The Cure for Boredom
Summary: Bella knows there is a problem in her marriage. What happens when she goes looking for a creative solution? My submission for the PTB Smut University Back to School Fundraiser. E/B AH Romance/Fluff Rated M
Special thanks to Maria inNYC for the awesome banner that went into the fundraiser. Furious Kitten and Great Chemistry at PTB were very patient with me. I can't thank them enough.
Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight related. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: This was a homework assignment for Smut University that got away from me. I hope you enjoy.
"The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity." – Dorothy Parker
"Okay, Bella. You are a strong, confident woman in charge of her sexuality. You can do this." The rational part of my brain is laughing at the absurdity of having to give myself a pep talk. When I'd looked the store up online, I didn't recognize the address, and now I find myself at a strip mall in a working class neighborhood. I scan the lot to verify that no one I know is parked nearby. With my luck, I'd run into someone I know and have to make polite conversation while pretending that I'm going into the tobacco shop next door. The store windows are covered with sheets of glittering streamers, so it's impossible to see what I'm getting myself into. Disgusted with my own cowardice, I leave the safety of the car and walk into the store, looking straight ahead.
"Hey." A young woman greets me as I walk in the door. I'm surprised to see she is wholesome looking, with little makeup and a sleek ponytail. Where is the leering, seedy, middle-aged clerk in a dirty, ripped t-shirt? A wave of guilt quickly follows my surprise. Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.
"Um...hello," I reply, smiling awkwardly at her.
"Just let me know if you need anything," she answers, a bit distracted, and goes back to marking prices on some jewelry in the glass case below the register.
Turning away from her, I take a look around for the first time. The store is bright with cream-colored walls and high ceilings. A few red and white sale signs are tacked up above displays.
The entire front half of the store is filled with lingerie, costumes and shoes. I've never thought about it before, but exotic dancers have to get their costumes somewhere, and this seems like the place to start. I can't help but admire the detail on the pirate wench ensemble, the disturbingly realistic schoolgirl costume, and the nurse's outfit that comes complete with rubber gloves and lube.
The store is empty except for one couple, and thankfully, they are preoccupied. They are deciding between two black body stockings. She holds each one up for his inspection. The first is black and crocheted, and the other is red nylon with a rose print. The man leans close and whispers something in her ear while his hand glides down to rub her ass. She wiggles against his hand, gives a deep, throaty laugh and quickly puts the first one back on the rack.
As much as I'd like to stay in the world of lingerie, I know I need to keep browsing. I won't find what I'm looking for here. Walking toward the racks of merchandise in the back of the store, I'm grateful to be alone; I'm sure my mouth is hanging open.
The first things I notice are the racks of movies. Hundreds of them are lined up neatly, and the shelves have tiny tags listing the interest. The sections appear to be in alphabetical order: amateur, anal, Asian, bisexual, breasts, butts... I keep skimming down the shelf. My inner prude smacks down my curiosity when I get to the section marked, hairy. At that point, it seems best to just keep walking. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it squigged out the sheltered, suburban wife.
I turn to the back wall and see that it's almost entirely covered in dildos and vibrators. There's enough fake peen here to fill every hole in the city. I am awed by the variety of sizes, colors, shapes, and textures. My OCD tendency is thrilled to see that the dildos have been arranged by order of size and color. In the top right corner are the smallest, starting with something called a Mini Bullet. The hardware gets progressively larger as you walk further down the wall. About halfway, I notice the same pretty purple model I have tucked in a box at home. At the other end of the display, a huge blue monster named The Interlude requires two C batteries and needs a double hook to say attached to the wall. I wince and put my hand over my crotch just looking at it.
I begin to turn away, but something catches my eye. One of the dildos is clear with red rings around it. Immediately, I realize why it looks familiar; it looks just like one of the glass sculptures I saw in a museum last month. Inspecting the package, I confirm that the dildo is indeed made of glass. It suggests either heating the unit with warm water or submerging it in ice water for temperature play. The idea of a rock-hard, cold-as-ice shaft does not appeal to me any more than The Interlude does. I guess I'm just not that adventurous, yet.
