“Shhh. Good. Good boy.” Soothing whispers. “Almost done, okay? Stay still just a little bit longer.”
The plug switched off, the fleshlight slowly easing off me. I felt him move beside me and I whimpered as I sensed that movement being away rather than closer.
“I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back with you. Just give me one moment.”
Every moment was too much. Too vulnerable.
“Lean forward. Don’t let go of your arms.”
I obeyed. Pressure. Then the plug popped out. I whimpered again.
“I know. I know.” He cooed. “All done. Sit down slowly.”
My body obeyed, easing down onto the soft rug.
“Keep your hands where they are. Open your mouth for me. I’m going to give you some water.”
No thoughts. Just the sound of his voice and my instinct to obey. I opened, and curved plastic rested on my bottom lip. Then cool water trickled into my dry mouth and I accepted it eagerly.
“You did so good. You lasted so long.”
Relief. Warmth. Fingertips through my sweaty hair. Connection. Grounding.
His touch was all I focused on, so light as he brushed them through the short strands. Seconds. Minutes. Until my heart rate was back to normal, and I could breathe without being reminded of it.
I was so tired. So satisfied.
“Was that good for you?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“Yes, Benny Bear. That was so good for me.”
The nickname felt like a caress. Like a warm blanket wrapped around me. I didn’t want this to be over. I didn’t want him to go and be without him for another whole week.
“Can I touch you?” I whispered.
“Maybe next time.”
He didn’t let me touch him the next time either. Instead, he’d nested the fleshlight in a firm pillow mount, designed for just that purpose. He’d also given me a thrusting butt plug, and he played with the controls as he ordered me to fuck it, telling me to stop when I was right on the edge. Over and over, until I was a whimpering mess, just like the time before. Then he’d played with my hair as he fed me water, until I was tired and I just wanted to be wrapped in a big blanket and go to sleep, preferably with him.
It had been four weeks. Four sessions. And I was obsessed.
They were without a doubt the best sexual experiences of my life and he’d still barely even touched me.
It felt like he knew me in ways no one ever had, including myself. And I didn’t even know his name. I didn’t know what he did for work, or how he spent his weekends. I didn’t know about his family or his friends. I’d asked him but he would either change the subject or stop replying completely.
What I did know was that he woke up sometime before me, would respond sporadically until around seven thirty in the morning, and then not at all again until eight in the evening. What was he doing in between those times? Was he not allowedto have his phone on him while he worked? Did he not get breaks? Maybe he did and just didn’t want to talk to me during the day. That was fine. It wasn’t like he had to respond to me. That wasn’t what this was.
What if it could be?
Would he be open to something more? I didn’t have to see him to know he was perfect for me. I just had to figure out how to make him see that too.
What if he already has someone for that?The question dropped whatever warm kindling of hope existed in me into arctic waters. Ice in my veins. A shock to my system. I had my phone in my hand before I’d even fully let the idea sink in.
04:23 p.m. B:
Do you have a partner?
04:23 p.m. B:
