The Fifth Date

[Author's note: This is the most personal story I have published on Literotica, because it is actually true ... in a manner of speaking.

I wrote this tale for me and my spouse, several years ago, and we acted it out during a long-weekend anniversary vacation at a B&B in Napa Valley. That night, and the entire weekend were fantastic! We roll-played the parts of new lovers, leaving our real personas—with a couple of decades of marriage under our belts—at home. It was so much fun!

I wanted to share this experience with my followers to illustrate that erotic fantasy can become very exciting and passionate reality when shared between adventurous, imaginative, open-minded couples.

I hope you enjoy it!

Love, Casey

(By the way, I wrote this before "Fifty Shades" was published.)]

*****

The Fifth Date

They had had sex at his place on their third date. It had been romantic, unhurried, and gentle. Although both of them reached orgasm, it was not exactly a magical fireworks event for either of them.

On the fourth date, after dinner and then a drink at a local club, they returned to her apartment. He was a little more aggressive in his love making that night, and it obviously pleased her. He had talked dirty to her, and even slapped her ass while she straddled him and he drove his stiff dick up into her cunt.

A week later, after dinner, wine, and dancing—slow and close—they went back to his apartment. On the ride up to the sixth floor, in the elevator, he took her in his arms and kissed her hard. She responded in kind, and when she pressed her body into his, he reached down and grabbed the globes of her ass with both hands, pulling her tightly into him. She could feel his hardness against her mound, and she ground into him. He pulled her skirt up, exposing her panty-clad ass, and gave her a smack on each cheek. She let out a small moan of pleasure, and wiggled her butt, silently asking for another round.

His response was to pull the back of her panties down over the curve of her ass, and to slap each naked and exposed cheek one more time—and a little harder. She let out a little squeak with each slap, but she wiggled, again, obviously not the least bit put off by the sting or the exposure of her ass.

But he didn't spank her again. Instead, he pulled her skirt back down—leaving her panties hooked under her naked ass—and said, "This is my floor. We'll get back to that later."

"You'd better!" she said with a chuckle.

The walk down the hallway to his door was surprisingly erotic for her. With the back of her panties bunched under her ass, the front pulling at her crotch, and the fabric of her skirt rubbing over her naked and now-sensitive, ass she was getting stimulated in ways that she never imagined would be stimulating. Not that she would want to walk around all day that way, but in that time and place, and with him on her arm, it was naughty and wicked, and amazingly exciting.

Inside his door, she put her arms around his neck, kissed him, and said, "Now, where were we?"

Her ran his hands down her back until they were gently rubbing her ass cheeks through her skirt. "We were just getting started," he answered, "but before we get back to that, I'd like to ask you something."

"I hope it's not a long quiz," she replied kissing him.

"Do I detect a bit of a naughty streak in you that's curious about what there is beyond plain vanilla sex?"

She smiled at his surprisingly accurate observation. "I don't think I'd care to find out about whips, but I could probably be talked into being tied to your bed while you had your way with me," she said, and gave him a kiss. "If that's the kind of thing you're talking about."

"No whips, but I can't guarantee that you won't get spanked," he said giving her a swat on her bottom, and then leaving his hand there, rubbing her ass.

"It's what happens when a girl is naughty, I hear," she said pressing her body into his, grinding provocatively.

He kissed her hard, slipping his fingers into her hair at the back of her head and holding her lips pressed against his. Finally, he said, "There's a package of clothes on top of my dresser; take yours off and put those on. I'll wait here."

She looked at his quizzically. "You don't like the way I dress?"

"I do. Very much. That's why I don't want to ruin what you're wearing."

"Ruin?" she said.

"You'll see." He turned her toward the bedroom and sent her moving with another swat on the behind.

As she walked away from him, she hiked her skirt up in the back, revealing her still-naked ass to him.

"It's a good thing that's out of my reach young lady!" he called after her in a scolding tone.

She stopped as she turned into his bedroom and wiggled her bare ass. "Promises, promises ..." she said, and then disappeared from his view.