The next rack holds items related to restraint. The standard handcuffs are available in both plain and fur-trimmed. There are multiple rolls of something called "lover's tape" in different colors. The blue one looks remarkably like the tape the painters used in our living room. This product promises to stick to itself and hold a lover in place without fear of injury. As an added bonus, it is disposable; just buy a new roll when you need one.
Next to the tape is an under-the-bed restraint system which seems fairly simple. There are cords you run under the mattress with a cuff on each end. I could see those being useful in the future and easy to store when not in use. However, the bottom shelf contains a box that, quite frankly, frightens me. It is a harness of some kind that is used to keep a woman (or a man, I suppose, but it is a woman on the box) in a hog-tied position, on her stomach with her ankles and wrists bound just above her ass.
I'm starting to get a little overwhelmed and begin to skim the displays until I find what I've been hunting for. Thank goodness, there they are. Unfortunately, my relief ends quickly when I see that there are even choices in the Ben Wa ball section. There are different sizes and colors, and some of them have cords. Does that mean they work like a tampon? If so, how do you remove the ones that don't have a cord? I don't know how to make this choice.
Silently, I begin cursing Jessica, the crazy work friend who couldn't stop talking about her new toys. She read about them in some story online and decided to try a pair but never said what kind they were. I was eavesdropping while she raved to Angela, but I was busy trying not to look like I was listening, so I couldn't very well ask for details.
Heaving a deep sigh, I know I either need to use the process of elimination and pick one or admit defeat and go home. In spite of the fact that the girl running the register seems harmless, I'd be too embarrassed to ask her for help. Deciding I can't be a wimp, I start reading the packages, select one, and head to the register. My courage is now running high, and I grab a couple of other items that have caught my attention. If tonight goes well, I'll be happy I bought them.
The clerk is bent with her head buried in the display case when I approach. I hear her muffled "I'll be right there," and set my purchases down, bending to see what she's working on. Within seconds I'm fascinated by a whole new discovery and take my time perusing the case. I'm even comfortable enough with her to ask some questions which she answers matter-of-factly.
When she rings me up, it is with practiced efficiency and she doesn't bat an eye at my choices. I realize this is old hat for her. She sells sex toys for a living, day in and day out. I bet she even hates Mondays, just like everybody else. I wonder if anything surprises her anymore, but I'm too embarrassed to ask. Maybe someday. Right now, I need to get home. I have to get ready for my date.
"Edward," I call from the bathroom, hoping I don't sound too excited. "Do you remember my saying that I had to make a run into the city today?" After one more coat of lipstick, I walk out into the bedroom.
"Edward, did you hear me?" I take a moment and admire my handsome husband. We've been so busy in the last year with work and separate priorities that in spite of living in the same house, we hardly see each other, let alone set aside time to do things we enjoy.
For some reason, he has decided that monochromatic is the way to go tonight, not that I mind. He is wearing the charcoal gray slacks that I bought him last year and a gray shirt, open at the collar. Only his black shoes and belt interrupt the sea of gray. His just-showered red-brown hair is neatly combed. Hopefully I can help him muss it up later.
He continues to sit on the edge of the bed, oblivious to my attempts to get his attention. He is totally engrossed in whatever is happening on his Blackberry. I think about how many times I wanted to run over that piece of black plastic with my car.
Walking in front of him, I look down onto his bowed head. Gently but firmly, I run my fingers through his neat hair, enjoying the texture before knotting my fist and pulling his head up. I don't let go until I can see his eyes blink and register my presence.
"No more work tonight. Put it away." It is a command, but I phrase it as gently as I can. I've been waiting for tonight for days; I don't want it spoiled with work.
"As you wish."
I can't help but smile at the reference to our favorite movie, The Princess Bride. My husband can be funny and very sweet. How have I forgotten this?
It's been months since we took time out of our schedules to do even the simplest of things, like watch a movie or enjoy our previously exciting sex life. Until recently, I thought we were suffering from the usual marital neglect, and I had resigned myself to being patient until our schedules changed.
