Another Valentine's Day
For Valentine's Day he told her they were going to her favorite restaurant for dinner and dancing. She had just stepped out of the bathroom, all showered and perfumed, and he handed her the white box with the pink ribbon and said, "Open it." "Shouldn't I put some clothes on first?" she said, and he said, "No, open it now."

When she pulled the ribbon there it was, so beautiful, so sheer, and she held it up to the light, and he told her to put it on, and she said, "Okay, I'll just put on my…" and he said, "No, put it on now. I want you to wear it with nothing underneath." She blushed almost as red as the dress because it was just impossible—even in the soft candlelight of the restaurant everyone would see everything, her nipples, her belly button, her below. In the mirror on her dresser, even through two thicknesses, it was so sheer she could she the shadow of her… not just the shadow but the soft hairs. Maybe he'd let her shave. Was there time? But without the hairs, they'd see her… What a conundrum!

And then he was behind her, stroking her shoulders, kissing below her ear, caressing her breasts, and she could feel his firmness. She said, "Maybe we should just stay home," and he said, "No," and his fingers circled her nipples, and she said, "Won't you be embarrassed for me?" and he pinched both nipples, first together and then one after the other, and then both together again, and he said, "No, I'm proud of you. Now get dressed," and he stood there, watching.

It felt so good slipping over her skin, her breasts, her nipples, lower, and she shook herself and it slid down all the way, but enough inches above the knee that she was sure when she sat there wouldn't be anything keeping anyone from…

But no sooner had it settled all the way down than he lifted it up and his finger went in, and he told her to bend forward, and when she had her hands on the dresser, he went in, deeply, all the way in one smooth thrust, and he fucked her slowly, carefully, keeping her on the edge for the longest time before he allowed her to come, and when she started coming, she felt him coming, too, powerfully, silently.

She thought they would just go to bed then. Surely it was too late for the restaurant, but he said, "Put on your shoes." "Shouldn't I take a quick shower first?" she said, and he said, "No," and he swatted her on the butt, a good hard swat, and then he helped her balance while she put on her shoes.

At least she had a coat—it was February after all—and as they were walking out, she said, "I might leak," and he said, "That's why we're taking a cab," and when they were in the cab, he said, "Are you leaking?" and she said, "I think so," and he said, "Good," and he smiled at her in a way that made her blush.

At the restaurant she thought maybe she'd just keep the coat on, though how could she dance wearing the coat? But he took it off her shoulders right away and handed it to the check girl, and she was sure everyone was looking at her.

She walked to their table eyes straight ahead, and luckily theirs was in a dark corner. They sat side by side, and she lifted the menu to shield her breasts from whoever was out there, but eventually she had to put it down and order, only he ordered for her, and the wine was good, and the food was good, and his hand felt good on her thigh, and his fingers felt good on her button, so good she was on the verge of coming all through the meal, but he always knew when to stop, and she almost couldn't stand it—she almost didn't care if she came right there in front of everyone.

And then they were dancing, slow, slow dancing, with his hardness pressed right up against her, and in his arms no one could see her, she was completely safe, and he was whispering things in her ear, naughty things, and that plus the feel of his cock made her so hot she almost didn't noticed that he was pulling up her dress. She could feel the air on her bare bottom, and she could feel everyone's eyes staring at her ass, so she tried to shift so he'd let it down, but that only made it worse, as he shifted with her, and it was almost as if they were fucking right there on the dance floor, and she could have died of shame, even though she was so hot, and then she felt his finger exploring, and then she felt it opening her, pushing into her asshole, and while it was going in, he said, "I love you," and she came. He held her up, all through her orgasm.

When it was over, he picked her up and carried her back to the table—she couldn't have walked a step—and he said, "Do you want dessert?" "No, I want you," she said, and he said, "I'm glad."

In the taxi, she unzipped him and took him out and sucked him, and she didn't care if the taxi driver saw them or heard the rhythmic slurping, and when he came in her mouth, she swallowed most of it, and then she kissed him, and she kissed the semen that tried to escape, and in the house in the hallway two steps inside the front door she sucked him again until he was hard, and then she rode him, and she came five or six more times before he came again.

Upstairs he started to help her take off the red dress, but she said, "No, I'm going to wear it to bed," and they slipped under the covers, and he kissed her sweetly. "Thank you for a wonderful Valentine's Day," she said, and he chuckled softly and said, "You just wait until St. Patrick's Day."

story by Mat Twassel