while. I could cope with that, and I guessed Jacob could too, considering he’d been close to fucking me in that spot in that alley.
Had he been thinking of it for a long time and just hadn’t said? I’d hidden my rape fantasy from him because I hadn’t wanted him to think me perverted or weird. Had he done the same with anal sex? I hated the thought of him feeling unable to share everything with me, and for the first time I realised he may well have felt the same about my recent revelation. That I hadn’t trusted him enough to share.
I sighed and flopped onto our bed, staring out of the window at the onset of night. Funny, but I noticed how much the layout of our room resembled the one at the hotel, only our furniture was real wood and the walls were bright with sunny yellow paint and gold-coloured bedding. The cream curtains fluttered in the slight breeze, sifting through the open crack, cooling the room to a pleasant temperature. I needed it—I’d been getting far too hot lately. And I also needed Jacob to call. I wanted to hear his voice, and I was just about ready to fully confess my latest fantasy. With me here all alone, we could talk without interruption. I hated being away from him like this, and who knew, a bit of phone sex might bring us closer, despite the miles separating us.
I idled away the time conjuring images of Jacob holding me close, my back to his chest, his cock nudging my arse cleft. I imagined how his rigid tip would butt my puckered hole, trying to gain entrance, his hands spanning my hips as he held me steady.
“Bend over, bitch,” he’d say.
And I’d obey, perhaps clutching the windowsill, perhaps the footrest, or maybe even the headboard as we both knelt on the bed. The locations weren’t my main focus, though. The entry was.
My cunt clenched and juices seeped, my clit starting that delicious throb that told me I’d need to masturbate to relieve it. Jacob had to call soon or I’d begin without him. Again the image of his cock in my arse appeared, and I reached over to my bedside cabinet, feeling guilty at knowing what I was about to do.
I was going to explore by myself before telling him what I wanted.
Finding the small blue butt plug I’d bought over the internet and the lube that had gained me a puzzled look from the supermarket cashier as she’d swiped it over the barcode reader, I began the task of preparing my arse for invasion. Squeezing a glob of lube onto my finger, I lay back and opened my legs wide, bringing my knees up and my heels close to my body. The position was so rude, so exposed; lying there on our bed with the curtains fluttering in the breeze. Thank goodness neighbours couldn’t see in.
I reached down, fingertips brushing my clit before seeking out my arsehole. I found it, and tested its resistance as I pushed against it. The tip of my finger popped through, and the tight clench of the rim around it hadn’t been something I was expecting. With a gentle movement, I eased my finger in further, experiencing the sensation of needing to go to the toilet. This hadn’t been something I’d anticipated either, and I kept still for a moment, wondering if I really needed to go or whether it was just my body’s initial reaction.
It seemed the latter was the case and as the feeling subsided I was able to insert a little more of my finger. The entry passage was rigid, unyielding, and I wondered how the hell Jacob’s cock would fit inside. Already my rim was burning; the slight stretch a tad painful.
What had I been thinking, wanting this?
The lure of that burn, that pain turning into pleasure, spurred me on, though. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t ask Jacob if he wanted to try it. I removed my finger, although it still felt as if it was in there, and lubed the butt plug. This was bigger than my finger, wider and longer too, with a pointed end that should glide in easily. It did, but not without the burn, and the lube exacerbated it, made it feel like my
Had he been thinking of it for a long time and just hadn’t said? I’d hidden my rape fantasy from him because I hadn’t wanted him to think me perverted or weird. Had he done the same with anal sex? I hated the thought of him feeling unable to share everything with me, and for the first time I realised he may well have felt the same about my recent revelation. That I hadn’t trusted him enough to share.
I sighed and flopped onto our bed, staring out of the window at the onset of night. Funny, but I noticed how much the layout of our room resembled the one at the hotel, only our furniture was real wood and the walls were bright with sunny yellow paint and gold-coloured bedding. The cream curtains fluttered in the slight breeze, sifting through the open crack, cooling the room to a pleasant temperature. I needed it—I’d been getting far too hot lately. And I also needed Jacob to call. I wanted to hear his voice, and I was just about ready to fully confess my latest fantasy. With me here all alone, we could talk without interruption. I hated being away from him like this, and who knew, a bit of phone sex might bring us closer, despite the miles separating us.
I idled away the time conjuring images of Jacob holding me close, my back to his chest, his cock nudging my arse cleft. I imagined how his rigid tip would butt my puckered hole, trying to gain entrance, his hands spanning my hips as he held me steady.
“Bend over, bitch,” he’d say.
And I’d obey, perhaps clutching the windowsill, perhaps the footrest, or maybe even the headboard as we both knelt on the bed. The locations weren’t my main focus, though. The entry was.
My cunt clenched and juices seeped, my clit starting that delicious throb that told me I’d need to masturbate to relieve it. Jacob had to call soon or I’d begin without him. Again the image of his cock in my arse appeared, and I reached over to my bedside cabinet, feeling guilty at knowing what I was about to do.
I was going to explore by myself before telling him what I wanted.
Finding the small blue butt plug I’d bought over the internet and the lube that had gained me a puzzled look from the supermarket cashier as she’d swiped it over the barcode reader, I began the task of preparing my arse for invasion. Squeezing a glob of lube onto my finger, I lay back and opened my legs wide, bringing my knees up and my heels close to my body. The position was so rude, so exposed; lying there on our bed with the curtains fluttering in the breeze. Thank goodness neighbours couldn’t see in.
I reached down, fingertips brushing my clit before seeking out my arsehole. I found it, and tested its resistance as I pushed against it. The tip of my finger popped through, and the tight clench of the rim around it hadn’t been something I was expecting. With a gentle movement, I eased my finger in further, experiencing the sensation of needing to go to the toilet. This hadn’t been something I’d anticipated either, and I kept still for a moment, wondering if I really needed to go or whether it was just my body’s initial reaction.
It seemed the latter was the case and as the feeling subsided I was able to insert a little more of my finger. The entry passage was rigid, unyielding, and I wondered how the hell Jacob’s cock would fit inside. Already my rim was burning; the slight stretch a tad painful.
What had I been thinking, wanting this?
The lure of that burn, that pain turning into pleasure, spurred me on, though. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t ask Jacob if he wanted to try it. I removed my finger, although it still felt as if it was in there, and lubed the butt plug. This was bigger than my finger, wider and longer too, with a pointed end that should glide in easily. It did, but not without the burn, and the lube exacerbated it, made it feel like my
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