I'd tried not to resent the nights and weekend I spent alone while he was putting in long hours. I know starting a business is demanding, but even when he worked at home, he wasn't truly with me. When I'd tried to discuss it earlier this year, he'd stated that this was for us, for our future. I'd wanted to tell him that it felt like we were sacrificing the present for the future, but couldn't bring myself to do it. We haven't discussed it since. I remind myself that I'm not blameless in our current situation. Going back to school had demanded more of my time than I'd expected and now we were seeing the results of each of the decisions we'd made. It made me sad to think that we'd let our relationship fall to the bottom of the priority list. Something happened last week, and I began to wonder, what happens if nothing changes? He doesn't know it yet, but that is why we're here tonight.
"As I was saying..." I begin speaking again. "I bought us something today. It felt like a special occasion, so I wanted to do something new."
"This sounds interesting. What is it?"
I can feel the blush on my cheeks as I pull the package from my dresser drawer and pass it to him. Nestled inside the packaging are two smooth silver balls, roughly the size of walnuts. They are attached by a thin white cord that extends past the second ball by several inches. When I shake the package, I can tell there is something loose inside each of the balls. They remind me of a toy I had as a child with a counterweight inside. When you rolled it across the floor, the weight moved and the ball rolled in all different directions. Only now, the counterweight will move inside of me.
"Um...wow. I'm not sure what to say." I think for the first time in our marriage, Edward is speechless.
"Well, I heard someone at work talking about them, and it seemed like something interesting to try." Right now, all my insecurities are welling up. I'm sure he finds this ridiculous. "Never mind." I try to pull the package back from his hands. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
"Hold up there, sweetheart. Just because you surprised me doesn't mean I don't want to try." He turns the package over and studies the back for a few minutes. He looks at me with a grin. "I've heard about these before. Sometimes the boys in the locker room talk too much. Don't move," he says, and disappears into the bathroom with the package.
I sit on the edge of the bed while I wait, listening to the sound of running water. When he returns, he begins rummaging in my night table and, finding what he needs, he walks back to me.
"Stand up," he orders. I remember that excited, in-charge voice, and I comply immediately. My distracted, sweet, workaholic husband is gone. In his place is an excited male who knows he is in for something interesting tonight.
I'm surprised when he comes back from washing the toys and kisses me senseless. For so many months, we have been living on autopilot, falling into a numbing routine that includes our kisses and even worse, our sex life. This kiss tells me there will be no routine tonight. We are charting new territory.
Within minutes I am panting and realize that his hand has worked the skirt of my dress up to my waist.
"Bella, where are your panties?" he asks, kissing a line along my neck and running his tongue over the spot he knows makes me weak in the knees.
"Um...I think I forgot them," is all I can manage before a whimper escapes. If he keeps this up, we aren't getting to dinner. I'm going to push him down on that bed and keep him there all night.
He breaks the kiss and turns me to face the bed. With one last nibble along the side of my neck, a firm hand at the center of my back bends me over the bed.
"I got the lube from your nightstand, but I don't think you need it. You're a little excited, aren't you, sweetheart?"
I know what's happening next and want to savor the moment. I wait, breathing hard, while he seems determined to take his own damn time.
The feel of the first cool ball touching my already heated entrance makes me jump. I can feel the firm, even pressure begin to stretch me and gasp when the orb slides deep, pushed home by two strong fingers. The idea that my husband is watching while he pushes them into me turns me on for a reason I can't define. The second ball follows the first, and abruptly all teasing is over.
I feel Edward pull my skirt back down to cover my ass and lift me up by the shoulders.
"If we don't get out of here, we're going to miss our dinner reservation," he says in a cool tone. I can see by the look in his eye that he is up to no good. It's a nice try, but he's never been concerned about a dinner reservation in his life. This is an excuse to draw out our evening and tease me as long as possible.
Fine, two can play this game. I straighten my dress, smooth my hair and start to walk to the door.
