It was a clear night, but there was a cool breeze. As Hayley stepped from the car, the cold air passed quickly through her skirt, a chill reminder that she wasn't wearing panties, or a bra, for that matter. Still, her husband, Steven, let her dress conservatively enough that no one would notice. Although, her breasts did jiggle as she walked.
It was Friday evening, and they had just shared a nice romantic dinner at their favorite fondue restaurant. It had been quite a surprise. Her husband had arranged for his parents to baby-sit through Sunday afternoon. On the one hand, she was excited to be away from the house and the kids for the weekend. The trouble was, Steven had that "kinky" look in his eyes. Sometimes, he seemed to plan for sex. This wasn't bad, except that he usually had expectations of her, expectations which she found difficult to fulfill. Like pretending to be a "Mistress" for a night, or even giving him a lengthy blowjob. She didn't mind doing different things, but she preferred good old-fashioned sex, regardless of position, as long as his cock was in her cunt. And she didn't like to be responsible for the foreplay. She preferred that he do the work of turning her on, rather than the other way around. So his "schemes" were often half-played and concluded, likely, with some disappointment on his part, though he never complained.
Their sex life had dwindled lately, due to generally being busy, raising kids, and his occasional business travel. So while she was looking forward to some intimate time together, she knew that this wouldn't be like a vacation. She should have suspected something when he helped clean up the house. That made sense only after his parents arrived. The house was, at least, presentable. But his intentions became clearer, if unspoken, when he directed her to her outfit for the evening.
He had stayed in the room, watching her change from her sweatpants and T-shirt. When she had reached for the skirt on the bed, he had simply pointed towards her panties and said, "off with those." As for the bra, "and give me that." She put on a gold silk sleeveless blouse, with a V- neck that gave a small hint of her cleavage. Tucked in her black, almost knee-length skirt, the blouse made her 38C breasts look pronounced. But he had also laid out a black jacket that would make her breasts less obvious. He had tossed these into their dirty clothes basket as she began her makeup. He had disappeared for a short time while she "freshened up." Then she found a suitcase and began packing. Steven had returned, however, and said, "Uh, that won't be necessary. I packed your stuff earlier today. You just need to pack your toiletries." A very reasonable thought had occurred to her that, in all likelihood, this was the last she would see of undergarments for the weekend.
And, with a mild disappointment, she realized that Steven was "scheming" a weekend, not just for a romantic time together, but for sex. Or more specifically, sex orchestrated to please him.
After saying goodbye to the kids and his parents, they had left for the restaurant. Dinner had really been quite enjoyable as they caught up on events during the week. Then he shifted the conversation, in mild tones, thankfully, so that people in other booths couldn't hear.
"We've gotten a bit lazy about sex, lately. You've been reading romance novels, I've been watching sports on TV, one or both of us has been too tired, and the kids have ruled our evenings to some degree. I've been planning this surprise weekend for several weeks, but it wasn't until this week, sitting alone in motel rooms, that I decided what I wanted for the weekend. And that, my dear, is you."
Whether he paused to collect his thoughts or paused for effect she didn't know. The result was a large question mark in her mind, suddenly jumping in font size and becoming quite bold. She had suspected a scheme, and now he was going to tell her. Wouldn't he?
"I have another surprise. I've made reservations for a month from now for a weekend in Savannah, GA, in an old bed and breakfast downtown. That's going to be a romantic weekend. Walking, shopping, dining at the waterfront. But after eleven years of marriage, I haven't been fully satisfied with our sex life. Most of the time, it's great. But, sometimes, not all that often, even, I want you in a different way. This isn't about love; it's about sex. And this weekend, that means more than an hour in the bed making love. I want your body, that is, I want you to give me your body, any way I please."
Hayley exhaled slightly. "You want me to be your sex slave?" What else could it mean?
"Yes. But it's more than that. It's not that I want a woman to do anything I want. I want the woman that I love, my wife, to give me her body, to do whatever I ask, for my pleasure."