In the bedroom she found the package where he said it would be, but she didn't open it right away. She decided that she wanted to get naked first.

As she took off her clothes she stared at the box on the dresser. What was it he wanted her to wear? Something silky and see-through? Maybe it was something in leather, or even black fishnet stockings and a lace garter. That could be interesting.

When she removed her bra, she cupped her breasts and slid her fingers over her nipples. They were hard and sensitive. What an odd reaction to getting my ass slapped, she thought. She then took them between her thumbs and fingers and gave them each a gentle pull. She closed her eyes and sucked in her breath enjoying the self-stimulation and imagining it was him that was doing it.

Finally, she pushed her panties to the floor and kicked them away. She was completely naked now. She could feel the moisture between her legs, and she was temped to run her finger over her clit for a quick rush of pleasure. She decided not to, though; he obviously had something in mind for her, and she was excited to find out what it was without any more self-help.

Smiling, she opened the box and took out the clothes. Her smile changed quickly to a confused frown as she held up a pair of dark dress slacks and a white button-front blouse. Office attire? That didn't seem terribly sexy.

She noticed that there were no panties or bra in the box. Was that his idea of kinky? No underwear?

A little disappointed, but still curious, she put on the outfit, which hugged her perfectly. Was he that good of a guesser at women's sizes, or had he peeked at her labels one of the other nights?

She stepped out into the hallway and struck a pose. "Unless I missed something," she said, "I think I'm ready. Are we going out, again?" The thought of going out in public in this snug outfit without any underwear ... and with two or three extra blouse buttons undone than she would normally dare ... was a bit exciting to her.

"Oh, no, my sweet," he said walking toward her with an appreciative smile, "you're not going anywhere tonight." He kissed her, but at the same time took the buttons of her blouse and fastened them, all the way up to the neck.

"You like the school teacher look?" she asked him with a smile. "Is there a fantasy here that we're acting out?"

"I'm hoping it's a fantasy for you that you've never even thought of, yet." He took a pair of short, woven straps with metal buckles from his pocket. "Let me see your wrists," he said. Then he asked, "Do you trust me?"

"You haven't given me any reason not to, so far," she said as she held out her hands so he could put them on her. "But I have to admit that you have my curiosity piqued about what's going to happen to me, restrain and fully clothed."

He fastened the straps around her wrists—but not too tightly—and then clipped the rings on each of them together with a spring-loaded key clip, effectively making them into cloth handcuffs.

"Just know that this night is going to be all about you," he said. "I'm only here to make you feel excited, erotic, and aroused in ways you've probably never even thought about before."

"Sounds interesting," she said with a smile. "But there must be something in it for you, too, I hope."

"Watching and listening to you is going to be my reward. I'm a bit of a voyeur. In this case an actively-participating voyeur, however," he said. "In case you're wondering, though, this is my first time doing this, too. I think we're both going to learn something about ourselves tonight. At least I hope so."

"Lead on," she said offering her manacled wrists to him.

He took her by the restraints and led her back into the bedroom. From under the bed he slid another box, set it on the dresser, and flipped open the cover.

She tried to see what was in the box, but he was standing—purposely, she thought—so that her view was blocked. He took something from the box and then turned toward her.

He reached up and slid a blindfold over her eyes. "I see how it is," she said jokingly. "You're a voyeur but I don't get to watch at all?"

"Removing one of the senses heightens the others," he said. "And I want this to be all about feeling. We're not even going to talk."

"I'm not allowed to talk?" she said as he hooked something through the clip that held her wrists together. "Can I moan if the mood strikes me?"

"You can make all the noise you want, and you can talk if you want to, but it won't be a conversation," he said. "I won't reply. I'm going to be here solely to create erotic sensations for you to enjoy."

"Doesn't sound very satisfying for you," she said, still taking the whole game pretty lightly.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine," he said as he turned her around to face the bedroom door, and then raised her hands above her head.