Something shifts inside me, and I stop in my tracks. Deep in my pelvis there is a very gentle movement. I imagine it's a rolling feeling, but that's probably just because I know the toys are balls. The feeling is deep and definitely more subdued than my vibrator, but the effect is similar. If this is what happens every time I move, it's going to be a long and interesting night.
"Come on. No dawdling," Edward says and gives me a slap on the rear. It's something he used to do when he felt playful.
The instant his hand hits my ass, the movement begins again, only slightly more intense. My eyes grow wide.
"Edward. Do that again, please."
He gives an evil grin and shakes his head. Taking my hand, he pulls me reluctantly toward the door.
The ride to the restaurant is uneventful, and because I'm not moving I can almost forget the toys are there. We talk about mundane things, but there is a slight tension that we don't have normally. It's not exactly like a first date, but it feels similar. Neither of us knows what to expect from tonight.
He passes the valet stand, and I roll my eyes. He hates to wait for anything and normally uses the valet to save the time. If he's decided to walk tonight, it's for my benefit. He still wants to make the most of my situation.
I decide to play it coy and act as though it's normal for us to walk blocks from the car to the restaurant. The entire time I'm walking, wonderful tiny movements are happening in my pelvis, and I have to work to keep my mind on our small talk. By the time we're shown to the table, I sigh in relief at the opportunity to sit. At least when I'm sitting, the little buggers aren't moving.
When the waiter comes, we make quick work with the menus and continue the idle chitchat while he brings our drinks. When it looks like he's finally gone for a few minutes, we start talking about what matters.
"This was a good idea. We haven't been out in ages." Edward pushes his glass a few inches away and reaches for my hand.
"There are other things we haven't done in ages." I raise my eyebrows and look across the table, deciding it's best to just get to the point.
"You make it sound like we never have sex." He seems genuinely puzzled by my statement.
"You're right. We do have sex every once in a while, but when we do, it's I'll take a shower and meet you in the middle of the bed sex. It's routine sex to scratch an itch." It takes everything I have not to wrinkle my nose as I say it.
"All right, I'm confused. Isn't that good enough?"
I'm starting to feel a little sorry for him. He honestly had no idea I was feeling this way. It was not my intent to blindside him.
"Yes, sometimes it is, but we used to have middle of the day I can't keep my hands off you sex. I miss that—a lot. I wonder what it means for us long term if we're already going down this road. We've only been married six years and we don't have kids yet."
"You're working and in school, and I'm building a business. I think this is what happens when you have a life and lots of distractions. Please remember, of all the people we could have picked to have routine middle of the bed sex with, we picked each other."
I want to kiss him and smack him upside the head at the same time. On the one hand, he's reminding me that he'd rather have dull sex with me than amazing sex with anyone else. On the other hand, he seems to have missed the fact that something has gone stale between us; in spite of my bravado I'm worried about what it means for our relationship.
"I'm not so sure..." is the most I can articulate. Gah! When did I turn into a tongue-tied miss? I have no trouble talking about sex with Edward, but when it comes to emotions and the fact that our relationship might need help, I clam up.
"Hey, what is it?" He reaches for my other hand, so we're now leaning across the table toward each other. To anyone passing by we would look like any other couple in love sharing an intimate moment.
I'd cleared our schedules, braved the adult novelty store, and booked this reservation all in hopes of making my point. Again, I muster up my courage and start talking. I've been working on this speech for days, but I still can't bring myself to face him, so I talk to our hands, clasped together on the table in front of me. My words are rushed, as though they are fighting to get out and can't wait to go in the proper order.
"I had lunch with Aunt Charlotte last week. It was the first time I've seen her since she moved back, and I didn't realize how much I've missed her. The divorce came up while we were talking. She said that the first thing to go was their sex life. When they stopped making it a priority—making each other a priority—things started to go downhill. Long story short, they stayed together as long as they could and left their marriage as strangers." When I pause, I realize he hasn't spoken, moved, or even breathed during my little outburst and I finally look up. "I'm terrified that is going to happen to us."
He pulls his hands away, and I feel the loss of connection. Sitting back, he runs his hands through his hair. I remember earlier that I had hoped to muss it, but this wasn't what I had in mind.
