With Fading Suspicion and

George felt uncomfortable and suspicious the entire **** drive down into the old main street of town.

As much as he told his wife something was up she encouraged him to just enjoy this something nice from their daughters before getting to the truth.

Although Diana was more focused on reminding him of their old escapades when they were young, and passively suggesting they reminisce a bit tonight.

More out of her feeling a growing and more urgent need to get laid as the laced brownies effect slow brewed in her.

As they arrived George felt the first symptom of the brownie he had.

Many a time he had to marvel at the tight stylish contour hugging cocktail dresses worn by a hostess in such a place seating them.

But never one as exposing.

The hostess who met them at the door was adorned in a figure hugging dress that George want to undo not just to see if it was held on by compression upon the lithe figured girl, or if it was taped on.

It clung to her hips, extending down maybe to mid thigh at best, coming up it reached around from the top of her ass, giving no illusion to her exposed back, before opening up to bare her pale flat stomach and tiny belly button. As it Ascended over her chest it reached out to loop under her arms and over her shoulder, pulling a plunging neck line tight against the small breasts it seemed to contour in almost naked detail.

Adjusting his urgent erection as the girl turned to show them to their table he heard his wife lean in to whisper.

“I even want to see that bent over.” The lewdness of the remark caught him off guard, the response of ‘she could be our daughter’ catching in George’s throat as they followed and watched a very inviting bend over to place the menus down at their table as they approached.

“Once again, welcome to our fine establishment. Your waitress will be along shortly. A bottle of the finest house red will also be here shortly courtesy of the manager.” The hostess then assured them, pulling out Diana’s chair and seating her at the table before pausing once more, bend over between the couple. “And do let us know if there is anything, and I do mean ANYTHING, we can do to make your visit better.”

The last words rang with innuendo and invite, Diana squirmed as her mind some how conjured the idea of the hostess fluffing her husband’s cock before he fucked her.

As the hostess strutted away with all the allure of a run way model their waitress was soon there delivering prompt wine service with a bottle they hadn’t even ordered.

Despite the more conservative white blouse and black skirt, there was no mistaking the hang and shift of the waitresses unsupported breasts in the half unbuttoned top. The contours of her ass hugged so tightly her dress advertised her thong, raising the question in George’s mind of why they didn’t see any underwear lines in the hostess’s dress.

George rushed to try and plow those thoughts free from his mind, as he and his wife struggled to look at the menu.

Diana’s feet, and hands teasingly being frisky beneath the table as urgent need for something more physical grew in them both.

As dinner ended George’s prior concern and suspicions had been fully displaced. He felt hot all over, his cock was raging hard with need, and hungered for more despite several discreet impromptu jerking off sessions he had in the washroom trying to dispel thoughts and ideas of his wife, the staff, and any other sorry woman who happened to come to mind.

He fought not to even think of Marie, or Cherish. Or the things he had heard they might have been doing. Those thoughts went they did creep in seemed to hook in deep.

So preoccupied was George with these thoughts he never noticed or second guessed when Diana was gone from the table almost a full half hour.

Little did he know about what happened to her during the absence as he felt and tried to resist a growing need to hurry the both of them home for an urgent and hard fuck.

As Diana came back and the waiter assured them the bill was all taken care of George dragged Diana with need to the car.

They sped along back roads home, parking in such a urgent furry George’s cock was left hanging out as he and his wife ran for the front door, her spit creating a cold chill from the breeze upon his cock as the warmth of her hand became sought after memory of the drive home.

As they threw the door open and spilled into the house it was all forgotten. Displaced with just one sudden unexpected question.