Chapter 4: Domestic Loving
The echo of the closing door seemed to lock the world out, leaving only the heavy, shared silence of the living room. Liam’s breathing, still ragged from their frantic coupling on the sofa, hitched as he stared at the space where Debby had been, his voice a rough whisper when he finally spoke. "That thing you told her about… the plug. Do you really have one?"
She nods yes.
The single, silent motion is more devastating than any confession. Liam’s breath leaves him in a soft rush, his blue eyes widening with a mix of awe and acute hunger. She saw the image take root behind his eyes, the reality of it, the promise of her walking through a restaurant, buzzing for him alone.
“Where is it?” he asked, his voice gravelly.
“Upstairs,” she said, peeling herself off his damp lap. The loss of connection made them both shiver. “In my nightstand. A little black box.”
He was on his feet before she finished speaking, his borrowed sweatpants loose around his narrow hips. He took the stairs two at a time, a boy on a treasure hunt. She followed at a slower pace, savoring the view from behind, the shift of muscle under his skin, the absolute certainty of his obedience.
She found him kneeling beside her bed, the small, discreet box open in his palm. He held the silicone plug gingerly, its flared base and sleek shape glistening under the lamp light. He looked from the object to her, his expression profoundly serious. “Can I… can I put it in you?”
“That’s the idea.” She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “But not yet. First, I want you to use your mouth on me again. I want to be wet and open for it.”
He didn’t hesitate. He placed the plug carefully back in its box and moved to her, his hands going to the waistband of her leggings. He knelt before her once more, a posture of devotion that was starting to feel like home. He pulled her clothes down, his mouth seeking her as soon as she was bare.
His technique was less frantic now, more studied. He licked broad, flat stripes through her folds, then focused on her clit with a delicate, circling pressure. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them, stretching her, preparing the way. She let her head fall back against the doorframe, a low moan escaping her lips. “That’s it. Get me ready for it.”
When she was trembling on the edge, she pushed him back gently. “Now. The plug. Use the lube from the box.”
His hands shook slightly as he squeezed a clear gel onto the silicone. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes. She guided him, turning to place her hands on the bed, presenting herself to him. “Slowly. Just the tip at first.”
The cool, slick pressure at her entrance was a shock. He pushed forward with infinite care, his other hand spreading her open. She sighed as the bulbous head popped past her tight ring of muscle, the stretch a delicious, filling burn. “More,” she breathed. “Push it all the way in.”
He obeyed, seating the plug fully until the flared base rested snug against her. The feeling of being packed, held open, was profoundly lewd. She clenched experimentally, and the foreign object inside her sent a jolt of sensation straight to her core. She turned, seeing the awe on his face. “How does it look?”
“Perfect,” he whispered, his cock straining against his sweatpants. “It looks like you’re meant to have it in. Like you’re just… ready.”
She took the small remote from the box, clicking it once. A low, insistent buzz ignited inside her, a deep, internal thrum that made her knees weaken. She gasped, her hand flying to the bedpost for support. “Oh, fuck.”
“Can I… can I fuck you now? With it in?” His question was ragged, stripped bare of pride.
“Yes.” She climbed onto the bed, on her hands and knees. “But you don’t get the remote. I do.”
He fumbled his pants down, his erection springing free, gleaming and desperate. He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips. The plug created a thrilling, tight barrier, making every inch of her feel impossibly full even before he entered her. He pushed the head of his cock against her soaked opening, rubbing it through her slickness, groaning at the sensation.
“Now, Liam,” she commanded, clicking the remote to a higher setting.
The increased vibration tore a cry from her throat as he drove into her in one relentless thrust. The dual fullness was staggering, overwhelming. He fucked her with deep, animalistic strokes, each one pushing the plug against his cock through the thin membrane separating them. The slapping sounds of their bodies were obscene in the quiet room.
“You feel like a goddamn vice,” he panted, his hips pistoning. “So tight around the plug… around me… Christ, Evelyn.”
She twisted the remote to its maximum pulse setting. The orgasm detonated without warning, a convulsive, screaming wave that locked her muscles and blurred her vision. Her inner walls clamped down viciously on both intrusions, milking him, dragging his release from him. He shouted, a raw, broken sound, as he came, his hot cum flooding her, mixing with the slickness already there.
He collapsed over her back, spent, his breath sawing in her ear. The plug still hummed inside her, a relentless reminder. After a moment, he pulled out slowly, a groan from them both. She turned onto her side, clicking the remote off. The sudden silence felt heavier than the noise.
They lay tangled in the sweaty sheets for a long time, not speaking. The streetlight outside cast elongated shadows across the ceiling. Finally, Liam propped himself up on an elbow, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “Dinner,” he said, his voice soft. “You mentioned a dinner. With the plug.”
“I did.”
“When?”
She looked at him, at the serious set of his mouth, the youthful hope warring with dark desire in his eyes. “Friday. There’s a place downtown. Nice, but not too stuffy.” She reached between her legs, her fingers finding the flared base of the plug. She gave it a gentle tug, making them both gasp. “I’ll wear a little black dress. And this. You’ll hold the remote in your pocket.”
