Girl Crush

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2022 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; F/m; fpov; cuckold; chastity; oral; sex; cuffs; outdoors; strip; gag; rom; cons; X

This is just a quick little one-chapter fantasy detour from some of the other projects I have going on presently, inspired by a song that I heard recently and can't get out of my head; and written with some real-world characters. I hope that it entertains, constructive criticisms are always welcome…

…First off let me say that I never thought I'd ever be here myself, not that I don't get along with other women just fine, but most of my everyday friends and coworkers are guys; it's the nature of my business, it's also the nature of my flirty personality. There are reasons for this; perhaps it's that other women have this habit of stabbing me in the back, or maybe it's that I look and act a certain way, and that doesn't exactly endear me to the girlfriends and wives who think my friendly manner with their significant others is an implied offer for something more. Then of course there is what amounts to a theoretical open hall pass for that "something more" from my loving and understanding husband, so some measure of open availability - without perceived consequences on my end - perhaps is sensed by those ladies around me, as well as their attached and just as friendly guys. I'm there for the proverbial taking, but not by just anybody.

I might be subtly available to fool around with the right man, under the right circumstances, but we don't necessarily overtly advertise this aspect of our lives, and I don't really play with others all that often either. It's not necessarily our everyday go-to lifestyle, but an acceptable rare deviation from our externally more normal-looking relationship, for when abject sexual boredom sets in, in other words a temporary vacation from my wedding vows.

The fact that I can actually do this is ultra-exciting and taboo for me, the ultimate loving gift from my loving husband that keeps on giving as it were. A very long time ago - when we were still dating - he actually gave me a blank birthday card once, the kind that you ordinarily write your own heartfelt message in, but he gave it to me blank, and in private. I asked him about this, and he told me that my card wasn't blank at all, but that it contained anything I wanted that he could possibly provide, ANYTHING! he emphasized. How does one let a man like that ever slip away?

Anyway, for the observant person of either gender I think the clues might be there, as in my very loving husband almost always defers to my wishes; if I want something, I usually get it. Back in our teenage days this was crudely called being "pussy whipped," but one has to get the pussy, at least once in a while, to be truly whipped by one. He's a great guy and does all this for me because he wants to, not because he has to, there is a huge distinction in this for me.

At the same time, it would take an extraordinary set of circumstances for me to be that kind of interested in a spouse within our present circle of friends, but never say never, or so the saying goes. I'm most certainly not out to ruin anybody's life here either, just to maybe have some playful physical fun if it actually gets that far, if the mood strikes me, if our proverbial planets align… Anyway, I wouldn't exactly petition anybody to enter into this lifestyle themselves, it obviously takes the right two people to make it work, but we've been together and making this playful fun since we were teenagers, so we must be doing something right. This is not an "open" marriage in any shape or form, my husband is NOT allowed to stray, call me a hypocrite. He really doesn't want to though, but I don't exactly leave him wanting and needing either, at least not unless I'm specifically tormenting him for some playful sexy reason, then of course it's "game on." I can be a terrible tease with the proper motivations, but the rewards are extraordinary; this is after all playful fun for us…

I think that's the crux of the issue; this is impossibly fun for us. I get to be discreetly less than faithful and potentially try out something new - the rare times I'm in the mood for such and everything works out - and he gets a break in the action, a mini vacation from pleasing me as it were. We're sometimes slightly mismatched as far as sex drive goes, depending on my moods of course, but other than that perfect for each other.

This also does something for him far in excess of what is rational, or dare I say "normal," whatever the hell that is these days. He's been like this since he was a teen though, the pattern long established, and well before a common name was given to this "sharing" attitude that he has regarding me and other men. He's a serving man in a great many ways, a great provider, although allowing me to be served intimately like this - provided for physically - by another man is extraordinary, but not without precedent. This cuckolding kink is also apparently getting quite popular these days too, at least based on the volume of things I've read online. There are such creative ideas to be found there; wonderfully kinky things to experiment with, and I only wish that things like chastity cages were around back in our teenage days, but I digress…

My husband also has veto power on things, on the people I play with, something that he doesn't often exercise. One time early on he did though, and I can't say that I was one hundred percent happy with him for that at the time, but he just got a vibe from this one certain man, as it happens a married man. They were casual friends of ours, we went to their place, and he usually came to ours, alone though, as this was a logistical convenience for him; he drove by on his long commute, his stay-at-home wife many times left staying at home with the kids. Sometimes he stopped by when my husband was running late, but we didn't do anything, other than to trade some friendly smiles and just as friendly sexually tainted banter.

Physically he was unremarkable, not big and muscular or anything like that, nor likely hung like a pony, but he could make me laugh, he just had a wicked sense of humor like that, and a killer playful smile for me when we made discreet eye contact. It was really nothing but flirting at first, although I didn't really think through where this might lead, the collateral damage to a young marriage with children, and not our own. It was just playful innocent fun for me back in the day, shopping around just to maybe see if I could interest another like that, perhaps even to selfishly build my own confidence. Perhaps it was even the same for him, seeing what else was available to him on the menu, should he wish to take that next step? But, we never got that far for me to ask, for us to sort this out between us. Nothing physical ever happened between us though, despite this building chemistry we apparently shared it just didn't get that far before my husband shut it down cold…

So anyway, in the here and now we have these friends, Jamie and Kris, we'll call them. Anyway, Jamie doesn't do a thing for me, he's kind of a whiney sullen bitch to be honest, where I far prefer manly men who can still manage to laugh at themselves. Kris is just awesome enough on her own to balance the pair out though, as a married couple. As a couple it's like eighty five percent Kris, and fifteen percent Jamie; so he's like the residual left over part that physically comes along sometimes, one that one could potentially live without. Physically he's a good looking man, and trust me when I say that to look at him the raw elements are certainly there, but what's inside is just lacking from a certain perspective, and standing next to Kris he just seems so small and insignificant, even though he's a full-sized adult man. They "look" the perfect couple, but to know them it's obvious that they're incompatible, fire and ice, oil and water… you get the idea.

Not to be too philosophical here, but give me a skinny average looking man with average endowments, one with some intelligence and a great personality though, and a good heart too, and I could make something out of that, in other words have fun with a man like that. However, take a man with a killer body, one that maybe belongs bare chested on the cover of a romance novel, but is lacking character wise; and once the fun is done, out the door he goes. Truth be told, a man like that probably wouldn't get to the fun part with me anyway, but I digress…

So at some point, surprise, surprise, Kris decides that Jamie just isn't worth the effort, I get the feeling that there is some serious buyer's remorse there too, as they haven't really been married for all that long, nowhere even close to the proverbial seven year itch. She then sends him packing, it's her fine home that she inherited before he was ever in the picture, the lawyers to sort out the details, his parting-gift consolation prizes to follow… all for basically being the first handsome loser on the married to Kris game show. She could do better, and I told her so over coffee, but only after she had made her decision and Jamie moved on.

Decisions came easy to Kris, she was an up-and-coming woman in the business world, and Jamie had almost been like her slightly younger trophee-husband. Fun while it lasted maybe, but time to move on…

So, Kris doesn't need a man, she doesn't need anybody really, or at least I get this projected confident vibe from her over coffee. She feels very put-together, liberated, and complete to me now, despite lacking a life partner with which to share her good fortune with. It's like she was trying to swim upriver with a fifteen-pound sack of sand dragging her under, and she just tossed the heavy sack from her shoulders and turned around, and now she's free to go. I love the life that I've built, but I'm at the same time in awe of her. She's just a few years older than I am, but with what I know she's gone through lately it seems like the fire and pressure that forges a great sword; she's invincible, indestructible even, razor sharp and beautiful to behold… all in a single stunning irresistible package.

We make vague plans to go out, her and I, and then focus them on a dance club in the big city of all places. I think she's maybe on the hunt for some rebound guy fun, and she maybe wants me along as her wing-girl to watch her back. I'll do that in a heartbeat for a friend, just for the experience of going stag to a place like that too. I don't go shopping at such places for a playmate personally, but there is no denying the overall heart pounding, thumping bass sexuality of such a place when I'm taken there. It's the meat market, and most everything looks just yummy and on display there, the only thing left to sort out at the end of the night is who is going home - or out to the parking lot - with whom.

I don't like to do it like that personally, far too much risk for me, one-night stands and all that, plus it just feels trashy and not age appropriate. I don't mean to judge anybody else though, so please don't take offense. Anyway, I far prefer to get to know somebody first, build that passion up to the boiling point with flirting innuendo, as physically I'm quite certain at this point in my life that everything fits where it should, and works as it should too, although that special chemistry between two people still has to be there for me first. There is also the very real possibility that one could bring home something she might not want to, or accidentally hook up with a creep, so it makes sense not to be overly promiscuous for that reason as well; people who'll sleep with anybody will obviously sleep with ANY BODY in the heat of the moment, healthy and sane, or not.

"Won't your husband get jealous?" Kris asks with genuine curiosity in her tone, to which I honestly tell her no. So much for "everybody" knowing about my rarely used hall pass, I think to myself. This is actually good news, but on the other hand, if Kris perhaps thought she was being less than clear that our outing together wouldn't include my husband, this was also a way to clear up any misconceptions early on.

Kris just has this way of speaking, two meanings with one sentence more times than not. It's a very efficient way of communicating, but it forces the listener to pay very close attention. This is doubly so, as Kris isn't the loudest voice in the room, like ever…

"Really?" she asks, and her playful tone compels me to explain. Most people in our circle of friends aren't all that outwardly kinky, and it's obviously safer to keep such things to oneself anyway, and most certainly very far away from any kids. In the real world it's hard enough just to find that one special somebody that has similar, or better yet complimentary kink interests, like we both do, let alone adding a temporary third to that dynamic, one that doesn't think he'll be the new head rooster in my proverbial hen house.

As a result, this feels almost like a soul cleansing confession to share a little with Kris on this obviously private subject, and maybe there's even an element of my wanting to shock and impress her on some level too. I also get the feeling that sharing like this with her is safe, although I don't know exactly why I feel like this. In her career she handles other people's money though, lots of it, and that "trust me, I know what I'm doing here" feeling apparently comes through for me too. She's good at what she does, she makes other people money, with their money, and obviously some for herself too. How does one build real wealth? With other people's money! I think to myself, or so the old saying goes.

"Handcuffs, a paddle, a little chastity play even? I had no idea you two were such fun," Kris admits softly with a knowing smile, after I finished my confession. She's been smiling the whole time, it's a great smile, very warm, accepting, and attentive. Her words are for my ears alone though; I have to lean into her and almost read her lips to understand her, and this makes me very conscious of her mouth and lips as she forms the sounds. Some people speak very loudly to get your attention, where many times Kris nearly whispers, the natural fear that you might miss something important if you're not paying attention.

