Scary Package

by Mara Ismine

  It was one hot visual. Maybe I could get him to reenact it for me. Soon. My cock twitched in anticipation and I became aware of the full condom still clinging to it. I sighed and pulled out reluctantly, making sure the condom stayed with me. I wasn’t entirely steady on my feet.

  Tan started to lift up and reach for the pack of wipes conveniently placed on the towel next to the dildo and the lube.

  “Stay there!” I smacked his ass and he subsided, turning his head awkwardly to look at me with a clear question in his eyes. “Just a couple of minutes more,” I told him. Stepping to one side I considered the reflection in the mirror. It looked a lot better without my skinny ass obstructing the view.

  I finished tying off the condom and dropped it into the waste bin beside the night table, without taking my eyes off the reflection of Tan spread across the bed. Somehow looking at the cold reflection rather than the hot reality was doing interesting things to me. Tan was watching me watch him, our eyes met in the mirror and I grinned at him.

  I looked away from the enticing reflection for long enough to grab the dildo and the lube. His hole was wide and red, still stretched and slick. I dribbled some fresh lube onto the dildo and slid it straight in.

  “Fuck, that’s cold!” Tan stiffened and complained, but didn’t stop me. His eyes in the mirror were hot despite his words.

  It took me a moment to coordinate my movements in the mirror. I settled on the bed beside Tan’s hips and rested my elbow in the middle of his back as I worked the dildo slowly in and out. It looked good. Very, very good. My free hand wrapped around my cock, which was really interested in the show, and pulled in time with the movements of the dildo.

  “Fuck, that’s hot!” Tan contradicted his earlier comment, but I didn’t bother calling him on it. He was right. It was hot. He wriggled carefully, sliding back off the bed and taking more of his weight on his feet. I waited until he stopped moving to start the dildo gliding again.

  “That’s even hotter!” I growled as Tan started to pull his cock in the same rhythm. He angled it down to get a better reflection and I watched the dildo slide in and out of his ass as his hand slid up and down his cock, his balls bouncing slightly with the combined movements.

  “Lube?” Tan stopped pulling on his cock and held his hand palm up between his legs. I looked away from the mirror long enough to squirt a generous helping of lube into his palm. I scooped some into my own hand after tossing the container behind me.

  Our hands returned to their previous positions and took up the careful rhythm of the dildo, which I was quite proud had remained fairly steady throughout. The fresh lube was cold against my heated cock and sent a shiver of sensation through my body. I could feel the pressure building slowly in my balls. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

  “Soon!” Tan panted, his hand beginning to pull harder on his cock, no longer trying to match the rhythm I had set. Thankfully. I matched his strokes both with the dildo and my own hand. I altered the angle of the dildo slightly, aiming for his sweet spot and hitting it, if his shudders were anything to go by. I fought to keep my own climax under control. I wanted to watch him come all over the black towel.

  Which he did. Spectacularly. His body bucked and jerked as jets of come striped the waiting towel, shining, pearly white on soft black. I tried to move the dildo more slowly as the last few spurts missed the towel and splattered on the floor.

  I let the dildo slide out of his body and worked my own hand frantically as I watched Tan’s come drip from the towel, his hand just holding his cock now and his stretched hole winking at me in the mirror. I thought about moving and ramming my cock back in. The thought was more than enough to have my own come pulsing out of my cock and covering my hand, thighs and the floor.

  I flopped back onto the bed, beside Tan, staring up at the ceiling. My hand still squeezed gently as the last dribbles welled out of my slit. Maybe a mirror on the ceiling wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

  “What are you thinking about?” Tan asked reaching across me for the wipes and dropping a kiss on my shoulder in passing.

  “Home improvements.” I accepted the wipe he dropped on my stomach and started a leisurely clean up.

  “Home improvements? You’re thinking about that right now?” Tan’s face interrupted my study of the ceiling. He was frowning and pouting.

  “Mm.” I grinned at him. “What do you think about a mirror directly over the bed?”

  “Over the bed? Like on the ceiling over the bed?” Tan stopped frowning at me and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

  “Mm.” I reached for another wipe.

  “I think that you are a genius!”

  “Thought you might approve.” I sat up to finish cleaning off, pitching the used wipes after the condom into the waste bin. I looked down at my shirt and tie. The shirt was only missing one button. I would have to search for it later. It was amazing just how far a button could travel in the heat of the moment.

  The tie had gained a crooked white stripe and selection of splatters. I unknotted it but left it in place as I undid the last button at my throat and slipped the shirt off. I balled the shirt and tie and tossed them into the laundry basket that now had a permanent place in my bedroom. I never realized that having a boyfriend, and a regular sex life, would mean so many changes in my simple lifestyle.

  “So was this for an article? Or your column?” I turned to watch Tan finish cleaning himself off. He got into some inspiring positions in the process.

  “It was going to be the column,” he admitted without any embarrassment at all. “But if we do get a mirror over the bed that might make an article.”

  “Some people would find it very tacky and off-putting to have their sex lives be a means of research for some journalist,” I pointed out with a glare.

