“Just ignore the cameras, tiger,” I purred. “Yes, like that! Harder. Mmm.”

Jonathon Rock, millionaire and smut-peddler, had his face between my outstretched thighs. One of his hands was on the floor, balancing his body, and the other was thrusting in and out of my dripping pussy.

“Suck my clit. Make me fucking cum!”

I glanced at Matt, our ever-present cameraman.

“Stroke that big, Australian cock for me. Shoot your cum all over my fleshly-mopped floor.”

My legs began shaking, and I pulled them up, my knees close to my face, to allow John’s fingers to fuck me harder and deeper. I screamed in euphoric bliss when my stomach began quivering, my orgasm clawing its way up from deep within my core.

“Oh, fucking God, I’m cumming.”

“Damn, Mary Anne,” Johnny smiled, his tongue darting out to lick my nectar off his lips and chin. “That’s so hot. I’m ready.” He unzipped his jeans, pulling his big, stiff cock out.

“Put it back in your pants. You promised me dinner, remember?”

“Fuck! I’m cumming,” Matt announced.

My boyfriend and I looked over, and Matt was furiously stroking his hard shaft, gobs of white cum launching from the tip. The special glasses he was wearing, with the built-in HD video camera, gave him a sexy, intellectual mien. I grabbed a nearby roll of paper towels and quickly mopped up his spunk. I’d just mopped.

“You boys go over the footage, and I’ll slip into something restaurant-appropriate.”

“What’s wrong with the dress you have on? It’s stunning.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “You look better than almost every other Sheila in the city.”

I sighed in frustration at the obliviousness. “This is a housedress for lounging around the home and doing daily chores. It isn’t something a self-respecting woman would wear to dinner, especially out in public. I’ll be a minute.”

“More like a hundred,” Johnny said softly, playfully jabbing his elbow into Matt’s ribs.

“I heard that,” I yelled back, smiling to myself.

With the next cam show all set up, the videos on RubHub circulating and growing ever more popular, and several dozen hours of footage for the new reality show, it was time for a well-deserved breather. For us, taking a night off meant no more planning and business, but the cameras would keep on rolling. I’d spent the majority of an entire week whipping Good Knight Production’s editing team into shape. They were good people, and excellent at what they did, but I needed to ensure that the footage was edited and sequenced exactly how I needed it.

Avoid anything that might give away our exact location, ensure that every one of us in the Princess Conclave had equal screen time, and no creative editing to give false impressions or to twist what actually happened were just a few of my terms. I’d refused to view any of the interview footage, lest I see or hear something that I didn’t like. I didn’t want my personal feelings or bias to get in the way of proper entertainment. Since I marketed everything as reality, that was exactly what our audience would receive.

It took me far less than a hundred minutes to get myself ready. My brassy, blond hair looked good long, so I left it that way. A muted orange slip-dress, Autumn brown for trim, was perfect for the season. Simple shoes with low heels made the entire ensemble fun and classy. To break up the pumpkin-like coloration, I added a deep green belt around my waist. With my makeup exactly perfect, I was ready.

“That’s a great shot, right there,” Johnny was saying as I entered the room. “See how Mary’s in the background fingering herself, still, while you’re shooting your wad.”

“And I’ll be fingering myself more if you don’t get the car ready, tiger.”

“Oh, hi. You look…” My boyfriend’s eyes roamed up and down my figure.

“I look how?”

“Edible,” Matt said. Jonathon just gawked at me.

“Hmph,” I snorted to Johnny. Then, I pointedly turned toward Matt, deliberately walked up to him as sexily as I could, and kissed him on the lips.

“Thank you. Get your tongue ready. Maybe I’ll make you prove exactly how ‘edible’ you think I am, later.”

“Beautiful,” Johnny blurted. “I’m stunned.”

“Let’s go eat. You promised me a quiet dinner, nothing fancy.”