We're just two girls having some honest post-break-up girl talk over coffee in an upscale little coffee house, and while I initially thought maybe Kris could use the emotional support, I quickly come to the conclusion that she doesn't need a thing. Sitting there with her I've also recognized somebody that I've once "known," but he and I only make brief eye contact and exchange smiles, as he's with a lady friend and future second wife, but seeing him here still makes me smile. I don't like to play close to home for this exact reason, with a friend of my husband no less, but again there are always exceptions. My husband knew about that, he even suggested we go out together, as this friend of his was going through a very rough post break-up time of his own for a bit, and he needed somebody like me to talk to. But we did way more than just talk, with my husband's full consent; for almost a full year as it turns out. A year of on-again, off-again burning hot passion, and we're still friendly and social with each other, but I have to be extra careful that I don't spill the beans by being "too familiar" when we see each other around town. He has a new future wife and I'm very happy for him, and only slightly envious that I've lost a great playmate…

"He sounds just perfect; does he cook and clean too?" Kris asks playfully. I then get this little snapshot vision in my head of my own husband wearing only his little chastity cage and vacuuming Kris's house for her, like he's HER barefoot naked maid, all as she watches him work for her, and not me. Kris is a very confident, good looking and well-spoken woman; she could have almost anybody she might want, except of course for my own husband, as I'm not offering him to anybody, at least not today.

"When I want him to," I tell her warily. There is a lot going on for me at the same time here in this little place suddenly, and I know I have to be very careful and not send any conflicting signals. I'm hoping that this is a nuanced way to tell her that he's mine, I've invested my own time in building him, and I'm keeping him. He'll do those things, and quite a bit more actually, but I only want him doing them for me; I like the stability of having something known to come back home to after playtime is over.

I way didn't go to all this effort to share the fruits of my labors with "on the rebound" Kris, good friend in need or not. She's not really in need though, she literally has it all, and I can't forget that part either. I also know this wasn't the most loving and generous way to be with a friend, and my position may even one day change on lending my well trained and obedient husband out to a good cause like this, but at that particular moment, I just wasn't going there. What if he decided that the grass really was greener on the other side of the fence, Kris's side, despite his puppy dog-like loyalty? Objectively Kris has a lot to offer, it's a hell of a total package, to be perfectly and brutally honest with myself!

"No worries, I think I'm done with men, for a bit anyway," she tells me with a playful smile; we're communicating on more than one level here. Not many men can do this well, they're usually simpler and more direct when on the hunt for a mate, and I also usually appreciate this too, but then again, "when in Rome…"

Why go to a dance club with me in tow then? I ask myself logically. Kris seems to me almost like a heat seeking sex missile, looking for a fresh new target to lock onto. Although, she could still want to go to the club with me just to people-watch and see the proverbial sights and just dance. Best to clear this up early too though, I conclude in my mind.

"So, it will be a girl date then?" I ask just as playfully, exploring the concept verbally while trying to project some neutrality here. I'm quite relieved to hear she has no intentions for my own husband, or at least "stated" intentions anyway, but she had also just included him in her thoughts. I know intellectually that he's a rather unique hot commodity himself, but I might just need this kind of interest once in a while from another woman to remind me of such. I'm also getting just a little taste of what some of the other wives and girlfriends in our circle of friends might go through here, and I don't know that I like it; shoe on the other foot and all of that.

"Are you up for that?" Kris asks. It's just a few innocent words strung together in a coherent short sentence, but oh so much more is right there below the boiling surface. "Girl date" can obviously mean many different things, to many different people, but her questioning tone in asking this tells me which definition she's inclined towards. I'm suddenly focusing on her perfect lips as she forms her words, wondering what they might taste and feel like. I'm getting steamrolled by her overwhelming charm offensive, I feel it happening to me, all as I let it roll over me. I marvel at how easily she has done this to me, I've been verbally dominated, directed down a particular path, and I'm getting excited just thinking about that, about these new possibilities. We're not both competitors for my own rather unique husband at all, but he and she are suddenly both competitors for me, I'm the prize, or at least the potential prize should I continue with this girl-game of ours.

Think outside the box, try new and fun things, and have courage I think to myself. I didn't start out life like this at all, quite the opposite in fact, but since I've started living life like this it's been so much more fun, and I even get to share some of myself with others; and who doesn't like to share? My husband has in part made me like this, he's one in a million, and I owe him a million times over for the life he lets me have. I can't say I have much experience with being alone, but the girlfriends that I know that are, they'll share in their quiet moments that it sucks, not at all what they thought it would be when they separated, or decided to chase a career over human companionship; as if to prove that they could.

I've just been very smoothly asked out on a date though, and we've also established that while it's known that only one of us is presently attached, married in my case, my husband won't be coming along on this one. If Kris were a man, I'd have a pretty good idea what his endgame might be, especially once I'd been told nicely to leave my husband at home. Kris wasn't a man though; not the ordinary prospective extramarital lover to help me feed this sexual hunger I sometimes have for something new and exciting. I'm infatuated with her all the same though, and the lyrics of the song "Girl Crush" go through my head, the lead singer in that one has a rather captivating look as well.

…I've seen that black and white video maybe a dozen times, in it the lead singer has this sensual and sexy close up eye contact with the camera, and in it she's pouring out her heart in slow tempo, wishing she was the woman who stole away her love, wishing she had whatever that other woman must surely have over her. The lyrics are fantastic and simple, and oh so sexy to me, as is Kris rather suddenly, in a taboo "I shouldn't really want this" kind of way…

…It's an epiphany for me, but not an unwelcome one. Kris is moving from the friend column to the potential friends with benefits column, and over something uber innocent like morning coffee too. I'm blindsided, I never saw this coming to be honest; I didn't think I had it in me to be this kind of interested in another woman either. But Kris isn't just anybody, and I'm both flattered and surprised to be of interest to her, and I also feel the unique chemistry building between us. This "feeling" feels different to me, but there are still familiar elements to it. She has also adroitly maneuvered this conversation in the direction she desired, for HER intended outcome. I'm pretty confident that I prefer men, but I'm open minded and curious enough to see what Kris has in mind; to see where she's leading me. I can put the brakes on this anytime I like I tell myself foolishly, even with Kris the steamroller bearing down on me.

I find myself envious of Kris as well, wishing I had whatever she surely must have over me. Not that she's going to easily steal away my well trained and obedient husband like in that sexy song, but I'm captivated by her all the same, and I just HAVE to accept this date, I HAVE to see where she wants to take things with me. It's maybe still just two women going out to a dance club for a night of flashing some flesh at this point, or maybe the start of something rather unique and unexpected. If it's the latter she's the huntress, and I'm the prey, but I'm far more accustomed to hunters instead, I generally know how they think, and what they're after. I also have a somewhat dominant personality at home, but with other lovers I generally like to submit, to be taken, at least once between the proverbial sheets with them; it's complicated to be me, or no doubt doubly so to be "with" me, either dating wise, or most especially marriage wise…

…I'll offer a little analogy here; when we go out to eat as husband and wife, I never order meatloaf. I love my husband's meatloaf, he's been making it the exact same way for years, but I can have meatloaf, at home, as often as I like, or as often as I dare with my waistline to consider. I'll instead order something different, and a mixed drink that my husband wouldn't ordinarily make for me either. In other words, I go out to have "new and different," not what I can have at home, and I don't go out with other men for sweet tender love making either, as I can have that at home anytime I like as well. Sweet love making possibly leads to falling in love, where hot passion leads to even hotter passion, rougher, more satisfying copulation, or so goes my working theory…

When I'm in a sultry and needy enough mood I sometimes even catch myself sending a signal of open availability; eye contact, a smile, a casual touch on a man's upper arm maybe while he speaks, even my overall close snuggly body language that I don't fake in the least. I just let my body do what it wants to, give in to the moment. Certain men pick up on that kind of thing like it's in their DNA, but it has to be the right man and the right circumstances, and this is only the opening act. I may have physical needs, but I try not to be slutty about them for several very good reasons. My own husband is often the end recipient of this hunger and lust formed elsewhere, the old saying "It doesn't matter where you get your appetite; so long as you come home to eat" comes to mind. I have an open hall pass so I don't necessarily HAVE to come home to eat though, although I don't really use it all that often. But, that being said, sometimes I'm away from home and very, very hungry, and I just don't want meatloaf.

There is an obvious chemistry to desire and availability too, and for whatever biological reason I seem to give this off in volume when I have this sexual hunger and need boiling within. Call it sexapeal, pheromones, projected lust, poor self-control even, call it anything you like, it's a real and natural thing though, and I'd have trouble turning it on or off at will. Men, I think, give something like this off too, the ones who are interested at any rate. I assume this is how speechless cavemen and cavewomen hooked up, back in the day, so as to make plenty of little cave babies.

Anyway, I don't know how exactly this chemistry works between women, if I'm sending something - pheromone wise - that Kris is picking up, or if she's doing the same to me? But, sitting there together in that little coffee shop I have to fight the urge to reach across that small table just a little further and kiss her, right there in front of everybody. Her lips look fantastic and inviting, as does the rest of her, even in her conservative dress and heels. I'm ultra-focused on her lips though, on that sensual mouth of hers as she forms every word… the ones that I find myself hanging on like a clingy puppy. It's almost erotic verbal foreplay just watching her form her words, it's like she's doing this in slow motion, or exaggerating her speech as she surely must see the direction of my interest.

I then take the next logical step and wonder what those pretty lips would feel like nursing on one of my breasts, all as I lay pinned under her on her bed, skin on skin, lust on lust. I've just never thought of such things with another woman, sure I've seen some very attractive women in my travels, Kris being one of them, but I never thought to myself "hey, she's hot, I'd like to sleep with her!"

My buds get rock hard with this fresh thought anyway, and I'm very aware of them, almost painfully so. My sex as well is getting to be a squishy mess, and I feel my face flushed with desire as my respiration gets shallow and quick; my body almost hyperventilating itself to ready it for action. If Kris somehow missed the first two signs, she couldn't help but to see the third and fourth; couldn't help but to see what a turned-on hot mess she's made me, just by asking me out on a girl-date. I feel like a teen getting asked out to a movie for the very first time, or maybe a first kiss, it's that powerful for me.

