Exposure

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said as she smoothed her skirt back in place, having revealed what was beneath to him.

He smiled in response. “Yes, you can. You absolutely believe it. I can see that you believe it, because your skin is flushed, your breathing is heavy, and I can make out your nipples through your shirt. You one-hundred percent believe you’re doing this. And it turns you on. If I were to slip my hand between your legs, you’d be absolutely soaking. And I would be able to feel it, wouldn’t I?”

“Yessss….” She said softly, in what was almost a moan.

He walked up behind her, pressing his crotch against her ass. He loved the firm, fleshy feel of her butt cheeks, and he ground his growing hardness against her as his arms went around her, hooking together just under her breasts. He leaned in to her neck, kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me? How I’m getting hard for you? How just the thought of what is under that skirt excites me?”

“Yes, I can,” she replied, her hand coming up to play with the loose curls of his hair. His short beard scratched slightly where his lips touched her, and the slight pricks only made her skin more sensitive. He let his hand just barely cup the underside of one breast, and squeezed lightly.

“Yes I can, what?” he asked as he applied a bit more pressure, squeezing not quite hard enough to hurt, but enough that she couldn’t possibly ignore it.

“Yes, I can, Sir.”

“Much better,” he replied. He kissed her neck one more time before he released her. “Now, we should get moving. We have dinner reservations to make.”

She watched as he slid from behind her to walk past her. The crisp white linen of his shirt was offset by the cufflinks he wore. The shirt was tucked into a pair of tight dark blue jeans, and even after years of being together, she still admired the way his ass looked when encased in denim.

When she made it down the stairs, he was already talking things over with the sitter, making sure that the children would have dinner and that the dogs would be tended. They expected to be home after the kids were asleep, but this was hardly the first time that the sitter had been there late. She was an old friend, more than capable of making herself at home while the couple was out of the house.

They left the house, and slid into the front seats of the SUV. He slid behind the driver’s seat, and she sat down carefully in the passenger’s seat, being careful not to let her skirt ride up too high as she did so. He chuckled at her awkwardness.

“Scared of putting on a show?” he asked.

“No. Well, yes. It’s still light out. Our neighbors are out and about.”

“The possibility excites me,” he said as he pulled out of the driveway. Once he had shifted the car back into gear, he put his hand on her leg, slightly above her knee. Her skin was bare where he touched her, and he could feel the heat radiating off her skin. His fingers edged slightly higher, trailing just at the edge of her skirt.

“Not here, not yet,” she said, putting her hand on his.

“Are you telling me no?” he asked. She had to stop to interpret his voice. She could stop at any time, of course. But the whole point of tonight was to let him set the terms and dictate what would happen. Did she really want to stop that this early into the evening?

“No, Sir. I’m not. Do what you want.”

He smiled as he squeezed her leg. He slid his hand slightly higher, resting his palm so that his fingers were under her skirt, but not yet up to being able to touch her between her legs. Yet. He didn’t say anything else as he continued to drive them to their favorite Indian restaurant. His teasing touch thrilled her, and she could feel the growing dampness between her legs. She hoped that she wouldn’t end up leaving a stain on her skirt as her juices began to flow.

“Do you remember when we first started dating?” he asked as he drove. “We were barely more than teenagers. How many nights did we spend making that long drive between cities, touching each other as we drove?”

“I don’t remember…. Lots.” She smiled with the memories. “I even went down on you as you drove once or twice.”

“I remember. Believe me, I remember.” Silence hung in the air for a minute as she thought about how close his hand was to her increasingly wet pussy. Was he going to start fingering her here? Now? With the sun still in the sky, driving into the downtown of the city, surrounded by cars on every side? She wasn’t sure if she was more scared of the possibility of him doing so, or the possibility that he was going to let her sit there, growing ever more excited, and then not touch her.

She got her answer as his hand stayed firmly, frustratingly in place, and before long she saw the restaurant where they had celebrated several milestones. They had eaten there for anniversaries, to celebrate when they discovered she was pregnant for the second time, in honor of his first book being published, and for a handful of other memorable date nights over the years.

