Walter catches an erotic eyeful when a mouth-watering waitress is on the menu for him and his domme wife.

“You know what that girl needs?” my wife commented.

I turned to see which girl she was indicating. Simone had her eyes locked on our waitress, a blonde-haired fluffy thing, all curly locks and pursed lips. We were at a high-end restaurant, celebrating a bit of good news that had come our way. The waitress, like the rest of the wait staff, had on a crisp white shirt and neat black slacks. Her outfit was mildly androgynous, but the tousle of curls spilling free and the candy-pink lipstick made her seem luxuriously feminine.

“What does she need?” I asked, my voice hushed.

“Oh, you can guess, can’t you?” Simone leaned back in the sumptuous velvet chair, regarding me now from under her long, lovely lashes. That night, my wife had worn her long dark hair in a high ponytail. She had donned one of my favorite of her dresses, a shimmery emerald green number with a dangerously low “V” in the front. Her full breasts were practically on display. I had watched every man — and quite a few of the women — who passed her by taking a hearty eyeful of her curvaceous cleavage. The waitress, herself, had seemed awed by my wife’s luminous beauty.

“I think you know,” Simone said. She lifted her wineglass and took a sip, and I could see her appreciating the expensive bouquet. Simone lives for life’s pleasures. She is a gourmand in and out of the bedroom. I had the distinct sensation that tonight, before too long, she’d have made a meal of our waitress.

The younger woman approached our table with a fresh glass of burgundy. She hadn’t even been asked. She seemed to want to pay tribute to my queenly bride. But when she set down the goblet, her hand shook, and the blood-red liquid sloshed over the edge and onto the pristine tablecloth. My wife made a “tsk” noise with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. The waitress went scarlet.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she stammered. “This was a free glass, a courtesy… ” she trailed off. My wife lit up with the attention. Her posture is always straight, but she seemed to somehow grow even more erect.

“Simone smiled at me and landed the first blow on the waitress’s naked skin.”

The waitress apologized more profusely. Her cheeks were such a bright peony. She took the glass away and came back immediately with a fresh one. When she set down the glass, she ducked and curtseyed, seemingly desperate for Simone’s approval.

Simone cocked her head at me and waited. I guessed she wanted me to paint a scenario for her, what I thought she wanted to do to the waitress. Or with the waitress. Simone and I have what others might consider an unusual relationship. We are committed, loving spouses. But Simone does her best to make my deepest fantasies come true — and these fantasies always involve watching her with another partner.

I had a feeling I knew what my wife was getting at tonight, but I didn’t want to guess incorrectly. Simone waited a beat, then admired our waitress openly. My wife is happy being with women or men; she doesn’t have a preference when it comes to our thirds.

“She’ll do just fine, won’t she?” Simone posited, as if my desires were the only things that mattered. As if she only had my best interests at heart.

“Yes,” I agreed. My dick was hard in my charcoal-gray slacks at the thought of Simone and the pretty young thing. I could caption each frame I saw in my mind. Simone kissing her new pet, undressing the waitress, perhaps tormenting her before allowing her to reach the type of pleasure she’d only fantasized about. Simone is an expert lover. She does not stop until she’s sure her bedmates are not only satisfied, but that they’ll dream of her forever after. That they’ll come knocking at her door — our door — in the middle of the night, craving something only she can give.

“Then I’ll make this happen for you,” Simone said magnanimously.

My wife has a wicked smile. I can tell when she’s plotting something deliciously kinky simply by the way the corners of her lips turn up ever so slightly. It’s as if she’s almost ready to share what she’s thinking, but not quite. Not yet. I’d seen that look when she watched the waitress spill the little bit of her drink on the table. Seen that devious plotting look in her bright green eyes. I didn’t say anything, because when Simone looks like that, I don’t want to disturb her. I don’t want to get in her way. From past experiences, I was sure I’d find out her plan before too much time had passed.

Simone paid for the meal, and I saw that she left her card with the tip. She didn’t under tip. She doesn’t mind nervous slipups. She simply wrote a note to the waitress, and then we were on our way.