I suddenly become aware that I haven't said anything for quite a few seconds, and Kris drags me back to the here and now with those magnificent lips of hers…

"Still with me Jackie?" Kris asks playfully with that million-dollar knowing smile, again multiple meanings in almost every word. She has to know what she's just done to me; like a huntress stalking and toying with her quarry before going in for the kill. I feel what's happening, but Kris is just so powerful in this setting that I'm overwhelmed by her dominating take-charge character. I'm hers for the taking; most men would kill for this kind of power over a woman, and here she's done this to me effortlessly. I'm a sexual being though, a near toy under the right circumstances, so perhaps she's somehow picked up on this. My confessed level of kink with my husband has to have been a major clue, but those also imply that I like the top position in a relationship, and Kris is obviously second to nobody. She now knows that I play some very adult games, I've told her as much, and now she's invited herself to play along with me, the rules perhaps to be determined as we go along. What an adventure, I tell myself, I just hope I'm worthy enough to play…

"Pardon me, I was daydreaming to be honest." Here I've put myself in a lower social position in her commanding presence; demoted myself, submitted. I've asked for her pardon, to excuse my lacking behavior, or attention; almost inviting rebuke. This may be a subtle thing in this particular environment, but Kris is paying very close attention to me, like a poker player at a high stakes table in Vegas with a lot of chips on the table. I'm like the most important thing in the room to her, and I feel honored because of this, her sole focus is on me. I know for a fact that there are several very attractive people of both genders here in this little place with us, coming and going, but I realize that her focus is on me alone. The heat seeking sex-missile has maybe found a new target to lock onto.

"I'm up for whatever you are,” I quickly clarify while putting Kris verbally on top even further, so that she doesn't think that my hesitation is indicative of anything but interest. My earlier words have also invited her to ask as to what I was daydreaming about, but I'm happy that she hasn't, as this would either force me to lie to her face, or be far more candid that I might like at this early stage of the game. What if I'm mistaken and this is a different game, or I don't measure up? I wonder, self-doubt is one of my biggest weaknesses that I come back to time and again. Some people might look in the proverbial mirror and see what's right, where I look in the mirror and see what's wrong, again it's complicated to be me; to walk around in my skin.

Not exactly the very best choice of words either, if one wants to be subtle, I think to myself, but once said, they can't easily be unsaid. I've just gifted myself to her with words, but I was slightly flustered, and this caused me to blurt out a truth, instead of a more thought-out deliberate answer that one might give to an equal, or to protect their fragile ego should they be mistaken. I am not Kris' equal though, she's just so much more than I am, and we both know this; so why pretend otherwise?

"Oh, I'm going to hold you to that girlfriend, but I promise you this too, we'll both have a very good time together."

"Girlfriend?" Technically we are girlfriends, but her tone and context tells me she means this in terms of possession, as in her exclusive girlfriend I realize. I'm not put off by this in the least, it's just not what I expected to happen when I got up this morning, but opportunity has many forms, and anybody, male or female, could do much worse for themselves than a date with stunning Kris.

With our plans roughly made Kris gets up, signaling the official end of our coffee shop date. She has what she came for, and other things to do for the day; as do I. Kris is physically leading, and I'm following her out the door half a step behind, without really thinking about it too much either. It just feels so natural to follow her, and I wonder about this. Maybe I've been far too hard on Jamie, maybe no man could measure up to Kris, be the equal to her full-on character, the realization is a second epiphany for me on this one extraordinary day.

We hugged each other goodbye before parting and gave each other a kiss on the cheek. I left thinking that this didn't go anything like I expected it might, but I'm not exactly disappointed either…

There are rituals to "date night" in our home, my understanding husband wanting to know who the new lucky guy was and all of that. He knows I haven't been "seeing" anybody new lately, so this Saturday night date I now have, out of the blue, came as a shock to him. He likely assumed that it was someone that I already knew, maybe somebody who was in town again, somebody that I already had an established history with. In this he was both right, and wrong.

…What I did to him when I got home a few days earlier, right after Kris and I had our coffee house get together, also took him by surprise though. I pretty much walked through the door, told him to follow me, and walked towards our bedroom, tossing my clothes off on the floor in a trail behind me along the way.

I got him on the bed with a shocked but very lucky look on his face, my single finger to my lips warning him not to say a word. Words at this point will only potentially crash the mood, and we've both been there and done that more than once. It's summertime and the windows and shades are open, but I just don't care at the moment, our neighbor's lawn mower can even be heard running in the background someplace close by.

He's trying to get his shorts off, knowing instinctively that I'm in heat, knowing that I need something urgently from him, but not what specifically got me so flustered. I've done this before to him, although it's been a while. But, when I'm dating another man he's usually cut off, or at least heavily restricted from sex with me, and sometimes he's even cutoff from himself if I decide to chastity cage him up. So, this is a curveball for him to be sure; it breaks the established pattern in our rather unique relationship, but to his credit he readily adapts. Men are like that, they'll do almost anything for the prize, but we women can be like that too sometimes, in these modern liberated times. Anyway, he's not getting his shorts off fast enough for me, so I roughly help strip his lower half, the part I'm most interested in at the moment. My nails accidentally draw blood on his thigh, but I don't hear a whimper of complaint from him. His erect man parts are all ready to go, standing tall and proud on the launch pad. I then swing a leg over him and mount up, roughly using my own ringed left hand to get him to the proper squishy place, before sinking down on his full length in one stroke.

I then ride my poor husband like an angry jockey beating a lazy horse, using his body as nothing more than a warm human sex toy. This isn't anything close to "making love" either, just rough and raw passion seeking conclusion, and he even has a pretty good idea that he's not the reason for this full-blown lusty heat that I'm presently in. I don't necessarily hear any complaints though, but he can only possibly last so long like this, the rhythmic slap, slap, slap of our bodies coming together repeatedly sounding quite loud and obscene… and far too soon for me he scrunches up his face and pops off. He's given me several rather nice little teaser orgasms though, where he usually struggles to give me even one, without having to go down on me. "Having" to go down on me is a misnomer though, because he absolutely loves to do that, but what man doesn't also love to do this? I'm even doing all the proverbial work for him, and apparently giving a semi-private show all at the same time!

My once and done man is spent and deflating far too soon, and if there is one thing in the whole world that I could change in him it would be this; other men can go again, and then again after that, especially if they're younger. Older men can "generally speaking" last longer, and younger ones can go again, but there are also exceptions to every rule, and I'm literally mounted on top of one of them at that very moment. As I've said, I'd like to change that one little thing, but not at the cost of losing any of his other fine attributes, nor his sharing attitude. Nobody's perfect either, certainly not myself, or so my mirror reminds me every morning.

"Thank you," I tell my loving husband. I have way more in there, I always do these days, and if I was even slightly interested in big old Bob pushing his little noisy lawn mower around his yard, sweating through his ginormous tee shirt, sandals, black socks and all; I'd hop his fence and go over there just as I am and rape his ass next, right on his front lawn. But I'm not quite that desperate either, and while my loving husband has a perfectly adequate single-shot endowment, his oral skills are simply the best ever. I'd like him to go down on me, to finish what I started with him, but he's also just shot his big load deep inside of me, and motivating him to do that is sometimes a challenge, post orgasm.

There is also the matter of the time of day, and I'm not really wanting to make him do that for me, as I don't exactly feel and smell just-showered fresh. The whole room in fact smells like sex, open windows and all. I'd like to have him go down on me for like an hour, but with the sharp edge ground off my lust I can live with things as they are. The fire might not be fully extinguished, but it's manageable, and truth be told he didn't start this particular fire either.

"Do you mind getting my clothes while I jump into the shower?" I ask reasonably, as if the last three minutes or so of high energy passion hadn't just happened. I bend over while still in the mounted jockey position atop his deflated self to give him a kiss, to soften my request, that's really not a request at all, wondering when the last time was that I used him like a tool without even a single kiss first. He's an intelligent man, smart enough not to ask any questions even; smart enough not to look this particular "gift horse" in the mouth, even after our spirited brief ride. I had a lust that obviously formed elsewhere, I brought it home with me, and he just helped me partially sate it without a single question; this something that just wouldn't work for most "normal" couples. It would be a blowout argument for most, or at the very least the subject of a serious discussion later on.

"I don't know why you even put up with me?" I ask far more seriously than I intended.

"Because you're perfect, and this is fun, and I'd do anything for you," he replies. I'm way far from perfect, but I'm happy with this fallacy of his. "I'd do anything for you;" as in I'd do anything to "keep" you, or anything simply because you asked for it and I can? I catch myself wondering, perhaps a thought best left for another day though, one where my thoughts aren't clouded by lusty hormonal imbalance.

I bounce off of my supine husband and stretch for the ceiling reflexively as he watches, the windows still open, and his minor mess temporarily contained, although Bob's lawn mower is still running in the background. I suddenly come to realize that there is no doppler shift now though, it's stationary. I snap my head reflexively to the right to see why, only to see Bob looking right back at me through the windows from his side of the fence, before quickly turning his own head in chagrin and moving on. I hope he liked the quick show I think to myself, probably seen from my hips up at least, based on his relative position to my own and our marital bed.

I look back towards my husband, "the sheets too please," I tell him, seeing the girl mess I've left behind, feeling it's wet chill creep down my inner thighs; so much for it being contained. I don't know if he saw the look that Bob and I just exchanged, as he was still down low on his back on the bed at that point in recovery, but just for fun I decided to keep that to myself for a little bit.

Sex like this wipes him out and relaxes him in the short term, and I know without my intervention and direction he'd likely want a nap to recharge his batteries. A part of me is envious of that, as it takes a whole lot more than what we just did to get me to that same wonderful state of relaxed nirvana; this just the warm-up act for what I really need, hence my desire for a stand in energetic lover every once in a while. What may sound just wonderful to some is sometimes a curse to be perfectly honest, I having enough sexual energy for two men at times, and even once four…

"You're going clubbing… with Kris?" my husband asked incredulously, but only over dinner when I told him about my day. We usually do that over dinners, tell each other about our day, it makes the time we're apart seem not quite so distant. If I've caught somebody's eye during the day, or if I've had a playful flirty exchange with somebody, I tell him that too. I don't keep secrets like that, and I think there's something in him that likes it when other men find me desirable, as if he lives vicariously through their taboo desire for me, or maybe he's just proud to have something that others want too. Sometimes this makes our sex just ultra-hot, like he's physically competing with those other men for me, even though we have an understanding that I can do what I want, without consequence. I think that makes it especially hot too, knowing I could do something outside of my marriage anytime I like, having that kind of sexual freedom, but coming home anyway.

"Every guy there will be all over you two," my non-jealous husband opines, he's excited by the prospect, it's in his tone; but I wonder to myself if that's how it will really go. I'm used to being the focus, certainly when I'm out with my husband I am, or even if I'm out on a date with somebody else, their attention and desire for the prize is very good for my ego. I'm then reminded of Jamie, standing next to Kris, and how he looked standing there in her proverbial shadow. Would I look the same; slightly pathetic, small, and lacking, in comparison to magnificent her?

My husband is not thinking Kris and I are going on this "date" together, even though I've specifically used those words when I told him such, but I can't hardly blame him for this as I have a hard time going there myself. I'm not entirely certain if he knows that it was Kris that had me so flustered when I came home and basically raped his ass, some things better left unsaid. If he specifically asked, I would tell him, but thankfully he hasn't.