"What are you saying?" he finally asks. "Are you unhappy?"
"No! Please understand. I love you, and I'm very happy. Our marriage is the very best thing in my life; I want it to stay that way. I don't want to wait until we have a major problem and then have to work to put things back together. You're too important to me for that."
The waiter arrives with our entrees. He hovers around us for a few minutes, refilling our drinks and bringing condiments.
While the waiter fusses, I can see Edward is thinking, trying to put the pieces together. His brow is furrowed, and I know he wants more information.
"And you think spicing up our sex life is the key to making sure we don't end up like Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Peter?"
"No. I don't think it's a guarantee, but if we can learn from their mistakes, why wouldn't we? It seems like the easiest place to start."
He begins his meal and appears deep in thought. I know from experience that it's best to let him work it out. After a few minutes of silence, I can't stand the tension anymore and attempt to make light of the situation.
"Edward, what if you look at this a little differently?" Maybe if I appeal to his more basic senses, I'll get further. "I, your adoring wife, am asking you to have more frequent, adventurous sex with me. Can you do that?" I keep my eyes wide as though I'm asking for a huge favor.
He bursts out laughing, and I know we've broken through. Relief rushes through me.
"I think I might be able to take on that challenge. What did you have in mind? Are there rules I should follow?" He sips his drink and looks at me with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
"I was thinking we could take turns picking something new to try. It would be a surprise to the other person. Maybe every other week?" My little trip to the novelty store has made me curious. There seems to be a whole new world out there, and I've been missing out.
"Make it once a week and you've got a deal."
"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Cullen. No wonder that business of yours is taking off."
"I think you've got a head start on me in this adventure business. Any tips on how to catch up?"
"Well, there is this very respectable little novelty shop in Springfield that has the most amazing selection of... Well, I'll let you discover that for yourself. Although, I haven't looked at anything online yet, and I'm sure that will be a whole new level of discovery."
We continue to talk and eat, and when I stand to go to the restroom, I realize that I've completely forgotten my little toys. For some reason, the shifting inside me feels stronger. I don't know if it's the time I've been exposed, the relief at how well this conversation went, or simply my eagerness to get my husband home and into bed.
I manage to get myself to the restroom and back but must look odd when I gingerly sit back down. He looks slightly alarmed and asks if I'm okay.
"I'm fine, but can we go home? Now."
He takes in my flushed cheeks and rapid breathing and sits back with a smirk.
"It's such a nice night," he muses. "How about we go for a long walk?"
"Let me try again. Take me home to bed. Do naughty things to me all night long."
"That's my girl. Stay here. I'll find that waiter, pay the bill, and bring the car up front. I can't have you spontaneously combusting before we get home." He kisses my heated cheek and walks away.
By the time we're home, I feel more in control of my body's reactions. I've been waiting for this all day, and I'm not going to ruin it by being too excited.
Just inside the door, I stop and turn to Edward. With one quick step, I'm pressed against him, my breasts crushed against his chest. His hand comes up and twines into my hair, guiding my head toward his.
My mouth opens to welcome him, and we are connected. His tongue enters, seeking and sparring with mine. My mouth opens wider. Normally, I don't like these wide-open kisses, but I know it turns him on, the feel of me opening and accepting him. I ease one hand between us and begin unbuttoning his shirt.
When cool air hits my back, I know that his other hand has been busy unzipping my dress. The fabric hangs open and his warm fingers create a trail down my spine, over my panty-less ass, and back up to my bra strap. When he reaches for the clasp, I pull away.
"Not so fast, mister." I back up two steps and turn away so that my unzipped dress is facing him. Shrugging one shoulder, the sleeveless dress falls down my arm. I take two more steps and shrug again, and the black sheath falls to my waist. Two more steps and it falls to the floor. I step out of it and bend fully to pick it up, glancing back and watching the fire ignite in my husband's eyes at my outrageous move.
"Are you almost done?" He's trying to sound bored, but I can tell he is anything but. He makes a show of unbuttoning his cuffs and shrugging his shirt off.