In the car, I should have held my tongue. But my dick was as hard as a table leg. As Simone was driving, that smile still in place, I asked, “What did you write?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Did I? Yes. Would it cost me? I guessed so.

“Yes,” I said softly.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” I said again, and then I added “ma’am” for good measure, the way the waitress had whispered “ma’am,” as well.

“You’ll have to wait,” she said, and she continued to drive in silence until her cell phone rang. Then she let herself grin widely, and she told me to answer.

I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered somewhat tentatively. As soon as the woman on the other end spoke, I knew Simone had wooed our waitress.

“Tell her where we live,” she said. “Tell her to be there as soon as possible to claim what I promised.” I did as told and afterward queried, “What did you promise?”

“Do you really want to know?” Simone was obviously enjoying herself. I was conflicted. I could guess what she’d written on the note. Something sexy. Something kinky.

“Tell me,” I said, my voice hushed.

“Let’s make it a surprise,” Simone said, and she pulled us into the driveway. I followed my wife to the house, watching her supple body moving beneath the formfitting dress. She is all long lines, slim limbs. But powerful. I’d been aware throughout dinner that she and the waitress had engaged in a little light flirting. I wondered if the girl knew exactly what she’d gotten herself into. When Simone is in the driver’s seat (in or out of a car), things tend to go her way.

My luscious wife went to the bedroom. “To get ready,” she told me. I was instructed to prepare for our guest. As I bustled around in the kitchen and living room, filling the ice bucket and mixing drinks, I replayed the evening in my head. The waitress had been delightful from the start of dinner, but a little bit accident prone, once dropping a fork and then forgetting Simone’s appetizer. I wondered now whether that had all been a ruse, an act to garner my wife’s attention, which she definitely had done. When the doorbell sounded, I hurried to let in our guest. But Simone called out to me.

“I will greet her.”

My wife strode down the hall in her tallest heels. In one hand, she held a paddle. I felt my cock throb. I hoped that our newest plaything would want to stay once she caught sight of Simone. Would she have it in her to take what my wife dished out?

I stood a few steps back. Simone opened the door, and there stood Marisol, wearing a black coat and holding a bottle of something sparkly. She looked Simone up and down, peeked around her at me, and then stepped right inside. She didn’t appear frightened in the least. Her eyes looked wide and hungry, and her cheeks were flushed.

“Marisol made mewing happy noises as she started to eat out my wife.”

I took the bottle that she offered as Simone gripped her by the hand and led her into the sitting room. I could hear their voices — Simone’s louder, Marisol’s hushed and subservient. I wondered what they were saying. By the time I entered the room, things had progressed past my wildest desires. Marisol’s jacket was discarded over one of our armchairs. Her shoes were lined up neatly at the foot of the couch. The waitress had changed out of her uniform before coming over. She had on a knee-length black skirt with her crisp white blouse. Simone had Marisol draped over her lap, and she was paddling the girl through her skirt.

There was no need for drinks to break the ice; no one to bother with the snacks. I set down the tray on the end table and found a spot for myself in the nearest chair. My wife met my eyes and winked. I would have winked back, but I didn’t want to shut my eyes. Not even for a second. I wondered what color Marisol’s panties were. I didn’t have to wonder for long. Simone motioned for me to bring her a glass of the bubbly. I hurried to her side. She took a sip, licked her lips, and handed the flute back to me. Then, as unrushed as ever, she slowly dragged Marisol’s skirt up by the hem. Together, we watched the waitress’s slender thighs come into plain view. She had on thigh-high stockings, and — what was this? No panties! What cheek! I thought, and then bit down on a laugh. Two cheeks, really. Her curvaceous hind end was bared and ready for Simone’s paddle.

I sat down once more, working to adjust myself because my hard-on was tenting my slacks. Simone pressed the paddle against Marisol’s pale pink bottom.

“Do you want this?” my wife asked softly.

“Yes,” Marisol responded.

“Say ‘please.’”

“Please spank me,” Marisol squeaked, and then she added, “Mistress,” which led me to believe that she’d been in a position like this before, at least in her fantasies. She knew the words, could play the part.

Simone smiled at me, lifted the paddle, and landed the first blow on the waitress’s naked skin. I felt a quake all the way to my core as if I was the one being spanked.