He's been caged up in his little metal chastity device since that afternoon romp though, again this is slightly out of what is normal for us; I'm not presently dating and seeing another man, getting to know him, to perhaps get to know him even better. Sometimes dates are just business companionship over dinner, and they don't lead to that next-step chemistry that is necessary for me, but dates are also a fun distraction too, especially when my husband is traveling for work, or I am. We do that a lot, it makes my play time that much easier, and discrete, when either of us is out of town.

Anyway, to further confuse things for him I'm in the bath, doing preparatory things that man dates sometimes require, shaving my legs and all of that. Club dresses show a fair amount of skin by design, so this isn't exactly a red flag for him, but other things are. He notices this when he visits me in the bath to bring me a glass of wine, but he doesn't say a thing. I saw his eyes though, and the unasked question on his curious face. I asked for the wine specifically so that he could see this before he dropped me off at Kris' house, just to play with his mind a bit.

Caging him up also makes him uber compliant, and ultra-sensitive to my needs, and a selfish small part of me might even like to keep him like this permanently, although even a good device with smooth edges has its limitations on how long it can be worn without injury. Permanent chastity would also unfortunately deprive me of his manly talents, and I have no serious desire to do that, not to mention that such surely wouldn't be all that fun for him in the long term either. If I truly wanted him to, he would likely let me cage him for the rest of his life, but I have no desire for that…

My car is at the shop for service, and I could easily use his little one and leave it at Kris's house, stranding him home. And while that might also be playful fun to do sometime, I just don't want to this time. Kris is handling the transportation, again like a real date, my husband to drop me off at her place, deliver me really, dressed to party at the club. Kris tells me she has a surprise for me, but asks me to leave my rings at home, as her surprise and my rings will clash with each other. I don't know if she means metaphorically clashing, or jewelry wise.

I leave my rings home when I'm dating a man anyway, the act of my taking them off and leaving them on my nightstand always getting my husband's attention, giving him that cuckold angst that's so hard for him to explain rationally. He gets something from that little simple painful act though, I see it in his eyes every time, even though I don't entirely get it. An "I love hating it" kind of thing maybe?

I make a big show of doing so this time as well, telling him with a playful smile that Kris apparently wants me single for tonight. This is another woman making this request though, so I don't know that it directly translates in his cuckold's mind like it would if I were doing this for another man. I've had just a few actual extramarital lovers over the years, but many dates - many even legitimately work related - so while this is still somewhat unique for us, there is still a routine, but many times all this preparation doesn't lead to sex. I like to submit to the right man, to be a submissive playmate, but I also can say no if I want to; again, I can be quite complicated and this game we play has many facets, as do I.

Hair, makeup, matching club dress and heels, sheer black demi-bra and matching tanga that won't print through last year's tight little sequin dress; my husband takes it all in with a hungry smile, telling me without words that he thinks he's the luckiest guy on earth. I'm wrapped up like this for somebody else though, and still more will be watching and wanting to dance, and possibly even bump and grind on me while doing so. Maybe even an especially bold and confident one will want more than that, especially without my rings; although that stops almost nobody these days, especially in a big city dance club. I think some guys actually get off on that, borrowing another man's wife, but why wouldn't they?

I have a little matching clutch with me, black sequin everything, and in it I have my phone and my license so that I can get in, a single credit card and some cash and lipstick just in case, although I don't anticipate buying all that many drinks. I also have a single little key, it's duplicate mate safely locked in our safety deposit box at the bank, just in case. This is called traveling light, as to carry a for-real handbag to such a place just won't do. I feel almost half naked when I walk to my husband's car like this, but that's the idea really, such places put you on display, and others on display too, it's part of the charm.

If big Bob is peeking from next door though, or anybody else is, they'd see me dressed up sexy to go out, and my husband not; telling them that I was going somewhere looking desirable like this without him, as would my husband coming back home shortly afterwards without me. Maybe that's why Bob was peeking in my bedroom window in the first place, earlier in the week; realizing that something unique was up with his younger neighbors?

Anyway, it's a short drive across town to Kris's side, the more affluent side, and while I'd not want to walk it in what I'm presently wearing, I could jog or even walk it if I was both of a mind to, and properly attired. This is a million dollar plus neighborhood, and you can buy quite a bit in this town for that kind of money, my husband's little easy to park commuter car is seriously out of place here. There are some very nice homes here obviously, big fenced in yards with gates and pools, and hot tubs in the backyard even. The electric driveway gate is already open, and Kris lets me in the front door, but my chauffeur-like husband stays in the car and only waves to her at the door. She's dressed to go already, and wow, she looks magnificent. My husband obviously thinks so too, because I caught his smile, but I can hardly fault him for this. He's obviously allowed to look at other women, but I really don't know how often he does.

We both know Kris obviously, but not wrapped up and presented exactly like this, in a skintight mid-thigh mini club dress and serious heels, with her hair just done at the salon. For all I know he might want to get home quickly to spank one off just thinking about her in that little almost nothing dress, except of course for that device I have him locked in. It's the great manly equalizer though, it forces him to behave himself, and to focus on me instead. Kris and I kiss each other lightly on the cheek in greeting at the door so as not to smear anything, my husband also likely seeing this, but kissing another woman on the cheek is friendly, not sexual.

He didn't see her hand possessively on my ass guiding me inside though, but I most certainly felt it, no ambiguity there at all for me. It's like my forbidden girl crush lust has picked up right where it left off in the coffee house, but with additional physical confirmation this time, and only a single logical direction to go.

We have not coordinated our dresses though, mine a very classic black that I've had for at least a year, and Kris' a stunning brand new blue number. Together we'll look like a bruise, she argues, walking a fine line in critiquing my sexy clothes, without critiquing me personally. Not a lot of women could do this with me as I'm very sensitive about my appearance. It's a confidence thing that I struggle with, perhaps my interest in other men is like a kind of self-therapy, done to convince myself that there is nothing wrong with me, that I'm still desirable to others, despite my own husband telling me this all the time. I objectively don't really think I look all that bad, and certainly the men I've known don't think so, but I also attribute some of that to my friendly available attitude and smile.

"What's the difference between a five and a ten?" My guy friends used to joke back in the day. "A ten is a five that smiles at you and actually wants to talk, wants to be with you."

"I have something that would look even better on you," she tells me, but not with mean or evil intent. It's Kris's fine home, and therefore her closet is obviously here too, but she instead is maneuvering things so that I'll change to suit her. I see this happening, but just like at the coffee shop, I let it. Spandex club dresses are not sized exactly like other dresses, as in, there is some overlap in the sizes as they stretch with you to accommodate dancing movements. They look hot and painted on too if the body underneath is up to such a shape flaunting display, and Kris's is. With all that being said, I don't know if a dress bought to fit Kris will do me justice, as she's a taller woman than I am. My breasts are bigger though, and things cut to flatter her, might not look all that good on me as a result. I also need fuller on top, to hide the bra that I most certainly need if I wish to dance and move about.

Kris is confident though, and she half drags me by my ringless left hand towards her bedroom and massive closet, it a huge walk-in the size of the guest room in my own more humble home. She even has a loveseat in there, and an entire wall of shoes. I'm blown away and overwhelmed by this, a single "wow" escaping my lips. She even has a chandelier in her massive closet, giving the room the feel of a high-end boutique! I feel my envy, but I'm also happy with my own life choices, these are just things I tell myself, but they're nice things too.

"A little overindulgent?" Kris asks almost apologetically, seeing the look on my face. It's the first hint of anything approaching self-doubt that I've ever heard from her. I've been to her house before, my husband and I both have, but I haven't seen this, nor her palatial bedroom. The two together, along with the attached ensuite, look the size of the entire top floor of my own home. But Kris is also sharing something private with me, like I've shared with her, and it would be both rude and poor form to be even slightly critical about what amounts to a very fine and well stocked closet I think to myself.

"Not at all," I tell her, trying to keep my envy at bay. I'd maybe have something like this if we could swing it, if we had the house for it too. If I specifically asked for such a thing I know my husband would find a way to provide it, but likely at the cost of something he might like for himself, or still more hours at work, and therefore away from home. I don't necessarily want to pay that price personally, and I don't know that I go out all that much so as to need something extravagant like this anyway, but it's fun to dream.

First Kris selects the exact same dress that she has on, but one size smaller. She tells me that she bought two, as she wasn't sure of the exact size and didn't want to try them on in the store. I tell her that we'll look like twins if I go this route, although not really, I think to myself, as Kris looks very very good in her's. Then she comes up with a little number almost the exact same color, with skin revealing cutouts all over it, up the leg and beyond on both sides, so that pretty much nothing can be worn under it without showing, or so I assume. It's shredded looking, but sexy as hell hanging there on its hanger, but that doesn't mean it will be sexy on me. I don't know that I have the courage to go out in something like this, or for that matter the body for it either. It's summertime too, so I haven't brought a long coat with which to cover up with, potentially saving some modesty until we actually parked the car and got where we were going.

The dress has a quasi-bra-like area built into the top part - there being slightly less cuts in that one area - but seeing as I can't wear my own real bra with something like this, I know I'll still roll and flow as I move around in it. It's cut as well is made to draw attention to the wearer's chest, side boob and all, and I don't necessarily need to do that, as my chest speaks for itself, whether I want it to or not. Does Kris want to present me like this to show me off, as in "look what I brought with me boys?" Or, does she want to wrap me in something like this so that she doesn't get all the attention for herself; with nothing more than friendly mercy in mind for the less stunning of the two of us?

"I don't know," I tell her, not really liking either option.

"You've got one hell of a body, you should flaunt it just a little," she tells me, and her girl-on-girl compliment, especially coming from her perfect lips, carries some additional weight for me, and I feel myself smile.

"You're not going to the supermarket you know," she further justifies, nudging me down the path she has already chosen for me to take.

She's right obviously, I'm going out on a girl date, with Kris, who is quite sexy and hot herself. Just submit and give into the moment; let her dress you anyway she likes I tell myself. Men I've known, to include my own husband obviously, have made certain requests over the years, clothing wise, and otherwise as well, and I've done many of them, and that has for the most part turned out quite fine for me. It's nice to be dressed up and shown off too, it makes me feel "owned" in a very good way.

"I'm yours for the night, dress me however you like," I offer in full verbal submission, as if I've just formally gifted myself to her. If this is a victory of some kind for her, she doesn't let on, which actually makes me happy; because if she's just won something, that implies that I've just lost something. She has to look at me, be seen with me, she's therefore invested in this display of mine too, I reason.

"Put it on," she tells me firmly, handing me the one with all the holes in it. I think she just might have the full measure of me, knowing I respond best to direction like this. But only when away from home; how strange is that? But then again, we're not exactly going out for meatloaf here, are we? Both the dress I'm wearing, and the one I'm about to model for my date have a short zipper from the neck down, but in the back, so that you can get into and out of it without wiping out your hair. My hair as well covers the zipper, so it all but disappears.