His hand left her leg as he parked the vehicle, and as she gathered her purse, he hurried around to the other side to open her door for her. She laughed appreciatively at his display of chivalry as he offered his hand to her to help her out of the SUV, and took it gratefully, using her other hand to hold down the hem of her skirt.

He slipped one hand around her waist, hand resting on her hip possessively as he chuckled at her attempt at preserving her modesty. He led her in to the restaurant, where the hostess greeted them by name. “Your booth is ready,” she said as she led the couple back to a darkened semi-circular booth in the rear corner of the restaurant. It was still early in the evening, so the place was not overly busy, and with the shadows of the booth they were relatively isolated.

The couple sat down and she wondered when she should expect the next part of his surprise as they both perused their menus. She couldn’t help but be somewhat disappointed that his hands were both above the table, holding on to his menu, but she didn’t say anything as they discussed what to order. Before long the waiter came to their table to collect their orders.

“I’ll have the Lamb Curry,” he said as he placed the menu down, his left hand dipping under the table and resting on her leg, right where the edge of her skirt fell.

“Very good,” the waiter responded. “Hot, medium, or mild?”

“Hot,” he said. “And tell the chef to forget that I’m an American.”

As he spoke, his fingers began to slide up her thighs, knowing full well that she couldn’t say a thing or react without letting the waiter know exactly what his hands were doing. The only option she had was to try to pretend nothing was happening as his hand drew closer to her dripping wet sex.

“And to drink?”

“Water. And you have the Glenfiddich 18 Year right? We’ll each have one of those. On the rocks, for me.”

“And you ma’am?”

As the waiter turned his attention to her fully, her partner’s hand made its way all the way up her skirt, his fingers laying flat against her pussy. She wasn’t panty-less under her skirt – but the pair she wore were skimpy lace that were crotchless, so there was nothing between his fingers and the slick lips of her sex. So far, he wasn’t moving his fingers, just letting them lay against her aroused cunt, but she didn’t think that would last.

“I’ll take my whiskey neat,” she said as she felt a finger start to trace its way up the cleft between her legs, taking a moment to flick her clit before sliding back down. She had to wonder if he appreciated how her newly trimmed cunt matched the way she took her alcohol.

“And to eat?”

“The Chicken Tikka Masala. Mild. And tell the chef to remember that I am American.” She laughed at her own joke, which almost was enough to keep her from gasping aloud as she felt a finger penetrate her lower folds, swiftly slipping inside her, and then holding still. His finger wasn’t deep, probably no more than a half-inch, but she was still acutely aware of the insertion, and of how exposed she was under the table. Silently, she thanked all the gods that ever were for the tablecloth.

“Alright. Thank you. We’ll have that out for you shortly.”

As soon as the waiter walked away, the finger within in her moved deeper in, curling to stroke her G-spot. She bit her lower to lip to hold back a moan. As she felt him begin to finger-fuck her slowly, she brought her own hand under the table to grab his wrist.

“You can’t. Not in here.”

“Why not?” he asked. “No one can see what I’m doing. We’re just a couple sitting at a booth enjoying a date night out together to anyone who walks by and sees us. At least, that’s the case as long as you don’t give anything away.” He withdrew his finger from within her, and began to gently stroke her clit. She shuddered as she resisted another moan.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” he said. “But you don’t want me to. You just need me to not give you a choice about doing what you want to do anyway.”

She didn’t answer, partially because she didn’t trust herself not to audibly express her feelings of pleasure if she let herself open her mouth – and partially because she knew he was right.

“But, I’ll be kind,” he said as he withdrew his hand from under her skirt, letting it rest on her upper thigh. It was still too high to be appropriate if anyone saw, but it was at least less distracting. And less likely to cause her to leave a puddle on the bench of the booth.

“I’m not letting you off the hook,” he said. “But I’ll keep my hands out from under your skirt at least until we’re done eating.”

True to his word, the remainder of the meal passed with him only putting his hand on her leg. Putting it up distractingly close and high, but still outside of the skirt. His hand on her leg was enough to make sure the kept remembering how close he was, and how very exposed she was, and the thought kept her wet.

