by Lily Harlem
He discarded the belt and it slithered to the floor. The bunched-up robe was also abandoned.
“Come here,” he said, scooping me close to his chest.
I pressed my hands between us and linked my fingers, relieved to have my shoulders back in a more natural position.
“Thanks,” he said, kissing my forehead and speaking into my hair. “That was fucking awesome.”
“You don’t need to say thanks,” I said, snuggling my face into his neck and settling into my favorite spot, the gap between his head and the first angle of his shoulder that felt like it was designed just for me.
“I hadn’t planned that, when I tied you to the bed, you know.”
“Did you plan any of it?” I closed my eyes. “The shower? Leaving me dying of frustration?”
“No, I just went with what felt right.”
“And it did feel right, so clearly that approach works.” I sucked in a large breath—my heart and breathing rates were returning to normal.
Gabe tangled his legs with mine.
“So why were you so…er…talkative?” I asked. “You’re not usually so keen to know how everything feels.”
He was quiet for a moment and I didn’t think he’d answer, but then, “I don’t know, it’s just…”
“What?” Curiosity was gnawing at me but I contained it. Something told me he might clam up if he thought I was as fascinated as I was.
“It’s just I was thinking about it today, anal sex, you know.”
“As you do.” I smiled.
“Well, not usually, not at work, but I did, and then when I saw you so keen for me to bury deep all that need came back.”
“So why were you thinking about it? I’m sure it wasn’t Ethel, your secretary, that got you going.”
He chuckled. “No, definitely not.” He paused. “I don’t know really. I just was.”
“And you wondered what it felt like for me to have you in my arse?”
“Yes. It feels fucking awesome when I’m in there, so tight on my dick and on the root and so soft and warm. It’s so…”
I grinned, my cheek bunching on his neck. “Naughty, forbidden?”
“Yeah, I guess, and it makes me feel so close to you.”
I wriggled nearer. “You’re always close to me, even when we’re apart.”
“I know.”
“And did I satisfy your curiosity?” I asked. “About how it feels?”
“Yeah, well…” He tensed slightly.
I raised my head, needing to look at his face through the dim light. “Well what?”
“Yes,” he said with a downward curl of his lips that lasted a nanosecond. “You did.”
I bit my bottom lip. Not only was I a lawyer and trained to look for micro-expressions, I also knew my husband. And what I’d just seen was one of the things I loved about him. There was always more to learn and that delighted me, especially in a moment like this when I’d just seen something I hadn’t expected.
Because I hadn’t satisfied his curiosity about how it felt to be ass-fucked. Not by a long shot. How could I with just a few words? Words were inadequate for such a momentous feeling, such a grand sensation.
Gabe had just revealed a fantasy to me. Without even realizing it he’d given me a tool to tease and thrill him with, to make him come in a way he never had before.
I smiled and let out a long, slow breath as I shut my eyes. It seemed I’d be shopping between sessions tomorrow. There was something I didn’t have naturally but luckily would be able to buy.
Chapter Three
Hoxton was a Tube ride away and as I walked down the quiet cobbled back streets toward women’s erotic emporium Sh!, I felt a little nervous.
The light of day had shaken my confidence. Had I really seen in Gabe’s face what I thought I had the night before?
I glanced up at the pink front door and the bubble of cerise balloons hanging from a gutter pipe and fluttering in the breeze. I clenched my ass. I was a little tender down below and could still feel him there. The sensation spurred me on to carry out my plan
This was a sensation he wanted too. I was sure of it.
I tightened the strap of my handbag over my shoulder and wandered into the brightly lit shop. The overwhelming color was pink and the place smelled of a sweetly spiced perfume and was bursting with sexy toys and outfits.
A clutter of vibrators stood on their bases on a large round table. There was a wall of books with enticing covers, and display units holding an assortment of interesting-looking toys, candles, whips and underwear.
I had an idea of what I wanted but I needed to have a good search through the products. Well, why not? It was all so pretty and erotic, plus I’d had to take my lunch break to get here—a break I skipped most of the time—so I might as well make the most of it.
G’day,” said a smiling shop assistant who appeared to be doing a stock check. She had a clipboard in her hand and a pen with a long red feather dangling from the end. She also had a name badge with Renae printed in pink letters.
“Hello,” I said.
“Go ahead and browse,” she said, flashing a pewter-colored tongue stud as she spoke with an Australian twang. “And if you want any help just say the word.”
“I will, thanks.” I smiled and moved to a row of paddles hanging on hooks. They were a variety of sizes and material: leather, plastic, grooved and spiked.
I walked past them and studied a selection of butt plugs. Maybe I should get Gabe one of them. Prize his little hole open with that and make him wear it while I sucked him off, just to get him used to me invading him there.
No. I’d stick with what I’d come for. I had a plan. I was a woman on a mission.
I fingered a pretty lace bra with satin straps then stroked my fingers down the tails of a suede flogger. It was tempting to buy one of everything, just for the hell of it. It wasn’t like money was an issue for us.
A beep came from my purse. My iPhone, real life calling. Much as I would have liked to spend the day and lot of cash in this lovely shop, I had clients waiting and paperwork to get on top of.
