The Towel, the Chair, the Panties (L)
(L) – This story contains strong language.
I was late getting home and in a rush. My husband was already getting ready for our planned dinner date. A soft hint of his cologne was in the air—a scent I loved.
I found him as I entered our master bath, freshly showered and shaved, standing in nothing his briefs. They were nice and form-fitting, so his wonderful package was on display under the tight fabric.
He saw me and stepped in my way, not allowing me to go any further.
“Stop right there,” he said.
With a rushed eye roll, I brought my eyes up to meet his. Oh gosh, is this going to take long? I thought. Despite the sight in front of me, I was still feeling rushed.
“I was able to push the reservation back a little later, so we have time.” His voice carried a trustworthy calmness.
“How much time, and time for what?” I asked. Was my annoyance showing?
His warm hands reached to the side of my face. With thumbs in front of my ears and fingers on the back of my neck, he cut off my questioning as his open mouth met mine. We kissed, feeling one another with our tongues. He tasted like my favorite candy.
This is nice, I thought, letting some of the rushed feeling slip away. I could get used to this. With my eyes closed, I lingered in the kiss, until he finally broke it.
“Get your shower,” he said. “I’ll be waiting—preparing.”
I did as he said and got in the shower as he continued “preparing,” whatever that meant. His taste was still on my tongue. Our evening time together was finally starting to come into focus as the work day faded. The warm shower helped as my soapy hands glided over my body. His cologne really was sexy, and its scent still lingered in the bathroom. To my surprise, I found my nipples were very hard. And an even nicer surprise—my clit was hard too.
I stepped from the shower, and my husband received me with a very plush towel. He wrapped me in it, gently patting me dry, following my skin wherever it went. His hands covered my whole body like a velvet massage.
He applied more pressure to my cooch than the other places, making gentle but strong movements. His massaging movements touched my butthole, my perineum, my honeydripper, and my clitoris, playing a sensual symphony on the instrument that was my body. I melted into him.
“Please, don’t stop . . .” I begged.
Through my euphoric state and glazed-over eyelids, I saw the chair in the middle of the bathroom—an old sixties kitchen chair. A chrome pipe frame held seat and back cushions wrapped in thick, tight and sparkling vinyl—the kind where your naked skin feels like it’s peeling off onto the chair as you stand up.
My cunny started to drool as I stood mesmerized. My senses heightened. I felt my nipples stiffen even more.
He sat me down.
Then he bound me.
My hands were tied to each cold chrome tube of the back support holding the vintage backrest. My ankles were tied to the front legs. Then he stood behind me, warmed his hands, and put some of my skin cream on them. Then he played with my breasts—just my breasts, with no other focus. He knows I love my tits to be fondled. He hypnotizes me this way.
His warm hands started by cupping and lifting the whole breast. It soon turned into a massage of the whole breast, but he paid special attention to my areolas and nipples—special attention that I relished. The cream allowed his hands to glide like silk over my breasts. He moved ever so slowly, with such precise purpose. He played in swirling patterns, gently clutching, mixing both gentle and coarse textures into my arousing tension.
“Oh, yes! Right there. Ah, my nipples. Don’t stop!”
My breath came more heavily as his fingertips and fingernails greasily slipped over the tiny bumps on my areola, then my nipples. My body jolted. I quivered at the ticklish pleasure. My breath halted as I jumped.
Then, he began.
He worked his thumbs and index fingers around the hardness of my nipples as they ached with pleasure.
“Mmmmh,” I showed my approval with an audible moan.
He pushed, pulled, pressed and prodded on each side, using his fingers and palms in the massage. My eyes were closed, but I was on high alert as the sensations rose like a phoenix! My legs clenched my cookie between them.
His hands left my body.
He grabbed a towel and wiped the excess cream from my chest, then dabbed my brow, neck, and shoulders to dry the slight sheen of sweat that had gathered there.
As he finished, he removed my bindings and said, “Time to get ready. We’re still going to dinner.”
He left me panting.
As I stood, I left a wet spot on the vinyl. A clear ink blot, if you will, of cunt juice plastered across my thighs, labia, and the cushion.
I was not allowed to dry myself off.
