Casual shopping fantasy of mine:
Stick a lush vibrator up my cunt, set it to low, then take me shopping. The second we walk into a store, turn it up to mid-high and watch me stop dead in my tracks, gaze fixed on nothing as I try my best to keep myself from thrusting at the air. Ask me innocently what's wrong, deny my answer, then send me off to find a new dress or pair of shoes. Watch me drift around the store in an aimless, horny daze, before rejoining me a few min later in the corner where I'm -- just barely -- pretending to examine the price tag of a purse without really seeing what I'm looking at. Lightly mock the fact that I'm in the wrong section and that I don't seem to have found anything I like.
Make a show of pulling out your phone and holding it up so that I can see it, and as you ask me if I just want you to pick out my clothes for me, take your thumb and slowly drag it up the screen to the highest setting. Smile at me as my legs start quaking and I grab hold of the nearest shelf, then say sweetly, "I'll take that as a yes."
Then, after commenting on my now inability to walk on my own, wrap your arm around my waist and proceed to steer me around the store like a walking coma victim towards the skirts and dresses that you like. Swivel your finger all over the screen as you ask me for my thoughts on each item. You nod seriously at my moans and whimpering, saying things like, "Yes, yes, well put. My thoughts exactly."
The cashier sends concerned glances at my lust-drugged face as they ring up everything you bought, but the only thing consuming my mind is repressing the urge to hump the counter.
You lead me out of the store, and around the corner. I don't even question what we're doing. On the quiet side street, you instruct me matter of factly to suck your cock. We've never done anything like this before -- you know I'm too anxious about someone seeing me in public, but the overwhelming, prolonged focus on my cunt clouds over any rational wall of defense or higher thinking, and I drop to my knees.
I suck and slobber like the only thing left that exists is your cock poking down my throat. When you come all over my face and some of it spills onto the ground, you have to physically stop me from trying to lick it up. "Calm down," you say, clearly amused, "you don't know who's walked there." I don't laugh cus my cunt still has undeniable control of my brain, but I surge forward when you give me permission to clean off your dick.
You walk me back to the car with your cum covering my face. Over the course of our relationship, we had never had sex without making sure I had climaxed, so going into the store I had assumed I would get to do so at the end. In spite of this, when you tell me, "You've been such a good girl that I'm going to let you come," I clench around the vibrator and feel a quick spark of unadulterated excitement, as if my orgasm had always been something that you "let" me have.
But then you look at me in the backseat through the rearview mirror and add, "When we get home." My heart sinks. My cunt leaks. "In the mean time, I want you to spread your legs and rub yourself." I see you take out your phone and drag the vibrations all the way down, and suddenly I'm jerking forward at the loss of stimulation, wanting, needing more of the barely-there hum in my cunt.
"Begin." As I morosely start rubbing my slick gash, you start us on the two hour drive home.