My husband’s birthday present to me, in addition to taking me out to Applebee’s, a movie, and a night in a nice hotel, all in Colorado Springs, was something from a company called Lovense, which sells sex toys. I had a pretty good idea what it was for and how it worked as soon as I unwrapped it, but I had no idea how well it worked, or that he could operate it remotely, from miles away, using an app on his phone. He’d been away from home working for a few days in the Springs and I’d driven down Friday afternoon to join him, leaving Hobo with our friends Walt and Lorraine, and their dog, Darwin. The next day, Saturday, was my birthday so we were celebrating a day early.

Richard’s birthday gift toy is called a Dolce, and it’s sort of a C-shaped or broad V-shaped pink vibe with one bigger end, which goes inside, and a slightly smaller one which presses between my lips and against my clit. Here’s the trick – each end has its own vibrator motor which can be operated independently on different pulse or vibration settings. Devilish, right? And one of his conditions was that I wear it when I went to meet him at Applebee’s!

He’d had me open the package, which was in his hotel room, as we talked on the phone after I got to his hotel.  Now he wanted me to wear it under a skirt with no panties, but I squashed that idea out of fear that the vibrations coupled with my naturally lubricious nature might have it dropping out and bouncing around on the floor as I walked through the restaurant– humiliation central, and not an experience I wanted! I compromised and did wear a skirt and blouse rather than slacks or jeans, but as usual, no bra. Applebee’s is not a fancy place, but we liked it, and since it was a special occasion and he’d be in business attire I dressed to match him.

When I went into the bathroom to strip and clean up a little I was already wet with anticipation. After a bit of rubbing it on me, I had little trouble pushing the more bulbous end of the vibe into me, where it settled naturally against my G-spot, the outer part nestling snugly between my lips and against my clit. With the way I felt already, I couldn’t wait for him to turn it on!

Once dressed in my silver-grey skirt and flowing white blouse (and bikini panties, out of fear my usual thong might not contain the toy) as well as three-inch heels, a rarity for me, I called him from my car before leaving the hotel. “I’m on my way, I’ll see you there in about twenty minutes.”

“Are you wearing it?”

“Mmm, I think it’s wearing me.”

He laughed. “Hold on…”

I did – tightly – to the steering wheel. I jumped at the first pulses of the toy but then wriggled in my seat as it built into a rhythm. “Richie… damn, that’s weird. Ohhh, yes, fuck… it’s working.”

“Feel good?”

“Yes. God… Richard!”

“See you at the restaurant.”

“Turn it off.”

“We’ll see.” He disconnected. He did not turn it off, however, leaving it on a slow, steady pulse!

I pulled out of the lot and tried to focus on my driving, but my pulsing pussy was commanding an inordinate amount of my attention. And then he started playing with the pulse and vibe patterns! I was wiggling around as if I’d sat on an anthill, the toy hitting all of my most sensitive spots with fiendish accuracy. When I realized that I was moving my hips, humping against the toy, I tried to stop… and couldn’t!

I called him again, using voice the commands on my truck. “Richard, turn this thing off before I have a wreck!”

“Feels good, huh?”

“I’m serious, turn it off.”

“I don’t think so. Happy birthday, you sexy thing.”

“Th…thank you…ohh, god! Richard, fuck! Turn it off, or I’ll stop and take it out.”

“Aww, you’ll spoil the fun.”

“Now!”

“Ok, just a sec...” It cranked higher, the pulses more like waves of increasing intensity, and I knew I was going to come – and then, before I could pull over, I did, cursing him and humping my car seat. He heard me, and when he knew I’d peaked he wound down the pulses.

I said, “You bastard.”

He merely laughed. “Wet panties?”

“What do you think?”

“Hard nipples?”

“Of course. Now stop it!”

He laughed again and hung up. To his credit, he let me drive the rest of the way without any further remote assaults, although I could feel how wet I was and I remained very aroused. As I got out of my car, however, it started up again and I almost doubled over. I looked around the parking lot to see if he was there, watching me, and saw his Jeep, empty; he was already inside, but could obviously see I’d arrived.

I walked the rest of the way to the door like I was half drunk. I’m a little unsteady on heels anyway, and these made me almost six feet tall, so along with the sexual assault on my pussy I walked awkwardly, my movements jerky, knees sometimes rubbing together as I squeezed my thighs together and rocked my pelvis to the hard pulsing inside of me. I once kicked my heel with my other foot and almost tripped. By the time I got inside, I was breathing in strained little gasps, mostly due to arousal.