I dressed casually for the night in tight jeans and heels, with an old worn-out concert shirt. The thin shirt was draped over my breasts, held up in a black half-cup bra. The shirt displayed my curves nicely, revealed just enough cleavage, and allowed an unrestricted and playful bounce as I walked. I do like drawing my husband’s attention. And if someone else appreciates the view too, I don’t mind.
On the way to the restaurant, I rolled the car window down a bit because I was hot. I hadn’t been allowed to cum yet, and my body was still tense. All abuzz from his attention with the bath towel, then what he’d done to me in the chair, I had to cum! I felt like a racehorse wanting to jump the gate!
As we were seated at the restaurant, I could feel that my black lace panties were still wet—very wet. I only hope there wasn’t a wet spot showing through my jeans.
“Show me,” my husband said at a normal table talk volume.
“Show you what?” I asked, still frazzled by the buzz of arousal.
“Prove to me how horny I’ve made you.”
He was playing Mr. Cool, but he knew exactly what he had done to me. Now he’d walked me into this corner and was making me perform.
I focused my stare on him, wondering what it was, exactly, he expected me to do. Does he want my panties? I thought.
I looked around the room, assessing the possibility of such a daring act. The angle was favorable for keeping anyone else from getting too much of a view. The tablecloth and my old shirt were both long enough to be concealing as well.
Well, here goes nothing, I thought.
He sat next to me, watching as I unlatched my belt. His eyes went wide.
“Wait. What are you doing?” he asked. “Right here?”
I continued surveying the room as I unbuttoned and unzipped my pants.
I froze with a mini orgasmic shiver as the waitress brought our shrimp cocktails, then left without giving any hint that she’d noticed.
My nervous, heated body caused a mist of sweat to shine on my skin. I continued my not-so-smooth attempt at removing my jeans, which was difficult because they were so tight they probably looked painted on. Doing everything I could to stay stealthy and not get caught, I tugged, digging my thumbs in between me and my jeans at my butt, hips, and thighs, as I slowly inched them down.
The waitress arrived with the entrée sooner than expected—or maybe it was just taking me longer to do this than I realized. As she approached the table, I had my panties at my thighs, & my jeans down past my knees. Only my husband had an angle to see any details. But, truth be known, the arousal in me was raging, and I almost wouldn’t have cared if the whole world could see my bits at this point.
As I’d realized from the beginning, I had to step completely out of my jeans in order to remove my panties! I finally did it, and the jeans soon lay on the floor next to my heels. Looking over the crowd, I slipped my wet panties off, lifting each foot out of them. My bubbly breasts were heaving with every move I made.
There I was, completely bottomless in a public restaurant! I cannot tell you how much my pussy was humming with erotic voltage right then! I was enjoying this as much as I was terrified!
I threw my panties on the table for my husband to do whatever he wanted with. As I was distracted adjusting the little remaining fabric around me, the waitress came by again and and set a drink refill right next to the noticeably-wet panties on the table. I can’t be sure if she noticed. She was either oblivious, or was trying really hard to not show what she knew.
I managed to snag my jeans from under the table, and was about to put them back on, but stopped. I’d gotten this far without being noticed. What would be the harm in leaving them off a little while longer?
And so I ended up eating dessert bottomless—and I loved it!
During dessert, I unzipped my husband and fished his hard cock from his pants. I wrapped him in my panties and proceeded to jack him off. He came so hard I thought we would be discovered and escorted out. But we were still safe, even with a stray jet stream of his cum getting on our plate and dessert! I still gladly ate that piece.
He left my panties around his cock, now soaked with both of our juices, and stuffed it all back into his pants.
With dessert done and the check taken care of, it was time to go.
As I struggled a bit more to get my jeans back on, I could feel my boobs flopping, and the remaining tension of arousal caused my belly to squeeze in anticipation. I slipped my heels on and we left, all buttoned up and proper. Firecrackers were going off in my pants as we walked out.
Once in the car, I grabbed my pussy over my clothes, squeezing more juice from my fruit.
“Take me home and fuck me!” I commanded, unable to wait for any more delays.
Back home, I was shaking as we undressed in a fever pitch. If there wasn’t before, there was definitely a big wet spot in the crotch of my jeans now!
