The noonday sun was smiling down on the Virginia coastline. Shadows had been reduced to nothingness by the shining light of the perfect day.  I stood; looking out onto the ocean, watching as large tankers broke the waves and raced towards unknown destinations.  Overhead seagulls called down, begging for scraps of food from the countless sunbathers and children frolicking in the ocean waves.

           I watched as a sailboat darted past only barely hearing the caterwauls of delight that streamed from the wooden deck. The wind that blew in off the ocean had a relaxing effect, making the day seem cooler than it actually was. I could feel the heat of the sun on my skin and I knew that it was about time for me to add another coating of sun block.

           I turned my back on the ocean and stepped quickly over the steaming sand towards the towel I had set down nearly an hour ago. I dropped onto the towel and pulled my suntan lotion from a small blue satchel.  I began to liberally coat my exposed skin with the lotion, working it in with my hands.  Finishing with the lotion I returned it to the bag and sat there, staring at the ocean. 

           The power of the waves was astounding, the water crashing loudly and rolling endless down the coast.  The water had been pounding against the shore for eternity and would continue to do so long after man settled the stars. Like the rising and setting sun the tide was forever.   

           I watched the ships race away to be replaced by others.  I watched as the children splashed in the water, grew tired of the ocean and fatigued by the heat of the day to race to their mother’s side and ask the perennial, “can we go home?” Women tColletted and men watched them. To my left a small boat anchored and immediately a red flag with a diagonal white stripe was dropped into the water on a buoy, divers in the water.

           It was a postcard perfect day.

           I lay my head down on a towel and shut my eyes. Bright red background greeted my mind as I relaxed, listening to the calming waves as they crashed along the shore in a diminishing crescendo. 

           “What are you doing tonight?” A voice interrupted the symphony of the ocean.

           I opened my eyes and looked up at a striking young woman, perhaps a few years older than my twenty-three years. “Excuse me?”

           “Are you free for dinner?” she asked.

She looked amused, as if the perplexed look on my face somehow entertained her.  I stared at her, a dark haired woman with wet hair that reached down to her waist. She was wearing a wet T-shirt that clung to her body, revealing more than it hid of the gentle swell of her breasts.  Her shirt hung to mid-thigh and I found myself looking at her shapely legs. 

“Well?”

Her voice startled me and my eyes snapped to her face. “Yes,” I said, unsure of my voice. She had surprised me, appearing like an apparition and asking me to dinner.  I was not used to such forward actions by women and felt awkward, yet strangely compelled by her strong-willed nature. 

“Good,” she said.  “Meet me by the kiosk at seven.  Wear something nice.”  She turned from me as if she knew I would be there. She took two steps and turned to face me again, “don’t be late. I don’t like tardiness.”

And as quickly as she had appeared she departed, leaving me to sit on the towel under the hot sun and ponder what had just happened. Who was this mysterious woman that had appeared like a phantom and practically told me to meet her for dinner?

I watched her leave, wondering about her.  She had practically commanded me to join her for dinner, “meet me by the kiosk at seven,” she had said.  She seemed confident that I would be there, that I would deliver myself to her at the appointed time.  And I knew I wouldn’t be late.  It was as if I was concerned with not disappointing her. Was it because of her straightforward no-nonsense demeanor that prompted my thoughts of immediately obeying? Why was it I was consciously worried about disobeying? The thought of not making that dinner meeting caused my stomach to twist about itself.  I was worried about the upcoming dinner.

Why?

           I had no answer to my self-posed question. I knew nothing about her other than the fact that she was confident with herself.  She had asked me to dinner, approaching me from out of the blue as I sat on the beach. A stranger amongst strangers, yet she had singled me out. Another why in a long stream of whys. 

           I gathered my belongings and practically danced across the hot sand to my car.  I drove back to the ship, my home here in Virginia.  The traffic lights did not bother me; each red beacon another pause in time to ponder the upcoming dinner.  Who was she, this beautiful and powerful woman that had appeared before me like a ghostly apparition in a long-forgotten dream?

           I made it back to the Navy base and parked my car about a quarter mile from the carrier.  The ten-minute walk passed in a hazy fugue, my mind enraptured by the racing thoughts of the confident woman that had captivated my thoughts since her sudden appearance in my life.  She knew who she was and what she wanted. And joy of joys as I crossed the gangplank onto the steel deck, tonight she wanted me.

* * * * *

           I left the base, showered and shaved, spritzed with cologne. The sun was just beginning to dip in the west, casting the sky in an orange haze.  The sky seemed to catch fire as the sun disappeared on another day, the clouds shining in a blood-red conflagration of light and shadows that mingled into a painting that rivaled Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel for grace and beauty.