The drive to the restaurant, a typical, slightly upscale steakhouse, was awkward. Despite me telling Mr. Rock to ignore the camera, it was nearly impossible to do so. Additionally, it felt quite rude to not include Matt in the conversation.

“Just ignore me,” he kept saying. “I don’t exist. Act natural.”

Since I wasn’t driving, I downed a couple of edibles just to allow myself to relax a bit. My alter-ego of Mary Jane was quite the showoff, I wasn’t. Bourbon Street, as the place was called, was a typical franchised establishment, the ones that are in every metropolitan area. Casual, moderately priced, and filled with knickknacks of bygone eras, quirky-dressed staff meandered about, and the ambiance was welcoming. We were quickly seated, and the service, while not the stellar level of the more affluent places, was quite good.

Johnny and I discussed plans for the webcam shows over an appetizer of stuffed mushrooms and drinks. During the main course, we discussed our relationship status.

“I need to go back home, soon, Mary Anne,” he told me. “I’d like you to come with me. Move in with me.”

My jaw drooped. “Mike died just six months ago, John. This is all very sudden.”

“I’ll fly you and your friends out. They can relocate, and we’ll shoot on the West Coast.”

“Allison is married, and Ben, her husband—you’ve met him—is a professor on campus. I don’t see how it would work.”

“I just want to be with you; that’s all. I’m not saying that we should get married, just yet, honestly. Just think about it, okay?” 

”I shall. I promise.” I paused, frowning at Matt. “Topic change!” I addressed Johnny. “Tell me, Mr. Rock, what type of panties, or lack thereof, do you find the sexiest?”

“Fine,” he sighed. “It… umm… depends.”

“Depends on what?”

He grew pensive, his eyes bulging out a little when I slipped my foot out of my shoe and began caressing his leg.

“T-back thongs, I guess,” he stuttered. “I like them all,” he paused, “well, what’s inside, I mean. Thongs, G-strings, lace boy shorts, even no panties when it’s all about sex. But, a garter belt, lots of lace, and a matching bra and panties, really gets me going.”

Smiling impishly, I glanced around. Nobody was looking our way. Feeling myself blush, I lifted my rump off the seat, reached under my dress, and pulled off my lace thong panties.

“And makeup?” I added. “Do you like raccoon-eyed whores, skanky sluts, or demure domestic goddesses?”

“Um, I never thought about it. So long as she looks good, I suppose I’m good.”

My dinner date choked on his steak when I tossed my crumpled-up thong onto his dinner plate.

“So, a lace thong was a good choice, then?”

“You just did that… in public.”

“I’d do more if this place was a little more intimate. Mike and I always talked about me crawling under the table and sucking him off. We never got around to it. The next time you take me out, make it someplace fancy and private, so I can honor my late husband’s wishes and slut it up for you.”

He wadded them up in his fist, smelling my liquid sex. “Check, please!”

“But Matt hasn’t finished his meal, yet. How about I go to the ladies’ room for a few minutes? Give him time to eat. Finish your vegetables like a good boy, Johnny, and keep those panties. I’ll put them on, again, when we get home, and let you tear them off my hips before you ravish me.”

The best-laid schemes of mice and women, however, often go astray. My original intention was to take off my bra and entice my boyfriend on the drive home. However, the lusty look of shock on his face, when I plopped my soiled panties onto the table, aroused me. Noting that nobody was in the ladies’ room, I decided to take a few minutes of “me time.” It seems that I wasn’t the only one with the same idea.

A good wife, or girlfriend in my current case, makes things exciting and spontaneous. Contrary to popular belief, spontaneity requires a lot of careful, detailed planning. I pulled my feet off the floor, placing one foot on either side of the stall door, and slowly fingered my now-wet pussy while I mused over my plans.

My fingers circled my clit, coaxing it from its hood, as I thought about the drive home. I’d spread my legs, smiling at the camera in Matt’s glasses, and dirty-talk Jonathon into a stupor while he drove. Demanding my panties, the thought of running them up and down my body while I moaned, held a lot of appeal. Then, I’d use them to masturbate with, making sure that I got my panties soaked.

Wondering if I could fuck myself with my own lace panties, I tested my aching, wet hole with my fingers. It seemed as if I could. Further testing the sexual waters, my cunt flooded, soaking my fingers, and building up toward an avalanche of ecstasy. I moaned, softly, my mewling whimpers echoing off the tiled walls.

Just then, the door opened, and I heard the sounds of spiked heels on the floor. I momentarily stopped furiously masturbating, slowing down to light, slow circles on my clit, the fingers of my other hand still embedded in my fiery sex hole.

The tentative footfalls clanked across the floor, moving across the row of three stalls.

“Nobody here,” a warbling, young, feminine voice observed. She hadn’t noticed me. “I can’t believe I’m doing this!”

Remaining silent and immobile, I listened. I heard some rustling of clothing, then nothing. I waited, afraid to breathe.

“I’m so wet,” the unseen young woman whispered. My eyes grew wide.

Afraid to move, I just sat there, feeling foolish. I could flush the toilet and walk out, pretending innocence, but something kept me from acting. Then I heard her sigh. It wasn’t a sound of frustration or relaxation; her husky, staccato exhalation sounded more impassioned than anything else. My ears perked up, and I listened more attentively.

Very slowly, I lowered my legs, careful to not make any sound. As stealthily as I could, I removed my feet from my pumps and stood, pressing my face against the crack between the stall door and the hinges.

“Oh, mmm, oh,” she whimpered, softly.

I didn’t have a complete view, but I could make out enough to see what was going on. The woman appeared to be young, in her very early twenties. She was lean and lithe, with very long legs. I couldn’t see her face at my angle, but she was leaning with her back against the sinks, and I could see a little bit of her reflected face, in profile. She had heavy makeup, looked sultry and sexy, almost slutty, and her hair was a very short, pixie cut, dyed jet black.

From my point of view, I could make out one of her slightly spread legs, and the rest of the action could be seen in the mirror. One of her hands was holding her skirt above her waist, and the other was busy between her legs. Her black panties had been shoved to one side, and she was furiously fingering her clit. The most arousing part of it was that she was obviously trying to reach orgasm as quickly as possible. Her stomach pumped and heaved up and down as she breathed in hard, short bursts, and her high, large breasts undulated along with the rocking of her torso.

I watched for a few seconds, trying to decide exactly what to do. Unbidden, my hand sought my clit and emulated her actions. I could remain where I was and wait for her to finish. I’d appreciate the lusty show. However, that seemed to be a bit invasive, even though she was masturbating in public. Steeling my resolve, I slipped back into my shoes and opened the bathroom stall door.

“Holy fuck,” she shrieked. “I’m so sorry! I thought nobody was in here.”

I just smiled, knowing exactly how that felt. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Huh?”

“This,” I responded, feeling myself blush at my brazenness. Rather than explain further, I lifted my dress, exposing my dripping cunt, and began fingering my clit in front of her. “I… aah, umm…was doing the same thing… oh, fuck…when you came in.”

“I, ah, I’m, umm… holy fucking shit. I was just doing this for my boyfriend. He dared me to be as wild as I could.”

“Well, do it!”

Our eyes locked, and her mortified expression turned to one of naughty arousal. She smiled broadly, her eyes suddenly glowing with horny delight. I took the three steps it took to approach her, gently took her hand, and placed it back over her cleanly-shaven mound.

Slowly, at first, timid and shy, she gently ran her fingertips over her pussy. I watched, plunging two fingers into my cunt, stretching out another to flick my clit. My stare traveled up from her slit and wandered over her body, finally looking her in the eyes once more.

She stared at me, moaning and whimpering softly. Her arousal overpowered her trepidation, and we fingered ourselves with our eyes riveted to one another. Her body shivered and quaked, again, and her tiny breasts strained against her all-black T-shirt.

“May I?” I asked, glancing down at her crotch.