Not for her pleasure. "And you're buying me off with another more.conventional.trip to Savannah?"
"It's booked regardless of how this weekend goes."
Hayley considered what he had said. Steven had not had sex with another woman before they had married. In fact, he had hardly dated. She wasn't concerned that he would be thinking extra-maritally, because she was confident in their love and their lives together. But he needed to experiment. And, he wanted to do it with her. That made it something worth doing.
Steven smiled at that. "Okay, what?"
"Okay, from head to toe, I'm yours." Steven just looked at her, with patient expectation. She knew what he wanted to hear. "I'll do anything you say." There. It was easily said, anyway.
Steven became very still, looking deep into her eyes, a very contented grin on his face. The moment was awkward due to its length. After 15 to 20 odd seconds, his eyes slowly lowered from hers, pausing to consider her nose, her ear, her cheek, her lips, then her neck. She wasn't sure how his look should be interpreted. She didn't feel like a piece a meat being examined. He was somehow communicating sex, and if not the act, then certainly the sensuous possibilities of.well, more than just her face, but her flesh. Then his eyes dropped quickly to her left breast. The restaurant was somewhat cool, but her nipples were hard for another reason, entirely.
Hayley watched his eyes. Intense. They slowly circled her breast, then crossed to her right breast. His constant grin made his eyes seem to twinkle. The thought was interrupted when she realized that his grin had given way to movement. The grin returned, and it seemed the strangest of time warps when the sounds he had made registered in her brain. Show me. She exhaled sharply. His eyes had never moved.
The table across from them had just emptied, and a busboy was clearing it, his back to them. They were at the end of an aisle, and she was facing towards the wall, where no one in the other booths could see. She opened her jacket more fully, as it covered about half of her breasts. Then she untucked her blouse. A quick look confirmed the bus boy was wiping the table. She waited until he finished and walked away, and then she quickly raised part of her blouse to expose her right breast, the one he had continued to look at. She flashed her nipple, then lowered her blouse.
He looked into her eyes. His grin was gone. Her little show she had found exciting, but his disappointment was obvious. He spoke, in short, measured tones. "The breast. Not the nipple." His eyes lowered to her left breast, indicating what he wanted. She gathered the bottom of her blouse in her hands, then raised it, quickly, as high as she could, exposing herself. She saw him hold up three fingers. What? Then he closed them, and raised one in a counting motion. Oh. She held the cloth until his fingers counted three, which he certainly did in no particular hurry. But the grin and the twinkle returned. As he counted three, the hostess stepped directly to the side of her table, her back to Hayley. A couple was seated across from them, and Hayley quickly covered herself. As the hostess stepped away, their waiter returned with their check. He apparently couldn't help his eyes from wondering briefly to Hayley's chest. She was covered, but the silk blouse did nothing to disguise the full curves underneath. As he turned to leave, he made eye contact with her and smiled, and it was moments later that she realized her untucked blouse probably had given him more than a subtle hint. She tried to discretely tuck her blouse back in. She hadn't been embarrassed to this point, but now her face flushed red as Steven and the guy in the opposite booth watched her stuff her blouse back into her skirt.
Shortly, when they were on the highway, she was quite pleased to see that they were heading downtown. That is, assuming they were going to a hotel. She couldn't imagine Steven taking her to a club or a bar. It just wasn't his taste. As he pulled up to the Marriott, she decided she was really looking forward to the evening. The restaurant had been kind of fun, really, and despite their light talk on the drive, Steven's expression reminded her of a child seeing all the presents under the Christmas tree for the first time. She had never stayed in a hotel downtown, and, despite, or maybe because of, whatever Steven might want her to do, she felt like a gift box ready to be unwrapped.
Her husband carried one of their suitcases, leaving another in the trunk. Registration was quick, and soon they were entering a non- smoking room on the 20th floor with a king size bed. The room was tastefully decorated, and the view had a good angle of the city skyline, although the hotel across the street blocked some of the view.
.... There is more of this story ...