My husband had zipped this dress up himself, and here Kris is unzipping it and "helping" me out of it not fifteen minutes after he delivered me to her on her porch for our girl date. Her touch is electric to me, but gentle, this certainly not the rough and frantic way a new man would get me out of my dress in his haste to copulate, assuming he just didn't push it out of the way if the passion was high enough.

I expected to be wearing this dress at least until late tonight, my rather well-fitting matching lingerie a potential hidden surprise for my date, if I hadn't misunderstood and things got that far along. If not it would be there and waiting for my husband to remove from me instead, so from my point of view, still a win, win. If I came home to him from my girl date with Kris all horned up and needy again, maybe even a win, win, win!

Kris's words have emboldened me, pumped me up with confidence. Where I was earlier feeling just a bit self-conscious about standing next to stunning Kris - she being so well turned out in her fine dress and heels - I now find myself wanting to show off what I bring to the proverbial table; proving somehow that I'm worthy to stand next to her. She has me out of my dress far more easily and naturally than any man ever, other than perhaps my own husband, and I feel this.

"Oh, it should be a crime to hide a body like that!" she tells me, and without thinking I pirouette before her in my matching heels and lingerie, displaying myself proudly so that she can get the full effect. Club dresses don't exactly "hide" one's body by design, but her words have the desired effect on me anyway. I've gone from self-conscious to proud in record time, all with a few well-chosen words of praise, and Kris's body language. Girl on girl she likes what she sees, this far more than mere acceptance for me, and a serious ego boost.

"You won't need that with this," she tells me, snapping my bra's band from behind while I'm facing away from her, as if to clarify what "that" she was talking about. Easy for her to say I think to myself, her perfect little model's breasts might not even need one.

This is still just a bit more skin-on-skin contact, but it's welcome, and I feel myself smile. I might still "need" my bra in that, or pretty much any other dress for that matter, especially if I expected to move around, but I won't be able to wear it with this one. Her smaller champagne glass-like endowments made this a better option for her than I, but she bought this dress, allegedly, for her body type, and not my own. This doesn't explain why the tag is still on it, or why it's sized closer to what I'd wear than her, but no matter her motivation for buying it, I appreciate that she's lending it to me. This isn't a cheap dress either - I can see the price on the tag and feel the quality - but one from a well-known store and designer. I've gone on "retail therapy," excursions myself though, and with what she's been through lately, who could blame her for doing the same?

There are mirrors in more than one place inside Kris's elaborate closet, and in the one in front of me I catch her playful smile high over my shoulder as she stands tall behind me. If I looked like Kris does, and had all these nice clothes at my disposal, I'd have a bunch of mirrors too though. I suppose I could go someplace else, excuse myself, to go try on this new dress she's lending me, after I strip out of my bra, but I think that'll be rude, and send a message I might not want to send.

I'm not sure where this night will end just yet, but Kris is leading, and I'm following, even to the extent that I'm letting her dress me for display like an in-store mannequin. It's this unknown, this excitement with hooking up with somebody new that I really enjoy. Not necessarily the strictly mechanical aspects of copulation - although that's just wonderful and physically necessary too - but the innuendo, the hunt itself, the "do you wanna?" body language and eye contact, and the gentle touches that convey desire. I love my husband, but I really love that he lets me have this, this extramarital experience. He has my heart exclusively, although others have tried to wiggle in there over the years, but he's still willing to share the physical me with others despite this; discreetly, respectfully though. He's a sharing man, but not a wuss, and everything that happens has to be respectful of him. He won't tolerate any less, and neither will I. What happens playfully "in the game" is different, but these lines can get a bit twisted and hard to follow sometimes, lust for another a terrible, terrible distraction…

We're still just two girls getting ready for our girl date at this point, lending and borrowing clothes like we all did when we were teens, and this takes me back to a more innocent and fun time. I smile at her in the mirror as she stands over my shoulder, crossing my arms and cupping my own boobs as she watches hungrily from behind, asking her if she could get that for me.

Kris gets the three stacked hooks for me with both hands, where my husband is quite good at doing this one handed, even through a shirt… ever since we were teens. There is an ulterior motive for Kris's two-handed approach though, as her hands follow the straps around, her fingers tickling me all the way to my side boobs as she "helps" me out of my bra. I complete the mission for her and slide it off my arms myself, resisting the natural inclination to cover up with my hands, or cross my arms in front of me protectively. Her tickling touch in combination with the chill of fresh flesh exposed has me nipping out for her, but I don't hear a word of complaint.

"Girlfriend, if I had those I'd never get dressed, or wear a bra," she tells me, inflating my ego even more.

"They're too big," I tell her, echoing a deep self-doubt that I've had since middle school. Girls without envy girls with, it's probably always been like this, but some girls can also be cruel too.

Kris could easily take bodily control of me and spin me around so that I was facing her - and I'd let her - but she hasn't, settling for my fontal mirrored reflection in just panties and heels instead. A man would almost certainly do this in similar circumstances - take manhandling control physically, spinning me around to see and get what he wanted - where Kris hasn't. So, while she's still the predator huntress here, there are subtle differences between her and the hunters I've been with. I like to be manhandled sometimes, but I like this slightly softer approach too, especially coming from Kris.

I put my arms up in mock surrender and start to wiggle into my borrowed and strategically shredded expensive dress, grateful for Kris' help, as without it both my hair and makeup would be trashed, not to mention that I might put an arm through one of the tears instead of a sleeve. There is no good way to get my substantial assets into the bra part without some hands-on stretching help, but between the both of us we got it on properly and zipped up in the back, cinching it up tight. A few more tugs after that and it's about as good as it gets, left looking like nothing more than boobs and legs in a short strategically ripped dress, or so goes my critical self-assessment in Kris' mirror.

"Wow, that looks way hotter on you than it ever possibly could on me," Kris tells me in praise, redirecting my self doubt instantly.

"You could so rock this," I tell her, thinking to myself, a rising tide lifts ALL the little boats together…

"So you say, but I'll never wear it a single time after seeing it on you," she tells me, and there is a special smirk and glint in her eye when she does so. It's like she has a secret, and I assume that the secret is that she really bought that dress for me to wear, so I'd look like this on her proverbial arm while we're out on our girl date together. Picking my specific clothes, what I'm to wear, is definitely dominant, and again I feel owned, in a very good way.

"Are you ready for your surprise?" Kris asks.

"I thought this was my surprise," I told her with a smile, telling her that what she had done so far was both welcome, and what I thought a good surprise might look like.

"Well, a second surprise then, but if you like the dress, you'll love these," Kris tells me. My second surprise is that Kris and I are to wear matching wide silver bangle bracelets, they're oval for a close fit on your wrist, and they open by a clever and sturdy mechanism that requires the fingers of both hands to properly work. There is no hinge per say, it's kind of flexed open just enough to get it over your wrist, and then latched closed. It's really easier to have somebody else put it on you instead, which is what Kris and I do for each other, the symbolism of placing wedding rings on fingers occurring to me.

"This way everybody will know we're together, in case we get separated on the dance floor; as looking like you do somebody will no doubt want to steal you away from me tonight." Her flattery elevates me even further, because I know that a whole bunch of somebodies would also like to take Kris home for themselves too. Her words are also possessive, and objectifying; one steals "things" but abducts people I think to myself. We're back to being owned property in my mind, and it causes a special tingle for me.

I feel the weight of my borrowed bracelet both physically, and emotionally, it's almost like a "no trespassing" sign in your front yard where your neighbors can't help but to see it, really the antithesis of a welcome mat. Kris has some more surprises for me though, after I ask when we're leaving, still assuming that she's driving us herself as she has a fine German luxury car of her own.

"I've arranged for a car and a driver for tonight, this way we can both drink as much as we want," Kris tells me, and I assume that means an uber or lyft ride sharing, which is fine with me, although dressed as we both are it could be a hell of a show for the driver. I apparently have a few more surprises though, but to be fair Kris has met very little resistance from me so far.

"Try these," Kris tells me, handing me a magnificent pair of heels from one of her racks, all pretense of asking now gone. I feel her firm direction, and for most women it would be an instant cat fight, but this cat has already rolled over on her back and surrendered, paws in the air, and Kris knows this. Her business is reading people, getting a sense for what they don't want to come out and say, their level of comfort with financial risk.

I then look at the heels she's handed me, they're at least an inch taller than the very high heels that I came here in, but those also matched the dress I'm no longer wearing, and they'll clash horrifically with this blue one too. The ones she's handed me are three different colors and textures, not matchy matchy at all as I tend to gravitate towards, much more "look at me, look at me" brash. These particular shoes are a statement all on their own, even a woman as stunning as Kris could be wearing them in public, without a stitch of clothing on, and everybody would still eventually notice her heels.

They're not Jimmy Choo's, but they have that very high-end quality look and feel, and the stitching - which most people just don't appreciate - is a work of art in itself. I'm excited to be trying these on, let alone borrowing them, and my only hope is that they'll actually fit me, and that I don't become overly attached and want a pair for myself.

They do fit, and I'm now ever so closer to Kris's height, and I just feel sexy as hell wearing these shoes. The dress is sexy and revealing, but these shoes are to die for. Kris takes a step back to take in the whole picture as I preen in her mirror. I may not feel totally worthy of wearing these very nice things, but I'm getting there, and Kris's compliments are confidence building as well.

"WOW! I wish you could see what I see, and not in any mirror either… Better yet," Kris offers with a dirty smile as her pretty face and eyes light up, "I really wish somebody ELSE could see what you look like in that… Could I send your husband a picture of you in that? I know you said that he doesn't get jealous or anything…"

"… But you don't believe me, do you?" I finished for her.

"Do it, he'll love it!" I tell her a moment later, still high on my new sultry look myself.

I pose with a cheesy finger to my pouty painted lips, and Kris's picture catches the entire front of me in my borrowed strategically ripped dress, and a good part of the back of me in her mirror's reflection. I have one knee bent and I feel very sexy and on display here for Kris, and I'm sure my new look will be a minor shock for my husband, but a good one I should hope.

"Can I see?" I ask, but Kris won't let me see until after she sends it, she again asserting dominance over me, even over my captured image in communicating with my own husband; she did ask first though. It's an incremental thing really, just a further little step down this new road, but I still notice her testing, looking for resistance and push-back from me. I have to ask Kris's permission for something I never have before, and that puts her in the position to say yes… or even no if she so feels. I hear the click click click her texting out a quick message and hitting send, she smiling her dirty smile the whole time with her teeth biting the inside of her left cheek seductively, but only then does she show me what she sent.

"'I'm getting ready to drag your stunning rewrapped wife out of my closet"' Kris captions the picture with all true words, but a likely double entendre as well. She's a master of words, and the choice of these particular ones can't be an accident.

"Some spank material for hubby?" Kris asks knowingly, but I had already confided in her about some aspects of our playful sex life, so this doesn't come across quite as intrusively as one might think. It's still a test by Kris though, discussing my husband's self-entertainment, his own self-actuated orgasms, inviting herself into that aspect of things. Yes, I have a husband, but he also knows I'm here - he specifically delivered me to her dressed provocatively - and he also knows that Kris and I are going out together. Letting her dress me more provocatively, and her flirty double entendre text, are really the only surprises here.

It's perhaps my time to shock her back though, show my own confidence and let her know that I can play the game at this elevated level too. I then find my little black sequin clutch and fish out my little key, holding it up where Kris can see it.

"It might be, except for this little thing. I've had him locked up in his smallest metal cage since shortly after we had our coffee and made our date."

"Fuck girlfriend, that's hot!" Kris tells me, and her tone is one of both adoration, and surprise. Her choice in words is equally astonishing to me though, as I don't ever know that I've heard her curse a single time.

"Besides, if I wanted to give him some real spank material, we'd both be in that picture… What guy doesn't get excited by two girls, even if he can't do anything about it at the moment because he doesn't have access?" I then explain. I've accidentally told her that my husband likely thinks the way she looks is something he might want to self-entertain to, not something to share with just anybody, but truth be told with the way Kris looks she has to know she has this effect on others. I don't know how I feel about this myself, but with what I'm allowed to do outside of our marriage, I simply have no grounds to complain. This at the same time makes for a compelling reason to cage him up more often and deny him the self-inflicted pleasure of another woman, even vicariously by his own stroking hand.

"I'm game, if you are?" Kris tells me slyly, clearly liking the concept of tormenting my caged and chaste husband just a bit more with a second picture, before she takes me out on the town for our girl date. Her phone then pings with a text, and I assume it's from my husband, responding to my provocative picture and Kris's suggestive caption.

"That's Tony, our driver for the night," Kris tells me. "He's running early, and I've asked him to come in," she adds, but my perplexed look causes her to explain. I assumed some kind of ride sharing thing, and while I wasn't entirely jazzed up about that part of our date, dressed as we were, it made logical sense not to be driving ourselves.


"Yes, limo and a driver for the night, one that doubles as security, if necessary. It really doesn't cost all that much, and we are two women hardly dressed and going into the big city, at night, to a dance club."

"Wow!" was all I could think to say. The last time I had ridden in a limo had been a wedding I was in once, but I didn't think it would be good to point that out; Kris had one of those not all that long ago too…

I grab my mismatched clutch and get ready to go, Kris stopping me dead in my tracks when she sees this though.

"Unfortunately, I don't have a second bag that matches that dress. What do you really need in there?" she asks.

"License, cash, and phone," I tell her reflexively. I don't even really "need" my phone, Kris has one, and the key can obviously be left behind too.

"I have a phone, and you won't need cash if you're with me," Kris tells me firmly, telling me what I'll need, and by extension what she wants me to have…

I'll feel naked without my phone, and Kris can see the turmoil in my face over this. It's the first resistance that I've given her yet, but being without my phone hits a nerve or two with me. I could use it to call for a ride, from my husband even, pretty much no matter what. It's my link to the outside world, my lifeline, as I know my husband will always be there to rescue me if needed, no questions asked.

My husband and I had established this early on as well, a phone call and a ride home are unconditional, no questions asked. Too drunk to drive, both too drunk to drive, suddenly not liking the situation I find myself in; just call, or even text. My husband had even played chauffeur for my date and I once, taking us both home to my date's place when he was too drunk to drive; a friend of my husband as it turns out. He wasn't too drunk to fuck me into oblivion in my husband's back seat though, all as my husband drove and tried not to watch. It was one of the very hottest things that we've ever done to be honest, and the smells of that over hot passion in that relatively small space were just incredible too.

This however also suggests that somewhere in the back of my mind I think I might need actual rescue tonight though, and I way don't want to project this attitude towards Kris. I'm fully into this new experience with Kris, I know and trust her, but this at the same time is my phone, and I'll be out in the big city and very far from home while wearing almost nothing, if something should somehow go wrong…

There is also a second something in there someplace about this whole situation, and that second something is causing a very different and competing feeling deep in my belly. I don't have a good way to explain this to Kris, and I don't know that I really want to either, at least not yet…

…That feeling fortunately only lasts a few seconds for me though, and I think the crux of the issue for me here is control. I like to submit to the right man, to give up temporary control like that, but I prefer a more "in-charge" kind of thing in my own home, and truth be told in life generally. Submitting to another woman therefore doesn't come naturally to me at all, except for some reason with Kris, and this temporary resistance that I feel with her must be some residual "something" because Kris is also a fellow woman, and no ordinary extramarital date for me. There's still a chemistry here for us, but it's a different kind of chemistry, and I therefore need to adjust…

Kris suggests a solution, she could put everything we'll collectively need into her little matching clutch for her to hold, but when she tries it almost doesn't close, not to mention the weight and bulk of two full sized smartphones she'll have to carry around for me. She'll do it, but I feel guilty and foolish, and most especially untrusting, for asking her to.

"Could you maybe text hubby and let him know that I won't have my phone with me tonight?" I ask, and my head down soft tone lets Kris know she's won this one as well. She doesn't smile and gloat though, she doesn't project winning anything, she's just agreeing with my decision. In other words, she knew she was right this time too, and she was only maybe waiting for me to see things from her more logical side. In for a penny, in for a pound I think to myself. My husband doesn't have access to his guy parts until I once again let him, with my little key; and I'm uncomfortable about not having my phone in my hands for a few hours, the one hardly the equivalent of the other.

"Certainly," and by Kris's smile I realize it's a potential crisis averted. She's arranged for a hell of a nice city date for us, and she's even sexed me up and re-dressed me for the occasion, and I realize that I need to be far more grateful and gracious, and far less suspicious.

Tony, our driver for the night, might have played college ball at one time, or maybe he's even a former special forces kind of guy, because he's a massive muscular mountain of a man, but in our company, he's behaving like a tame gentle giant. Kris asks him if he would like anything before we go, and he asks only for a refill cup of coffee. If he's the hired help for the night, Kris doesn't necessarily treat him like that at all, but why would she? His look says it all, and it's rather flattering, for me at least: "There are worse jobs than this one!" Her treatment of Tony is kind of a window into her mind, I later learn, men are great servants, useful tools even, depending on the job of course.

Kris asks if he can take a picture of us before we go, and his attitude suggests this is a fair and reasonable trade for a cup of coffee. Kris's phone almost disappears into his large hands, and it looks like he has all he can do not to accidentally crush it. Kris comes behind me with her head over my right shoulder, kind of half hiding behind me, as I'm still apparently the intended subject of the picture. She interlocks the fingers of her left hand over top of my own as our elbows are locked, with her right wrapped possessively around my belly, her hand inside one of my borrowed dresses' rips, thumb on my exposed belly button. Her right leg, bare to mid-thigh, is skin on skin touching my own, and this too feels electric and warm to me.

My right hand is next to hers, my borrowed bangle making a "tink" sound when it contacts her matching one, and Tony snapping away maybe a dozen pictures before he can get his large sausage fingers back off of the tiny button. During the camera's flutter of rapid-fire pictures Kris wiggled her thumb slightly in my belly button, tickling me playfully; and my half laugh, half smile came through clearly. As we disengage from our cheesy provocative pose Kris slowly drags her right hand across my exposed belly some more, and the complimentary tingle I feel there is a familiar one, but from an unfamiliar new feminine source. Kris is laying claim, and Tony is really looking now. If he had perhaps "thought" he knew what might be going on between us girls, Kris' lingering touch has maybe confirmed it for him.

Tony doesn't look like the kind of man who's intimidated by much, certainly not by two hardly dressed women, but he also seems to realize that he has to get back into his more professional role here, so he asks if we would like the short tour of the city first, before the club, as we seem to have the time.

Kris answers yes for the both of us before I have a chance to, again taking charge, but I'm HER date here. With that settled Kris takes only my license with her in her little clutch, so that I can actually get into the club with a proper I.D., everything else I own to be left home on her kitchen counter or in her closet, and very far away from me, with the exception of my panties. It's the only thing I have on that's actually mine, and the wispy suggestion of a favorite fantasy starts to form…

… I have this insane fantasy of being dumped off someplace, maybe a city street at night in the bad part of town, maybe even the deep forest, or an island someplace. Well anyway, in this fantasy I'm to be dumped off nude, maybe nude and bound, maybe just nude, but the feeling as my transportation drives, sails, or even flies away is what I'm after, fantasy wise; stripped naked and helpless, on my own. What happens next isn't specifically in my fantasy, it's just the lead up to that "OH SHIT!" point that I crave, as crazy as that sounds…

Anyway, we then follow Tony out to his limo, it's a massive white SUV based vehicle, but with an extra center section built into the body of it, and deeply tinted windows. Tony opens the door for us, and I'm the first to step up and in, likely flashing Tony my mismatched panties with the big reaching step and turn, but not anything worse than that. Kris is much more graceful than I am getting in, but she has longer legs, and a dress that isn't all ripped to shreds by design. There are massive plush seats facing both ways in this thing, and one could easily have a party back here, or even an orgy. There is also a wet bar, a chilled bottle of wine, and two glasses, I thought to myself that I could get used to all this fuss.

Moments earlier, right after Kris had shut her front door and set the alarm, I felt the finality of this adventure, and the further separation from my phone. Every step further away, every mile we drove, I uniquely felt. It was almost a phobia, and I knew for my own sanity that I would have to work on that; it was only a device, a handy device to be sure, but nothing more than that.

Again, using the established pattern between us Kris selects the best of the giggling pictures to send off to my waiting at home hubby, taps out a quick text, and hits send. She only shows me what she sent after the fact though, all as we drove off towards the city, and almost certain adventure.

"'Jackie thought you might want to see one of us together, but if you want to get in touch with us tonight you should text my phone, as we couldn't bring hers along.'"

"'You both look magnificent, and I have no intention of bothering you two. Have a great time'" my husband texted back, Kris showing me the entire exchange, but waiting more than a minute to do so, establishing still more control over even our communication with each other. It was a subtle little thing, but I also noticed. Subtle and playful, but not hidden, and most certainly not the slightest bit evil, there apparently being a great many facets to Kris's character and personality as well.

"He truly doesn't get jealous at all, does he?"

"No, he just wants me to have some fun."

"Then fun you shall have, but first I have to ask, what was that look all about back there?"