He swallowed hard, nodding. “What if… what if I can’t behave?”
“You will.” She smiled, a predator’s smile. “Because if you do, I’ll excuse myself to the ladies’ room. And you’ll follow me. And I’ll let you fuck me in the stall, with this still in me, until we both forget our own names.”
A full-body shudder wracked him. He buried his face in her neck. “Okay,” he murmured, the word muffled against her skin. “Okay.”
Later, after he’d reluctantly gone home, she stood under the shower again. The water ran between her legs, carrying the evidence of him away. She pressed her forehead to the cool tile. The fantasy was solidifying into plan, and the reality of it was a thrilling, terrifying freefall.
Her phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. A text from Debby. So? Did the “router” get fixed?
Evelyn picked up the phone, water dripping from her fingers. She typed a reply, her heart pounding a steady, defiant rhythm against her ribs. Better than fixed. It’s being upgraded. Friday night test run. Downtown. You should see the new hardware.
The three dots bounced for a moment. Then Debby’s reply came. You’re insane. I want pictures.
Evelyn laughed, a short, sharp sound in the steamy room. She put the phone down. Stepping out of the shower, she caught her reflection in the fogged mirror—a woman blurred at the edges, someone she was just beginning to recognize.
SHE NODS YES.
The single, silent motion hung in the steam between them. His eyes, dark and hungry, dropped from her face to the small black box still in his hand, then back to her own. A new curiosity, sharp and possessive, cut through the satiated haze on his face.
“Does it…” he began, his voice rough. He cleared his throat. “Do they make one for me?”
Evelyn went very still, the water tracing paths down her spine. The question was so much more than a question. It was a mirror held up, reflecting his own deepening submission and a startling, reciprocal need to claim. “A plug?” she asked, needing to hear him say it.
“Yeah.” He put the box on the sink, turning to face her fully. His youthful confidence was gone, replaced by a vulnerable intensity that was more compelling. “If you’re wearing yours out to dinner… I could wear one, too. We’d both have the remote to the other’s. We could… tease. From across the room.”
The image blossomed in her mind, potent and dangerously clever. Her in her little black dress, him in his casual shirt and jeans, a secret current of control buzzing between them in a public place. A shared secret within their secret. Her cunt, still tender and full from him, clenched around nothing.
“That,” she said slowly, stepping from the shower and reaching for a towel, “is a fucking brilliant idea.” She saw the proud flush on his cheeks. “We’d need to get another remote. A paired set. And the right kind for you.”
“When?” The word was an eager shot. He was already hard again, just from the planning, his cock thickening against his thigh.
“Now,” she said, the decision crystallizing with a reckless thrill. “Get dressed. There’s a place across town that’s still open. Discreet.” She wrapped the towel around herself, her mind racing. “Your first public test, Liam. Can you walk into an adult store with me, pick out a plug for your own ass, and pay for it without crumbling?”
He didn’t speak. He just nodded, a soldier accepting a mission. The challenge in her voice had its intended effect, steeling his nerves. They dressed in silence, the ordinary acts of pulling on jeans and zipping hoodies charged with a new, collaborative deviance.
The store was a low, unmarked building in an industrial park, its windows blacked out. A neon ‘OPEN’ sign hummed. Liam’s hand found hers in the shadowy parking lot, his grip tight. “You’ve been here before,” he stated, not asked.
“Once. To buy the one you just had inside me.” She squeezed his hand and pushed the heavy door open.
The interior was a cavern of sensation. Low lighting, the cloying, fake sweetness of strawberry lubricant, the faint hum of electricity from display cases. Racks of glossy costumes and walls of anatomy-defying toys surrounded them. A bored-looking girl with purple hair glanced up from behind a glass counter, her eyes flicking over them with practiced neutrality before returning to her phone.
Liam’s breath hitched. His hand grew slick in hers. This was a different kind of exposure, more impersonal, more real. He was seeing the machinery of fantasy laid bare.
“This way,” Evelyn murmured, leading him past aisles labeled ‘PENIS SLEEVES’ and ‘BONDAGE’, toward a wall of anal toys. She stopped before a display of prostate massagers and trainers, sleek silicone in various intimidating sizes. “For a beginner, something modest. With a pronounced curve, for your prostate.” Her voice was clinical, instructive, which seemed to calm him.
He stared at the rows of products, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “How do I know which one?”
“You feel the texture. Judge the flare on the base.” She plucked a medium-sized plug from its hook, a smooth black design with a subtle curve. “This one. And we need a dual remote system.” She moved to another case, pointing to a packaged set with two independently controlled plugs and a single, sleek remote with two buttons.
The shop girl ambled over, snapping her gum. “Need keys for any of the cases?”
“This set, please,” Evelyn said, her voice utterly even.
The girl unlocked the case, retrieved the box, and slid it across the glass counter. She looked at Liam, who was staring fixedly at the plug in Evelyn’s hand, his neck crimson. “First timer?” the girl asked, not unkindly.
