ladysilvrene

I love my husband. He is handsome and fun and understands my kink, even if he doesn't always share. I'm not DISsatisfied in any way by my sex life. I just want a little more. I like to be tied up. I don't like pain but I like 'discipline'. I'm not hardcore D/s but I want to experiment in it a little more (I'm a little bit sub). I'm very bisexual in my tastes but don't have much actual sexual experience with women. My husband is a man of comparatively simple tastes. He likes my ass. He likes it when I talk dirty. Other than that, he expresses few fantasies or desires, and all are easy, on my part, to fulfill. He, however, doesn't like playing the D to my s, and (obviously) can't assuage my hunger for another woman. I want to know if anyone has any advice on where I might go or what I might to to try and find someone (a woman, a D to my s, preferably two different people- I think I'd like my D to be a man) to help with my other desires. They are not needs, in that I will be fine if I can't find anyone along these lines. They are definitely desires that I would one day like to fulfill, but I don't know where to start- where to go, who to talk to. So, basically, these are two different questions: how can I meet a woman who is okay with playing with me and being my girlfriend, knowing that I'm married and that I will not hide such a relationship from him? And how can I find someone to help me figure out the 'sub' part of me that my husband is slightly uncomfortable with? Any insight would be appreciated.

I'm a hedonistic, kinky, bisexual woman with a streak of exhibitionism and an adoring but less-kinky husband. A few weeks ago, we had a date-night out at the Melting Pot- our first in a while- and here I am, wearing this low-cut, slinky, sensual dress while we're eating a meal meant more to tantalize than just satiate. We're in a booth in a quiet corner of the restaurant, where we're given the illusion of privacy- perfect. I can hear the other diners murmuring over their dinners, utensils scraping against the plates and cookware, glasses clinking. Ours isn't the only booth back here, and the servers will come by without warning to switch courses and refill drinks. It doesn't take much to get things started. I've been feeling the sizzle of attraction all night, and my hand has been rubbing against my husband's thigh insistently. The shoulder-straps of my dress are a bit long, so with a shrug one falls, and I encourage it to fall enough that I'm on display. His pupils dilate, and I feel the first twitches of arousal beside my hand. The meal continues in this way. More often than not, some part of me is exposed, some portion of my anatomy is entangled with his. Our kisses are slow and sensual, but hungry. It doesn't hurt that the servers that attend us are all such handsome people- I start whispering about how each of them would contribute well to the bed, how hot it would be to caress that woman's breasts while her fingers and my husband's cock fight for the right to my pussy, or the way that his cock would rub against that of that other man if my husband was in my ass while said man was in my pussy. The long straws and utensils dip in and out of my mouth in time with the way my fingers rub against his cock, so he knows exactly what I want to be doing. As I'm waiting for part of my dinner to cook in the coq au vin, I slither under the table and finally make good on my teasing promises. I undo his belt and unzip his fly before delicately pulling out his cock. It's hard and purple, angry in its insistence, and that makes me even hungrier. I mean to start slow, but instead, I'm lowering my head as far onto his cock as I can, licking and sucking and desperate. I'm loving the smell of him, his own musk mixed with my favorite of his colognes, and the solid weight of his cock against my tongue makes my clit tingle with want as I suck, so I run my fingers under my dress and tease myself, too. I see a pair of legs walking up to the table- and there's no time to do anything else. My husband stutters through some nonsense about my having fled to the ladies' room, one hand gesticulating above the table, the other tightly wound in my hair. He leaks a little into my mouth, and I suckle it down with gusto, my own juices leaking onto my hand. I recognize the voice of the man speaking with my husband as being the one I wanted fucking my pussy while my husband fucked my ass, and I almost can't hold back a moan as my husband and I recognize that fact at almost the same time, reacting with arousal. The moment the server is gone, I take one last suckle of my husband's cock before I clamber back up from under the table. I scrabble through my purse for some lube- and my hand brushes against something else. A toy. A thick dildo with a rabbit to tease my clit, and this time I can't hold back the moan. I finally find the lube and hand it over to my husband, who stretches me carefully and quickly. Soon, I'm fully seated in his lap, his cock in my ass, the dildo in my pussy, and we rock against each other between bites. When the chocolate fondue arrives, it's almost our undoing. Both of the servers are there- the deliciously curvy woman and the ruggedly handsome man, and I whimper with the way I'm reacting to them and our precarious position. As they finally leave, I fight a whimper as my husband bites the back of my neck firmly. I take a moment to dip a strawberry in the chocolate and eat it- and that final piece of sensory information proves my undoing. The sweet and tart juices of the strawberry drip down my tongue as I lean my head back on my husband's shoulder and moan. His hands are firmly on my hips as he starts racing towards completion, his breathing heavy, and I cum right there, my pussy clenching around that dildo, my ass tightening around that cock. The illusion of another man's cock in my pussy, pressing insistently against my husband's own, is what proves his undoing, and just as I ease out of my orgasm, he falls into his own, his cock pulsing inside of me. We clean up- I came prepared- and enjoy the afterglow with chocolate and strawberries. The secretive smiles on the servers' faces show that they have some suspicions about our activities, and we tip them well. As I pull my husband's face down to my own before we exit the restaurant, the male server wishes us a good rest of our date. Needless to say, his well-wishing came true.