There was a strap connected to the hook that he had clipped to her wrists, and he draped it over the top of the door, positioning the knot in the strap on the far side. He closed the door, leaving her restrained in a standing position facing the door, with her hands slightly above her head.

"If you need to steady yourself, you can put your weight on that strap if you want to; you won't fall," he said.

She gave it a tug; it didn't move.

"If you feel the clip between your wrists," he went on, "you'll see that it's just a snap hook; you can unclip yourself any time you want. This isn't about control; it's all about pleasure. Your pleasure. Oh, and by the way, if anything I do makes you uncomfortable, just tell me, 'not that,' and we'll try something else."

He leaned in close to her ear, and whispered, "Now, just relax and feel."

With that, he ran his hands lightly down her sides, his fingertips tracing the contour of her tits, but not squeezing them or getting too close to her nipples. He continued his teasing touch down over her belly and slid his fingers just inside her waistband.

Removing his fingers from inside her pants, he slid his hands down over the front, toward her crotch.

She moved her legs apart—almost involuntarily—to give him access, but his touch moved on without applying any pressure. He circled them around her leg, and slid them down along her inner thighs. She felt like she was being frisked, but in a very provocative and erotic way.

While still caressing her legs, he moved behind her, and began to slowly draw his touch upward. His fingers traced up between her legs and followed the curves of her ass, getting close to her more intimate pleasure points, but never quite touching them.

His hands moved upward, his thumbs moving up her back while his fingers wrapped around her sides, his fingertips once more teasing the sides of her tits. His hands continued all the way up her arms until his hands reached hers and they intertwined fingers as he leaned against her body.

He put his mouth next to her ear, and breathing lightly over it, he nibbled on it and traced its curves with the tip of his tongue. She drew in her breath and turned her head, leaning toward him wanting more of the unexpectedly erotic feeling of having her ear kissed.

He obliged her for a moment, but then moved away from her, leaving her suddenly alone and surprisingly aroused for several long seconds.

He returned finally and she felt something sliding over her behind. It didn't take sight to realize that it was a paddle; long and narrow. It was probably a foot and a half long, she guessed, from the way he slid it across her ass, like drawing a bow slowly across a cello.

He had slapped her ass with his hand the other night while they made love, and of course in the elevator tonight, and she had enjoyed that both times. But a paddle was another matter. Still, she was curious. And she could always say stop. She decided to say nothing and see what he had in mind. She was certainly enjoying the game, so far.

He slid the paddle over every inch of her ass cheeks, as if letting her get used to it—comfortable with it—before he used it for its obviously intended purpose. Anticipating a smack at any moment, he surprised her, again, by sliding it around to her belly. He stepped in close behind her, and took the paddle in both hands and slid it up her belly and under her breasts, lifting them and pressing against them both at the same time. He moved the paddle back and forth, rubbing her nipples through the thin fabric of the blouse. She sucked in her breath and let out an "Mmmm," at finally having her tits played with, and in a very unusual way.

He let her enjoy the sensation for half a minute, gently raking the edge of the paddle up and down over her nipples as well.

Then, he slid the paddle back down, and around her side, finally sliding it between her legs. He pressed the edge into the crack of her ass, and slid it up and down a couple of times. She reacted by pressing her ass back at him, trying to get even harder contact between her cheeks.

He then rotated the paddle upward between her legs until it pressed the fabric of her slacks into her pussy. She let out a moan and pressed down onto the narrow edge, wiggling and rotating her hips as she did.

He rotated it further until it protruded up at an angle from between her legs. She ground into it, sliding the crotch of her slacks along its length and pressing the cloth as deep between her pussy lips as she could. He held the paddle still for her, letting her hump its edge and heighten her own arousal.

Finally, he slid it back between her legs and along the crack of her ass. She let out a sigh at the loss of contact with her pussy. She was pretty sure that given another minute or so she would have reached orgasm that way.

Again, he slid the broad side of the paddle over and around her ass, and again, she pushed against it. With her pussy inflamed and every inch of her body aroused she needed hard contact, not gentle caresses.

He understood that, too, and he obliged her by lifting the paddle and bringing it down across both ass cheeks at the same time.

