Weekend in St Louis [MF], [public]

Before the kids (and the responsibility that comes with them) came into our lives, it wasn’t uncommon for us to just decide on a Friday to go out of town for the weekend. Typically, when this happened, we’d go to St Louis. We’d call that afternoon for reservations at the Presidential downtown (which, sadly, isn’t there any longer) and head up after work.

St Louis was perfect. It was four hours from home, so it was close enough that we could get there easily in a night …and far enough away that no one knew us. We’d go home from work, throw a few things in a bag, and hit the road. We almost had it down to a science.

For the record, my wife is 5’2”, 110 pounds, and has the most gorgeous set of tits on the planet … period. And it was not uncommon for her to be nude by the time we hit the interstate for the trip. Sometimes she’d wave flirtatiously at the truckers as we passed them … sometimes she’d lean over to get a coke from the back seat, pushing her ass towards the moon roof …and sometimes she’d prop her pedicured feet on the dashboard and take a nap. Once in a while she’d get herself so worked up that she had to get off, but she usually tried to keep the tease going as long as possible. Regardless, it was normally a show all the way to East St. Louis, Illinois.

I could write for days about our trips to St Louis, but I’ll stick with one trip in particular. It was early fall. Baseball season was winding down. The plan was to go to dinner somewhere on Laclede’s Landing Friday night, go to a Cardinals game Saturday afternoon and to dinner Saturday night, then sleep late and leave for home after Sunday brunch.

Laclede’s Landing was walking distance from the Presidential. Once we got checked in, we changed for dinner and set out on the walk. I was wearing jeans and a polo shirt … she had on a skirt that hit her about mid thigh, a thinnish white sleeveless top, and strappy heels. Neither of us had on anything under our clothes.

The evening air was cool, which she liked … it made her nipples stand tall and proud, straining against the fabric of her blouse. The friction of the linen on her nipples was driving her crazy. I had my arm around her with one finger slid in to the waist of her skirt at the small of her back, just barely caressing the cleft of her ass.

I had wanted to eat at Jake’s Steaks, but she talked me in to the Spaghetti Factory instead. Amazingly enough, there was only a five minute wait. As we drank red wine and ate, I watched the eyes of the men who walked past our table. She loves it when men steal glances at her tits, and there was no way anyone was going to miss them in that blouse. The only men who stared straight past her were the two gay couples. One poor guy was so obvious about it that he got a stern smack from his wife after they were past us. At that point, I ordered another glass of cabernet and told my wife to unbutton the next button of her blouse.

She looked me right in the eye, and, smiling, did just that. Now the swell of her breasts was exposed almost to the nipple. I looked at her chest, then back at her eyes. She leaned over and said, “We need to leave.”

“No way!” I said with a grin. “We have another glass of wine coming!”

“Oh, god!” She half said, half moaned. I noticed her right hand was under the table, and the shoulder was moving in small circles. I knew exactly what was going on under the table. I also knew that I was now completely in control of her. She was so far gone that she would do almost anything if I would just say it was okay for her to have an orgasm.

I looked her right in the eye. “You can’t cum here.”

“Oh, GOD!” She protested. “I need to!”

“I know you do. But you can’t. You have to hold it in. Now pull your hand out and lick your fingers clean.”

Tension … anticipation … is the best aphrodisiac.

Her hand resurfaced.

“Lick it clean,” I said. “Or I won’t fuck you.”

Slowly her fingers went to her mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned softly as soon as her tongue touched her fingertips. As I watched, she fellated her fingers clean. Then, unbidden, she unbuttoned the next button of her blouse. There were now just two buttons left holding the blouse together.

We finished our wine and dessert with electricity in the air between us. Three or four tables over, someone was having a birthday, and the servers we beginning to organize a singalong for the guest of honor.

I looked at my wife. “In just a minute, there will be a Happy Birthday thing going on. I want you to pull on your clit from the time it starts. When they stop, you stop. You are not to keep going once song stops. Do you understand?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes!” Her hand darted under the table and I saw her shoulder working its circles again. “Ohhhhh, god.”

“Not now! Only when the singing starts.”

“Oh, please! I have to cum … ohhhhh, please …”

“No. You will not.”

Her hand reappeared on the table. The look on her face was exquisite.

The servers appeared with a cake. She saw her chance, and went to work. I have seen the look on her face many, many times … she was right at the edge of the cliff.

The singing stopped.

“SHIT!” she cried out. Loudly, but fortunately not over the noise from the party.

I flagged our server for the check. While we were waiting she looked at me with deep, smoky eyes, and said, “I don’t think I can walk back to the room. Walking will make me cum. My knees are weak as it is.”

“If you cum here, I will not fuck you. Do you understand?”

I paid the bill and we stood up. A whisper of a moan escaped her. She was as close to orgasm as I had ever seen her.

“Let’s go.”

Leaving the restaurant was painful. Walking up the steps to the street was damnation. She was in front of me, and as I followed her ass up the steps I could see a reflection of light against her legs. Her wetness was all over her thighs.

Now we’re again in the cool night air. Her nipples, rock hard and rubbing against the blouse, added to her misery. “I need to cum so bad … so bad … please let me cum. I’ll jack myself off right here in the street, just let me cum …”

“No.”

“Ohhhhhhhh gawwwwwwwwwd …”

I flagged down a buggy driver to take us back to the Presidential. As she went to sit down on the leather seat, I pulled her skirt back so that her naked ass and pussy hit the leather. The cool leather felt good between her legs, she said. I knew that was short lived.

As the horse began to take off, the wooden and metal wheels against the street made the seat vibrate. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You’re leaving your mark on St Louis. Someone is going to sit on the wet spot you’re making on that seat.” I slid my arm around her, got my hand up under the blouse, and began to tug on her right nipple. Sweat broke out on her brow. “I can’t take that. I can’t. I can’t.”

The trip to the Presidential took an eternity for her. Once we arrived, I got out of the buggy and helped her out by sliding a hand up the inside of her thigh. One finger slid effortlessly into her, and she froze for just a second with a gasp.

She wanted me to make her cum in the elevator, but several other people got on with us. We stood in the back, and I played with her nipples under her blouse for a bit more.

Once the elevator got to our floor and we stepped out, she went in to action. The last two buttons of her blouse we undone in an instant. She grabbed my hand and dragged me to the men’s room, unhooking her skirt as she walked. When we hit the door, she was wearing just a pair of heels.

The men’s rooms on the guest room floors an the Presidential were larger single stall bathrooms. They held a stall, a urinal, a double sink, and most importantly … doors with locks. We had used them before.

She hit the door of the men’s room like it was a drug bust, nude save for her heels. The door flew back and slammed against the wall. She went straight to the sink, jumped up on it, and spread her legs as wide as she could spread them … much to the interest of the guy who was standing there washing his hands. He was our age, and his eyes were locked on to her tits. She grabbed his chin in her hand and, pulling his eyes up to hers, said, “Look here. Here’s what’s gonna happen. He’s gonna make me cum, right now. Then he’s going to fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, and then I’m gonna blow him till HE can’t take it anymore. You can either watch or leave … I don’t care which.”

The guy looked at her, then looked at me. He shrugged, went over and locked the door, and walked back to the sink.

I said, “He’s going to watch you cum all over this men’s room.”

Then I got on my knees and started eating her for all I was worth.

The first orgasm blew by in an instant. She’d spent the whole night fighting it back. But I knew that it was just the start. I kept eating. I tried to keep count, but after the fingering started it became one long orgasm that ebbed and flowed for what seemed like hours.

She grabbed my hair, jerked my head up, and said, “Fuck me!” That was all the urging I needed. My cock slid inside her with no effort at all. We started fucking, but she was having a hard time getting a grip on the sink with her feet in the heels.

She looked over at the other guy and said, “Drop your cock for a second and take these shoes off me, willya?”

I looked behind me and there was the guy, pants around his ankles, masturbating for all he was worth. He stepped out of his pants, grabbed her ankles, and slid her shoes off. Now completely nude, she could get traction on the sink with her bare feet.

And the serious fucking began.

I have conditioned myself to not orgasm in her because she likes to be fucked long and hard. It was difficult, though … she was throwing it at me every bit as hard as I was throwing it at her. Finally, though, she said, “Gaaaawd .. I’m done. I can’t cum anymore. Back off .. let me finish you.”

She went straight from the sink to the floor and began blowing me like hadn’t eaten in a month. What a sight. My wife … a woman who at work is so totally in control … completely naked and on her knees, my cock in her hand, her lips wrapped around the shaft, her own hand diddling between her legs.

I knew I wasn’t going to be able to take it, and I looked her in the eye. “You want to swallow it or wear it to the room?”

She looked up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. Her response echoed on the walls of the men’s room.

“Mark me.”

She bobbed on me two more times, then I pulled my cock out of her mouth and, grabbing the back of her head, came all over her face and hair. I didn’t think I was ever going to stop coming.

She licked the last few drops from the end of my cockhead and stood up. The other guy was standing in a puddle of his own cum. Nobody said anything.

My wife slid her shoes back on and headed for the door. I picked up her clothes and followed her out the door. We walked to the room just that way … my wife on my right arm, her clothes on my left arm, my cum all over her face, hair, shoulders, and tits.

And my mind already working on plans for Saturday.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ah02i0/weekend_in_st_louis_mf_public