We are out to dinner. It is just the two of us. The restaurant is busy but everyone is preoccupied with their meal and their companions. Nobody pays us two sitting quietly in the corner any mind. The waiter is polite but clearly they are under staffed and so he does not linger at our table. We don’t mind one little bit
His hand rests on my thigh while the waiter takes our order and then, as we wait for our starter to arrive, he trace lazy circles up and down my leg, every now and then brushing his finger tips over the exposed flesh at the top of my stockings. I slide down slightly in my seat and open my legs a bit wider.
The food comes. He removes his hand from my leg. We eat. It is delicious. I feel relaxed, happy, I love spending time with him like this.
We order a dessert. Or perhaps I should say I do, he never eats dessert but will sometimes have a bite of mine.
His hand resumes its position on my thigh. I am talking, telling him some story or a thought I had, I can’t remember exactly what the subject was. I come to an abrupt halt as his hand slides up between my legs and pushes my thighs apart. He pauses for a moment as if the fact I have stopped speaking has distracted him.
“Go on,” he says, “I am listening”
I try to remember what I was saying, I stumble out a another vague sentence but as his fingers find my pantiless cunt and start to delve into my folders the words turn to a gasp and a sigh and all pretense of a conversation is over. He leans and kisses me, a soft gentle touch of his lips on mine, and uses the opportunity to push a finger into me.
The waiter chooses that exact moment to bring the dessert.
He sits and watches me eat. When I offer him a bite he declines. The conversation starts up again but the moment my plate is empty he catches the waiters eye and requests the bill.
Outside the evening is warm. He takes me hand and we wander away from the restaurant towards the main road and our familiar route back home. As we pass the local library he suddenly veers off course and leads me through the car park to the back of the building which is shielded from the houses behind by large evergreen bushes but between them there is a little pathway that people use to cut through to the park on the other side. It is predictably deserted.
The gravel wall of the building cuts into the bare skin across the top of my back but I barely notice it. Instead my mind is utterly focused on the hand around my neck and the other pushing hard thick fingers into my juicy cunt.
“Touch your clit” he whispers into my ear, his lips brushing up against my neck as he speaks
I don’t hesitate to follow his instructions and as he works his fingers inside me I rub at my clit. Everything about this moment turns me on. The illicit location, the warm summer evening, the satisfyingly fed belly, his hand on my neck, the roughness of the wall on my skin, the way the skirt of my dress if hooked up around my waist, the feel of my juices coating my labia and thighs, the glint of light in his eye from the distant street lamps, the precise and accurate touch of my own finger on my clit but most of all the feel of his fingers buried inside my aching cunt, the way he knows just how to move them, just where to touch, where to rub, where to twist and turn and when to growl in my ear
“Cum for me slut”
And I do.
I LOVE being fingered and I mean really fucking love it. If there is anything that is a kink for me it is being fingered along with being fucked. In fact, fingering, done right, with me touching my clit is pretty much guaranteed to result in an orgasm for me.
Being fingered though is one of my favourite things and something that when done right will nearly always make me orgasm. I love cock but fingers have special skills that cocks don’t. They can rub and twist and stretch and push and turn in ways that no penis is capable of. There is also something so fucking hot about seeing fingers in me. We have used mirrors, cameras and pillows so that I can really enjoy that view and get off doing it. Oh and watching him finger someone else, that totally works for me off too.
Then there are the words, the things he says to me
“Let’s see how wet you are”
“How many fingers can you take?”
“Your juices are all over my hand”
“I am going to enjoy fucking this cunt later”
“Don’t you come without asking”
“Come on fingers you dirty bitch”
You get the idea…. words like that combined with his skillful touch make for a very turned on Molly.
For me there is a strong power dynamic to the act. It his him ‘working’ my body, penetrating it, yes for my pleasure but he is the one in complete control whilst I am the one being pushed to lose control. I love that feeling of being defiled, from the first moments of his fingers against my labia to the eye rolling moment when he slides his finger(s) into me. He has without doubt made it his business to learn my body and that includes my cunt and as a result he knows exactly how and where to touch me to draw my body towards release and eventually tip me, shuddering and gasping, over the edge as my cunt pulses in orgasmic delight around his fabulous fingers.
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