It started with a car conversation.
I was nervous, almost giddy.
This was the moment. I reached into my bag, and put a c-shaped sex toy I’d recently bought for us on the dashboard.
My boyfriend looked at me, partly intrigued, mostly unsurprised.
‘Please tell me THIS one doesn’t go in my butt.”
We’d played with sex toys in the past, and if he didn’t ask this question every time I showed him a new one, I knew we weren’t going to have fun.
Staring at the soft silicone sheath, wrapped around the curve-hugging toy, I sighed, with the patented eye roll and lip bite he’d come to adore. His doe eyes squinted at me, smirking, and I drew my knees together.
Parting his concave lips, he slid one hand between my thighs, while the other rested in a fist, against the stubble that he had manicured to imperfection. It was such a tantalising setting, the two of us compacted together in the front seat of my car, breath exchanging between our partly opened mouths and the illuminating light of a street lamp shining through a fogged windscreen.
“How does this thing work?”
Watching him dangle the toy in the air, squeal at all the different vibrations and test which one could move it from one side of the dashboard to the other the quickest, was building no aspect of my orgasm.
He smiled again. I’m glad someone was amused.
In one fluid movement, he pulled me onto his lap, his other hand cupped around my ass. He traced the scalloped edge along my panties, and subtly dipped his fingers in and out, to tease me.
He brought his hand to the front, lingering over where my knickers had become soaked with anticipation. Smiling again, he grabbed his phone, downloaded the app, and synced the sex toy in a matter of seconds.
‘Well it wasn’t that hard to figure out’ I thought to myself.
I didn’t voice the opinion, out of fear he may punish me by refusing to dip his fingers between my legs, the way my tilted hips toward him were silently begging for.
He did anyway, kissing me goodnight on the forehead and giving me the one clear instruction, ‘text when you’re ready’.
I couldn’t have been luckier.
Not because of an adventurous boyfriend, but because that entire drive home, I didn’t have a single red light. All signs we’re saying “go get your app-controlled, sex toy orgasm”.
Walking through the front door, I had two ideas running through my pragmatic mind:
I combined both, ripping off my clothes off the way he always did – pulling my shirt off me from the back of the neck, grazing along my back and trapping my arms for a brief second between kisses until he threw it on the floor, pants stripped off with panties in tow, and a brief, but comically arousing struggle to take my bra off.
Lubeing up the toy, I slipped it inside me. I pinned my hair up, knowing full well that this shower session had a singular purpose. Perching myself on the edge of the porcelain bath tub I sent the text to say I was ready.
A swift ‘thumbs up’ emoji responded. I’m sure James Bond would have done the same if he were seducing women in a millennial context.
Sending an invite to my ‘long distance lover’, I awaited eagerly, turning the water onto steaming hot and letting the room become engulfed in warm mist and saturated steam windows. Although something was off – I wasn’t breathing heavily, or erratically.
In fact, nothing was happening.
“Is it working?”
Cue the reality of this situation: sitting for ten minutes on opposite sides of the city, trying to figure out the technical difficulties of our sex toy. Was it bugs in the app? A failure to download the latest Apple IOS update? I was just in the mood to orgasm, and even technology, once an ally, was now getting in the way. My nipples were erect from shivering too much, as the naked state I was in went from arousing to over exposed.
“Have you turned (insert feature I had no concept about) on?”
Yes darling. I’d turned on the phone, and the app, and the toy, and the partner ‘sync up’ setting. I’d turned on just about everything, but myself at this stage.
“What about the Bluetooth?”
And the Bluetooth. Whoops.
I turned it on and hopped into the shower. My boyfriend spared no time – his use of the sex toy reflected how he was in bed – consistent, stable and always knew when to change rhythm and pace. I could tell his favourite positions without him ever becoming predictable. Right now he was shifting between “Cha cha cha” to “Wave”.
I cupped my breasts, the way he always did when I rode him, and felt his long-distance control consume my body. He was always on my mind. Every change of pulse, every swipe to increase rhythms. The closer I got to orgasm was a reminder of how much I adored him being inside me.
Right now, with droplets of water running down my face, my hands mimicking the way he touched me, and the thought of my man sitting back on his bed, controlling my pleasure at the tip of his fingers, I felt wild.
Every moment we had in the shower together flooded through my mind. I could feel the soap he would lather across my chest and the smell of cherry blossoms that lingered as he entered me. I could feel the shock of the water turning from steaming to icy when he wanted to shock and punish me. I could feel the nape of my neck get wet every time he knotted his fingers through it and pushed me against the glass to kiss my deeply.
The pulsing increased, with deeper, more rapid rhythms striking me between the legs. It was like he could tell I was about to climax, even from across the city. The vibrations hit full speed the way he always did when he put my hands on the tiled wall and entered me from behind. The mixed stimulation of the toy mimicked the way he thrusted into, and through me, while kissing down my back and touching me until we finished together. I was moaning, and a final sensation hit me, sending vibrations through my whole figure. Sliding down onto the shower floor, I was left with nothing but the goose bumps on my flushed skin and shakes shooting through my hips and legs.
Thank God the shower water had covered up all the noise.
I got out of the shower, soaked and wrapped myself in the plush warmed towel hanging on the rack for this moment. I felt refreshed and exhausted, clean and so, unbelievably dirty. I felt my legs shaking beneath me as I scrambled across the hall to flop on my bed, my sheets engulfed me and my mind flooded with one single thought.
“Did my boyfriend just increase his productivity?”
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