The smack surprised her more than it hurt, and in fact it left her a little disappointed. The quick snap of pain was like an amplifier to all of the sensations her body was already feeling, and she wanted to turn up the volume even more. She let out a little hissing sound between her teeth as she wiggled her ass back toward him.

It was exactly the reaction he was hoping for. She may never have delved too far into the pain-pleasure area before, but he was happy to see that she was both willing to try it, and appeared to enjoy it.

The next smack was harder, and the pain sent an electric bolt to all the erogenous points in her body. This time the pain remained glowing in her ass long after the smack, and she enjoyed the feeling like the burn of a smooth brandy as it made its way down the throat to warm the belly.

The third smack, equal to the previous one, burned like hell as it compounded the lingering sting of the second. The fire in her ass cheeks nearly brought tears to her eyes, but she enjoyed the feeling beyond all logic. She leaned forward, her forearms against the door and hanging from the restraints. Her head hung down between her arms and she took deep breaths as she concentrated on the fire in her ass.

He was right; by removing the other senses, her focus on the inexplicably erotic feeling of that glowing pain was crystal sharp, and so powerfully arousing that she wondered if she might spontaneously orgasm if he smacked her again. Or perhaps the pain of another smack would be too much for her and she would cry out for him to stop.

He seemed to sense her limit, and she heard him set the paddle on the dresser.

A few moments later he returned and brushed something much smaller than the paddle across her ass. As she wondered what it might be she felt him tug at her slacks, and then she heard the fabric rip ... no, not a rip; it was being cut!

She felt the cool steel of the side of the scissors against her bare skin as he cut two large holes in the back of the slacks, exposing her naked ass cheeks.

She was confused, but intrigued. If he wanted to expose her ass, he could have just pulled her pants down. It did answer the question of why he didn't want her to stay in her own clothes, however.

Soon she felt his hand caressing her cheeks. It was a gentle touch, but on top of the lingering sting of the paddling, it was like little licks of fire moving over her flesh. It was wonderfully arousing.

Then his hand was gone, and she moved her ass backward, indicating that she wanted it back. He obliged her by bringing his flat hand down on one cheek in a firm spank.

The unexpected slap on top of the paddling pain caused her to let out a little yelp as she instinctively pulled away, but she pushed her ass right back at him as she let out a low moan of pleasure.

He gave the other cheek a slap, and then alternated back and forth half a dozen times, each time letting his hand linger and gently rub the flesh he had just inflamed. With each slap and rub she let out an, "Mmm."

That she was enjoying this abuse so much was beyond anything she could have imagined. How could pain feel so good? How could being slapped on her naked ass make her want to explode in orgasm?

As those thoughts danced through her head, she felt something different against her burning ass cheeks. He was kissing them. Gentle kisses all over. Was he apologizing to them for the abuse? Or was he worshiping his handiwork? She imagined that they must be glowing red. It didn't matter what his motivation was, it felt nice to her.

Then she heard him stand up and a moment later she felt something hard brush across her nipples. She was pretty sure it was the scissors.

She felt the material of her blouse being tugged away from her breast, and then she heard the scissors snip into the cloth. As he had done with the ass, he cut two circles—often letting the cool steel of the scissors slide over her soft flesh—to expose her breasts.

When her naked tits were hanging out of the two rough holes, he slid the side of the scissors over her erect nipples, again. She moaned and pushed her chest forward for more.

She heard the scissors being set on the dresser, and then she felt a hand on each of her breasts. They were light, almost teasing touches as his fingers traced over the soft globes and made little circles around her swollen areolas. Finally, he drew two fingers and a thumb together around each of her nipples and tugged gently.

She mewed her pleasure and he took a firmer grip and pulled harder. The mew became a moan.

Finally, he gripped her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers and pulled on them hard, twisting back and forth at the same time. Her moan became a groan as she screwed her eyes tightly shut, clenched her teeth, and enjoyed the paradoxical pleasure of the pain streaking through her tits.