He watched with trepidation as she fiddled with the last morsel of her dessert. It was almost a cliché; a cherry, as red as her painted lips, and a perfect match for her striking dress. She twirled the ripened fruit on its stem, and placed it between her teeth. Her amused eyes were on his, gauging his reactions, as she bit through the skin, making him wince.
His anticipation had been growing ever since they had arrived. Admiring glances had been cast toward the beautiful woman in the stunning red outfit, as they made their way between the tables. She was dressed to deliberately attract attention.
His cock was sitting uncomfortably, and he desperately wanted to adjust himself—not easy with so many eyes furtively glancing their way. The butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t keep still, and he was struggling to keep his breathing even.
Beneath the table, she was playing footsie with him, her black, stockinged toes rubbing their way along the inside of his thigh.
He watched the cherry disappear into her sensuous mouth. How could such a simple act be so suggestive, so… decadent?
Her toes had reached his crotch. It didn’t help his entrapped member feel any more comfortable.
“Are you mine?” she asked, her voice sultry, exuding superiority and promise.
She smiled across the table, her fingers grazed the back of his hand.
“Are you mine, John?” she repeated.
He swallowed. He wasn’t sure he could speak, let alone give a coherent answer.
“Arghh—yes, I am yours!” he whispered, his voice in danger of breaking.
Her teasing was driving him to distraction! She was playing with him, like a cat toying with a mouse. Only she was more a predatory panther than a simple house-cat.
“And are you sure this is what you want?”
He couldn’t look away from her knowing, green eyes. Bright as an alpine meadow, they pierced him to his very core, stripping him bare. His soul was hers for the taking.
She knew him so well—knew that it was exactly what he wanted.
Miranda was her name. He’d known her for a long time, but never like this. Tonight, she had exceeded herself. She was gleefully seducing him; her indulgent claws tinkering with him as she played out his fantasy.
Maybe panther wasn’t quite the right description; she was more like a feline Goddess. All he knew, was that he was completely in her thrall.
“Yes,” he croaked.
She cupped his face softly in her warm hand. He was acutely aware of her nails, perfectly manicured, and painted the same vivid, devilish red as her lips.
“And you will do precisely what I say?”
He nodded, temporarily unable to speak. He couldn’t take his eyes off her full lips; such an appropriate colour for—for what she had planned for him.
“What will you call me?”
He moistened his lips. She was divine, with her chestnut hair fastened with a butterfly comb, exposing her exquisite neck. Just like she knew he liked.
Of course, there was only one thing to call her.
“Goddess. I—I will call you Goddess.”
Clearly pleased with his response, she gave him a wide smile.
“Yes, you will. You will forget your wife whilst you are with me tonight, John, and you will think only of your Goddess.”
She bit her bottom lip gently, whilst pinning him to his seat with those beguiling eyes.
“I think it’s time for you to take me home, John. I think it’s time to fulfil your deepest desire—you’re not going to disappoint me, are you, John…?”
He really hoped not. He paid the bill quickly, leaving a generous tip.
The car journey was conducted in almost total silence. He kept glancing at her flawless, stocking-clad legs. She had strong thighs, and her perfectly formed calves were accentuated by her red, four-inch sandals. A sliver of white thigh peeped at him, drawing his gaze. He could see where her stocking was fixed to her garter belt. His erection throbbed painfully.
“Eyes on the road, John,” his Goddess reprimanded, knowing how she tempted him.
The drive was short—less than ten minutes. He opened the car door for her, and she slid gracefully out. He led the way into the house.
“Go and prepare yourself, John. You know what I want.”
He did. They’d discussed it.
He climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom. There, he stripped naked, freeing his aching cock. He took the opportunity to empty his bladder in the ensuite—his swollen member making it an unexpected challenge.
He’d turned up the heating earlier. The temperature was perfect for naked lovers to play in comfort.
Miranda was in the bedroom when he returned, standing with her hands on her hips. Her posture gave her such an aura of authority, that he felt like a naughty schoolboy.
As well he should. They’d discussed that, too.
“Well?” Her glance told him what she expected.
Obediently, he dropped to his knees, adopting a submissive position, hands together in front of his cock.
“Now, come to me, John.”
The power she had over him was complete. He wanted nothing more than to fulfil her every whim, her every desire; though she was here to give him what he yearned for. His feelings for this adorable woman magnified when he reflected on how she understood him so completely, how she accepted, rather than judged, how she supported, rather than ridiculed.
Looking up at her impatient frown, he remembered that she was playing a part; acting out his fantasy. He didn’t want to disappoint her.
He crawled to her, kneeling at her feet, waiting for her command.
“A treat for you, John. I want you to remove my panties,” she instructed.
Still on his knees, he reached under her dress. The sight of her white thighs as her dress rode up made his breathing ragged; he could feel his cock bobbing, pre-cum leaking, as his excitement reached a new level. Miranda’s panties were damp; he could smell her sex, and the proximity of her wet pussy elevated his heart rate. Steadying himself, he hooked his fingers into the sheer material, and started to slip them down her legs. Red to match her dress, of course. As her trimmed, hairy mound was released from its scanty covering, he thought he would explode.
As he lowered her panties to the floor, she stepped out of them. Even this simple act gave him palpitations. How was he ever going to last the course?
“Put them on your head, John, with the crotch over your nose.”
Willingly, he complied. Her scent was intoxicating, the odour of her moist cunt heavenly, and overpowering with its sensuality.
“Can you smell me, John? Can you taste my arousal? Can you sense how I’m looking forward to this?”
He nodded emphatically. “Yes, Goddess!”
She smiled in satisfaction.
“Good. Now my dress, John.”
He slipped the straps from her shoulders, and with a soft, sibilant hiss, the silk dress slid to the floor, puddling around her heels.
She wasn’t wearing a bra; she was now clad only in her heels and stockings—and, of course, her hair clip.
Her breasts were small. Small, but oh, so perfect! She had distinct tan lines, which he found incredibly erotic, drawing his gaze. Miranda’s nipples were erect, betraying her own excitement. He wanted to kiss them.
“No—I’m afraid not, my sweet!”
She could clearly see what he wanted.
She wagged a finger at him, giving him a stern look. Then her expression softened.
“Go and get it for me, there’s a good boy.”
Quickly, he fetched the toy from its special drawer. A harness, with a strap-on cock already in place; it was made of black leather, with sturdy straps and buckles. The black dildo, though not too thick, was a good eight inches in length.
This was his fantasy. This was the reason for their play this evening. This was why he had brought the Goddess home with him.
“Put it on me.”
Even the act of fitting the harness gave him palpitations. He fiddled with the straps until it was firmly in place around her hips, the large phallus jutting provocatively from her pelvis. The sight made him want to worship her.