“What do you want?” Simone asked, and I suddenly realized she was addressing me. I cleared my throat, met my wife’s gaze, and said, “Make her come.”

“How should I do that?”

“Spank her until she’s so wet she can’t stand it.”

Simone grinned at me. Marisol turned her head so that her eyes met mine. She had her bottom lip captured between her teeth. She was rocking on Simone’s lap. I wondered if she was trying to make contact with her clit on Simone’s knee. I wondered what her pussy looked like.

Simone took my instructions to heart. She started to truly paddle our naughty waitress. The device whispered in the air with each blow. Marisol didn’t make a noise. The sound in the room was an echo of applause, that paddle slapping against the girl’s beautiful bottom over and over.

“Check her,” Simone told me.

I came close, parted Marisol’s thighs, and let my fingertips broach her pussy lips. She was dripping.

“She’s very wet,” I said.

“Good,” Simone said. She pushed Marisol off her lap and told the girl to follow her. We were going to a new place. I could guess it was the bedroom, and I was right. Simone led our pert plaything down the hall to the master bedroom. Here, she had Marisol strip completely and spread herself faceup on the mattress. Then she took off her own clothes and settled herself into a 69 — with Simone on top, of course.

I moved around the bed, wanting to get as close to the action as I could. I wondered how Marisol was enjoying Simone’s tangy flavor. I wondered how the girl felt with her hot ass pressed against our cool sheets.

Simone has had me in similar positions, with a well-spanked butt on our king-size mattress. Marisol made mewing happy noises as she started to eat out my lovely wife. I sucked in my breath and won a whiff of the heady scent of two beautiful women who couldn’t get enough of each other. I watched as Simone really delved into Marisol’s pussy. She drew apart the younger woman’s petals and licked and lapped at the dewy interior. Marisol seemed to be as adventurous, as enthusiastic, as my wife. I moved around the mattress, checking out one angle and then another.

Suddenly, Marisol came. It was obvious when the climax flared through her. She stiffened entirely, and then she threw her head back and cried out her pleasure. Simone let her luxuriate in her bliss for several seconds, before muffling her once more. I watched my wife settle back down on Marisol’s open mouth. She rubbed her pussy forcefully against the waitress’s lips and tongue, grinding to gain the exact pressure she desired. To my total delight, my wife came right then, a few seconds after her new lover had. Witnessing each orgasm was breathtaking to me. Simone cried out, as well, but her throaty victory howl was much deeper than the blonde’s. Her lust was primal.

“To my delight, my wife came right then, seconds after her lover had.”

What would happen next? Would the two women take a breather? Would they adjourn to our bathroom to bathe? I leaned against the wall as Simone slid her body off Marisol’s face. Then I saw her heading for the nightstand, and I had an inkling of her plans. Marisol rolled over to see what Simone was doing. In seconds, Simone had a vibrator in her fist and a question on her lips.

“Are you ready?”

Marisol eyed the thick dildo, and then she settled on her back against the mountains of pillows at our headboard and parted her thighs. I moved closer. Simone would let me know if I was interfering. Sometimes she likes me to be so close she can feel my breath on her skin. Other times, she appreciates more of a distant audience. Right now, she hardly seemed to notice I was there at all. She ran the tip of the dildo up and down Marisol’s shaved pussy lips. I got the chance to see that the blonde had not a wisp of down on her split. She was entirely bare and her juices gleamed on her puffy lips.

Simone slid the tip of the dildo inside Marisol. The waitress groaned and raised her hips. I held my breath, as if I was the one being pleasured. But, in a way, I was. Simone understands the way my inner workings are wired. I live to watch her pleasure and tease her partners. Nothing ratchets up my own excitement more than being a viewer. I know that everything she does is choreographed for me.

Now, she had Marisol spread her thighs even wider apart. Gently, she inserted the dildo all the way to the base. Then she turned on the motor. The toy rumbled within our newest lover. Marisol’s eyelids fluttered. She clutched Simone’s shoulders, as if searching for purchase. I could see how the motor was ramping her up. I could see the desire to come again building within her.

