Play Night Pt. 01

Play Night pt. 1 (of 6): Friday Night (Fun Night)

"Hey sexy," you hear as you finally get the lock to click and open the door, all while juggling your bag, keys and the drink that you got on the way home.

You drop the purse you are carrying that somehow seems to have gathered up all the weight from your work day inside it's cavernous depths by the coffee table along with your fist of jingling keys as he pauses the game he was playing and stands up to give you a proper greeting. It almost feels like he lifts you up a little bit when he wraps his arms around the middle of your still coat covered body and presses his face into your shoulder. His clean smell and the soft heat radiating off of his shirt contrasts with the chilly wet odor of the minefield outside of bad drivers and occasional sirens that you had to trudge through to get home. "How'd it go today," he mummers into your neck as his arms move up and down like he's trying to rub you back to life.

It was shit. Or, more precisely, it was the same as usual. Dealing with shitty people, dealing with shitty coworkers, dealing with shitty shit. It felt like you were constantly checking the clock on the wall and reminding yourself that all you have to do is get through the next few hours, and then the next few hours, and then the last hour, before the week ended. The sigh turned groan you respond with is enough to communicate all of that to him as you pull your arms around his neck tighter.

He gives you one more tight squeeze before pulling away a little and looking down at your face. "That sucks, baby." He plants a sympathetic smooch on your mouth and frees you to strip off the suite of armor you donned against the autumn chill and put it on the hook next to the front door. "Were you able to swing by and drop that stuff off at your moms like you told her?"

Fuck Fuck FUCK. It was still sitting in the passenger seat were you put it specifically so you wouldn't forget about it. But you just had to stop and get that drink on the way home and it completely flew out of your mind, per usual. You slump as you apologize in a defeated tone, the prospect of having to go back out into the grinder again clutches at your shoulders.

"Hey, it's okay." He shrugs as he walks over and turns you to face him, putting his hands on your arms and giving them a light rub, "I can swing by and drop it off tomorrow when I go out. I'll just have to leave a little earlier." He kisses you, "Don't worry about it, cute ass," he says as he gives your butt a grab. "Besides, we have other stuff goin' on tonight." The grin that spreads across his face gives your tummy a little tingle.

Ever since he texted you this morning that tonight was gonna be play night, your day had slowed to a crawl of anticipation. The distracting thoughts hadn't helped your attention span, but at the same time they had given you something more to look forward to than just crashing in front of the TV after work.

You never really knew what was in store for you when he planned a play night but it hadn't disappointed you yet. That warm, lotiony body massage from neck to feet, strapping his arms to his sides so he couldn't touch you as you did all manner of lewd and lascivious things to him, the maid outfit that turned him in to mister grabby hands. You could feel the muscles in your crotch begin to flutter a little just thinking about it. Oh and there was the last one a couple weeks ago...

You came home from work a little early to find him finishing up cleaning the office. He shooed you out before you could see what he was doing in there and said he'd be done in a minute, telling you not to peek. After dinner he had presented you with a box which turned out to contain a schoolgirl outfit that he had put together from some of your cloths, and a couple things he had apparently picked up himself (answering the question as to why he had been asking about how women's sizes work earlier in the week).

He told you to go change and meet him in the office when you were done. Even though some of the new things didn't quite fit right, you were able to get into the outfit (switching out the panties he had chosen for a pair you had stashed away for a special occasion), you entered the office to find that he had rearranged it to roughly resemble a classroom, complete with the desk being moved over nearer the wipe board and a folding table and chair to simulate a student desk with a pencil and notebook on it. The dork had even put an apple on the desk.

He had changed into his nicer cloths and was wearing a blazer that you had never seen before, and his previous pair of glasses that you jokingly told him made him look "very studious". Seeing you come in stopped him from what he was doing for a moment as his eyes ran over you, making you unconsciously blush and suddenly feel like you were going to some dirty college Halloween party where you didn't know anyone. He eventually overcame his stunned silence and immediately snapped in to character, starting things off with the whole, "Do you know why I've had you come in after school, little miss?"

