No Ordinary Love Story: Sequel to The Diary of a Submissive (9 page)

He kept fucking me hard and it wasn’t too long before I felt him go stiff as his orgasm hit him. His breathing was heavy as he moved to dispose of the condom. When he returned he held his hand out under my face and I opened my mouth, letting the egg fall into his outstretched palm.

He helped me into a sitting position on the sofa and pulled my legs forward and open as he knelt on the floor in front of me. Within seconds he was licking me. As with the sex, there was no preamble, no teasing, just a relentless, firm pressure on my clit as he licked and sucked it. I felt his fingers between my legs and then I felt him push the toy back inside me.

He turned it on and I bucked my hips up, grinding myself against his face as he continued to focus on my clit. He put it on the fastest setting and flicked his tongue over me again and again. My hands were in his hair and I was moaning loudly. I was lost.

‘Please may I come?’ I groaned. I know. It wasn’t something I made a habit of asking without being explicitly told to, but I wasn’t risking everything stopping for any reason.

He nodded his permission as he kept licking. I thrust upwards again and kept hold of his hair. It felt as though his tongue was vibrating as I came, crying out loud until I flopped back down on the sofa.

He moved his mouth away and turned the egg off
before climbing up to join me. As I rested my head in his lap I congratulated myself on a good plan well executed. Adam, it was fair to say, was similarly pleased, which made me feel happy, and not unlike a goddess for a bit. Everyone wins.

Of course not all of my plans worked out quite as I had planned.

I’m a big fan of buying sex toys online. There are a couple of things I’ve bought in person, but mostly I’m internet all the way. No embarrassment (which is obviously a major thing with me – sadly even a trip to an Ann Summers shop can see me blushing), a great selection of items, lots of bargains and sales to be had and, usually, a good number of reviews that tell you how normal folk have found the objects you’re considering buying. Invaluable stuff.

I have, however, on occasion not read the small print as well as perhaps I could have.

Adam and I had discussed anal play a lot. It was something he had a lot more experience of than me, and initially I was quite wary as my early experiences had been a mix of incredibly hot and quite painful. I decided I would order a plug for us to use together, something we could have fun with and that would act as a signal to Adam that I trusted him to do a little more arse-related stuff than we’d done previously.

As ever a victim of the allure of additional features and (non-literal) bells and whistles, I found one that could be inflated using a little bulb and that would vibrate as well. It was reasonably priced, a bargain even, and the fact it
could be made bigger seemed especially useful as I was getting used to having my bum played with.

When it arrived there was one problem.

I don’t know whose arse it was supposed to fit into, but it wasn’t going into mine, even before being expanded.

It was a bit ridiculous but made me laugh a lot. In an email to Adam I told him my mistake and explained how I was pondering sending it back for a refund (unused I hasten to add). Adam’s email in response made me gulp a little bit.

Huh.

That Friday he came over and, as often happened, after an early dinner we spent the rest of the evening in bed.

At one point he asked to see the plug and I laughed as I fetched it. He said it was definitely too big to go in my arse, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t fit elsewhere. I hid my nerves as best I could, but he just put it on the bedside table after inspecting it and we went back to debating who wrote the best Batman comics (Tim Sale, obviously, although he said Miller).

Gradually we became more amorous and half an hour later I had him in my mouth, slowly moving up and down, savouring the feeling as I knelt on the bed, his hand on my inner thigh.

I shivered as he ran his hand along my slit and then pushed a finger inside me. I moaned around his cock.

He withdrew and in a few moments I felt something else between my legs. He was pushing the plug into my cunt, presumably to show me that it wasn’t a wasted purchase after all.

It was, somewhat disconcertingly, similar in shape to a cone, getting wider as he pushed it in. I groaned as he pushed the widest part inside me, feeling myself close around it. Just the thin shaft and base protruded. There were two cables attached – one to the controller for the vibration and one to the bulb that inflated it.

He immediately turned the vibration on to maximum, making me cry out at the sudden intensity. Then he squeezed the bulb. I felt the plug widen inside me. It was an odd sensation, not unpleasant, but it made me feel full.

But he wasn’t done. He kept squeezing it, counting out loud the number of times he squeezed the bulb as he slowly inflated the toy inside me. He kept a hand on the base to prevent it from falling out and the pressure he put on it made it even more intense.

When he got to eight I was shaking. I kept my mouth on his cock but I had given up any hope of being able to pleasure him. I just knew he would want me to not let him slip out.

‘Look at you, two of your holes filled at once. Do you like being nice and full?’

I really did. The intensity of the plug was on the very edge of being painful, but paired with sucking him (which remained one of my favourite things to do sexually) it was bringing me close to orgasm. That said, the sing-song nature of his voice irked me a little, so I ignored him.

He spanked my arse, hard enough that I was pretty sure he’d have left a hand print, and asked me again.

Grudgingly I nodded, unwilling to look at him, knowing that he’d be able to see how much I was enjoying it by how wet the bloody plug was.

‘Do you think you’d enjoy it even more if all your holes were being used?’

I stiffened. Nervous. Unsure. We’d talked about triple penetration and I was very curious about it, although still half convinced most normal women wouldn’t be able to cope with it, whatever the porn films said.

He didn’t demand an answer from me this time, but I felt his finger moving around the toy, collecting as much of my juices as he could. He then began to circle my arse with his finger, making it wet. I couldn’t help it, I went tense.