My husband slipped right into me, his cock feeling like a lightning rod drawing the jolting electricity of my arousal to one concentrated place! He fucked me like a pole dancer! And I supposed I was one, as I danced enthusiastically on his pole.
We fucked each other and sucked each other long into the night, and went at it again the next morning, and yet again at lunch! By the end of that 24 hours, we were both sore, but very satisfied.
Wow! So, so hot! You’ve written quite the masterpiece of pleasure and eroticism here, SCMM. I’m truly impressed and more than a little turned on.
I’ll be playing this scene in my head the next time I have a little privacy 😉
Wow, thank you. It was a blast to write. And, thanks to PP, or whoever, contributed with some edits. I noticed the flow was better. Enjoy your private time!
You're welcome! Glad to contribute. I believe both myself and LovingMan did some editing work on this one. But of course, no matter how much editing was done, it would've been nothing without the super steamy foundation you laid!
Thanks for giving me something to play with today. I'll be thinking of you two …
Glad to help, enjoy.
Now that I’ve calmed down a bit, I’d like to add some things that I really like about your story.
You’ve included several elements that I find appealing. I love the rope bondage, and it’s really nice that you were so detailed about the chair and the attention to her breasts.
I also love the jeans and heels. For me, this is one of the sexiest things a woman can wear, especially if the heels are of the strappy, open-toed variety.
And then the very daring restaurant antics…Oh my. The picture of her peeling off everything from the waist down, then proceeding with a hot and steamy hand-job left my little brain firmly in charge for a while.
Of course, I also enjoyed the fever-pitched sex at home.
I know this story is fictional, but you definitely raised the bar.
Yes, all the details are what just do it for me, too! I just reread it & I was steaming up. Caught up in it all. Thank you kind sir.
Oh boy, how erotic was that?! The teasing, the tit massage, then the daring moves in the restaurant followed by hot sex at home…the perfect recipe! Good story! I was turned on from the moment you described him wearing only briefs and cologne. I'll take a piece of that! 😋
Thank you! Glad you liked it. Very nice compliment, thanks again.
This one really got under my skin.
The quiet authority at the start, the way control is given and then calmly withdrawn. That restraint is devastating. I found myself slowing down as I read, aware of my own body responding before my thoughts caught up.
What undid me most was the denial. Being left wet, dressed, and sent back into the world, still humming. That contrast between outward composure and private unravelling is such a powerful expression of intimacy and trust.
It left me flushed, restless, and very aware of myself. Beautifully written, and dangerously effective.
Lauren xx
Wow, your response has me flushed! Thank you. As I wrote it, & read it, I had a claustrophobic erotic tension more than once. My breath thinned & my ears got hot. I see what you're saying. Glad it influenced you as it did, thank you, again.
Great story!! I have been planning on doing the chair-bandage scene for a while with my wife, but have yet to do it. This has inspired me to make it happen soon. I had not considered it as foreplay before a date. I really like that idea. We will be on a cruise soon. I think it would be highly erotic to do this to her before we go out to dinner and a show. I used a silver bullet on her one. Ight in a very busy restaurant. The waiter came to our table as she was climaxing. She was gripping the table with both hands and looking down so no one could see her facial expressions. The waiter asked her if she was alight. I quickly responded, “oh yeah, she’s just fine!”. I have no ideas if he realized what he just witnessed. He was an attractive young man. I’m sure this made it even better for my wife.
Thanks for the compliment. Sounds like you need to share your experiences in some stories. That sounds like a great one, her gripping the table & not showing her face! Love that! We have a similar story like that on here, titled, The Dinner (A Weekend Away – Part Two). Thanks for reading & replying.
It's so interesting because this sounds so much like the experiences we have had.
We have a special restaurant, with a table that we enjoy because of its privacy. Being in eye shot of the other diners but yet privately now to find a way to make it an extra special night.
And while on vacation where we are relatively unknown, the exhilaration of public yet discreet exhibitionibism is commonly a part of our vacation plans. 💋
That is so awesome! Public exhibition is a tricky thing. Not just for christians, but everybody. But…very exhilarating.