Black , White

Dan simply had to ask Laura for a date. For more than a week he’d chatted amiably with the pretty young assistant in the retro clothing and collectibles store, discovering she lived above the shop and worked part-time to fund a college course. “Always a bright one”, according to one of her colleagues, Laura’s other attractions included a cheery confidence, radiant smile and a hard-to-define hint of… what? Dan searched hard for the correct word, ‘naughtiness’ perhaps?

Even during their most mundane conversational exchanges he somehow got the feeling Laura was, in the slang of the local kids, ‘up for it’. Up for what exactly remained to be seen, but if he didn’t ask her out PDQ he’d never know. Dan’s employer had arranged the short-term let of a local cottage while he set up software infrastructure for a local dot.com start-up. His next assignment — in just a week – was back in the city. If Dan was to make progress with lovely Laura it had best be soon.

Patiently waiting outside Dan eventually noticed the shop was, but for Laura, empty. Ten minutes later the object of his desire had happily accepted his suggestion of a visit to the local cinema. Unknown to our smitten hero, Laura had secretly been hoping he might take the initiative for several days. “I’ll bank the takings, get changed and meet you in the foyer in time for the eight o’clock programme.” “There’s always too much to do these days, life must have been simpler in black & white,” Dan mused, idly perusing a monochrome postcard of the town 50 years previously. “Life was what?” said Laura, bemused. “Simpler,’ repeated Dan, “in the1950s, for instance, like in those classic comedies.” He checked Laura’s distant expression. Instead of the expected dismissal the idea seemed to hold a peculiar fascination. “Maybe you’re, right,” she murmured dreamily.

Despite being early summer it rained that evening and on his short walk to the art movie theatre Dan wore an old belted mac and trilby hat he’d found at the cottage. Laura arrived breathless and five minutes late. Closing a large umbrella she revealed a simple floral dress, hair tied back into a cute ponytail and bright red lipstick. “You look wonderful,” he said truthfully, “is that dress vintage?” “Correct,” retorted Laura, “the shop owner is a notorious hoarder and since we’re having our own monochrome retrospective I decided to dress accordingly. You’re looking very Humphrey Bogart-like, by the way.”

The movie was a golden oldie American screwball comedy, one of the last made before the advent of colour. A sharp and knowing script had the feisty leading lady lead the hero merry dance until the exasperated leading man hauled her across his knee for an all too brief spanking. Taken aback by the overt reference to one of his favourite fantasies Dan glanced at Rosie to gauge her reaction, which was to kiss him full on the lips. His earlier suspicions were confirmed; they apparently shared a certain interest… In true romantic picture-goer fashion Laura snuggled comfortably against urfa escort Dan’s shoulder and for the first time since his youth he was snogging in the back row.

“Back to my place?” he suggested as they walked home arm in arm. “What sort of a girl do you think I am?” she replied in feigned indignation. “I’ve already gone further than was wise on a first date. And what would the neighbours say?” “I haven’t any neighbours,” reasoned Dan, but even as he spoke knew there was no chance of them spending that night together. “You’ll just have to be patient and wait until tomorrow afternoon,” continued Laura, seemingly channelling her grandparent’s era. “Daylight’s the appropriate time for a well brought up girl to visit a gentleman for tea,” she added primly and with a chaste peck on his cheek was gone, leaving one very bemused and frustrated young man alone on the pavement.

At last it was mid-afternoon and on answering the front door Dan was taken aback by his glamorous visitor. In place of yesterday’s chaste outfit his date had clearly opted for glamour; Laura’s hair hung in soft waves to her shoulders; eyebrows drawn into dark curves, lashes with lashings of mascara. A fitted jacket emphasised her trim waist, matching full skirt swirling just below her knees. Demurely accepting his spellbound invitation to enter, Laura teetered across the room, still unaccustomed to the high heels of her ankle-strap shoes. “You look wonderful,” Dan gasped, ushering Laura to the sofa where she sat gratefully, crossing her legs with a sensual swish of nylon. “I went a bit overboard,” she admitted mischievously, “but I’d been wanting to try some of these clothes on for ages. I feel like a proper lady” “Would the proper lady care for a glass of wine?” “Definitely, a large glass in fact.” “You’ll be insisting on the same degree of propriety as last night?” he ventured. “That’s for me to know and you to discover. Careful,” Laura added as he passed her drink, “these stockings are difficult to find, and cost a small fortune.” “Why so special?” he asked, guilelessly. “Because,” Laura stood and hitched up her skirt to reveal the gorgeous legs he’d so long admired sheathed in sheer black, “they’ve got seams.”

“So you think,” Dan said, his voice dangerously low, “you can flirt outrageously and play hard to get without suffering any consequences?” “Worked for Hepburn and Tracey,” Laura responded cheekily, sensing a change in his tone and prudently attempting to move out of Dan’s reach. “Not so fast, young lady,” he said in the time-honoured manner of a B-movie hero, and unceremoniously tumbled her facedown across his lap. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded crossly. “What Rock Hudson did to Barbara Rush,” he responded decisively, exemplifying the point by bringing his hand down sharply. Now, while it’s true Laura protested there was a perceptible lack of conviction to her resistance. Growing ever more confident Dan methodically spanked every inch of her rear until his balıkesir escort palm felt hot. Which was nothing in comparison to the burning sensation assailing Laura’s bottom. Spanking hadn’t hurt this much in her imagination, she wailed hopelessly as the chic skirt was lifted to her waist.