He stroked my arse, softly, giving me an odd kind of reassurance.

‘It’s OK, Sophie. I’m not going to hurt you, but if we’re going to do this you need to relax or it might be uncomfortable.’

His finger returned to my opening, but stayed there.

‘Push backwards for me sweetheart.’

I growled slightly around his cock and he laughed.

‘I’m sorry, I promise I’m not doing it to be humiliating, it just means you can take this at your own pace.’

He might not have meant for it to be humiliating, but it still felt that way as I began to shift myself. I must have been incredibly wet, though, as my juices acted as a good lubricant as I moved backwards, my arse opening for his finger. It felt incredibly tight, undoubtedly because of the fullness in my cunt, but I was able to push back easily, allowing him to slide in.

As soon as his finger was inside me it was as though the vibrations of the toy were moving through it too. The feelings were incredibly intense. Any movement, however small, meant waves of pleasure pulsed through me, with
even the movement of my body as I breathed in and out feeling powerful.

Adam started to thrust his hips upwards into my mouth. It reminded me that he was there and I began to lick him again, trying to focus on him as much as possible. It was pretty difficult with everything else going on. He pushed to the back of my throat and I gagged a little before taking him as far down as I could.

At that point he began to move his finger in and out, slowly at first but quickly getting faster and harder. I was moaning around his cock as he told me what a dirty girl I was for getting off on having all her holes used at once. I would have blushed if I wasn’t already bright red.

He fucked my mouth, continuing his filthy monologue. Then he stopped mid-sentence and let out a cry. I felt him flood my mouth. As the first stream hit my tongue I too went over the edge, clamping my mouth round him as I bucked against his hand and the toy, my cries only muffled by his cock. I collapsed onto the bed. He withdrew his finger and quickly deflated the plug and turned it off, pulling it out of me.

It’s ironic really because, while it didn’t work very well as a plug for me, it became a toy that Adam particularly enjoyed using. My relationship with it veered between love and hate (depending on how far he expanded it) but, either way, when it came out of the toy drawer I knew life wouldn’t be dull.

That said, it’s not as if there was much chance for my life to be dull. A change in my job role made for slightly more regular hours, but while weekend shifts in the newsroom
were a thankful rarity, later nights became more frequent. Paired with trips to see my parents every week or two, and keeping up with friends, life was always busy. My life was full before Adam arrived, but I was soon realising that I wanted to make room to fit him in it. I could see him enjoying the banter at my friends’ birthday parties – complete with the drunken arguments about the hundred best albums ever recorded. I could see my parents liking him. Increasingly I realised my first instinct when I read or saw something interesting was to tell him.

It was odd.

It was lovely.

It made me nervous.

Post James I had decided I was not in the place for a relationship. But I felt myself wavering a little. Not for any relationship, and certainly not a relationship with James. But Adam. Straightforward, funny, clever, filthy Adam. That was very much a different thing.

I tried to tamp down the feelings as much as possible – not least because I felt somewhat guilty. We’d started this as a no-strings thing and while it hadn’t been a conscious choice I was aware that the change in my feelings could make things awkward if he didn’t feel the same. And, somewhat ironically, the one thing we weren’t talking about at this juncture was our relationship – the sex, yes, previous relationships, yes, even what we wanted long term. Just not this. So, in true ostrich fashion, I just kept things as simple and straightforward as I could by, erm, not saying a word. I could mask the feelings, right?

According to Thomas I absolutely couldn’t.

Adam and I had met him and Charlotte for dinner one
weeknight. It was a fun evening – lots of drinks, good banter, some nice food. Tom and Charlotte were both on good form, and by the time I’d said goodbye to the three of them to head home (Adam had an early start, making for a rare night where we didn’t meet and then end up going home together) I had a stitch from laughing so hard.

When my phone pinged as I got to my car I assumed it would be Adam, saying goodnight (yes, we tended to do that too, but that’s not a sign of anything and, I promise, isn’t as sickening as it sounds). It wasn’t.

I felt my face scrunch up in a mixture of confusion and scorn that, when she saw it, my mum always warned me would cause early wrinkles. What was he talking about? How did he know they were serious?
Were
they serious? According to whom? Had Adam said something to him?

Bearing in mind my ability to disappear off into an imaginative flight of fantasy with very little effort, I thought the best thing was to seek immediate clarification.

Hmmm. In hindsight that might have sounded a smidgen too keen, but curious minds need to know. Thankfully, Thomas didn’t keep me in suspense too long.

Yikes. I replied as fast as my fingers would type.

The reply pinged back almost immediately.

I couldn’t help smiling. I know it’s lame, looking to optimistic friends for relationship validation, but, hell, I’d take what I could get. I wasn’t admitting that to him, though.

There was no immediate reply – and one wasn’t really needed – so finally I put my phone aside, buckled my seat belt and began the drive home. By the time I got back I had two messages waiting for me.

I replied, asking him if he was OK, reminding him that if he ever wanted to chat I was here – let’s face it, after everything we’d been through I knew him better than most, knew all about his kinky side, and wouldn’t judge him for anything. He didn’t respond.

As for the other message, as I tapped out a brief reply I sincerely hoped that WAS what it seemed.

It was lame for me to feel a bit warm and fuzzy every time he called me ‘sweetheart’, right? I thought so.