I drove through the busy streets, racing with my mind in those same clouds above me that smiled down in an Angelic halo of dwindling light and growing shadows.  I was lost in a maze of thoughts as I drove almost robotically towards the beach. I still could not fathom why she had approached me today, but with a smile on my lips I was glad that she had. I knew very little about her; she was confident with herself and knew what she wanted and how to go about getting it. She knew herself and that knowledge empowered her. She was mesmerizing, having captured my thoughts for most of the afternoon.

I arrived at the beach and parked my car.  Looking at the digital display on my radio I grinned idiotically, I was not late. I was happy with myself for not disappointing this nameless woman by being late.  I shook my head as the reality of my thoughts threatened to erupt into laughter.  Already she had me thinking in terms of pleasing her and we barely knew each other. She had said that she disliked tardiness and I was patting myself on the back for being prompt.  What was it about her that made me not want to disappoint?

I climbed from my car and crossed the street to stand by the kiosk that the beautiful young woman had indicated to me a few hours ago. I looked around but did not see her. What if she didn’t show up? My mind taunted me. What if you had already failed a test that you hadn’t even known you were taking?  I kicked myself for these thoughts.  Stop it; I thought to myself, she will be here. She will.

“You are on time,” her melodic voice appeared behind me.

I spun around, “hello.”  I smiled at her.  She was beautiful.  She was dressed in a black dress that clung to her body. The dress was whole on her left side, but the right was a series of straps and buckles that held the dress closed while revealing most of her body on her right side.  She looked fabulous in it and I told her so.

“Thank you,” she said. 

“It pleases me that your are punctual.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you by being late,” I said, still staring at her.  What did I just say? I couldn’t believe how important it was to me that I please her. Why was that?  Did I just say what I thought I did?  How silly I must sound.

           “Good.”

           I looked at her, my mouth contorted into a silly grin.  “Where are we going for dinner?” I asked her.

           “Don’t worry about it,” she said confidently. She turned and said, “Follow me.”

           Like an obedient puppy I followed her to her car. She opened the door for me and I climbed into the passenger side silently.  She was leading the dance and I was obeying as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She said nothing as she started the car and quickly drove away. 

           I watched her drive; she was as confident behind the wheel as she was in everything I had seen her do. She weaved flawlessly through traffic, ignoring the speed limit as if it were a hindrance to her.  I opened my mouth and whispered in a frail voice, “may I ask you something?”

           “Sure,” she said never taking her eyes from the road.

           “What is your name?”

           She looked at me and laughed, a beautiful melodic sound of merriment and mirth, “Collette,” she said. “And yours?”

           “Dennis.”

           “Well, Dennis,” she said turning her eyes back to the heavily trafficked road, “pleased to meet you.”

           I stared at her and at the golden skin revealed to me.  She was beautiful and her self-confidence rippled through her body, shining in her eyes and smile. I felt comfortable as I sat next to her. She was calling the shots this evening and that thought appealed to me.   Did she know that I would easily succumb to her will?  Was it evident in my mColletterisms that I would easily succumb to her dominance? Could she read me with clarity better than I could read myself?  

           I sat and watched her drive, smiling softly at her.  She weaved easily through traffic and even though I flinched as she missed cars by inches she scarcely noticed how close she came to hitting another car.  Perhaps, I reasoned, she knew she wasn’t going to hit them, as she had known I would accept her invitation to dinner. 

           We pulled into a small parking lot and Collette deftly parked the car. She opened her door and before I could unfasten my seatbelt she opened my door for me.  She was leading the evening, and she seemed elated to be doing so.  Her face was shining happily as she escorted me into the small restaurant. 

           “Mademoiselle,” an elderly man with gray hair and thick glasses greeted Collette, “welcome.  Your table is ready.”

           “Thank you,” she said, her voice musical.

           The man escorted us to a small, candle-lit table set off from the other tables of the restaurant.  He held Collette’s chair out and she took her seat. The man pulled my seat out for me and when I was seated he departed, leaving us alone.

           “You look great,” I said to Collette. 

           She looked at me with a soft grin, “thank you.”

           A moment later a young man with dark black hair and a thin moustache appeared with two menus tucked under his arm and a small round platter with two glasses of water in his hand. He set the glasses before us and then handed each of us a menu.   He stepped away to and allowed us to peruse the menu. Collette nodded to him and he stepped forward, “are you ready to order, ma’am?” he asked.