“You certainly do have Betty Grable’s legs,” Dan said admiringly, running a hand languorously down each silky thigh, “and very fetching French knickers.” “Real silk,” sniffed his paramour, “please don’t rip them.” “Then to be on the safe side you’d better not struggle while I take them down.” “Oh, hang on,” she cried, you can’t possibly intend to…” Oh, but Dan most certainly did intend to spank her bare bottom; pinning Laura’s wrists into the small of her back he inched the flimsy lingerie down to reveal two hotly glowing cheeks. Despite her wriggling and pleas for clemency Laura meekly lifted her haunches to assist him. Down over stocking tops and suspenders came her knickers, sliding with a soft, sensual swish over slender thighs until tangled about her knees. Dan resumed smacking the perfectly proffered bare cheeks, still radiating heat from his preliminary attentions. The surrender of her lingerie seemed to have taken any remaining fight from Laura, who now lay limply in his grasp.

“Not quite so defiant now,” he observed, triumphantly admiring his handiwork. “Brute,” Laura murmured, making the most of the chance to rub and soothe her blazing bottom. “I think you exaggerate, young lady,” responded Dan. “Don’t patronise me, you sod,” came the waspish reply, “my poor bottom feels as if it’s on fire.” “So I see,” he replied, unabashed, “any other side effects?” Tentatively Dan slid two fingers between her cheeks. “Seems to me there’s a degree of moistness present here.” Turning to face her tormentor Laura blushed scarlet. “It’s an involuntary reaction,” she sniffled weakly. “Welcome nonetheless,” observed Dan, skilfully locating the emerging bud of her clitoris and drawing from Laura sounds of an entirely different timbre. Clearly burning buttocks were not the only hot spot on Laura’s anatomy. Dan resumed spanking; the heat sank deeper into the epicentre of her longing. Squirming across his thighs simply made matters worse; the friction sending jolts of pure pleasure through Laura’s sex.

“Now you’re nicely warmed up,” Dan’s voice interrupted her reverie, “it’s time to get serious.” Removing her panties completely he spread her thighs wide, Laura whimpering as her obviously aroused labia were exposed. Using just the tips of his fingers he carefully commenced lightly stinging the blood-engorged lips, transmitting electric surges of pure, passionate fire to her very core. Overwhelmed by humiliating indignity Laura jerked and moaned her way to a noisy orgasm, a pleasure thus far denied Dan.

“I think you may be forgetting something,” he observed; Laura remained prostrate across his lap. “Something?” she enquired, looking up, the spark restored trabzon escort to her violet eyes. “‘In particular…” Dan looked pointedly at the uncomfortable bulge in his trousers. “Ooh, you poor thing,” murmured Laura throatily, and slipping to the floor worked busily to free him. “Oh my,” she whispered appreciatively, delicately running her tongue up the length of his glistening shaft. “I thought…” croaked Dan, gasping at the exquisite pleasure her hot mouth brought him, “you were supposed not to have seen such a thing before?” “Yes well, nostalgic playacting or not, claiming to be a virgin might be stretching credulity too far,” admitted Laura, continuing to practice an obviously well honed skill. “Which leaves me no option,” he said, breathing heavily and anxious to avoid an all too premature conclusion, “but to discipline you further.”

Reluctantly Dan disengaged himself from Laura’s expert oral attentions; on impulse opening her blouse and hungrily pressing his mouth to each of Laura’s firm breasts. Tilting back her head and rolling her eyes she surrendered her lust-engorged boobs with a sensuous groan. Next Dan positioned his blissfully bemused beauty astride a well-padded sofa arm; urging Laura forward along its upholstered length. Legs spread, buttocks perfectly poised for further chastisement, Laura might have been expected to appear embarrassed, but far from it. The indignity of her blatantly exposure seemed only to enhance her anticipation. Framed by stocking tops and rumpled clothing her vagina peeped in open invitation.

But not yet… Slowly drawing the worn leather belt from his trousers Dan doubled it, raised his arm and waited. “Six strokes, Laura, I want you to count each one out loud.” “Yes, Dan,” she replied obediently, positively embracing her predicament, Pushing out her enticing posterior, Laura implicitly willed Dan to do his worst. Crack! A line of white fire jolted Laura’s hips. “One,” she cried shrilly; struggling to control her breathing. “Two!” The second blow struck few centimetres lower, Laura’s legs kicking in instinctive response. She waited tensely, when and where would the next fall? Stepping back a pace he experimented with a backhand stroke, higher this time, slicing across the surface of her burning skin in a searing arc. “Three!” she yelped, only half way through her torment. “Four, Yeow!” This diagonal swat cut across the wheals of previous strokes; somehow she stayed in situ. “Very good,” nodded Dan approvingly, stroking and squeezing her overheated cheeks. Laura felt the pain ebb to an almost bearable throb, which in turn sent urgent tingles of delight down to her molten pussy. Number five came blasting down, the belt’s tip catching her tender inner thighs, marking the sensitive skin above the welts of her stockings. “Five,” she whimpered, blinking furiously. “Last one…” This final tongue of fire cut into the tender crease where buttock and thigh meet, uniting pleasure and pain, stoking the inferno within. “Six!”

Urgently Dan grasped Laura’s still undulating hips and buried his full length deep inside in a single thrust; in and out, ever quicker, until they exultantly climaxed. Gently Dan carried Laura to the bedroom and removed all clothes except her stockings. Laura dreamily spread her legs, urging to fuck her again, slowly this time and in glorious technicolour.