"You'd think it odd if I told you…"

"Try me," Kris commands…

The wine in the back of the limo was the perfect verbal lubricant, and I once again confided in Kris as we drank, although this time about something that I've always fantasized about, something deeply personal and rather kinky. I like to be in control myself, but I like to lose control as well. I'm presently in the back of a strange tinted windows vehicle that somebody else is driving, to someplace I've never been before, and I've even allowed another to dress me provocatively for the night, to the extent that my panties are the only thing that I own that are still on me. Kris even has my license; and my phone and little clutch are back at Kris's along with that special little key, but the helpless feeling I get with all this excites me to the core.

The further we got from either home the more my dependence on both Tony and Kris struck me, one or both could pull over anywhere and kick me right out on the street, or even a seedy back alley, I left to fend for myself as they drove off into the night together. What if Kris demanded her borrowed shoes and dress back first, before tossing me out at the curb like nearly naked trash? I asked myself.

I told Kris all this in whispered hushed tones so that Tony couldn't hear me, so that maybe he too wouldn't think I was both slightly slutty and nuts. When I had finally finished my little dumped-off scenario she told me that she would never do such a thing, but both her tone and knowing smile contradicted this.

Why share something like this? I asked myself, unless I maybe wanted Kris to help me make it real somehow.

We were sitting close enough for me to whisper in her ear already, but not exactly totally skin on skin, as the back of this thing was massive, and the shape of the individual seats designed for larger people than us, but maybe not quite Tony sized men though. Anyway, after my little kinky confession and her inviting smile she turned and it just sort of happened, Kris's lips there and mine there too, our first soft girl on girl kiss. It was magical as I tasted her wine on her lips, I never really appreciated how gentle another woman can kiss, as compared to a man anyway. It didn't turn into a super-hot makeup smearing make out session or anything like that, just a very nice and delicate first kiss of acceptance that left our makeup intact. I wasn't exactly hiding who I was from Kris, quite the opposite in fact…

I had to get a tiny bit closer to kiss Kris like this, both physically and metaphorically, and after that kiss I just never moved away. Our bare legs were touching more than they weren't after that, and it just felt like nothing else on earth; the smooth and sexy skin of another woman rubbing up on your own. Kris even smells good, not that I don't still love the way a man smells, but this was good and different too.

The tour was nice and peaceful, Tony a charming tour guide, although the flashing lights and pounding bass of the club was anything but, the proverbial calm before the storm. I needed my license from Kris to get in past the door check - the man looking me up and down like candy - but nothing else, as in no cover charge for the ladies, although I know some will see that as sexist. People looked as we walked in, and not just at Kris either, it was just a wonderful feeling being so alive and sought after; this dress and these heels very good for my ego.

It was wild, we both drank, we talked as best as we could with the noise, and we danced, boy did we dance! We danced with each other, a little far apart, a little close and grindy, we even danced with some of the bolder men the same way, it was just a great fun night that I wished would never end. I was feeling painless and loose by midnight, and this thing I initially agreed to more for Kris's benefit has also turned out to be very good for me too. I know what's likely coming next, and my only hope is that I'm good enough, as these are uncharted waters for me to be sure. I would just love to do something wonderful with Kris as a finale to our awesome date, but the mechanical/physical details of that are foreign to me, and to make this work she's just going to have to take the firm lead here. I'm excited enough to want to try just about anything though, and I think she feels this…

We reluctantly say our goodbyes at the club, but some of our dance partners don't want us to go, nothing threatening or anything like that, but despite our close body language with each other a few of the guys still think they have a chance to score with us, maybe even both of us at once; bless their hearts. Alcohol can make you see what you'd like though, and not what's there, but from their point of view I'm sure they feel somewhat invested, and perhaps they want their yield on this investment.

The club has bouncers to keep everybody safe, unless maybe if you were a guy foolish enough to pick a fight with one of them. I've never seen that personally, but those big guys with their tasers and batons are there for a reason. Anyway, Tony is there to collect us, apparently summoned by Kris when I wasn't paying attention, and between the bouncers that are watching, and Tony there to pick us up, the guys take the high road, smile, wave, and say goodnight.

I've done clubs before, not this particular one though, but always with a guy, either with a date that brought me for some dancing, or my own husband who doesn't really like that particular scene all that much. In either event, the guys I have been with have, I guess, projected something to the other men in such a place, a "she's with me" kind of thing. Even if I danced with another guy at such a place, everybody kind of knows that I'm almost certainly leaving with the guy who brought me. I suppose it might be hot if I went once with my own husband, but let another man seduce me and take me home, but we just haven't done it like that for a host of very good reasons.

None of this seems to be the case with Kris and I, the guys perhaps thinking that we weren't serious when we told them that we were here with each other, and I see the wisdom in having Tony be our escort for the evening.

"Thank you, Tony," Kris tells the man, once we're safely back inside his limo and moving.

"They were harmless, I'd know if they weren't, but you're welcome anyway." Tony tells Kris, downplaying his role in a very unmacho kind of way. He's a big beast of a man, he doesn't have to act tough, wear that particular costume, because he IS tough!

"Thank you, Tony," I add, just to say something, making brief eye contact in his rearview mirror.

He smiles and says that it's nothing, but his smile is just so revealing to me; although I study men, it's kind of a little hobby of mine. Tony's look says to me that he likes what he sees in his rearview mirror, flushed face from dancing and all, but also that he's the hired help, and as such I'm very much off limits. It's an odd position for one like myself, as I don't see myself as something more than Tony our driver, I'm maybe his equal, maybe not even that depending on the circumstances. I don't know that I'm sexually interested it big and strong Tony, but I easily could be under slightly different circumstances. There is a lot to like there, but I'm with Kris, and there is a lot to like with her as well.

I don't know if Kris feels Tony's interest in me too, or if she is just wanting to remind me of who I'm with, but she puts her arm around me possessively and pulls me close.

"Having fun so far?" she asks.

"Yes, this is like the best date ever!" I honestly gush. I'm feeling a heart pounding thrill like I've just escaped something dangerous, but the reality was that this was nothing. She reaches over and kisses me on the lips, and I respond. Is she claiming her prize, or just re-reminding Tony that I'm taken, spoken for? A kiss turns into another, and then a serious make out session, I for the second time in the same night realizing how nicely and tenderly another woman kisses. Again, I taste what she drank, and she likely does what I had, and I forget that we're in a moving vehicle, and that Tony is there too. I smell the arousal and dance floor perspiration too, not only hers, but mine as well.

"Feeling playful? Kris asks huskily.

"Oh yeah!"

"Put your arms behind your back then!" It comes out as an order, not a request though, but again I'm not exactly put off by this, Kris reading my mood and neediness expertly.

She removes her unique bangle bracelet from her own wrist with some difficulty, using her magnificent naked thigh to help. She then places it on my free one, and then she locks the two together with my wrists crossed behind my back cooperatively, left over right. It's as if I'm wearing very ornate wide handcuffs, but of the kind without a chain between the cuff parts. I tug at them to test their resolve, and realizing how stuck and at Kris' mercy I am, my sexual neediness ramps up exponentially. I'm damn near ready to pop off in orgasm just from the struggle alone, and I make no effort to hide what affect her ad hoc bondage has had on me in the back of this moving limo. It takes two hands to get one of these bangles off your own wrist, if it's in front of you and you can see, and the way she has me intertwined in these things that's just not going to happen, leaving me super helpless, and super-hot too.

Kris pulls back to see what I look like once bound up in her handywork, my arm's positioning thrusting my ample chest out, not to mention that I'm almost panting like a dog in heat. I'm so hot and turned on. I've gotten almost this flustered and hot with another man before, but it's been since my husband's friend and I became a thing together, that man and I having some serious sexual chemistry together, complimentary kinks and all of that. I think he maybe had some pent-up ex-wife lust and rage that he had to work through too, but in helping him to do that we had some extraordinary sex ourselves, once in a lifetime experiences. He was and is a very good guy, and were I in the market for a replacement man he might be a good "forever" choice, but I'm simply not.

Anyway, with my helpless hands and arms trapped behind me Kris reaches for my head with both of her hands, pulling both of us together and steering me towards her. It's physically possessive, and the passionate way I kiss her and suck on her tongue tells her again what her keen senses already should have; that I'm highly charged, and very much into this level of physical control!

Kris has been drinking too though, and not that we're both totally drunk, but I think both our levels of self-control are a bit off here. We're just two adult women having some fun, no limits kinds of fun though. We're giggling and laughing, having a grand old time as Tony drives and tries not to notice. It's still very sexy and hot, but playful-sexy, rather than serious-sexy; if that's even a real thing?

We all have our roles here, Tony's is to get us home safely, and Kris's is to make this a fun date, and mine it to BE that fun date…

Kris pulls away and I see the complimentary naughty smile she has for me, she's plotting something, scheming, I can see it on her pretty face. She reaches forward to talk with Tony -our large driver/bodyguard for the evening - and this puts Kris's magnificent ass almost within reach, so I struggle forward without the help of my hands and place a big noisy smooch on her ass, over her little dress. I giggle, she giggles too, wiggling her shapely ass in my face. We're like two little girls just fooling around with each other, she even playfully swats at my face as if to say "not now silly" but it's all in fun.

Whatever they've discussed, the result is Tony nodding, telling me he's agreed to whatever it is. Tony caught my eye in the rear-view mirror for just a moment, and I his. I then wonder briefly if our playful girl on girl antics have given him a rise. He's all man, big and muscular, and likely has his own ideas of what we girls could be doing, with a man like him. I like men, especially men like Tony, but he's not on the menu tonight, my date is though…

I'm then pulled onto the floor by Kris, kneeling between the wide gap in the front and rear facing seats, facing forward. Kris has also scooted over with her back towards Tony's, but on the other side and away from the reflection of his mirror, so there will be some small level privacy for us. There is a mirrored partition that can be raised from the back of the limo, blocking the front from the back completely, but Kris elects not to do this, possibly because it's straight up rude. Also possibly, Kris maybe wants to demonstrate that I'm her play toy for the night; laying physical claim to me in a way that there will be little doubts left for Tony.

Tony will therefore get to listen vicariously to what's going on in the back of his limo, whatever it is, but not actually watch it.

I'm kneeling submissively between Kris's magnificent spread legs, a place a great many men would no doubt just love to be. She isn't hungry for a man though, as we've just left a place where she could have had her pick, maybe even more than one if that was her fancy. I'm here in their place though, I've bested them in a fair competition, and as Kris and I make eye contact it's like our minds are linked together. I'm where I am looking up at her because Kris wants me there, and if Kris were a man, I'd know exactly what he'd want next.

There's an incredible power play going on here, giggling and laughing turning just a bit more serious here suddenly. If this were my husband, he'd be the one on his knees before me, hungry to serve me, and possibly also hungry to be seen serving me. In this scenario I obviously wouldn't be bound though. If Kris were instead a manly masculine date, I likely still wouldn't be cuffed up and bound like this so early in the night, but the kneeling submissively part maybe. Guys could want almost anything, from this level of humbling oral servitude, using me for their one-way physical pleasure, to something just a bit more giving, interactive, and mutual, really almost anything under the sun.

