Tonight was the night! After three years away on their posting to Beijing, our friends Debbie and Roger were back in town, and we were going to meet them for dinner at Bouchon Racine – one of the classiest French restaurants in London. It was expensive, and perhaps a little pretentious, but this was a special occasion, so we wanted to celebrate in style.

And when I say friends, I mean friends! We had had some blissful times together, if you get my meaning, and I wanted to look good, because this reunion had the potential to end up being all kinds of moist and juicy.

I’d got my wardrobe sorted and was minding my own business in the bathroom, doing my make-up, finishing those little bits and pieces we of the fairer sex like to do, and...

“Mark, what are you doing?”

I could see my husband in the mirror, furtively creeping up behind me. I let out an exasperated sigh. Mark really can be a bastard sometimes. He can’t even give me ten minutes' peace to quietly get ready.

His reflection grinned, put something on the bathroom counter, then dropped out of sight behind me.

I frowned at the little bottle, not quite recognising what it was. Then I squealed as Mark began planting little kisses on my buttocks, and goosebumps erupted in reaction all over my body.

“Mark…” I warned.

He had an annoying habit of doing things like this. There I was, dressed only in black stockings, garter belt and heels, attempting to make myself look good, and he was taking advantage of the situation. Trying to take advantage of my state of dress – or rather, undress.

I gasped as he parted my orbs. His tongue was suddenly running down my crack, making its way to my…

Oh my god – what’s he doing to me!

“Mark, wha – what are you up to?” I could hear the betraying quaver in my voice.

For Chrissakes, keep it together, girl!

“I’m licking your gorgeous arse, Jenny.”

His tongue was circling my ring. God, it felt so fucking good!

I moaned. Not a good sign, Jenny, I thought to myself. Damn, he knows I can’t resist it when he does that. He knows just how fucking much I love anal…

“Dammit, Mark, we’re about to go out for dinner, for Christ's sake!”

But I wasn’t fooling anybody as I rested my forearms on the counter and spread my feet apart.

“You are dinner.” He was now trying to push his way inside my tight little hole. I could feel myself flexing and tightening my muscles, subconsciously encouraging him. “And if you dress like that, you gorgeous little minx, you shouldn’t expect anything less. Or are you dressing in order to entice somebody else?”

Damn right! Either Roger or Debbie – actually, Roger AND Debbie would be fucking awesome! But Mark knew that already – and approved!

“Jesus, Mark. Ca – can’t you wait until we – until later.” Shivers were making their way up and down my spine as his tongue noisily dipped in and out of my back passage.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My insides were rapidly turning to mush, and my clit was crying for mercy, despite having no stake in the action.

“I’m not sure they’ll let me do this in the restaurant, darling.”

Well, no…

“You know what I mean!” I hissed through gritted teeth. But I couldn’t help myself as another moan escaped my lips. “Aren’t we supposed to be saving this sort of thing for dessert?”

“Bollocks to that. This is my amuse-bouche.”

“Your what?”

“I’m hungry. And you, my darling – you are my starter. My appetiser. Only, as you are not actually on the menu, you are essentially just a bit on the side, costing me nothing. You are therefore my amuse-bouche – essentially a freebie.”

Cheeky bastard! Making me sound like a cheap tart! But holy Christ, he was making me wet. He knew exactly which buttons to push…

“What about me?” I gasped. “Don’t I get a choice in the matter?” Resistance was becoming almost impossible as his inveigling tongue continued working its devious magic, undoing my every feeble attempt at resolve.

“This is chef’s choice. And right now, I’m the chef. And I choose your gorgeous derrière. You should try it – it’s delicious. Or would you really like me to stop?”

Yes!

No!

Yes!

No! No, no, no.

I gave up.

“No, please don’t stop, Mark!”

“That’s what I thought.” I could hear the satisfaction in his voice.

He took the bottle and used its contents to lubricate my behind with his fingers. I gasped anew as his fingers took the place of his tongue, slowly pushing inside me, stretching me to delicious new heights. I pushed back in encouragement as he changed the motion, two of his slippery digits now rapidly squelching in and out as deep as they could reach, fucking my embracing bum.

God, I loved this so much! And I knew I was in imminent danger of cumming if he kept going like this! I had no idea what it was about me, but I was so sensitive in that area that I could orgasm without touching my clit or pussy.

“Beg me, Jenny.”

“What?”

“Beg me to fuck you!”

I was way past denial now. I just wanted him in me. Bastard could play me like a piano.

“Pl – please, Mark! Please fuck me! Fuck my arse. I want to feel you inside me!”

“Very well – if you insist.”

And just like that, his iron-hard cock was pushing at my entrance, and I grunted, then let out another little squeal as he slipped past my sphincter and just naturally slid all the way home.

Oh. My. God!

“Like that?”

“Mmhmm,” I mumbled incoherently. There was no way I could speak. I was about to get what I wanted. I was going to get my arse well and truly fucked.

Just goes to prove what a depraved, horny slut you are, Jenny…

Ha! And proud of it!

He was sliding in and out of me now, his rod furiously fucking my cheering derrière.

I spread my feet further apart and pushed back, surrendering to his gratuitous desire, responding as my own wanton need and craving raised its magnificent head.

“Fuck me, you bastard,” I croaked. “I want to feel you shoot your hot spunk in me!” I pleaded. I knew he liked me talking like this. Knew it turned him on even more.

It didn’t take long. His grip on my hips tightened as he slammed himself deeply and repeatedly inside me, and then he gave a shuddering groan as his phallus throbbed and spasmed in my ruined hole, his thick jism pulsing into my backside. My own orgasm was only a fraction of a second behind, as his release triggered me and I let out a satisfied, primaeval scream.

Our breath was ragged as Mark collapsed onto my back with a gratified sigh. I closed my eyes and smiled in contentment

“Ready to go?” he mumbled.

Bastard!

ooOoo

Five minutes later, I smoothed down my dress, conscious of Mark’s spunk still leaking copiously from my sore backside, the creamy residue slowly saturating my knickers.

“My panties are going to be full of your cum all night,” I complained.

“Why don’t you take a spare pair with you? Then, if you’re beginning to overload, you can change in the restaurant toilets.”

Hmmm, not actually a bad idea.

“And,” he added, “if I know Roger, he will almost certainly be very happy to accept your used pair as a, um…”

“…amuse-bouche?”

“Indeed, yes! I’m sure he will delight in the debauchery of the experience. And it’ll be fun seeing Debbie watch her husband slurp up that little treat from the gusset of your panties at the table.”

I giggled. What a delight the evening promised to be!