept away. Well, she thought, that feels nice, but it’s certainly not that impressive.

The waiter had returned and just as she was advising him that she would like to start with an appetizer, she felt a mild, tingling vibration beginning inside of her. Oh my, she thought, a cordless vibrating egg – isn’t technology wonderful…!

He continued to tease her throughout their dinner, sometimes when their waiter approached, sometimes not, just to keep her guessing. When the manager came to their table to inquire how everything was, he gave the remote a quick click. “Everything is wo-o-onderful,” she said, her voice quivering. “I can’t wait to come again,” she said slyly. The manger walked away beaming, while she sat, squirming and steaming. As they were leaving she was waiting for him to “buzz her” in front of the hostess at the door, but he did not. However, as she slid into the car seat she felt another wonderful jolt course through her. As they drove home, she begged him to hand over the remote. She absolutely LOVED the sensations that his new toy (or was it her toy – she wasn’t sure) gave her, but he insisted in turning it off each and every time that she was starting a delightful rollercoaster climb to orgasm. Tease that he was, however, he refused to hand it over.

They entered the house and closed the door behind them. Before she could move toward the stairs he had pinned her against the door and pressed his lips to hers. He pulled ankara escort open her coat, pulled up her sweater and dropped to his knees to kiss her warm, smooth belly. His hands traced up her torso, caressing and exploring. She whispered to him to stop, there were people passing by on the sidewalk out front, and there were no blinds on the sidelights on either side of the door. But he wasn’t listening. He was running his fingers up and down and all around her calves, her thighs, her bottom. But so gently she could barely feel it. She whispered to him again, to stop, though, truth be told, with little real conviction. Although their house was set well back from the street, she could hear the couple’s voices carried on the gentle breeze through the open windows in the den. They had stopped in front of the house and were admiring the decorating – they were so close she could make out each word they spoke.

He knew she did not truly wish for him to stop. Although she was whispering protests, he knew there was something of the exhibitionist in her (not to mention some voyeuristic tendencies, but that’s another story). But he also wanted to keep her tantalized for a while longer, and so he slowly stood up, releasing her.

He took her coat and removed his own. She started to remove her shoes but he stopped her, told her to leave them on. With a glance and just a hint of a smirk she complied with his wishes. Well, she thought, they aren’t called “fuck me” pumps for nothing. She began to climb the stairs, swiveling her hips just a little bit more than usual, knowing that he would be following behind her, following her with his eyes, admiring her long legs, her bottom, her long blond hair. She knew it and she welcomed it.

He had a surprise in store for her. She assumed that they would be going straight to the bedroom, but there were treats to be enjoyed down here first. He told her to sit on one of the dining room chairs, and to close her eyes. She looked at him quizzically but complied. No sooner was she was seated, than he deftly slipped restraints onto her, wrists first, then ankles. He heard her mumble a brief protestation, but without conviction. He knew she did not truly object, for when bound, he could subject her to pleasures that he knew she enjoyed but to which she would not admit.

She could see the blindfold that he had laid on the table, but he did not immediately place in over her eyes. Instead, he gazed deeply into those beautiful baby blues as he very slowly drew one finger up her thigh, pausing only briefly when he hit the tiny patch of lace, and ever so gently slipping a finger inside of her. She shuddered as he withdrew it just as slowly and slipped it into his mouth, grinning mischievously. He then carefully placed the blindfold over her eyes, as he breathed into her ear, “mmm, desert is even more delicious than the main course.” She could neither see nor hear him as he moved away from her, but her nose soon detected the sweet aroma of a candle burning, and her ears were caressed by music.

She felt his fingers lifting her sweater, to expose her breasts. She writhed but was held securely by the bonds at her wrists and ankles. She then felt soft feathers tracing across her skin, dancing ever so lightly around her breasts, coming close but never quite reaching her sensitive nipples. She strained again, this time not seeking release from the restraints, but rather release of another sort.

“I do hope you are comfortable, my dear,” he whispered in her ear, before tracing its outline with his tongue? “I hope so, because we may be here for a while,” he said, gently tapping the button on that elusive remote control. This time, however, he did not turn if off so quickly…

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