DALIA’S TOY
I only had a poker night once every few months, inviting the guys over after all our little ones were in bed. They were a good group, guys I worked with or knew from the neighborhood. We played in the garage, smoking cigars and drinking pretentious craft-brewed beer. The baby monitor was clipped to my belt, but I was lucky—my son, Ian, was a good sleeper.
Dalia always went out with her girlfriends on my poker nights. Admittedly, most of her girlfriends were my friends’ wives, but they almost never went out at night. They were “ladies who lunched,” friends from the playground, trading recipes and parenting tips. Nights were for family, weekends for church and seeing the in-laws.
The game wasn’t anything unusual. I finished a little behind breaking even, and the guys stayed to finish their cigars and beers. We shot the shit, the way guys do, talking without really saying anything. Talking shit about who we’d fuck if we were single, about our bosses, about the annoying neighbor—whatever. After they were gone, I started cleaning up the garage, but Dalia called and I paused to answer my cell.
“Hey, baby. What’s up? You okay?” All the shit-talking jackassery had left my voice because she was my weakest weak spot.
Loud club music thumped in the distance and, even though she was yelling into the phone, her words were slurred a little. “Hey, hon! No…No, yeah, I’m okay. Better than okay! Having so much fun.”
I smiled at the excitement in her voice, even as my curiosity was piqued—my proper woman didn’t get drunk anymore. I could imagine her face, flushed from dancing or wine or both, eyes too bright. Right when I was about to ask her what was up again, I heard her muffling the phone as she spoke to someone else. “I know! Fuck off, Ginger! I’m not a pussy.”
Ginger was one of her friends from the Daughters of the Revolution chapter in town, and my friend Keith’s wife. She was very similar to Dalia: proper. But I heard loud yelling and laughing and then Dalia was back on the phone.
“Hey, Eric?”
I laughed. “Yeah, honey?”
“There’s a sex toy store around the corner from this bar and the girls dared me to go get something. So…I’m gonna do it. I just didn’t want you to be freaked out when you saw the charge on the card.” She was still giggling, but I couldn’t speak for a moment.
My sweet, pure wife, in a sex shop?
“Eric?”
I jolted back to the conversation. “Yeah, okay, hon. That’s cool. Have fun.”
Her voice got quieter, huskier. “Anything you want me to get?”
She was booze brave and it gave me a hard-on.
I smiled indulgently even though she couldn’t see it. “You get whatever you want, baby girl.” I probably hadn’t called her that since before Ian was born.
“Okay, boo.” She was slurring her words enough that I worried some.
“But hey—how are you girls getting home? Do you have a designated driver?”
“No, but there’s a guy here who said he’d drive us.”
“What?”
I was nearly deafened by the laughter. “I’m kidding! Shit, lighten up! No, we took a cab from Ginger and Keith’s place. I’ll call you if I can’t drive when we get back there. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Jesus. Okay, honey, Keith just left, so have him drive you home if you’re still messed up. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” I caught myself before I launched into a whole talk about safety that hadn’t been an issue since we graduated college. “Just be careful. See you in a bit.”
I finished cleaning up, but then I couldn’t decide what to do with myself. I felt excited in a way that I hadn’t been in a long time. Just because it was different, a change from the norm in our house. Dalia wasn’t a prude, per se. She was just…conservative, self-critical, inhibited. I cringed at the honest assessment of my wife. She was a lot of other things as well. Smart, kind, loving. An amazing mother. Supportive of me all through medical school and residency. Just not really sexually adventurous.
I grabbed another beer from the fridge and sat on the couch to watch ESPN until she got home, nervously checking my phone every two or three minutes. The waiting was ridiculous. I wasn’t getting anything out of watching TV, just thinking of her steeling her spine to walk into some sleazy sex shop. I knew her, knew she’d feel all the shame in the world, but would walk in with her head held high.
I mumbled to myself, “I’ll wait another ten minutes before calling her.”
But it didn’t matter; she called me to tell me she was on her way home from Ginger and Keith’s place. She was still laughing a bunch, but her words were clearer.
About fifteen minutes later, she came in. And the first thing that hit me was how much she looked like she did in college at the end of a frat party. Hair flat, face shiny and flushed. Mascara smudged under her eyes. Wide, funny smile on her face.
I stood as she entered the room. “Hey, baby girl.” I smiled at her, but let her come to me.
“Hi.” She smiled wide and teetered her way over to me. “I got us a new toy.” She fell into giggles again as a flush infused her cheeks.
“Yeah?” I pulled her to me with an arm around her waist. “Well, what is it?”