After dinner, they walked back to the SUV. The sun had gone down while they were inside, and when the turned the corner of the building to the parking lot, they found that they were alone. He took that moment to seize her, spin her so that her back was to the wall of the building, and press her against it hard, cradling the back of her head in his hand to protect her and also to guide her face to his as he kissed her savagely.

Pressed against her as he was, his body would obscure anyone’s view of her if they happened to see them. As his tongue explored her mouth his other hand slid between her legs, and pulling the front of her skirt up, his hand was on her – and then a finger, then two were inside her. She was wet and slick and her body was ready. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers fucked her. Her nipples were hard and ready as they pressed against him through their shirts.

“Fuck me,” she begged. “Right here. Right now. I don’t care who sees. Just please fuck me.”

He laughed darkly as he drew back. “I don’t think you mean that.”

“I do. I really do. Please.” Her hips bucked, driving her wet sex against his hand. “I need you inside me.”

“If you did, you’d be asking properly,” he said.

“Please, Sir. Please fuck me.”

“That’s better. But the answer is still no. For now.” His fingers exited her, and her pussy tightened, trying to pull him back into her, instead just feeling the emptiness from where he no longer was. “Get in the car.”

He turned away from her and began to get into the SUV, and she scrambled to pull her skirt down and to get into the passenger seat. Once in the darkened car, she turned her head to look at him. “Now what?”

“Lay the seat back,” he instructed as he started the SUV and put it into reverse. “And spread your legs.”

She eagerly complied with his request, and closed her eyes as she felt his hand move back between her outsplayed thighs. He was gentle as he fingered her, exploring every nook and cranny of her pussy, sometimes dipping into her, other times stroking the outside, sometimes rubbing his thumb in tight circles around her clit. In the isolation of their vehicle, she no longer stifled her moans, groaning with pleasure as he played her like a fiddle.

With her eyes closed and being focused on the sensation of his hand, she didn’t have any idea where they were going, and she was surprised when her eyes opened and she noted that they weren’t back home, but instead were in the back parking lot of a local metro park.

“Where are we?” she started to ask as he put a finger to her lips. She couldn’t help but taste herself on his fingertip, and her tongue darted out to take a quick lick.

“No questions,” he said as he began to unbuckle his seat belt.

“Are you going to fuck me right here in the car?”

“No.” He opened the door. “Follow me.”

Giggling she followed suit. As she closed the door behind her, he had circled around to join her. He took her hand and walked her down the path into the park. The park closed at dark, and the path had no illumination. Shortly they were alone, isolated in the darkness, surrounded by trees on either side of the path. Without saying anything, he pulled her off the path into the woods. They were still close enough that they could see the path, but wouldn’t be seen by anyone.

“I need to fuck you. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned her away from him, facing a sturdy looking tree. She leaned forward and put her hands on the trunk as he lifted her skirt and admired her nearly bare ass. There was a thin strip of lacy fabric separating her ass cheeks. His hand slid down the crevice, and pushed between the split in the panties where the open gusset was, and his fingers pushed into her hard.

“I’m going to fuck you. Right through your panties. Do you understand?”

“God, yes, sir. Please. Give it to me.”

She hadn’t even heard him undo his pants, but then it was there. His cock. Hard and insistent. Hot. Tip slick with own precum. Just slightly parting her pussy lips. And then he pushed forward, smoothly but unrelenting until he was buried within her slick wet folds. Her pussy spasmed, squeezing him within her.

For hours now, he had teased her. Making her aware of how her pussy was essentially bare under her clothes while they were out. And now he was inside her. Fucking her. Making her his again. Completely at his mercy.

At that moment? Everything was exactly as it should be. She was exposed. She was owned. She was home.

About the Author

Broken Unicorn has been a writer since he was a child, starting off writing decidedly non-erotic stories about superheroes. As he got older, he started writing erotica about superheroes, before eventually discovering his kinky side and writing about people who could live in the real world. He lives in the midwest, and is happy to live in a very full house that includes four humans and two dogs. He can be found under the profile Broken_Unicorn https://fetlife.com/users/8765084