Date night again

The next morning I woke up slowly, my body still deliciously sore from everything that had happened the day before. Sunlight filtered through the curtains as I lay there, replaying the memories. The beach, the huge black man, the two officers, and the arrest. It all felt like a wild dream, yet the constant daily hypnosis made it feel completely natural.

Alex was already awake beside me, watching me with a quiet intensity. We lay together for a while, talking softly about the previous day. I described every detail to him, and he listened without interrupting, his hand resting on my thigh. The conversation left us both aroused, but we took our time getting ready.

Later that afternoon Alex suggested we go out for dinner. “Just the two of us,” he said. “But you can dress however you want. I want to see you tease again.”

I chose a short, elegant black dress that hugged my curves and showed plenty of leg. No bra, no panties. We arrived at a cozy, upscale restaurant with dim lighting and private booths. The same handsome young waiter from before recognized me immediately. His cheeks flushed as he led us to our table.

Throughout the meal I flirted shamelessly. I kept my legs slightly apart under the table, giving him repeated flashes whenever he came to refill our drinks or bring new plates. I would smile at him, bite my lip, and casually run my fingers along my inner thigh while he stood there. Alex watched everything quietly, his hand resting on my thigh under the table, clearly aroused by my boldness.

The waiter kept finding excuses to return to our table. Each time he lingered longer, his eyes drawn to my exposed skin. The tension built steadily. When he brought dessert, I decided to push things further. I leaned forward, letting my dress dip low to show my cleavage, and whispered to him, “I need to use the restroom. Could you show me where it is?”

He nodded nervously and led me toward the back of the restaurant. Instead of going to the public restroom, I pulled him into a small, dimly lit storage room used for extra linens. I closed the door behind us and dropped to my knees, pulling his cock out. I sucked him eagerly, moaning around his length while he groaned and held my hair.

After a few minutes I stood up, turned around, and bent over a stack of folded tablecloths. “Fuck me,” I whispered. “Quickly.”

He didn’t hesitate. He pushed into my pussy in one thrust and fucked me hard from behind, his hips slapping against my ass. I moaned loudly, not caring if anyone outside could hear. “You fuck me so much better than my fiancé,” I gasped, secretly filming the entire thing on my phone. The way he thrust into me, my moans, and the moment he came deep inside me.

I straightened my dress, kissed him on the cheek, and walked back to our table with his cum slowly leaking down my thigh. Alex’s eyes darkened with intense lust when he saw the fresh mess on my leg. We finished dessert in charged silence, the waiter avoiding eye contact but blushing every time he passed our table.

On the drive home I showed Alex the secret video I had recorded. He watched it with complete focus, his cock hard the entire way. When we got back to the apartment I rode him slowly on the couch while he watched the video again, describing how the waiter felt inside me.

The hotwife dynamic was growing stronger between us. The group had opened the door, and we were both happily walking through it.

There was still so much more to explore.