Erotica: An Outing to Remember
Published: MAY 13, 2022
| Updated: JULY 21, 2022 10:10:17
Roleplaying fun at the kinkiest of shake shops leads to a delicious climax in this short erotica story.
The night is only going to get kinkier.
“It looks like we are going to make that 5:30 reservation after all,” I say. I’ve got my left hand on the wheel of the rented 2021 Honda Insight as we cruise down the long, flat highway cutting through these windswept prairies. I can see the clock tower at the far end of the K Center retail park coming up in the last orange rays of dusk.
“Uh huh,” you say. “Exit 11 is next.”
I’m wearing a charcoal gray sports coat with black leather patches on the sleeves. Plus dark slacks and new patent leather Oxfords from my first stop of the day. I can feel your eyes flitting over to scrutinize the bulge between my legs.
My hand rests comfortably on your left thigh. You’ve kept your long black winter coat on – it’s also new – and I’m curious about what you have on underneath on this chilly November evening. A little handbag rests on your lap.
“Good thing we’re on time,” I say. “They seem super-particular. Cancellation if you’re more than five minutes late, et cetera. I am actually surprised they’ve made a go of it here for more than a year. You’d never guess, right?”
“I don’t know. There were definitely some protests when it opened. But I’d say there were more live-and-let-live people in the area, right?”
“And it does sound like they’re very strict in all their protocols.”
“Which is why I’ve been wanting to come here and telling you about it for the last six months! I like strict. And I like thinking about you that way. A lot.”
As I slow down and head to the turn-off, I lean over for a quick kiss. Our tongues touch lightly and I can feel the ever-present heat between us go up a notch. Knowing what’s to come.
Heading through the main gate with the big neon sign, I ask: “One more run-through with our checklist?”
“Uh uh. We’re good. Let’s get fucking kinky!”
I smile and slow down as we navigate past the chain stores en route to the far end of the lot. It’s actually pretty quiet tonight. Of course, that could change.
“OK, it’s time for you to unbutton now,” I tell you, with a new, firmer tone in my voice. My grip tightens slightly on your thigh.
Your expression shifts to something complex: mischievous, shy, playful, hopeful, challenging. A small smile plays over your lips as you unbutton your coat.
You’re wearing a red corduroy smock dress cut well above the knees. White, gauzy fabric spanning the low-cut neckline does little to conceal the swell of your tits. I detect the fringes of the pink lace bra that you wore when we fucked at the hotel party on Wednesday night.
“Do you think I look pretty?” you ask, tilting your head.
“You look very pretty, Bunny.”
Visibly pleased, you squirm in your seat and cross your boots at the ankles. I know what this is doing to you.
One more gate to pass through to enter the walled-off parking lot. A tall security guard holds up his baton. I roll down the window.
“Could I see your IDs, please? Perfect. Have a great night, folks.”
This lot is considerably busier. I stop at the crosswalk to let two couples – one with a remarkably tall woman in a black, latex catsuit – cross and head into a club called DeMarco’s Bacchanalia. A bronze fountain – turned off for the season, but still floodlit in white and golden hues – features a centerpiece with a voluptuous queen riding a chiselled supplicant, his thick cock thrust up inside her for all to plainly see.
“Oh my God, I fucking love this place!”
“Watch your dirty mouth, young lady.” It’s important for you to know who’s in charge.
Two sex shops with floor-to-ceiling windows flank our destination. I can see your eyes light up with interest. I pull into a parking spot a few doors down. As we get out, our breath clouds the air, but it’s well above freezing. I take your hand and lead you toward the diner.
You stop in front of the first sex shop, admiring the toys on display with unabashed interest. Big, realistically veined dildos. A Magic Wand-like toy with a constantly, subtly oscillating head. A beautifully contoured stainless steel butt plug.
“Fuck, I wish they weren’t closed! Can we please come back tomorrow?”
“You’re being naughty now. We have a reservation at the diner, and we’ll see what happens tomorrow. Come on!”
