Remote Control Rendezvous (L)

The rain hammered against the tinted windows of my vintage Mustang, each drop a frantic drumbeat mirroring the excitement thrumming through me. Beside me, my wife, Eleanor, was engrossed in a tablet, her brow furrowed in concentration. The scent of her lavender perfume mingled with the leather and ozone of the car, a familiar comfort in the chaos of this carefully orchestrated evening. I’d spent weeks building this up, meticulously planning every detail, fueled by a potent cocktail of desire and boredom. Tonight, we were going to inject some serious spice into our well-worn routine.

“Ready for this, darling?” I asked, my voice low and laced with anticipation.

Eleanor glanced up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Let’s just say I’ve been anticipating your little surprise for quite some time.” She adjusted her silk scarf, the movement highlighting the curve of her neck. It was a subtle signal, a silent invitation to the pleasure that awaited us.

Earlier, I’d found it – a remote-controlled vibrator, nestled amongst a collection of adult novelty items on a dark web site. The description was tantalizing: “Unleash your inner desires with this miniature marvel of technological indulgence.” The purple silicone, studded with tiny ridges and bumps, seemed almost innocent, yet the potential it held was undeniably electrifying. I’d hidden the package in her purse, a small, carefully placed secret designed to ignite her curiosity.

As we pulled into the dimly lit parking lot of “The Rusty Mug,” a dive bar known for its potent whiskey and even more potent clientele, Eleanor’s anticipation grew palpable. She retrieved the package from her purse, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of the device. The charging cord snaked out, connecting to a small USB port on the device itself.

“Remote control, huh?” she murmured, examining the device with a critical eye. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

With a flick of my wrist, I activated the remote. A series of buttons lined the top, each labeled with a different vibration setting. I started with the lowest setting, a gentle thrum that quickly escalated into a more insistent pulse. As the vibrations began, Eleanor’s body tensed, her breath catching in her throat. A flush crept up her neck, spreading across her cheeks.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice laced with surprise and a hint of arousal. “This is… intense.”

I increased the speed, pushing the remote further along the spectrum. The vibrations intensified, sending shivers through her body. Her fingers clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She shifted in her seat, leaning slightly forward, her gaze locked on me, her eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

As we waited for our drinks, I continued to experiment with the remote, cycling through the different settings, watching her reaction. Each setting brought a new wave of sensation, a fresh burst of pleasure. The first few were tentative, hesitant. But as the vibrations grew stronger, so did her response. Her breathing became faster, her heart rate elevated. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple.

“Turn it up!” she demanded, her voice barely audible above the clinking glasses and muffled conversations of the bar.

I obliged, increasing the speed and intensity of the vibrations. Her body writhed in response, her hips thrusting against the seat. The purple silicone pressed against her inner thighs, stimulating her clitoris with each pulse. A moan escaped her lips, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

The bartender, a burly man with a handlebar mustache, glanced our way, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. I ignored him, focusing solely on Eleanor’s escalating response. I continued to push the boundaries, experimenting with different patterns and rhythms, each one eliciting a more intense reaction from her.

When our drinks arrived – a generous pour of aged bourbon for me, a crisp gin and tonic for her – I decided to take a break. I took a long sip of my bourbon, savoring the smoky flavor, while Eleanor continued to enjoy the vibrations. The atmosphere in the bar seemed to shift, the chatter around us fading into a distant hum. It was just us, lost in our own world of pleasure.

After a few minutes, I returned to the remote, resuming the assault on her senses. This time, I turned it off completely, letting the anticipation build. The silence hung heavy in the air, punctuated only by the rhythmic pounding of my heart. I leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “Ready for the next level?”

Her response was immediate. She grabbed the remote from my hand, her fingers fumbling slightly as she pressed the power button. The vibrations resumed, even more intense than before. This time, she didn’t hold back, letting out a series of loud, guttural moans as she lost herself in the sensations.

As the evening wore on, our game continued, escalating in both intensity and audacity. I introduced new settings, experimenting with different patterns and rhythms, pushing Eleanor to her limits. She responded with an enthusiasm that both thrilled and terrified me. She writhed, she moaned, she begged for more, her body a willing instrument of pleasure.

Suddenly, I noticed a commotion at the far end of the bar. A group of men in suits were arguing loudly, their voices laced with anger and frustration. A brawl broke out, sending glasses shattering and chairs overturning. The atmosphere in the bar shifted from seductive to chaotic.

I quickly turned off the remote, pulling Eleanor closer to me. The vibrations ceased, leaving behind a lingering heat in her body. We held each other tight, listening to the sounds of the escalating brawl outside. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink, reduced to the confines of our embrace.

As the fight spilled out onto the street, I knew it was time to leave. But before we did, I decided to give Eleanor one final, unforgettable pleasure. I slipped my hand beneath her skirt, tracing the contours of her vulva with my fingertips. She arched her back, her hips rising higher and higher, as I plunged my hand deep inside. The sensation was electrifying, sending shivers through her entire body.

With a final thrust, I withdrew my hand, leaving behind a trail of glistening pleasure. Eleanor gasped, her eyes wide with delight. She leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “That was… incredible.”

We hurried out of the bar, leaving behind the chaos and destruction, and stepped back into the cool, rainy night. As we walked hand-in-hand, I couldn’t help but smile. Tonight had been a success, a perfect blend of anticipation, pleasure, and shared transgression. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that this was just the beginning.

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