He catches my eye as he tells the Maitre’ d he’s meeting someone. Damn, that man can hang a suit. I stand and make myself visible in the crowded restaurant, and his eyes light up. “You look lovely,” he said as he kissed me on the cheek. We catch up a bit and keep dinner light, well as light as one can get at Marcel’s, and get dessert to go. I can’t wait to taste blood orange brulée from his tongue.
Back at our suite, we steal a few kisses as I pour libations into Bordeaux glasses to let it breathe. It’s amazing how long we’ve been friends. “To our fifth anniversary,” we quip. We spend a moment letting the suave tannins of this amazing vintage engulf our palates, and his large hands finds the zipper on the back of my dress. He makes me blush as he looks into my eyes with that intense stare. I know that look. I’m about to be dinner. As his hands slowly work their way down, he finds my secret jewel: the anal plug I’ve been wearing since the restaurant.
By this time, the brulée was at the perfect consistency. I let it drip from its container to his nipples, and trail down his body. I immediately get to clean up duty, making sure I’m very thorough. Now it’s my turn… Needless to say, things get very hot over the next few hours. I won’t bore you with details.
Sticky and sweet, hot and sweaty, we take advantage of the two person tub, and enjoy the rest of the wine. “This is good. You’ve got a knack for this,” he says. “I can’t wait to see what what you pick next year.”
To another year, sweetheart!