The place is called Antigone’s Shakes. The lighting is low and purple, with photos of vintage Thunderbirds and Mustangs on the walls. Old R&B songs play moodily in the background. There are seven or eight customers, mostly couples in booths.
The waitress, brisk and buxom with thigh high white boots, strides toward us. “Welcome! I’m Gina. Can I help you?”
“Yes, we booked for 5:30.”
She grabs two menus. “Right this way.”
Coming in, I didn’t spot anything overtly kinky. But as we slide into our booth, with you right across from me, I notice that in the booth opposite us, a businesswoman in her 50’s is half-reclining with her thighs wide apart, with a guy underneath the table, his head up her skirt, eating her out in public.
You’re watching like the bad girl you want to be, a little shiver of pleasure going through you as the woman lets out an audible, raw moan. She’s got a suitcase with luggage tags next to the booth.
“I wonder if she came here with that guy or met a stranger and asked him to lick her like that,” you say. “What do you think, Daddy-O?”
“Why don’t you be a good girl and order your special milkshake?” I say. “That’s what we came here to do.”
You pout. “I want to play with myself now. Don’t you want to see me playing like that?”
I push a menu over to you. “Come on now.”
You stick your tongue out at me. Then you stand up on the bench on your side of the booth, pull up your smock dress, and swivel to let everyone in eyeshot see your white cotton panties, the outline of your lips visible to those nearby.
“See? You literally can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do!” you proclaim. Then you stick out your tongue again.
This is making me so fucking hard. We talked through this last night, but to see you is making me fucking crazy. I’ve jacked off to you with your tongue out so many times: in front of the computer, in my bed, in the shower. But this is so powerful.
I somehow maintain my composure, my dominance. Unsmiling. I get up and come around.
“Now you’re being a brat,” I tell you, taking you by the waist and making you sit down again. “And if you carry on like this, there will be consequences.”
You shrug and peruse the menu, giving me periodic naughty glances.
The waitress comes back over with glasses of water. “Are you folks ready to order?”
“Yes, we’re going to get a couple of milkshakes,” I say.
“Perfect! All our milkshakes are made with local ice cream, frozen berries, and all-natural seasonings and sweetenings.”
“I’ll go for the blueberry toffee.”
“I want raspberry,” you say.
“I’m sorry, honey,” the waitress replies. “We ran out of raspberry this afternoon and we won’t have any more till Monday. How about strawberry?”
“No! Seriously, I want raspberry!”
“You heard what she said, Bunny. Do you want a milkshake or not?”
“Oh, fine! Strawberry, then.”
The waitress goes off. I notice you fidgeting and see you slipping your hand up your dress.
“Hey! It’s not time for you to masturbate right now. I told you that you should have done that before we left the hotel.”
Your lip sticks way out as you comply. I enjoy denying you and disciplining you. The woman at the table opposite has now summoned another guy – fit, big biceps, and a taut ass in denim, definitely a stranger this time. She takes her right tit out for him to suck in the booth while she gets orally serviced. I know how aroused you get from displays of pleasure.
My cock is leaking pre-come into my briefs as my arousal grows. I feel myself sinking deeper into our roleplay. I want you so fucking badly right now, gazing at you, all saucy in your red dress, teasing me with your eyes and your curves and your bad behavior.
The waitress comes back surprisingly fast with the milkshakes. They’re enormous, served in translucent purple plastic glasses with purple-and-white straws. “Enjoy!”
I enjoy my first sip. “Blueberry toffee sure lives up to the hype in the reviews.”
You take one loud slurp and make a face. “I don’t like this. I’m not going to finish it.”
“What are you talking about?”
Your voice rises in pure brattiness. “I told you I wanted raspberry! Fuck!”
“Now, listen to me, young lady. You need to – ”
Before I can finish my sentence, you accidentally on purpose knock your milkshake over. It spills the length of the table, missing me but gushing all over the tiled floor.
“Oops!” you say with a triumphant look.
“All right! That’s enough.”
I rise, come around, grab your handbag, and take you by the wrist. “Follow me.”