  “Then I’m really lucky that you aren’t like some people, aren’t I?” Tan sat up, his abs bunching distractingly, and kissed me. “You get off on this as much as I do!”

  “Hn.” I wasn’t about to admit to that. Knowing Tan, he would want to start filming us if I admitted the slightest weakness. Having a freelance, exhibitionist journalist as a boyfriend did have certain drawbacks.

  “I’ve got a few more ideas for the mirror we already have.” Tan smirked at me.

  “Maybe later.” I wasn’t sure I trusted that look in his eyes, and I was hungry. My stomach rumbled in support of the idea of food.

  “Did you forget lunch again?” Tan asked as he bundled up the sticky towels and swiped at the floor.

  “Probably.” I shrugged. I got distracted at work sometimes and forgot to take my breaks. It was no big deal.

  “I’ll finish clearing up,” Tan offered. “You go and find some dinner. Here!” He tossed my pajamas to me from under the pillow.

  “I’ll wash up first,” I said, clutching the slippery silk pajamas in one hand. Another one of those little changes in my lifestyle. My pajamas had always been sensible, warm flannel. Now I had black silk pajamas and needed Tan to add the warmth. It was a satisfactory arrangement most of the time. “I’ll wash this while I’m in the bathroom.” I brandished the dildo at him and slid off the bed.

  “Nice view!” Tan called after me. I replied with an abrupt gesture with the dildo and he laughed.

  I filled the basin in the bathroom and dropped the dildo in to soak while I soaped the last of the residues off of my body with a hint of regret. Drying semen was icky, and dried semen was itchy, but it was a reminder of past pleasures. I always felt a bit awkward about cleaning up because part of me wanted to keep the reminder on my skin, itches and all.

  I scrubbed and dried the dildo and left it standing upright on the toilet cistern. I would put it away later, if Tan didn’t. I knew it standing there where he would see it while having a pee would amuse him, and hopefully inspire him. Not that he really needed inspiring.

  I pull
ed on my pajamas and headed for the kitchen. I didn’t bother buttoning the top. Pajama buttons might be easier to find, but they were just as much of a pain to sew back on. I should really get some wrap over, belted tops, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to explore the alternative uses of long silk belts. Not yet anyway.

  Tan had been busy today. There was a pan of spaghetti sauce simmering on the back of the stove and another pan of water on a low heat at the front. The spaghetti was lying ready on the counter. Fast food at home. I approved and so did my stomach. I fed the spaghetti into the water and put the kettle on while I waited for it to cook. I even switched the coffee machine on for Tan, seeing as he had left it ready to start.

  I decided to check the hall for shirt buttons and collect any stray clothes. The living room door was shut, which was unusual. I spotted the shirt button as I was going to open it and check if there was a problem in there.

  I snatched up the shirt button and carried it triumphantly into the bedroom to add to the small dish on the dresser where I kept stray buttons until I could match them to a shirt again, when I felt like sewing them back on.

  “Any more missing?” Tan asked as he watched me drop the button into the dish.

  “No, it was just the one this time.” I shoved the rest of the clothes I had collected into his arms and stole a quick kiss. “Got to get back to the kitchen and check the spaghetti.”

  “I won’t be much longer!” He yelled after me.

  He sauntered into the kitchen as I was dishing up. He poured himself a coffee before sliding into his seat, which gave me time to notice the damp white patches on the brown cotton of his pants. I smirked at the memory of those pants beneath my feet as I watched him come.

  We ate in a companionable silence. Tan had pulled on the shirt he’d been wearing when I got home. It was my favorite one, or one of them, a soft brushed cotton in forest green. Tan looked good in anything, but I liked the contrast of that dark green with his golden skin. It made his eyes an even more intense green, too. Not to mention that it felt good under my hands and molded to his muscles nicely.

  I noticed Tan sliding sidelong looks toward the hall from time to time and he seemed increasingly nervous. I knew there was something wrong when he volunteered to wash up and clean the kitchen without me issuing a single threat.

  It didn’t take long for me to remember why he was acting that way. His welcome home distraction had been very effective. I had forgotten all about the scary pink parcel from Mom. It must be in the living room. It was probably why he’d shut the door, too.

  “Come on.” I grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the kitchen when he started eyeing the floor. “The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can go and play in front of the mirror again.”

  “The kitchen floor is a bit grubby. I know how important it is to you to keep things clean…”

  “You can mop the floor before we play with the mirror, if it is bothering you that much.” I didn’t let go of him when I pushed the living room door open and turned on the light. “Or maybe I can mop the kitchen floor,” I muttered.

  The parcel was very pink and very scary. He had opened it on the couch. The two books were to one side of the big gift wrapped box, one of them open to a full color photo I didn’t try to see clearly. The batteries were on the other side of the heart covered box, nestled between two hideously pink boxes that must be the individual gifts.

  I dragged Tan over to the couch and then lost my nerve. We stood there staring down at the awful pinkness that had invaded our home. Technically it wasn’t our home. It was still my apartment and Tan still had his own a few blocks away. But as he slept here, worked here and lazed about here it was only a technicality to say it wasn’t his home too.