He let up on me as I paused in the vestibule to catch my breath, but started again as I approached his table in the bar area, one of those high pub tables. I greeted him and said, “C’mon, let’s get a booth.”

“No, this is good.”

“Richard, I’m wearing a skirt, and with this thing in me…”

“I know. It’ll be fun, huh?”

“Depends on your definition of fun.” I gave up and pulled out a chair, but as I began to slide up onto it he moved his finger on his phone screen and my entire body jerked involuntarily as if I’d received an electric shock in response to the vibe thumping inside of me; I hoped nobody noticed. When I got settled and put my purse on an empty chair I said, “God, you’re an asshole!”

He just laughed. “Happy birthday – and I thought you enjoyed orgasms,” he said softly.

“Not when I can’t writhe around and moan and curse… loudly!” He surged the pulses and vibrations, and I clamped my thighs together and bit my lip to keep from crying out! I quickly figured out that my clamped thighs made it worse, so I threw my legs apart… which also didn’t help and undoubtedly displayed my wet panties to anyone looking. I knew my hips were thrusting and fought to keep it subtle but I was still wiggling around in my seat, and I couldn’t completely stifle a soft, “Ohh, fuck!” as I came.

I had my head down and my eyes closed as the orgasm washed over me, and I was gripping the edge of the table so tightly that my knuckles were white when I heard a voice say, “What can I get you to drink?”

I looked up into the attractive face of our waitress, sure she could read my orgasm on my flushed face, my eyes wide and lips slightly parted, probably looking shell-shocked. Still, I had to try. “A Mar…unh, god, Margarita… and a water pl… please.”

“Are you ok?”

I shook my head no as my bastard husband cranked up the intensity and I felt another orgasm coming. “Mus… fuck, muscle cramp… leg…”

Richard helpfully offered, “She gets a Charlie horse sometimes. Sweetie, do you need me to massage it out?”

I had my head down and was trying to break the edge of the table off with my hands as I came again, but I shook my head no as I thrust against the infernal machine, my hip movements shifting it inside of me. “No… ohh, goddamn!”

Our waitress helpfully offered, “You can stand up and stretch it out if you want. You need to pull your toes up so it stretches out your calf and your Achilles tendon – like this.” She leaned forward on our table and put one foot out behind her, pressing her heel back and foot flat, and drawing out her calf muscle. She had great legs, and I knew Richie was admiring her. Unfortunately, so were several other guys, so far too many eyes were focused on us while my husband was trying to make me come yet again.

I managed to say, barely stuttering, “No, I know, I g…get this a lot. I’ll just uh, muh… massage it out.” I leaned forward and gripped my calf with both hands, pretending to massage the offending muscle as she moved to another table. In that position, I could hear the soft buzz of the vibe, even with my thighs clamped together, and the pose also crushed the outer piece of the toy against my hard clit, where it tapped and vibrated relentlessly.

I remained in that position as another huge orgasm crashed through me, trying to be subtle as I rocked my hips and ass against my seat in a completely uncontrollable response. When it passed enough that I could, with my head still down on my knees I held one hand out toward my husband, palm out and fingers splayed, a silent plea for him to stop.

He did, dialing it down to a soft, pleasant buzz. When I could, I sat up and flipped him a quick bird, but he just laughed. I don’t think he was taking me seriously at all! I said, “Ok, stop now for a while. I need a break.”

“Yeah, you’re all flushed, so maybe for a few minutes. Can I leave it on low?”

“If you must. At least that won’t have me falling off the chair.” It was an odd but not entirely unpleasant feeling to have it vibrating softly inside of me, the outer part buzzing against my clit, but it wouldn’t make me climax again at that setting. I looked around and nobody seemed to be staring at us, so I was relieved about that – and it also gave me a chance to rock from side to side just enough to pull the back of my skirt out from under me.

Richie was watching, and he said, “What are you doing?”

“I had to pull my skirt out from under me or I’ll leave a wet spot on it if I haven’t already… no thanks to you! I should have worn a dark-colored one, or a print, but on this light grey…”

He grinned. “Yeah, a wet spot would show, big time. Bad planning, huh?”

“Asshole husband, huh?”

He laughed again. “You love it and you know it. So, you’re sitting bare-assed on that chair?”

“I have on panties, not a thong.”

“Wet panties.”

“Yes, very.”

“I’ll take them off you later, using only my lips and teeth.”

