nc-17 | sexual content
He had discovered it in her dresser drawer almost a month ago, but it had taken that long for her to work up the nerve to let him watch her. She wasn't sure why, exactly. After all, the two of them had done practically everything else it was possible for two consenting adults to do. For some reason, the idea of letting him watch her while she masturbated just made her uneasy.
Maybe it was because it felt so inelegant when she was doing it. Lying back on the bed, pinching her nipples a few times before moving on. Turning on the vibrator that promised to be 'whisper-quiet' even though it was nothing of the sort. Sliding it in her body a few times, just to get it wet, before she trapped her clit between her index and middle finger and pushed the vibrator down onto it. Moving it slightly, back and forth, up and down, until she brought herself to the brink of orgasm. Five, six minutes, max. She didn't writhe. She didn't moan. Even when she was fantasizing about his fingers, his cock, she didn't cry out his name. It was ... boring, really. Just a physical release.
But he wanted to watch her. And there was very little she could deny him.
So here they were. She was lying on her bed, propped up on pillows, with her legs spread. He sat between them, his eyes wide as she turned it on. She wanted to warn him, to let him know that this wasn't going to be anything spectacular, but her mouth was suddenly dry. His erection was already tenting his boxers, and he was almost absently stroking it through the cloth.
And she hadn't even done anything yet.
With the vibrator on the lowest setting, she rubbed the tip around her opening, gathering the wetness there. Her free hand squeezed her breast, tweaked her nipple. When she shoved it inside her, the slim piece of plastic meeting little resistance, he exhaled sharply. She was so wet that only needed to do it once, but she found herself gliding it in and out, angling it so the curved tip grazed her g-spot over and over again. It wasn't enough to make her come, but it helped pool the tension in her belly.
He whispered something, inaudible. His eyes were wide, dark, hypnotizing. Without breaking from his gaze, she cranked up the power, the dull hum from the vibrator the only sound in the room. When she nudged it against her clit, her eyes closed out of reflex, but she instantly missed being able to watch his face.
She forced them open, gasping when she saw that he had moved closer. His hand covered hers. His lips moved noiselessly, but she understood what he wanted. She relinquished control (perhaps a bit too quickly, too eagerly) and let him take the toy from her.
He was clumsy, holding it awkwardly and fumbling with it for several moments before realizing he had to hold her clit in place for the stimulation to be most effective. He teased it gently at first, her hips bucking up in need for more contact. He applied more pressure, flicking it back and forth, and then finally slipping the tip into the hood of her clit, causing her to moan his name. Encouraged, he kept going, moving faster and faster, grinding it into her. Her eyes darted from his face to his hands, and that's why she didn't notice at first that his thumb was pressing against the black cap. With the vibrator being several years old and ... well used, the cap had become loose, and sometimes -
He swore when it popped off, flying over her hip and rolling off the bed. She cried out at the sudden loss, but he didn't miss a beat. He tossed it aside; she was only vaguely aware of the sound of the batteries falling out and the plastic hitting the floor, because he lowered his head and began rubbing her clit with his tongue. He had done this dozens - maybe hundreds - of times before, but this time, it felt different. She came almost instantly, her fists slamming down on the mattress.
She couldn't stop her eyes from closing, even when she felt him crawl up over her. He rasped into her ear about how he needed her, wanted her. She knew he was asking for permission, but she was unable to vocalize anything. She grabbed his hips, pulling them down against hers, and he seemed to get the message. One long, firm, sure stroke and he was inside her. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't, he kept saying, and she tried to let him know that was okay with deep kisses and fleeting caresses.
Afterwards, he rolled over, onto his back, with his arm semi-possessively draped over her.