"Almost." I snag the dress with one finger and begin to walk down the hall, dragging it behind me. For just a moment I consider taking off my heels, but I know how much he likes them, so they stay. I'm trying to play the seductress and remind myself that he will be watching me while I walk in nothing but a black lacy bra and black heels.
The one word command stops me in my tracks, but I continue to stare straight ahead. His footsteps are loud as he approaches, and I'm not surprised to feel his hand on my shoulder. What does surprise me is when he steps to my side and sweeps me up into his arms. My joy at this unexpected move bubbles out in untimely giggles.
"What are you doing?" is all I can manage through my laughter. I know he would never drop me, but I feel more secure after I wind my arms around his neck.
"No bed sex. At least not tonight." His voice is a husky growl as the strides toward the kitchen of all places. Tossing a small basket of fresh fruit to the floor, he drops me on the now empty center island.
Grabbing his face between my hands, I move in for a kiss but he moves back, waving a long finger at me in a no-no gesture.
"Put these here," he instructs me. Taking each of my hands in turn, he moves them to the edge of the counter behind me. "Your feet should be here." He grabs each ankle and gives it a gentle bite before placing it on the island, far from the center. I don't want to think about how I look with my ass on the edge of the counter, my legs splayed, leaning back just far enough to still be able to see down between my legs. I'm a little embarrassed to see the thin white string I had forgotten in my excitement.
I'll never be able to cook here again is the last thought that runs through my mind before his head descends between my thighs. He stokes my fire slowly, with gentle nips and licks, but when he begins flicking my clit with his tongue my whimpers turn to deep groans. My sounds must spur him on because he begins to move faster, and even though we've done this a thousand times, it feels brand new.
The alternating licking and sucking brings me almost to the edge, but he takes a step back. The only protest I can manage is a strangled moan; his tongue and lips have worked me into a panting, incoherent mess. He raises his head to look at me with a naughty expression. Never breaking eye contact, he runs a finger along my inner thigh and brings it to the string. He grabs hold of the fiber and gives it a gentle tug, which sends a new round of vibration deep in my pelvis. As though he's found a new favorite toy, his head descends again. My arms will no longer hold me, and I drop back onto the granite.
He continues nipping, grazing, and stroking with both fingers and tongue. Every nerve ending in my body is centered between my legs, and I can tell an amazing orgasm is building. My face and chest begin to heat, my vision tunnels, and my legs begin to stiffen. At that exact moment, he pulls the little white string—hard. The balls emerge, and I hear the metal clatter as they fall into the sink. He replaces them with firm, insistent fingers, thrusting rapidly in and out. My world explodes in a whirl of color and light. Just as the contractions begin to subside, he flips his hand palm side up, works to find that spot I love and quickly sends me off on another round of explosions.
When my limbs begin to work again, I bring my hands up to my face and cover my eyes. I'm not sure why, but I begin giggling again, and it quickly turns to laughter. It's a deep, full-bellied laughter I cannot control.
Strong hands grab my arms and pull me upright, and suddenly, there he is. The man of the hour. I grin at him and know that I must look like an utter fool, but I don't care in that moment. I wrap my arms and legs around him, leaning on his strength. I'm not sure when he took his pants off, but I'm glad he did. His erection presses against my stomach, but he doesn't seem eager to address it right at the moment.
When I hear him begin to laugh in my ear, I know he understands. This night has exceeded any of my expectations, and I feel a new connection with my husband. All of this wild happiness is welling up in me, mixing with the post-orgasmic bliss and spurting out, even if it's the worst possible time.
"That was amazing. I love you so much. Thank you," I manage to say when I can speak.
He lifts me and walks into the living room, settling us on the big leather couch he loves and shifting me so I'm sitting on his lap. That wonderful erection is still there, like an eager new friend who wants to get to know me better.
"Still no bed?" I ask with raised eyebrows, pushing my hair out of my eyes.
"I like that plan." I lean in and give him another of those open-mouthed kisses he loves. As I pull back, he bites at my bottom lip and runs his hand through my hair.
