Playing With Discretion

Jess Alynn

Married life doesn’t mean anniversaries have to be boring. Speaking of anniversaries, which year is it that toys are expected? Luckily for Gemma and Donavan, last year sent them in pursuit of sex toys, and this year they’re battling for dominance on who can up the ante on playing in public. Add in some new sexy lingerie, and this celebration is the hottest one yet!

It was the Saturday after their anniversary, and, since they hadn’t been able to celebrate much on the actual day - both were working - Donavan and Gemma had scheduled a special date for a fancy lunch, to be followed by a leisurely afternoon of shopping for certain somethings in honour of the day.

After their shared shower - longer than necessary with all their playful shenanigans - Gemma was finishing fixing her hair at her dressing table when Donavan stepped up behind her and leant down, meeting her eyes in the mirror. His wicked smirk gave her pause, and she shivered at the sensation of him nuzzling her ear as he murmured, ‘I’ve had an idea...’

Pulse quickening at the sultry promise of his voice, Gemma lilted, ‘Oh? What kind of an idea?’

His hands swept in front of her with a flourish, one holding a suede-covered box with a hinged lid. Gemma gasped in recognition, lifting her wide-eyed gaze to meet his in the mirror again. His smirk had widened into a mischievous grin, and he lifted the lid of the box in front of her.

Memories of the previous year’s anniversary washed over her in fiery tingles, ending with a throb in her core. They had both felt greatly daring and had patronized an adult toyshop, taking pleasure in perusing the dazzling array of devices and novelties spread before them. Finally settling on one toy each, they had made their purchase and raced home, eager to try them out, chuckling like a pair of teenagers the entire way.

The device nestled in the silk-lined box was a purple plastic butterfly attached to three adjustable straps. The vibrating capsule in the centre of the butterfly was controlled by the separate wireless piece slightly larger than a cigarette lighter. The controller had an on/off switch and a toggle that slid along the length from low to high.

A flush crept up from her bosom, suffusing her throat and staining her cheeks. She swallowed hard when Donavan slipped his free hand into her curls and gripped them, twisting his fist and pulling her hair just the way he knew she liked. His voice was a low purr in her ear as he said, ‘Shall I help you put it on?’

Gemma shook her head, and Donavan released her hair instantly. She rasped, ‘No. I’ll manage.’

He stood straight again and she took the box from him, her belly fluttering in anticipation. Donavan backed away to sit on the edge of the bed, watching her. For a moment, she considered retreating to the bathroom to put the device on, but she decided to stay, rising to the unspoken challenge.

She could see his reflection in the mirror and watched his reaction as she laid the box on the dressing table and hitched up her skirt. Squirming, she peeled her knickers down her legs and raised the scrap of fabric high before tossing it toward him. He smirked, black eyes gleaming at her. Carefully, she stepped into the straps and stood, pulling them up and adjusting them around her waist and legs, baring her arse with her skirt bunched around her middle. When it was comfortably secure, she smoothed her skirt again and spun, tossing the controller to Donavan, who caught it deftly in one hand.

There was a charged moment of silence before his lips spread into a feral grin and he flipped the switch with his thumb. Gemma’s breath hitched, and she locked eyes with him as he slowly pressed his thumb against the toggle, inching it forward and starting the low buzzing. When the capsule began its muted vibrations, Gemma twitched and swallowed back her startled gasp as she gripped the edge of the dressing table to steady herself.

Donavan stood, closing the distance between them and sliding the controller into his pocket, the toggle still on low. Attempting to regain her composure, she cast a wary glance at him, her brows rising in query. Gesturing to the door, he asked, ‘Shall we go?’

Blinking, Gemma said, ‘Donavan! Aren’t you going to turn it off first?’

His lips quirked as he pinned her with a heated gaze. ‘No.’

Gemma jerked, goose flesh breaking over her as the convulsive tightening of her cunt shifted the buzzing toy pressed along her cleft. Bloody hell, lunch is going to be torture!

At her dazed blink, Donavan grinned, sauntering across the room to pause on the threshold and say, ‘Come along, dear. We don’t want to be late.’

As soon as he departed, Gemma scrambled toward her nightstand, rifling through the contents quickly and voicing a cry of triumph as her fingers wrapped around the objects of her search. She shoved them deep into her purse and swallowed hard at the continued vibrations surging against her as she hurried to join her husband.

Donavan slipped her arm through his and escorted her to the car, smirking at her faint squirming throughout the drive to the restaurant. As he led her inside, Gemma walked gingerly, trying to keep a composed façade as the sensations sent delicious shivers from her clit down along her pussy lips and ending just before her cunt.

The hostess led them to a small table with seats across from each other, but Donavan interrupted her with a cough and said, ‘May we have a larger table so we may sit beside each other? We happen to like each other, you see...’

