Dylan clenched the thick comforter of the bed tighter. "Fuck," he groaned into the rough fabric. It was already damp from his breath.
"Fuck," he moaned louder as he felt the fat head of the cock drive in deeper, scraping down his insides. The sharp sound of flesh slapping together rang out across the room. For a few minutes there was nothing but wet sounds and panting breath. Finally, with one last thrust, he felt her collapse. Her heaving breasts glided easily against the wet slick of sweat down his back. He felt her open mouth suckling and biting it's way up to his neck.
"How was that?" Molly asked. He could feel her struggling to catch her breath, and felt the tremble of her racing heart across her skin.
"It was fun," he said, turning to grin weakly at her.
She laughed, and wriggled her hips against him. He felt the thick weight of it shifting around in his belly. "Only fun?"
"Well, I love you," Dylan said, and leaned in to kiss her, pressing his tongue into her soft mouth for a moment. "But I miss seeing your body."
That was certainly true. She had an incredible body, with a tight stomach and cleavage enough to drown in. Her face was all girlish innocence, and her mind was pure filth. Such a loving and devoted wife...
They both grit their teeth as she slipped herself out of him and unlatched the strap-on, letting it splatter against the floor. "Oops," she said.
She had ordered it not ten minutes after he had first let her play with his ass in the shower. She had seen the effect it had had on his cock, so there was no way to downplay it. And ever since then her sex drive had been... well, it had always been through the roof. Now it was in overdrive.
And for a few days, Dylan was just as excited to play with her. Perhaps Molly could fill that void of need that had opened up in his life these past few months. Perhaps she could still be the wife that spoiled him with everything he could ever need. But then, after ten minutes spent dully starring at the bed frame while all hundred pounds of her humped at him lifelessly, the dream was dead.
There was simply no comparison to the real thing. It wasn't her fault. He missed the musky smell of Adam's hairy sack, and the wet dribbles of pre-cum that spurted across his tongue and made his teeth feel gritty. He missed the stubble of Joe's shaved body scratching against his back. He missed the way his toes had wriggled uncontrollably as his prostate had been stroked past the point of sanity...
The memory of it had carried him through a few orgasms, but Molly hadn't had a full day of work in days. She kept calling off to 'explore this new fantasy,' and was too excited to be dissuade. He hadn't seen his boys in over a week, other than a few rushed photos each time he snuck off to the bathroom.
"Molly, I'm not sure this is for me," he told her.
Her face, still blushing and slick with sweat, dropped quickly. "I'm not doing it right?"
"I think you're doing it right," he laughed. "But, I don't know. I don't know if this is my thing. I miss just... being with you," he said. "I think it might have just been a momentary fantasy. And you've checked that box for me now."
"Is it the wrong angle?" she said, prodding the thing with her toe. "Is it too big?"
Dylan grinned. Her toy had nothing on Joe. "It's neither of those. It was fun at first but... I just don't think I don't think it does much for me. Please don't think it's you. And, if you enjoy it, we can still-"
"I just want to if you want to," she said quickly. "I want to make you happy."
She looked unhappy, and they cleaned up and showered in relative silence. The rest of the day passed in an uneasy sort of polite formality.
"Now what's a fantasy of yours that we can try?" he whispered when they crawled into bed a few hours later.
"Mm, I think we just did it," she said, turning over toward him. "But, you're right. I miss your hands and being able to see you. And it's exhausting being up there," she laughed. "Maybe just tell me when you want to try it again?"
He nodded. "Well, you still have to pick the next thing," he reminded her. She promised to think about it.
She worked on day shifts for the rest of the week, and was off the next weekend entirely. By the time he was nearing a free night for himself again, he felt nearly sick from bent-up need. They hadn't had sex again since their talk. Not from lack of trying on her part, though. Now that he was so nearly free again, though, he didn't want to waste it.
"Who's free this weekend? SOS" he emailed out from his burner account, in a private window, while Molly was in the bathroom. He checked it every chance he could, but for a full day there was no reply. It wasn't until Friday, the day before Molly was to start two twelve hour shifts in a row, that people started to respond.
"Can't make it, sorry."