She twisted away from me. “Come on—I’ll show you.”
She pulled my hand, but in the opposite direction from the stairs up to our bedroom. Instead, she pulled me down to the basement. Her little plastic shopping bag slapped against her leg, jostling the stuff inside. It seemed like there was more than one thing in there.
I let her pull me along and at the bottom of the stairs, she turned to me abruptly. “Okay. Ready?”
“Sure.”
Now…I watch porn sometimes. I kind of felt like I knew what to expect; the only thing that would be surprising would be that it was my Dalia holding whatever she pulled out of the bag.
I was wrong. The baggie she pulled out just looked like it was full of bright crimson puppet fur. I cocked my head to the side, about to ask, but she cut me off by pulling another package out. This one was a deep blue circle about the diameter of a golf ball, but it had a small dolphin attached to one side of it.
When I looked back up at her face, something was different. Her angelic face was devious. Her voice was low and husky when she said, “Come over here, Eric.”
She walked farther into the basement and reached back for my hand. I gave it to her without speaking, just watching her. She went deep into the room, past the play area cluttered with toys, past the TV, almost to the laundry room. She turned back to me and her eyes were heavy-lidded, like she was getting sleepy, but her lips were spread in a small dirty smile.
“Let’s get you naked.” She murmured the words and dropped her purse and the cheap, plastic bag from her hands to reach for my belt.
I watched her hands and when I reached to help her, she slapped me away. She pulled my pants down and squatted at my feet to help me step out of them, but instead of standing up, she stayed there and reached for my boxers. I pulled my polo over my head and she pulled at my shorts, negotiating them over my cock. I was hard. Hard before she even touched me. Hard before I even saw her naked. I’d been half-hard since her call from the bar.
She still didn’t stand. She just ran her fingertips over my dick, like it was the first time she had ever seen it. Her touch was light, and when she lightly dragged her nails over the sensitive skin of the head, a chill chased over my skin.
“Okay, come down here.” She glanced up at me and I knelt on the floor, reaching for her. She smiled and shook her head. “No. Lie down.”
I did and she stood, just next to my arm, and reached under her skirt to pull her thong off. I got just a glimpse of her skin as she moved. She walked past my head and then dropped down to her knees. “Give me your hands.”
I arched my neck so I could look back at her even as I moved to give her my hands. She had the furry thing out and was looping it around the foot of the big heavy sofa. And then she was looping it in on itself. It was a soft restraint—sort of fluffy fabric cuffs. She pulled each of my hands into one of the loops she had made and then she tightened them down.
When she looked back at my face, there was a glint in her eyes that gave me a moment of pause. It reminded me of the look on her face when she had decided that our garden was going to be better than Tessi Newbottom’s across the street.
She crawled over me and put my cock in her mouth, completely obliterating Tessi Newbottom from my thoughts. Dalia’s lips were hot and wet as she licked at me clumsily. She didn’t normally suck my dick. She’d said she didn’t like it, had never liked it, but she sure seemed to like it in that moment.
When I started locking my legs and arching my hips up at her, she paused to say, “Okay, now for this.”
She wrestled the dolphin ring out of its package and stretched it. It was some kind of elastic rubber material. She slipped it around the head of my cock and shimmied it down to the base. It was snug without being tight, but triggered a whole new awareness of my cock. I got harder.
She swiped a finger across my tip, smearing a bit of precome around the sensitive skin there. I gasped. Dalia glanced up at my face like she had just remembered I was there. Her eyes were still half-mast, her lips were parted just a bit, lipstick smeared, lips almost bruised looking. I could see her tongue, just brushing the back of her teeth.
A look of blank, empty need crossed her face and she threw her leg over me, straddling me, the head of my cock just nudging her. And she was wet. Soaked. Drenched. I flicked my eyes back to hers, about to voice my pleasured shock, when I saw a shadow of my prim and proper wife there. There was a shade of insecurity.
So I said nothing. Just waited to see what she would do. And while she held my gaze, her face settled some. The insecurity was gone and she let the tension out of her thighs to glide onto me. I moaned low and tight in my chest. Because it was hot as fuck watching her. Because she was the least inhibited I had ever seen her. Because she still had her dress on and I was naked, tied up underneath her.
But then she cocked her hips and pushed me into her deeper. She moaned so low in her throat that it almost sounded like pain. She reached between us and grabbed the ring of rubber on my cock. She fiddled with it for a minute before I felt it give, then start buzzing.
Now she rolled her hips in a circle and closed her eyes, moaning each time her clit hit the nose of the little buzzing dolphin.