  “The sooner we do this…” Tan reminded me, edging slightly behind me as he spoke softly. Maybe he was afraid the gifts were trained to attack on voice activation. Maybe he was right to worry.

  “Yes. The one on the right is mine?”

  “Yep. The bigger one.” Tan confirmed.

  “Lets move the other stuff off the couch and sit down before we open them,” I suggested.

  “I could take the big box down to the dumpster, now that it’s empty.” Tan made a grab for the heart covered box.

  “Do not even think of leaving this room!” I growled. “You are going to open your present when I open mine. Neither of us are leaving before then!”

  “You sure we shouldn’t save them for Valentine’s Day? They are Valentine’s presents so maybe--”

  “No! We do it now. You can get the books as you’ve already been exposed to them. I’ll get the box.” I reached out reluctantly to pull the empty box off the couch. Something slithered inside. I dropped it.

  “You said it was empty!” I yelled at Tan.

  “I thought it was.” He flinched and reached for the box, cautiously tipping it over. A plain brown envelope slid out onto the rug. It had careful printing across the flap “Not To Be Opened Until February 14th”. Tan picked the envelope up by one corner and dropped it on the open book.

  I tipped the box over further, but nothing else escaped. I righted it and carefully scooped the packing material back into it. No other surprises appeared. Tan shut the envelope in the book and removed both of the books from the couch. He put them out of sight by shoving them underneath it.

  That only left the two gifts and the selection of batteries.

  “Sit!” I pointed at the far end of the couch where the books had been and Tan reluctantly sat down. I had to be brave. Other people looked forward to packages from their Mom. They got cookies and stuff. At least I thought they got cookies. I wouldn’t mind getting cookies.

  “It might be cookies or candy,” I said out loud and ignored the snort of derision from Tan. I picked up the smaller package and dropped it in his lap. He flinched, but nothing else happened. I pushed the batteries onto the middle cushion and bravely picked up my gift so that I could sit down.

  It was heavy. I couldn’t say heavier than I expected because I really didn’t know what to expect. But it was certainly heavier than I had hoped. Heavier than cookies or candy.

  “She’s your Mom, you can go first.” Tan offered generously.

  “We’ll do it together. You are my boyfriend and shouldn’t make me suffer alone.” I told him picking listlessly at the tape sealing one end of the gift.

  “You like making me suffer!”

  “You enjoy it. I told you it’s a sign of affection in my family,” I reminded him.

  “Your Mom must really love us then,” he muttered.

  I couldn’t suppress a snicker at that. I decided to get it over with and ripped the wrapping paper from the box. I could hear paper tearing at the other end of the couch, but couldn’t tear my eyes off the gaudy box in my hands.

  “Anal-yzer. Multi-function toy for your every anal pleasure with remote control and realistic come function.” I read with growing horror. My Mom had really gone out and bought me a sex toy, and remembered the batteries.

  “She never remembered the batteries at Christmas when I was a kid,” I muttered.

  “What is it?” Tan asked in a subdued voice. I tilted the box so that he could read it. “Oh. Are you going to open it?”

  “You mean take it out of the box? I hadn’t planned on it. What did you get?” I tore my eyes away from the horror on my lap and looked across at Tan.

  “I’m not sure. It promises discrete intimate stimulation, but it isn’t very clear how it will do it.”

  “But it probably needs batteries.” I sighed. “I suppose we have to get them out and check that they work. You know she’ll ask when she rings up.”

  “We could just lie about it.”

  “I’ve never been able to lie to her. She always knows. The best I can do is avoid answering. You can try lying to her if you want, just don’t expect me to be able to back
you up.”

  “We’ll get them out and insert the batteries. I don’t think I’ve ever had to read the instructions for a sex toy before.” Tan sounded really offended by the idea of reading the instructions. He had the rather chauvinistic and foolish notion that instructions were for wimps and women. I’d always thought that people who didn’t read the instructions were sub-human morons. It was one of those areas that we had agreed to differ on. Well, sort of agreed to differ, unless either of us came across something to support our particular view. Like sex toy Valentine gifts from my Mom.

  I really didn’t want to unpack the Anal-yzer or read the instructions. A sideways glance at Tan showed him with a lapful of straps and wires. Maybe the Anal-yzer was a better bet.

  I opened the box and followed Tan’s example by pouring the contents into my lap. I didn’t have any straps or wires, which was good. I did have a bulbous penis-shaped thing, a remote control, a small bottle of lube and an equally small bottle of sex toy cleaner. I checked that there was nothing left in the box and threw it into the big heart covered box on the floor, then retrieved it. I didn’t want the gaudy cardboard anywhere near something that might be traced back to me.

  I poked through the items on my lap until I found the instruction leaflet. It had a post-it note stuck on the front of it. I growled at the offensive message.

  I checked that everything worked before I sent it, but it is all brand new and unused other than that. In case you were wondering.

  I thought this would be better than that stick you normally have up your ass!