Kris could easily put her hand on the back of my head and guide me to what she wants, either forcefully, or just with gentle encouragement, especially cuffed and helpless as I am; but she does neither. Hands and a deep loving kiss instead, as she leans down to my level, just to visit with me down here for a moment. The message is clear; you're down below me at the moment, but what do you really want? Do I want to be a near equal, or serve her humbly on my knees instead? Her eyes tell me all this, words really not necessary here. Is Tony our driver privy to what is silently happening right behind him, one row of seats back: the monumental thing happening here for us?

I've chosen; turning my head to submissively kiss the inside of her perfect left thigh, my next few kisses working my way ever closer to the prize. Her leg is slightly salty from dance floor perspiration, but it's a great taste all the same. It's awkward with my hands pinned behind my back as I teeter on my knees before her too though, but I don't exactly mind the restraint part either. This again is about power, who has it, and who gives it away to another, or maybe even who allows it to be taken away. The only "help" Kris is giving me is holding the hem of her club dress up high, baring her steamy hot panties to my gaze and granting access. I want that prize, I want to serve her like this, but I'll apparently have to work for it as well.

A kiss, followed by a nibble overtop her gushingly damp and steamy panties tells me she's into this as well, that I've chosen wisely. Her panties are thin, and their rough texture on my tongue is super odd too - almost like licking sandpaper would feel - but this is still a barrier to what I want; to the physical servitude I wish to provide my stunning date. I slurp on her noisily directly through her panties, and she groans softly and snuggles her ass more off the seat in response, getting her girl parts closer to me, the move hiking her own dress further. Now as well a hand comes behind my own head, steering the action. I grab at her panties with my teeth, shaking them playfully while mock growling like a playful puppy with a bone. I'm taking up the challenge presented to me, although she easily could have helped, for her own self-preservation and motives even.

Nope! Kris wants to watch me struggle like this; she's enjoying this power over me. I really only have half-success in holding her panties to the side with my chin so I can taste her bare flesh directly though. This is just so sexy and naughty, but I'm also sooooo into this, it's like I'm on a lusty version of human sexual autopilot, tasting another woman intimately like this almost a reflex action. I've managed to smear most of my makeup though, but who cares at this point as I have a full-blown lusty girl crush going on. I am generally speaking minimalist in the application of makeup anyway, as in just enough and no more, especially when going dancing. In Kris's company I've maybe bumped this up a notch, but I'm still pretty far from teenage girl/creepy clown territory.

Anyway, before I can achieve little more than a forbidden shallow taste of my date, I feel the limo slow, turn twice, and stop. Tony calls out softly that we're here, but to my mind the trip was just too short for us to be back at Kris's already, and the turns were all wrong for that too. I wanted more time, wanted this kinky bound backseat challenge that she's given me to come to some kind of better conclusion. Inside, in a proper bed, will be nice too, but it's a break in the action, and for all I know the magic of this taboo hot desire that I have going on will suddenly pass too…

Kris swings her shapely leg over my head like a gymnast and opens her own door, all as I kneel submissively cuffed on the floor and watch, any of her neighbors up at this late hour potentially seeing my suggestive positioning, especially bathed in the limo's interior lighting with the door open. I instantly realize that we're not in her driveway though, but a darkened county park somewhere, I see empty park benches, and a sign that clearly says "closed at dusk." It's well past that time, and I wonder what Kris has in mind, but I don't have long to wait to figure it out.

"I'll be back in a minute Tony," she calls from the open door as she stands just outside, looking around for a moment to get her bearings. Apparently satisfied, she then gets me out as well, and closes the heavy door lightly behind both of us, likely so as not to draw any further unwanted attention to us at this late and quiet hour. I look back and see Tony standing just out of his driver's door too, scanning the area, possibly ensuring that we're the only ones here. I also hear the noise of the main road behind us in the distance, but the park itself is dead silent, as one would expect. Kris leads me into the park proper from behind, steering me by my cuffs like a cop, and that particular imagery sticks with me. This is just such a hot and sexy surprise, I'm just so vulnerable at this instant, but this also has me gushing. Kris could do anything she might like to me in this moment, and I'm reminded of my hot little fantasy that I shared with her earlier. Was she really listening earlier? I wonder. Really, REALLY listening?

"'I'll' be back in a minute Tony," then replays in my mind, even half-drunk Kris is very precise with her words, and this then implies that she doesn't intend to return to his limo with company, meaning of course me! I don't know if I really want this or not, but it is hot, and I'm obligated to see where Kris wants to take this. We wander about as our eyes further adjust to the low light, and then Kris apparently finds what she is searching for, a thick post with a "no trespassing after dark" sign up high.

She walks me over to it and temporarily unhooks one bangle from the other, only to twist my arms around behind my back, with the heavy post at my spine. I offer no resistance, either verbally, or physically, but the lack of slack between the cuffs in combination with the diameter of the post have me thrusting my chest out, and securely bound in place. I try to stay as still as I can, as in if I move around I anticipate getting splinters in some tender skin. If Kris had wanted intimate service from me like this, like in the limo a minute earlier, it would have been better to have placed me on my knees instead, but she had chosen not to.

As horned up as I was, I didn't mind being on my knees for Kris at all, even in the dewy grass, but I think she's perceptive enough to know this already, so I chose silence as she backs up and looks at her handiwork. I'm effectively bound and helpless, so she should be well satisfied, but her expression says differently.

She comes in and kisses me, and I hungrily kiss her back, sucking on her offered tongue again as I feel very "oral" at the moment. Helpless and anchored firmly in this foreign place has me burning up sexually, and I'd do anything to sate this hot lust I'm feeling. No man ever has had me in such a flustered state, although my own husband has come close, but he knows me like no other. Kris has done quite well for herself to get me into this state on our first girl date, and I wonder selfishly if there is any "up" to go to from here. In all fairness my own husband is too tame and gentle to do something rough like this though, where Kris is still a bit of an unknown wildcard in this sexy half-drunk mode of hers. I think that's the allure for me, not having any control here as to what Kris does next. I exist for her whims alone, it's an ultra-hot mindset!

"You're a naughty girl you know, teasing up on all those horny men like that tonight, and teasing me too I might add. No worries though," Kris tells me cheerfully, "I know just what to do to cool you down some."

Kris's words have told me a great deal, she's in the game with me here, and she's also put herself more fully in a position of superiority over me. If I'm a naughty girl in need of a "time-out" cooling off, and maybe even punishment; isn't Kris setting herself up to be the one who administers it?

My borrowed club dress has flesh flashing rips all over it by design, and that being said it also has a great many handholds for a strong and fit woman like Kris to rip it to shreds and strip me to my panties, all as I helplessly watched, the sound overloud in that quiet and dark park. That dress was both new, and expensive, and she just stripped me of it and turned it into rags as I was bound to a post who knows where, all on our way home from the dance club and our unique and sexy girl date…

"I loved that dress!" I mock protested, but by the time I had said anything the deed was already mostly done, and I was still boiling hot sexually. I was left standing there with smeared makeup, wearing nothing more than ten-dollar panties, and perhaps thousand-dollar heels; it was an absurdly extreme contrast. She used the remnants of my ruined dress to wipe some of the smeared makeup from my face, and then stepped back once again to see her handywork. It was like a fantasy dream come true for me, and all Kris had to do was to get back into her limo and take the rest of the ride home without me, dumping me off here helplessly.

Would Tony leave me behind too? I wondered, or would I be discovered hours later in the early morning by some elderly dog walker with a toy poodle, maybe when it pees on my leg marking its territory? But then again Kris had implied to Tony that she would be right back… without me.

I obviously didn't "really" want her to do this, to dump me off nearly naked in this strange park in the middle of the night only for some strangers to find in the morning, but I was caught up in experiencing this fantasy with her, and I knew in the real world that Kris had my back too. I knew that I had to give her even more authority and trust, so if nothing else that I could selfishly get all that I could from the experience.

How to tell Kris that she was SO going the right direction here, but she wasn't "there" yet; that I wanted her to amp this up even further, if she somehow could?

"I've been such a naughty ungrateful girlfriend tonight; I wouldn't blame you at all if you dumped me off right here, repo'd your borrowed heels, and left," I told her huskily. I so wanted her to do exactly that, or at least give the illusion of doing that for a few minutes at least. For me the finality of having that car, boat, or seaplane actually leave, that feeling of naked helpless abandonment; that's what I was after, fantasy wise. It was both irrational, and sexy as hell!

My tone alone I think tells Kris how needy I am, and if not for the cuffs I think I might have rubbed myself off, even with her watching; the passion and kink here were just that high for me. I'm obviously not being one hundred percent rational with my desires here, and I maybe even need Kris to rein me in a bit, before I beg her to sell me off to the traveling circus or something…

"You have, haven't you?" Kris agrees. She then kneels before me and relieves me of my borrowed heels. Kris may still be in charge here, but I have a little topping from the bottom going on too. I find myself still up on my toes as if I'm still wearing the heels, apprehensive to be sliding down this rough pole, even just a few inches now that I'm mostly nude.

"I'm of course afraid that the second I walk away you'll just make a ruckus," Kris tells me while staring into my eyes, but her look has a more serious feel to it than her words imply. Is she really pissed off at me, or is she really getting into this, for me, for her even?

Kris then reaches down and grinds in on my gushing womanhood with two of her fingers, and I think for a moment that she's going to grind me off right here for some much-needed relief. It's not how I expected things to go, as I expected to serve her first, and then maybe earn something for myself afterwards, if she was satisfied. I like to be used like this by others, it does something for me that's hard to explain.

Anyway, Kris then starts to nurse on my right nipple as her free left-hand mashes up on my boob all at the same time. Her two fingers down below are soon three, and she's pushing my panties ever deeper into my gushing box as she inefficiently grinds me off. I'm panting and making other strange noises too, but she's not doing the things that we both know will make me pop off like in seconds. I catch myself thrusting my hips at her in desperation to get both her fingers, and my panties deeper, but she suddenly just stops.

Two quick jerks on the strings that hold the two tiny pieces of scant cloth together renders my final garment, the only thing on me that was actually mine tonight, rags.

"Open up Buttercup," Kris commands with a disparaging tone, something to remind one, me, that she was far less than the one speaking. I do as ordered, and Kris pushed the freshly wet end into my mouth deep, but not unkindly. There is a tenderness here, her words and actions not entirely in sync.

Nude, handcuffed, and gagged, and about to maybe be mock abandoned who knows where; simply nirvana to me…

There is hardly any cloth, and some would argue that I have a big mouth, so the one easily fits inside the other. I taste myself on them, but before I can really think about that I see Kris's shapely ass walking away from me while holding my heels. She doesn't look back either, and I soon hear the limo door slam loudly, and I then see headlights drive away through the tree line…


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