“Baby girl, I want to touch you.” Her eyes were wide and guileless, and for a moment she didn’t react at all. Slowly, devious mischief crept across her features, ending with a smartass smirk on her lips.
“No. Tonight, you’re my toy. And a toy doesn’t move unless I move it.” Her voice was so hard, but her pussy was clamping and releasing my cock. I sucked in a tight breath.
“Okay, Dalia. I’m your toy.” I considered it, considered her for a moment. “So play with me.”
She smiled softly and started flipping her hips over me, on me, grinding down into me at the deepest point in each thrust. I felt my muscles tighten and I wanted to pull against the restraint holding me stretched out for her. She didn’t care. She just wanted to ride me.
“Come on. Let me see you. Take that damn dress off.” I felt my rising testosterone making my voice gravelly.
She started to move, just a twitch, but her eyes flicked back to mine, and caught there. She giggled, but the devil in her expression gave me pause. This was a totally new side to my usually meek Dalia—and I liked it.
When I opened my mouth to speak, she slapped my face. Not too hard, just stinging, but it made my dick tighten and bulge, driving up into her. She felt it and watched me with a new level of curiosity, eyes glittering.
She leaned forward, planting her hands on either side of my chest. Her lips brushed over mine and she whispered, “Did you like that?”
I didn’t answer her, just planted my feet and thrust up at her.
“Yes, just like that, toy.” So I drove into her again and again, until she got twitchy and her breathing shuddered between us, whispered slick like sibilant turbulence. Her slickness coated my cock, slippery and warm, and that damn dolphin buzzed a low tingle, thrumming through my cock.
When I thought she was about to come, she leaned back, resting against my thighs, and just rolled her hips around on me. I let out a loud grunt of frustration and she gave me “the look.” The you-can’t-have-a-bowl-of-ice-cream-right-before-bed look. That look that says, Stop whining. Your life is pretty damn good.
Without speaking, she scraped her fingernails down my torso, leaving hot, red scratches. With a hand almost underneath herself, she grasped the base of my cock, over the ring, and started stroking it up and down, grinding the vibrating dolphin onto her clit, but making me goddamn crazy.
“Let me see your tits.” She just glanced up at me, but then closed her eyes without answering. “Fuck! Come on, Dalia. You’re killing me here!”
But a hot red flush was creeping up her neck and her collarbone glistened with sweat when she threw her head back, moaning like something wild. She ground her pelvis on mine, lost in sensation, so close to coming. A long, low growl moaned out of her chest as I felt her pussy tighten on me. She was so fucking close and I wanted to push her over the edge. I wanted to make her feel something so strong it scared her. I wanted her overwhelmed.
So I pushed at her with my hips even harder, until I arched up off the floor and her knees left the ground. Her eyes ratcheted open and met mine. I knew my smile was evil. I knew it because I felt it. I felt vicious and evil. It felt like the basest part of my brain was choosing for me and I liked it.
I let the tension out of my legs and flopped back onto the ground. She slumped down on top of me and the little cock ring vibrator slammed against her.
“Oh fuck!” She came hard, her cunt tightening and tightening, slick and liquid around me. And then she started shaking, and her tight pussy jiggled on me. She bit her lip and looked at me, yanking the front of her dress down so that her tits popped out. She clutched at her breasts, moaning, “Yeah, Eric, fuck me like a good toy.”
It was too much—tied up with her on top, panting and acting like someone completely free of her usual hang-ups. My mouth watered and I started snapping my hips up against her. She rolled with it, accenting my thrusts, punctuating them with little yelps each time the dolphin tickled her. I only felt my orgasm building a moment before it fired. It was a thing completely beyond my control: fierce, wild and primal.
I came like a caveman, head thrown back, howling until she laughed and clamped her hand over my mouth, murmuring, “Shhhh, you’ll wake the baby.”
I silenced myself, but still shuddered against her until she rolled off me, laughing as she flopped onto the floor next to me. “I love you, Eric.”
I twisted toward her. “I love you too, baby girl.” I gave her a wry look. “Think you could untie me, now?”
When we got ready for bed that night, I saw the little bit of self-doubt creeping back into her, the shame at her own pleasure. I hated it. I wrapped my arms around her from behind as she looked in the mirror. I let my lips drift over her shoulder, her neck.
“Do you know how sexy you are?” She inhaled tightly, but I kept speaking before she could answer me. “You are beautiful and kind and sexy as hell. I loved seeing you like that. Free, just so fucking juicy.”
She smiled and met my eyes in the mirror, flirting back. “You liked that, did you, toy?” And she pushed her ass back against my rehardening cock.