I turned to the assistant, Renae. “Do you have any strap-ons?” I asked.
As I’d spoken, as the word strap-on had come out of my mouth and was no longer a thought, a tingle went over my skin.
Seriously. Had I ever thought I’d walk into a shop and ask for that?
She nodded, her expression remaining friendly and efficient and without a flicker of reaction to my request. “Sure, this way.”
I followed her to the back of the shop and a spot-lit alcove that held rows of black leather harnesses of all shapes and sizes.
“Is it for you to wear?” Renae asked, setting aside her clipboard.
“Er, yes.” I folded my arms.
“And your partner...her?”
“Er, no. Him.” I unfolded my arms and let them hang at my sides.
“Okay. How about this one, it’s one of our best sellers and I think would really suit your shape.” She reached up and hooked something similar to a jockstrap off a peg. “This hole,” she indicated a round slot, “is where you attach the dildo.”
“Oh, you buy them separately?”
“Yes. That way you can pick a length that suits your needs.” She shrugged. “Or rather his needs.”
“Yes, I suppose.” I took it from her and stroked the soft leather. It did feel nice. I could imagine wearing it, like panties, and having a big cock sticking out of it.
“That’s a medium,” she said. “Do you want to try it on?”
“Er, no, thanks. It looks about right, and it seems as though it adjusts slightly.”
“Yes, it does. And for the attachment?” She turned to a display cabinet stacked with dildos. “These are the ones that will attach to that particular harness. They’re all made of silicone so it’s just a case of size.”
I stared at them. The biggest were about the same length as Gabe’s dick. Or so I thought; it was hard to tell when they were such
bright colors—purple, sparkly pink, neon blue.
“If it’s his first time then you want something just a bit more than a finger,” the assistant said. “Two fingers wide is probably perfect.”
“Okay.” I swallowed. She talked about anally penetrating my husband the way I talked about affidavits and summonses and what flavor ice-cream to buy. “Er, yes, it is. His first time, that is.”
“This gets good reviews.” She plucked a purple one from the shelf. “It’s not too big, you can progress to those later, but this length should hit his prostate and let him know what it’s all about.” She took the harness and clipped the dildo onto the front. ”And believe me, you’ll know all about it when you hit that spot.”
“Yes. I think that’s what he wants.”
“I’m sure it is.” She nodded. “Lube. You’ll need lots of lube.”
“Of course.” I had some, but I guessed it wouldn’t hurt to have a good stock.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Maybe I’ll take a bigger one too. For another time.” I reached for a thicker, black dildo. “For when he’s got used to that one.”
“Good idea.”
She smiled and took my purchases to the till.
After paying and putting my new toys—or rather Gabe’s new toys—into the very bottom of my maxi purse, I headed back to the Tube station. A sense of anticipation and excitement was rattling through me. The knowledge of a surprise for my husband and a night of fun warmed me even though the afternoon was warm anyway.
I rode down into the depths of the Underground, walked through the wind-blasted corridors then jumped on a train that was half full.
Sitting opposite me were a couple of blokes, construction workers by the looks of them. I thought how shocked they’d be if they knew what I had in my bag. I didn’t appear the sort, not in my short, neat work skirt and matching jacket, sheer stockings and buttoned-up collar. Surely it was women who wore fishnets, corsets and wielded whips in the middle of the night that secreted strap-ons into their work bags?
No, that was ridiculous, because those women wouldn’t even hide them away. They’d just carry them around, without a care in the world, wouldn’t they? Well, I wasn’t quite there yet. This might be new for Gabe but it was also new for me.
I stared at the men’s big, dusty boots and their work-battered hands. The constant thud of the tracks on the wheels jostled them, and me, in a matching rhythm. They were burly, tough-looking, their biceps bulged and their thighs were wide. Their legs were touching, just, and their shoulders, the sleeves of their t-shirts, rubbed together.
The train came to a halt, not my stop, and they stood, holding on to the overhead rail. I stared up at them. They were standing close, the one in front leaned back onto the other as the train decelerated, his ass pressing into his colleague’s groin. It was a firm move, harder than it needed to be, and even after the train stopped he stayed there, touching the other man in an intimate way through their clothes.
I bit on my bottom lip. There was something very sexy about their rough masculinity but also about their familiarity with each other—cock and buttock crack locked together.
As the doors hissed open the men pulled apart then stepped forward into the crush of people clambering off. I saw the worker behind cup his colleague’s ass and give it a squeeze.
It was only a brief movement, a firm stroke of his palm that slid over the other bloke’s trousers then bunched the flesh through the material, but still, it was seriously suggestive.
They were clearly into each other. I might have had a secret trip on my lunch break, but what about them? Were they going somewhere private away from the construction site so they could fuck? Or were they an item and out and proud? Or were they just experimenting and discovering what it felt like to have their asses penetrated?
All these thoughts shot through my mind as the doors shut and the train pulled away from the station. I saw the two men through the window, briefly, heading toward the exit. They were close, very much in their own world and both were head and shoulders above everyone else.