To Marisol’s dismay, Simone removed the toy. “Roll over,” she instructed her nubile plaything. Marisol gave Simone a look of pure curious hunger, and then rolled over to display her still-pink bottom. Simone reached into our toy drawer and retrieved a second, smaller vibrator. She used this one to directly stimulate Marisol’s pretty little pucker. The girl held on to a pillow and whimpered. I knew what was going to happen next. I wondered if she did, if she could guess my wife’s wicked plans.

“Up on all fours,” Simone barked.

Marisol obeyed immediately. She was a little shaky. I noticed that her arms were trembling, the muscles of her inner thighs quivering slightly. What would my wife do next? What pleasure awaited her?

Simone brought both toys into play at once. Marisol and I gasped in tandem. The nymphet must have been in heaven, I thought, with both of her orifices being stimulated. Simone worked like a magician, tantalizing our new bedmate’s holes in the most decadent manner. I took in the look of fierce concentration on Simone’s face. She seemed to be slowly building the climax within Marisol, edging her higher and higher with the two toys, until with a great shuddering cry, the blonde succumbed.

This orgasm was transcendent. She shook the whole bed and then collapsed to the sheets. Simone removed the toys, and then she shot me a look of dreamy pleasure. She seemed delighted by the way Marisol was working out for us. She’d chosen wisely. But then, she always does.

I wondered if that was it. The end of the show. I think Marisol wondered the same thing. Should she gather her belongings? Thank her new mistress? Simone answered the silent query for us.

“Come to the shower, pet,” she said to Marisol. “We’ll refresh ourselves before starting anew.”

I hurried ahead of the women and turned on the water in our large, glassed-in shower. I would be able to stand outside and watch — until the steam coated the glass. Maybe, if I was lucky — and I am always lucky — Simone would invite me into the humid interior. I could wash her if she’d let me, or simply watch her as she ran the mobile showerhead along Marisol’s body.

My dick — my poor dick — throbbed in anticipation. No, I hadn’t gotten my rocks off yet, but I would. I knew that. Where Simone is concerned, I always reach my peak with the most explosive results.

The two women came into the bathroom with their arms around each other. Simone stroked my face as she passed me, and then said, “Take off your clothes, baby. You’ll want to be nice and close for this.”

I felt a swelling inside me, and not just my dick. Simone was going to let me watch in the warm wetness of the shower. I followed the two ladies into our massive shower space, and then I settled back from them. Simone immediately did as I’d expected. She removed the handheld showerhead from the base and used the spray to adorn Marisol’s body with crystalline droplets. I would have licked those droplets up myself, but Simone was right there, following the trail of the spray with her own tongue. I was desperate to touch myself but didn’t dare until Simone gave me permission. Then she looked at me and said, “You may.”

I fisted my dick — so hard, so primed — and I began to jerk myself off while Simone showered her lover with water and affection. Marisol still seemed a bit dazed from her recent orgasm. Simone appeared to want to keep her this way. She brought the massaging spray between Marisol’s thighs and danced the rotations over her pussy.

Marisol cried out, and the sound of her voice reverberated within the walls. I kept pumping my cock in my fist as Simone spun Marisol around and taunted her with the water between her ass cheeks. My heart was pounding. I wondered if Marisol felt the same way.

Simone met my eyes once more. Then she said, “I want you two to come at the same time.” I wondered how we were going to accomplish that. “Jack yourself faster,” Simone instructed me. Then she had Marisol face me and she worked the shower massager at a higher setting over and over the girl’s pussy. Staring into Marisol’s eyes felt strangely personal. Of course, this was personal. My wife was manipulating her pussy. But our connection was stronger than that. We were all entwined, three corners of an unusual ménage. Even if I wasn’t actually touching the girl, I was feeling her. Feeling her heat, her intensity, and when she stiffened and cried out once more — her pleasure.

I came, too. Because Simone had told me to. Because I couldn’t hold off another second. I shot my load into my palm, and then Simone turned the shower spray on my hand and let the water wash me clean.

Clean didn’t last for long. It never would. Not when Simone’s around. Dirty took over in no time flat. Just the way I like it. We’re perfectly matched.

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