I begin to kiss down his chest, reveling in the feel of the muscles below the smooth skin. Moving from one side to the other, I stop to flick each nipple and give it a nibble before moving on. I'd rather take my time, but he's been patiently waiting for some relief. Scooting back, I move closer and closer to the edge of the couch, until I slide down between his knees. With this one movement, I'm kneeling right where he wants me.
I take a second and sneak a peek up at him. He's looking back at me as though he has all the time in the world, but right now I want to make him feel the same intense pleasure he's given me.
My eyes break the contact, and I look down at his impressive erection. I bring one hand up and cup his balls, hearing him hiss at the contrast between my cool hand and his overheated skin. My other hand surrounds him at the base, just the way he taught me. I still love those early memories of our time together, learning what the other person likes and, just as importantly, what they don't like. I was hoping that tonight would bring us closer to where we had been. Thankfully, my little experiment appears to be working.
Twice I pump my hand over the hard length and marvel at the smooth texture of his skin. Flashing my eyes up to him for an instant, I kneel up and take him between my lips. He is so hot in my mouth, and I glide over him a few times before moving back again to change the angle. This time when I look up, Edward's head is tilted back and his eyes are closed.
I decide to tease him a bit and pull him back out. Making my tongue flat, I begin licking at the base and move up to the head, taking time to swirl my tongue over the smooth tip. He loves it when I play with the seam on the underside, so I pay close attention to that spot before sucking him back in.
As my head descends, he shifts his hips, moving closer to the edge of the couch and giving me better access. I work hard to get most of him in my mouth and synch my hand with the motions of my head. On every upstroke, I swirl my tongue over the head and within minutes he's groaning.
He moves abruptly so that he's sitting up and both hands move to the side of my head and tangle in my hair. Now he's controlling the speed and depth of the strokes, and I'm working to keep up. Twice I begin to choke and he backs off quickly.
With a burst of inspiration, I run one hand down my belly and rub it in the moisture between my thighs. Moving that hand up between his legs, I use it to rub his perineum in slow, firm circles. The resulting groan boosts my confidence, and I decide to go further. Moistening the finger again, I worm it under him until I feel the small hole that I've never approached before. I don't enter, just give a slight pressure to an area we've not explored.
"Damn, Bella," he says through gritted teeth, but I don't know if it's a curse or a compliment.
His hands become more frantic, and soon I can feel his balls tightening with impending orgasm. The strokes become increasingly shorter and harder until he gives two quick thrusts and is still. I work to move his cock into my mouth as far as possible, knowing that I can skip tasting the harsh liquid if I keep it off my tongue. With a couple deep swallows, it is over. I continue licking and rubbing gently as his erection subsides, then I climb back up my sated husband.
He does not burst into spontaneous laughter; instead he simply gives a contented sigh and pulls me close. My ear rests on his chest, and I can hear his thundering heart begin to slow.
There is no way to know how long we sit in the dark living room whispering about everything and nothing. When my eyes begin to droop, he wraps me in his arms one more time and takes me to bed. I don't remember him pulling the duvet over me.
I'm more disoriented than usual when I wake, and I know I haven't slept that hard in years. There is a bit of stiffness here and there, but my memories of last night assure me that each twinge is completely worth the price.
Edward is not in bed with me, but I'm not surprised; he's normally up before I am. Pulling myself from my warm nest, I head into the bathroom and take care of necessities before turning on the shower.
A soft groan escapes as I step under the hot spray. I make a slow, full turn under the water, letting it hit every muscle and work away the soreness from the night before. I've just started shampooing my hair when the bright overhead light clicks off. The only light is now the weak glow coming from the bedroom.
"Edward?" I call from under the warm stream. The shower door opens and closes and every part of me knows I'm in for a treat.
"Let me help you with that," he says softly from behind me. I don't respond but lean my head back and smile at the feel of his strong hands helping rinse the shampoo from my hair. When I start to reach for the conditioner, he stops me with an arm around my waist.
"Let me. Close your eyes. Relax."