I looked around to be sure nobody was looking and quickly pulled my top down, flashing him one breast. “If I let you – I might be all sexed out by then.” My skirt was full enough to drape around my hips and thighs, so anyone would have had to look very closely to know it didn’t cover my ass, but I was too horny to worry about it. He was grinning at me, amazed that I’d flashed him; it was only then that I saw the older man, behind Richie and to his right, also grinning at me! Oh well…

Richie said, “You, sexed out? Never happen. I love that top on you, by the way, always have. It’s almost sheer, so it teases the eye even when you don’t do the flash move.”

“Thank you.” I liked it too, a soft, luxurious fabric that felt wonderful on my skin and teased my nipples as it lightly touched them. It plunged in the front, not that I have a lot of cleavage to show off; I should probably get a Wonderbra or something similar to wear beneath it to make the best of my limited assets, but I hate wearing a bra and liked the way the fabric felt on my skin. Plus, if I’m feeling naughty, I can lean forward in such a way that guys can get a sneak peek.

“It’s funny, it’s not like a tight t-shirt or anything, but the way that fabric flows over your shape it still does a great job of showing off your hard nips.”

“Really? I never noticed.”

“Ha! Bullshit, you’re fully aware of how it looks and you love it. Cock tease.”

I smiled coyly. “Maybe I’m not just teasing.”

“Me, no, but how about all the other poor guys in here?”

“You can invite them back to the hotel if you feel that bad for them.”

He shook his head. “I should have known better than to set you up for that one.”

“Yes, you should, by now. You’re hard, aren’t you?”

Our waitress, approaching from behind me, brought our drinks – and I wondered if she’d overheard my question. The little grin on her face told me she probably had, but he waited until she’d left to answer.

“Like a crowbar.”

“Poor baby. See, if we’d have taken a booth like I wanted, I could be giving you a footie.” He groaned theatrically, and I smiled. “Can’t very well do that here, so I guess you’ll just have to suffer.”

She came back a short time later to take our order, Richard getting a massive sloppy burger and me ordering a Fiesta Lime grilled chicken breast; we ordered a spinach and artichoke dip appetizer as well and enjoyed it with our drinks. He messed with me a little more as we waited for our meals, keeping me simmering and twitching but not coming. Anyone watching probably figured I was hyperactive or something since I couldn’t sit still. I was pretty sure I was leaving a wet spot on the chair, but fortunately, the cushion was covered in a fake orange-brown leather material and I made a mental note to wipe it dry as we left.

He relented as we ate, turning it off “to save the battery”, as he said, but it gave me a chance to enjoy my food despite still being aware that I had something inside of me, and pressing insistently against my clit.

Fiendishly, he told our server it was my birthday, so several of them gathered around to sing as she brought our desserts. I hate that display anyway, but as he turned the toy back up right before they got there it was especially bizarre to have it pushing me toward another orgasm as a room full of people watched the singers and then clapped. I smiled and waved a hand in thanks, trying not to hump my chair or cry out. I don’t think I could have come at that moment, with the distractions, but that toy was proving to be very fucking effective, so maybe…

I came again soon after though, a special little physical treat to go with my ice cream and brownie, again humping my chair, my hips with a mind of their own… but at least my little “Mmm, mmm!” sounds were appropriate to what I was eating. I asked him to turn it off or at least down as we were leaving – and he did, right up until I stood from my chair, being sure to tug my skirt back down.

Then, as I bent to wipe a V-shaped wet spot off my chair with a napkin, he cranked it up. All I can say is that it’s a good thing I’m only a very Wet Wanda and not a squirter, or the people around us would have needed waders… or at least a raincoat! I clung to his arm, twitching, spasming, and supporting myself with his help as we left the Applebee’s, racked by one orgasm after another.

I’m sure people thought I was either drunk or disabled in some way, but that’s better than them knowing what my real problem was. In any event, we never made the movie that night – and when I got Richie back to the hotel I took the toy out of me and made him suck it clean. Turned off, of course; we didn’t need him to chip any teeth!

After that, I made him lick me clean, which he seemed only too happy to do. You’ll notice I said lick me clean and not dry; that would be a fool’s mission! I finally allowed him his pleasure, but only after I edged him for a good long while, at which point I slid my well-lubed middle finger into him and gave him a prostate massage, not allowing him to touch himself.

Hands-free cumshots like that are fun to watch – and a prostate massage often has the advantage of leaving him still hard after he spurts, so that I can climb aboard for more fun! I’m sure we probably kept the people in the neighboring rooms awake late, but nobody complained to management, so we were good.

Anyhow, while I really can’t recommend any specific thing from Applebee’s widely varied menu, you now know the best thing I ever had there. That first orgasm, for sure, when the waitress showed up. Or maybe it was that third one, where I was doubled over, pretending I had a cramp in my calf, which was an impossibly powerful climax. Or maybe…