Liam jerked his head in a nod.
“Use lots of lube. Go slow. It’s not a race.” She rang up the purchase, the register beeping loudly in the quiet store. “That’ll be eighty-nine fifty.”
Liam fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a battered debit card. His hand trembled slightly as he handed it over. The transaction felt monumental, a bloody flag planted in the soil of his old life. The girl bagged the items in plain black plastic and handed it over. “Have fun.”
Back in the car, the bag on his lap felt like a live thing. He was silent, staring straight ahead. Evelyn started the engine, the headlights cutting two white paths through the darkness. “Well?”
“She knew,” he whispered.
“Of course she knew. It’s her job to know.” Evelyn pulled onto the empty road. “But she doesn’t know your name. She doesn’t know you scream into my pussy when you come. She just knows a young guy bought a butt plug with an older woman. That’s all. The story is ours.”
He absorbed this, his fingers tightening on the plastic bag. By the time they reached her house, the tension had transmuted into a focused, buzzing energy. He carried the bag inside like a sacred offering, placing it on the kitchen island.
“Now?” he asked, the word thick.
“Now.”
In the living room, with only a single lamp on, she opened the new box. Two identical black plugs nestled in foam, their silicon gleaming. The remote, sleek and anonymous, could have been for a television. She handed him the tube of lubricant. “You do it. I want to watch.”
His eyes locked on hers. He unbuttoned his jeans, pushed them and his boxers down to his knees. He was already half-hard again, the anticipation a physical force. Squeezing a generous amount of clear gel onto his fingers, he reached behind himself, his face a mask of intense concentration. He breathed out, a slow, controlled release, and began to work the lube around his tight hole.
Evelyn watched, her own breath shallow. The intimacy of this was catastrophic, more than any fuck. This was him willingly making himself vulnerable, open, for her spectacle. He took the plug, coated it, and pressed the tapered tip against himself.
He gritted his teeth, a soft grunt escaping as he applied pressure. His knuckles were white on the stem. He pushed, his body tensing, then yielding as the widest part of the bulb slipped past the resistant muscle with a soft, wet pop. He gasped, his eyes flying open, a shudder rippling through his entire frame.
“Jesus,” he breathed, his hands braced on his knees. He was fully erect now, his cock trembling. “It’s… it’s so full.”
“Stand up,” she commanded softly.
He did, wincing slightly as the movement shifted the internal intrusion. He looked exposed, helpless, beautifully debauched. She picked up the remote, her thumb hovering over the button assigned to his plug. “Ready?”
He nodded, his jaw clenched.
She pressed the button. A low hum filled the quiet room. Liam’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in a silent ‘oh’. His knees buckled, and he caught himself on the back of the sofa. The vibration was clearly traveling straight up through his prostate, his cock twitching and leaking pre-come onto the floor.
“Fuck… Evelyn… that’s…” Words failed him. He was panting, his hips making tiny, involuntary thrusts into the air.
She increased the intensity to a steady pulse. He cried out, a raw, unfiltered sound of overwhelmed pleasure. “It feels like… like you’re inside me. Fucking me from the inside out.”
“Good.” She put the remote down, walked to him, and sank to her knees. She took his throbbing cock into her mouth without using her hands, swallowing him to the root in one wet, deep glide. He shouted, his hands flying to her head. The vibrations in his ass combined with the tight, sucking heat of her mouth created a feedback loop of sensation.
She bobbed her head, fucking him with her throat, her nose buried in his coarse curls. Saliva dripped down his balls. She could taste his desperation, his utter surrender. The remote was on the sofa beside her. With her free hand, she found it and turned his setting to its highest, most violent pulse.
That was all it took. His orgasm ripped through him. He came hard, jets of hot, salty semen hitting the back of her throat in frantic spurts. She swallowed, sucking him clean, milking him through the convulsions until he was sobbing her name, overstimulated and trembling.
She released him with a wet sound, turning off the remote. He collapsed onto the sofa, his pants still around his ankles, the plug still snug inside him. She curled beside him, her head on his chest, listening to his runaway heart. After a long while, his breathing evened.
“Friday,” he said, his voice wrecked. “We’re really doing this.”
“We really are,” she whispered, licking a trace of salt from his skin.
He turned his head to look at her, his eyes clear and terrifyingly sincere. “I don’t have anything nice to wear.”
The sheer normalcy of the statement, after what they had just done, broke something open in her chest. She laughed, a real, startled laugh that vibrated through both of them. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” she said, her fingers tracing the line of his hip. “For you, a new shirt. For me, that little black dress.”
He nodded, a slow, contented smile touching his lips.
He insisted on cooking, moving through her kitchen with a newfound, post-possession ease, the plug a constant, secret presence inside him with every step. They ate pasta at the island, the remote between them like a centerpiece, her occasional, languid press of the button making his fork clatter against his plate. Later, tangled in her sheets, both toys still seated deep within, he curled against her back, his whispered "I don't want to go home" met with her fingers lacing through his.