It took you a little longer to get into character. The thought of there being a cameraman somewhere and the whole thing being some Brazzers video shoot kept pushing its way into your head and making you giggle like a crazy person out of the blue, but after a little bit you were able to relax more and play along, choosing the "flirty little brat" stereotype. You were even a little proud of yourself when you got him to temporarily break character by bending over to pick up your pencil, flashing him those surprise panties you had opted for.

A few suggestive brushes against each other, an elbow against your breast, your hand across his crotch, and you were bent over the desk with a red streak on your ass and a broken ruler on the floor, getting pounded by his rock hard cock rough enough to shake the pictures on the walls. The way he grabbed your hips and went to town on you after you made him lose it by using the filthy words you learned from the dirty stories you read online, whispered in his ear while rubbing yourself up against him, still makes you moist every now and then. You fucked three times that night, twice the "classroom" (bent over the desk and you ridding him in the office chair while using his tie like a leash), and again in the bedroom.

You kept holding yourself back though, thinking you were being too loud and that someone walking past the house, or a neighbor might hear you shouting something vulgar or cumming too loud, even after he kept telling you it was okay and no one could hear, and that even if they could what's going to happen? But you still couldn't get over someone, somewhere thinking you were a whore or something. You didn't even talk to your friends about play night. At one particularly rambunctious point you were suddenly pulled out of the moment by the thought of your mother bursting in and catching you dressed like hooker and yelling about you being a little slut, a reoccurring fear that has haunted you most of your life.

But, all in all, you both ranked the night as very much a success while laying, exhausted in bed, the proverbial privileged panties wrapped around his cum covered cock where you had used them to jerk him off one last time to spare your sore pussy another pounding. Both of your ejaculations mixed together on them for a nice lube and the silk of the lingerie allowed you to work his shaft and balls like a maestro. The sounds you were able to wring out of him were the hottest music you ever heard.

Now you were excited as ever to see what was in store. After showering and the two of you taking longer than it should have to figure out what to eat ("I don't know, whatever" is not a type of food), you both are finally able to lean back and let the rest of the past week disappear along with the rest of the world into the white noise of traffic outside. Sitting next to each other on the couch, his arm around your shoulder (which you had been sniffing because for some reason it smelled really good at the moment) you turn to look up at him as he slaps his belly and lets out a belch like he's trying to keep it discreet but not really. Punching his arm playfully and inquire about what was up for the night.

He turns and looks into your eyes and gets a slightly more serious look on his face. "It's something a little... extra that popped into my head a couple days ago after you showed me that story you were reading online that got you all worked up and wet." Your eyes light up with a little excitement before he clarifies, "No, no it's not quite that... this time, but something in there and how you reacted to it just sort of got my mind rolling around a bit." He brushes his other hand across your face lightly. "Now it's gonna require a little trust on both ends... more than a little." Your mind begins racing to try and figure out what that could mean. Handcuffs? CNC? (He hadn't found your secret go too sex fantasy thread somehow, had he?)

"You're gonna be trusting me that I love you and wouldn't want to truly hurt you outside or inside." The "truly" part was probably added since you both knew how red he'd made your ass with that ruler before it broke. "And I'm going to be trusting you to know your own limits, and if things really start to feel wrong you will use the safe word to stop me, okay?"

What the fuck could that mean? He runs his hand through your hair while searching your face, "I mean it." Not really knowing what was on his mind but feeling suddenly, as if you hadn't really even thought about it before, that yes, you do trust him, with everything you are. Or at least you think you do. You still couldn't figure out what he could possibly have planned. A little nervously, you agree, and agree again more firmly when he asks if you're sure. Accepting your answer, he takes a deep breath and exhales like he's about to go on stage or get a job interview. Then, taking your hand, leads you to the bedroom.

Continued in Part 2: Discovery