It's simply too good a request to ignore, and I instantly obey. With my eyes closed, I'm more aware of the sounds around me. The splatter of the water as it hits our skin, the click of the conditioner lid, the gentle growling of my stomach and Edward's resulting chuckle.
"I'll feed you in a minute, but first I have something else in mind." With gentle but purposeful movements, he rubs the creamy liquid into my hair and works to rinse it just as he did with the shampoo.
When my hair falls like a smooth curtain down my back, I hear another bottle open and close. This time, his hands begin on my shoulders, rubbing the soft soap lather into my skin. He rinses me clean then nudges my elbow with his hand in an up motion. I immediately raise my arms over my head.
Hot hands slide around my ribcage and capture my breasts. His firm chest is pressed against my back, and his hands are tweaking my nipples. It feels amazing, and I grind my ass back into his crotch. Another impressive erection rubs against my lower back. Without speaking, he turns us so that the direct line of spray is hitting his back.
Moving my dripping hair aside, he begins to kiss and bite along the side of my neck. Long fingers pull and pinch at my nipples, and I can feel a slickness between my legs that doesn't have anything to do with the shower.
One hand moves down my belly, pressing me back even harder against his erection. I gasp when that hand goes low enough to dip between my legs and toy with my over-excited sex. A few gentle taps on the bundle of nerves there and I'm breathing hard and grinding against him.
"Oh, baby" he croons into my ear. His hand withdraws, and I rise on my tiptoes, trying to keep it in place for as long as possible.
Edward grasps me by the back of my neck and gently but firmly pushes. My need is so great and my trust in him is so solid that I don't think to question it. When he is done pushing, I'm completely bent double, the tips of my fingers on the shower floor. At this moment, I'm very grateful for the yoga classes I've been taking with Alice. She told me they'd come in handy some day.
In this position, there is no contact between us other than the feel of his legs behind me and the smooth head of his cock as he rubs it up and down between my legs. I feel him center himself, and his swift penetration takes my breath away. Once his is firmly seated, his hands go to my hips and he begins to establish a rhythm. The position is slightly awkward in that he has all the power and leverage, but it feels so incredibly deep that I'm soon lost in the need for friction.
He starts alternating his thrusts, several slow and teasing strokes followed by short, quick jabs. His balls make wet smacking sounds as they slap against me.
"Bella, rub yourself. I'm close."
He doesn't have to tell me twice. Lifting one hand from the shower floor, I ease it between my legs and begin vibrating my clit with a gentle back and forth motion. When his balls smack against my hand, I reach back and cup them, giving a playful squeeze.
"Gah. No!" is all he can manage, and I know he's holding back, waiting for me to come.
Knowing he is that close ramps up my desire. I go to back to rubbing myself, but he reaches around and pushes my hand out of the way. After a few flicks and a firm pinch, my orgasm washes over me, but it's derailed when I begin to tip, slamming my hand against the shower to avoid becoming another statistic of household accidents that occur in the bathroom.
His penis continues to twitch and it feels like Edward is going to come forever. I have a feeling we'll be doing this again soon. We're just going to have to figure out a way to do it gracefully next time. Maybe we can install a handrail I can hold?
I grimace as he pulls out, already missing the connection between us.
He spins me to him and holds me to his chest. We are still in that position when the water suddenly runs cold. I screech and climb out as fast as my wobbly legs will carry me. I dry off and dress quickly, trying to get warm. Edward stays in the cold water long enough to wash up and follows me out.
"So you liked that?" I can't help but ask as he wraps a towel around his hips.
"Bella, I like anything we do together, you know that." He looks my yoga pants and t-shirt up and down, as though deciding something.
"I was just wondering if you had plans for this rainy Saturday morning."
"Not especially, why?"
"Well, I was thinking maybe you could take me to that novelty store, and I could get ideas for our next date."
"We could do that...or...we could stay home and play with the rest of my purchases. There are things I haven't shown you yet."
Constructive criticism is appreciated. I'm always trying to improve. I'd love to hear what you liked, or what I could have done better. Thanks!