Darkness sliced over the window as the train plunged into the tunnel again. I wondered what those two men would be like together in private; naked, kissing, exploring each other’s bodies. Which one would bend over and take it? Who would be the one giving the pleasure?
I’d never thought much about two men having sex, but now that I was I realized it was a fascinating concept to me. Did they do it in the same slow romantic way new lovers did, or at least the way Gabe and I had those first few times. Or were they more basic, just taking what they needed and able to shove and push and lose control because they weren’t as delicate as a woman?
I glanced to my right. An older man sat there, gray hair, red tie and reading the Telegraph. I studied his face, his downcast eyes and a few hairs on his eyebrows longer than they should be. He wore a wedding ring. What if he wasn’t married to a woman but a man instead? Again, it wasn’t something I’d ever thought about. A wedding ring to me had always signified a male and female union but, of course, that wasn’t always the case now.
I uncrossed and crossed my legs. I wondered if he’d have a male partner that looked like him—distinguished, slim, educated—or if he had a younger lover, a toy boy, or maybe a construction worker like the ones I’d just seen. Had he been gay all of his life or had he been married to a woman and left her for a man he just couldn’t resist?
Huffing at my own ludicrous imagination, I stared out of the window at the blackness whizzing past. Where had all of this come from?
Who was I kidding? It was the thought of taking on the role of a male lover for my husband that had got my mind whirring. I was going to wear a fake cock and make him bend over. I was going to be the penetrator rather than the penetrated.
A sudden thought gripped me. My chest tightened and my stomach clenched. What if Gabe was furious at me for wanting to fuck his ass? What if he thought I was saying he was homosexual and took great offense?
I held the bag a little tighter. No, I couldn’t have got it so wrong. I knew what I’d heard, what I’d seen in his face. He had a longing for this, I was sure of it.
The train hummed to a stop, my station. I stood then disembarked. Shuffling along with the throng of travelers, I headed into the daylight.
Somehow, I felt better off the train. It was as though my thoughts had been as condensed as the space around me, so I tilted my chin, strode out confidently and headed back toward my firm.
I took a shortcut down Ludgate Street, my contemplations beginning to turn once again to my to-do list and the client I had to see shortly about her pre-nuptial agreement. It was proving to be a very sore point with her fiancé and if it wasn’t smoothed over soon, there wouldn’t even be a wedding.
The sun beat down and I wondered about stopping off for a quick glass of something cool and to check the messages accumulating on my phone. There were several cafés, some with outdoor seating. They would make a nice resting point.
One took my fancy; it had small neat topiary bushes in white pots sectioning off an area with wrought iron chairs and tables. On the wall were large hanging baskets holding white flowers and long trails of pale ivy.
There was a spare table, at the end, next to a couple of men with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket by their side.
A couple of men.
I stopped.
One of the men I recognized. More than recognized.
It was Gabe.
A smile spread on my face. He didn’t often take lunch and that worried me so it was good to see him with a plate of food in front of him.
The man he was with I’d never seen before, but whoever he was, he was making my husband laugh.
Gabe’s whole face was relaxed; small creases spread from the corners of his eyes and his mouth was upturned. There was also an absence of the lines that furrowed his brow too often and his collar was loose, his tie slack.
I walked up to them and stood on the
opposite side of the row of small bushes.
“Hey,” I said.
Gabe didn’t hear me. He took a sip of his drink then said something to his acquaintance, a smile still set in place. His lunch partner laughed and put his hand on the table right next to Gabe’s so their fingers were in alignment.
“Gabe,” I said a little louder.
They both turned to me.
Surprise shot across Gabe’s face, then another expression, one I didn’t recognize.
“Hayley, hey, what are you doing here?” he asked.
I clasped the strap on my bag. I was hardly going to say that I was just on my way back from an erotic emporium and I had one heck of a treat in store for him. “Just heading back to the office. I had to nip to the shop.”
“Oh, okay.”
I hesitated. Waiting for him to introduce me or ask me to join them or…something.
“Hi. I’m Brent Dawson.” The man at his side stood, reached over and held out his hand.
He was handsome, chiseled but not pretty. He had a fuzz of facial hair and his clothes appeared to be of the finest quality.
Brent Dawson.
I shook his hand. So this was the Brent Dawson Gabe had mentioned the previous evening. The one who other men wanted to be like and had a great body.
“Hayley Stone,” I said and nodded at my husband with a grin. “He’s mine, by the way, I’m Mrs. Stone.”
“Ah, of course,” Brent said. “Gabe mentioned you worked nearby. Won’t you join us?”
“Well, I was only going to have a quick drink on my way back to the office. I don’t want to interrupt if you’re having a business lunch.”
“No, it’s fine,” Gabe said, standing and reaching for the spare seat on the next table. “Please, sit for a minute. You’re always rushing here and there; it will do you good.”
I smiled at him. “Okay, but just for a few minutes. I have a client in an hour and I need to prepare.”
Quickly, I walked around to the inner section of the foliage barrier then sat next to Gabe. He’d already snagged a fresh glass and was pouring me wine.
Carefully, I placed my bag down at my side. If Gabe knew what was in it—or imagine if Brent did? How would I ever explain my purchases to the two men at the table in broad daylight like this?