Page 69 of Buying the Bride

I finish lubing up my favorite toy—the XL realistically veined dildo, rainbow-colored just for fun—and grab a set of anal beads to slather in lube too. One hole has never really been enough to get me off.

My clit is aching with unfulfilled desire by the time the scene on screen shifts to the best part. The guys lift the girl up between them, one spreading her ass cheeks wide. I moan a little as I imitate the motion, sitting up on the bed and pushing the first bead into my ass. I can feel my sphincter close around that first bead, tight and aching for more. I watch the porn stars lower their shared girl, one still with his cock deep in her pussy, the other slowly entering her ass, inch by inch, as she cries out in pleasure.

I push a second bead into my ass, then a third. With each bead, the size increases and the delicious stretched, full sensation increases. By the time I have the whole string in my ass, I’m moaning alone in my darkened bedroom, my other hand hovering above my clit, rubbing across my mound, careful not to touch my clit directly, not yet. I want to make this last. I deserve it after the week I’ve had.

I take the dildo next and lean back, sitting on my ass just enough to make me really feel the beads stuffed in there. At the same time, I drag my gaze back to the TV, to the guys as they lift the girl between them and start to pump into her, fucking both holes, filling her completely.

I push the dildo into my pussy, a single hard, deep thrust to get me going. I cry out as it enters me, stretching my tight pussy wide, stuffing me fully. A little bit of my juices mingled with the lube drips down onto my fingers, and I imagine that it’s those guys’ fingers instead, feeling my pussy lips, enjoying the sight of me stuffed with their cocks.

I work myself with both hands, one tugging and pressing alternately on the string of anal beads and the other pumping the dildo deep into myself, faster, faster, until I’m working as fast as I can. I buck against the bed, moaning in sync with the girl on the screen being mercilessly fucked by those two hot, huge hunks.

She comes the same time I do, though her screaming sounds a lot louder. I gasp aloud as the orgasm rocks through my body, making my pussy clench tight around the dildo. I can feel the beads more than ever as my ass tightens too, my whole body reacting to the sensation of being so completely taken.

I sink down against the pillows, panting, my clit still twitching, the aftershocks of the orgasm rocketing through my nerve endings.

Then I pull the dildo out of me slowly, an inch at a time. I take out the anal beads next, shivering each time one pops free and sends another riot through my nervous system.

When I’m finished, I turn off the TV and lever myself upright. I tiptoe to the bathroom and turn the sink on warm. Wash down both toys and glance at myself in the mirror with a sigh. There are bags under my hazel-green eyes, and my cute, short little red pixie cut needs an update ASAP. The brown roots show and the ends are frayed and split. Signs of how little I’ve been paying attention to myself, what with all the insanity at the bakery.

But I don’t have time to fix myself up right now. I don’t have time to do anything, really, not even scope out a decent one-night stand at the local bar scene. I need to be back at work by 6am tomorrow, which means I should already be in bed. Even this one-on-one dalliance with me, myself and I took up more time than it should have.

I finish washing off the toys and pack them back into the drawer that currently holds my entire sex life. Some people might be embarrassed to own this many toys—everything from vibrators in every size, to anal plugs and beads and bullets, up to just about any flavor of dildo you can imagine, with and without vibration depending on the mood. Hell, there’s even a suction-cup model that sticks to the wall, for when I really need a hands-free moment. Another one is weighted to the floor so I can ride cowgirl without needing any one-night stand to ride.

My friends sometimes make fun of me—they don’t know what I’m into at all. They joke about how I haven’t gotten any for ages, but they don’t know that I can take care of my own needs—or that no guy I’ve found has ever even been willing to entertain the idea of helping out.

Much as I wish I could find a guy as kinky as I am, I don’t claim that persona in front of my friends. They know I like something unusual, but have no idea what exactly. The closest my bestie Lara ever came to finding out was when she almost stumbled onto one of my sex-toy-of-the-month club deliveries (which would have killed me from embarrassment). But honestly, what’s the difference between this and hooking up with strangers every so often? A girl’s got needs—and I meet mine just fine. I’ve yet to meet a guy who’s even come close to being able to fulfill me, so I’d rather take my sex life into my own hands, thank you very much.