           And she ordered for both of us, never asking me what I wanted. I looked at her in awe.  Did she care what I wanted or was it that she was so in command of the situation that my opinion did not matter? What she ordered for me was fine though not necessarily what I would have ordered for myself.   I looked at her, my eyes wide in stunned disbelief. I have never had somebody order for me, especially without asking me my opinion.  I started to protest when Collette raised a dark eyebrow, “yes?”

           I shook my head slowly, “nothing.”

           “Good.  You were doing so well that I would hate to think you were going to start being a problem now.”  She placed her elbows on the table and in a low, sexy voice asked, “what are you feeling?”

           I looked into her brown eyes. The dark orbs were shining in delight; she was enjoying herself and her dominance over me.  “Confused,” I answered. 

           She looked at me, waiting for me to continue.

           “I was remarkably flattered when you invited me to dinner,” I began.  “It was novel and decidedly original, at least to me.  Your strong-willed and confident nature enticed me and I knew that it would prove to be an interesting evening.  I have to say I found your demeanor to be enticing. Your confidence was evident when you drove; nothing fazed you. When you ordered dinner for me, I didn’t know what to think about it.  On one hand I was shocked and felt slightly diminished, but….”

           She remained silent as I continued.

           “…I liked it.  It felt right to have you order for me. There was as sense of continuation from this afternoon to now. You basically told me to meet you for dinner, not really leaving me a choice.  And that continued when you ordered for me.  I am not disappointed,” I said, “just surprised. I am not used to these things happening to me.”

           “You’ll get used to it,” she said. “You follow orders well.” 

           I felt my face blush, “I do?”

           “Yes.  Shall I prove it to you?”

           I kept my mouth shut; I knew she was right. I had joined the Navy and had spent the last five years of my life simply obeying orders.  It was no surprise to me that a confident, strong-willed woman could read that in my demeanor.  She was correct, having read me for who I was.  I could not deny the facts as she saw them. 

           “Crawl under the table and eat me,” she commanded.

           I blushed and my skin broke out with goose pimples.   Could she be serious? She actually wanted me to crawl under the table and orally service her.  Here, in public?  Could it be possible that she actually wanted me to do what she was asking?  I looked at her and stammered, “Are you….”

           “Yes,” she interrupted me, “do it.”

           I blushed.  I hesitated.  I obeyed. I dropped to my knees and as the waiter approached with a bottle of red wine I crawled under the table.  My cheeks burned with shame; what could he be thinking? The tablecloth hid my body as I crawled, red-faced, my mouth dry towards Collette. 

           Her legs were spread and she had pulled her dress above her thighs. She was wearing black panties and as I inched forward I watched open-mouthed as she pulled her panties over her hips and down her thighs. I looked on in stunned disbelief as she pulled her panties off.  With her sex uncovered she inched forward on her chair and spread her legs even wider, “eat me,” she hissed down to me.  “Do it.”

           As she knew I would, I obeyed. I pressed my face, my body hitching in nervousness, into her pussy. My tongue lapped at her sex, parting her velvety softness. I tongued her sex, probing within her body with nervous trepidation.  How had she known that I would obey? That is the question that perplexed me the most.  Was there something written in my face that shouted to all who knew how to read it, “slave.”  Did my face shout out that I would obey all orders given or was there more? Could it be that my very mColletterisms informed the world all that I was?

           I continued to tongue her pussy as I contemplated my very being. Everything I had been seemed to disappear into who I was now. I knelt on a softly carpeted floor in a romantic restaurant licking the sweet pussy of this amazing woman that had captured my spirit in her dark brown and intelligent eyes.  I would have never imagined being where I was; yet it was happening. I was there, enraptured, captivated by the strong-willed woman who seemed to know me better than I new myself.

           I licked her sex until her body tensed in completion.  She came quietly, her fingers digging into my scalp. It was as if all the excitement that would seep from between her pursed lips transferred to her fingers to claw my head. Her body twitched against my extended tongue as her body sighed in orgasmic bliss. 

           She whispered down to me, “you can come up now.” With that she lowered the hem of her dress to below her knees again and sat more comfortably on her chair.

           I climbed back into my seat, my face crimson. The waiter had disappeared, but a full glass of wine was sitting at my place setting. 

           Collette, her face flush with excitement, her cheeks as red as mine said breathily, “see?  You follow orders well.”

           I knew she was right and admitted as much, “yes.”

           “You are coming home with me this weekend,” she told me.  It was not a request, just a statement of fact.

           Again, “yes.”

           Dinner arrived and we ate in silence, Collette’s eyes watching me. I was an insect under glass, every action being watched and recorded.  And when desert was finished, Collette drove me to her home. 

I was hers.

Return to Adult Playground Home

Return to The Petting Zoo