“Mmm, aaah,” she moaned. She nodded, moaning.

Emboldened, my hand left my dripping snatch, and I ran a perfectly manicured fingernail over the back of her hand.

“Fuuuck,” the seductive stranger sighed. “I’ve never…” Her voice trailed off, her hand becoming a blur over her clit.

“I’ll be your first, then.”

Slowly, I maneuvered my fingertips under her wildly-moving palm, replacing her fingers with mine. Her sex was hot to my touch, slick with her arousal, and, as soon as my flesh made contact with her slit, she moaned loudly and leaned further back.

“Just relax and cum for me,” I urged.

I had to move close to her; her perfume was intoxicating, as was the impassioned look of unbridled lust on her face. She whimpered and moaned, her eyes closed, and she thrust her greedy, soaked cunt against my hand.

“Oh, shit. I’m so turned on, right now.”

Her legs spread for me, wide enough to allow me full access. My left hand shot under my busy, right arm and caressed her sodden lips, my fingers finding her pulsing hole. One finger, followed by another when she cried, “Yes,” invaded her sacred spot.

The woman wrapped her arms around me, the scent of her nectar emanating off her fingers, and nuzzled her face into the nape of my neck. I could feel her body writhing against mine, under my control, and hear her moans, sighs, and whimpers as she convulsed against me.

“Is this wild enough, being fingered by a strange woman in a public ladies’ room?”

As I said that, my pinky finger found her back door and probed around the sensitive ring. I finished my question by kissing and licking under and behind her ear.

“Oooh… aaahh… unnggg!” she erupted.

The woman’s entire body lost all of its strength, and she fell against me, her entire body undulating and shaking. Her mouth turned to me, moaning and whimpering, and we instinctively pressed our lips against the other’s in a passionate kiss. When the waves of her bliss had subsided, I righted her, looked at her, and smiled.

“Now you have something really naughty to tell your boyfriend. My hand returned to her crotch and played in her wetness. To my delight, her after-tremors were still rippling through her body. Each caress set off a mini-orgasm.

Feeling naughty, I rubbed my cum-soaked fingers over her lips and then licked and sucked the fluid off her mouth. A quick hug and another passionate kiss followed, and, then, I left, smiling.

When I returned to the table, both Johnny and Matt were sitting there, waiting for me.

“What took you so long?”

“I was a bad girl, Johnny. I’ll tell you about it in the car.”

It took less than a minute to gather our sundries and head toward the door. During those few seconds, my sexy, young friend from the washroom exited and returned to her table. Her cheeks were still flushed, and she had an impish look about her. I stood, watching as she went to her table, leaned in toward the man she was with, and whispered something into his ear.

He was handsome and also young, and he had that look of youthful vitality about him. His face lit up, a huge grin showing, and, even from that distance, I heard him exclaim, “You did not!”

“Be right back,” I told my men.

Swaying as seductively as I could, I sauntered over to their table. I could hear her trying to convince him that she wasn’t lying, but he wouldn’t believe her.

“Her! With her,” she pointed.

I smiled at them both, then possessively put my arm over the woman’s shoulder. Looking her boyfriend in the eyes, I said, in a horny, impish voice, “Your girlfriend’s pussy tastes so sweet.”

“Told you!” she yelled.

Knowing that he was staring at my ass, I gave it some extra wiggle as I walked out of the restaurant, Jonathon and Matt hurrying to catch up.

“Remember, Johnny,” I told him as we piled into his car, “the Princess Conclave has a big show tomorrow night, and, after that, we need to prepare for live-streaming Trad Wife’s debut episode by simulcasting on Dream Cams and RubHub.”

“Um, you said you were a bad girl?”

“Yeah! Spill it,” Matt added.

“Well,” I began. “The way you looked at me when I gave you my panties got me all worked up, so I was in the bathroom playing with myself. Then, this woman walked in… Pull your cock out. I want to stroke it.”

To be continued…