His sardonic tone made the hostess titter nervously, but she directed them to a larger table with a U-shaped booth. They were both able to slide around to sit by each other on the back edge. As soon as the hostess left them alone, Donavan reached into his pocket and nudged the toggle higher. Gemma sucked in a breath and shot a trenchant glare at him. But, before she could say anything, the server arrived, beaming at them with an expectant expression.

When they had their drinks and the server had left to place their order, Gemma turned to chide Donavan, but he interrupted her by leaning close to her ear and murmuring, ‘I’m so glad this restaurant has long tablecloths.’

His left hand slid up her leg, pushing her skirt along with it. Gemma flicked a furtive paranoid glance around the sparsely populated restaurant and gripped the edge of the table when his fingers pressed against the butterfly. But, she had to stifle a moan at his next statement.

‘Move forward, lean back, put your leg over mine - now.’

Following his instructions, Gemma felt incredibly exposed, but the tablecloth and the napkins in their laps hid their indiscretion from view. Fortunately, the music and ambient noise were enough to mask the faint buzzing from under the table.

Donavan cast a calculating gaze over the rest of the patrons and workers, determining that they weren’t on the brink of being bothered, and his hand dipped lower, his fingertips tracing along the edges of the butterfly lodged between her pussy lips. Then, he slid one long finger into her slick opening, making Gemma choke back a squeal and close her eyes.

Gemma scrabbled under the table for his invading hand, gripping his wrist and hissing, ‘Donavan!’

He looked at her, revelling in this sensual power over his wife, and slowly withdrew that lone finger to the accompaniment of Gemma’s relieved sigh. Then, all at once, he toggled the controller up to high and thrust two fingers into her cunt, fluttering them against that sensitive spot within. Gemma’s eyes flew open wide, and she stiffened, her hands locked around his wrist like a vice. She was building to a peak shamelessly fast, and he leant over to whisper in her ear, ‘Hurry, love, you wouldn’t want to be caught like this when the server comes back, would you?’

A faint whine issued from Gemma’s throat, and when she saw the hostess entering their section with more patrons, she shattered in climax, covering her face with her hands and pretending to be in the throes of a coughing fit. Ever solicitous, Donavan reached for the water with his free hand and offered it to her. When she took the water from him with trembling fingers, he slipped his hand back into his pocket and toggled the controller off. Gemma heaved a huge sigh of relief and swallowed several gulps of water in an attempt to cool her flaming cheeks.

Affecting nonchalance, Donavan peered around the restaurant again as he gave a few parting thrusts with his left hand before withdrawing his soaked fingers from between her legs and allowing her to sit in the booth properly again. Gemma could feel the liquid evidence of her orgasm trickling along her cleft, and she squeezed her legs together. Donavan slid his hand back to his own lap and dried his fingers on his napkin.

When Gemma started to edge around the booth, Donavan snapped a warning gaze to her and inquired, ‘What are you doing?’

Glaring back at him, she whispered, ‘I need to go to the toilet and clean up, or I’ll ruin my skirt!’

He smirked. ‘Very well then. But don’t divest yourself of anything else yet.’

Gemma merely nodded as she hustled to the ladies’ room. While in the sanctuary of the locked stall, she tried to calm herself, rubbing her face and breathing deeply. That devil! I wonder if he can take as well as he dishes it out... Her lips firmed in determination as she cleaned up and washed her hands, taking note of her pinked cheeks and dilated pupils in her reflection.

A faint smile on her lips, she re-joined her husband at the table just in time for their meal to arrive. As soon as the server had left, Donavan made a cursory pass under her skirt, checking to see that the butterfly was still there. Gemma cocked one eyebrow at him in reprimand, and he snorted.

‘Behave! Let’s enjoy our meal, shall we?’ She held his amused gaze until he nodded in acquiescence.

The food was delicious, and they relaxed as they ate, chatting amiably about the shop they would go to afterwards. The server came by and asked if they wanted dessert, and they agreed to share a decadent chocolate treat. When they were alone again, Gemma pulled her purse into her lap and said, ‘I must say, Donavan, you had quite the idea today.’ He chuckled and she shot him a speculative look, making him pause. ‘I was positively inspired.’

Donavan frowned in confusion until she opened her purse wide and tilted her head toward it, indicating he should look. When he saw what was lying atop her billfold and makeup bag, his eyes widened and he sucked in a shocked breath. Meeting her gaze again, he realized that the tables had turned, and she surreptitiously wrapped the item in her napkin and pressed it into his hand under the table.

‘It will be a few minutes before dessert gets here. I expect you to be back in time. Don’t dawdle, dear.’ Her mild words were underscored by the tone that plainly said, or you will regret it.

Donavan’s gut clenched, remembering how he hadn’t taken her seriously enough in their erotic role-playing before, and she had put their recently acquired cock ring to quite effective, tormenting use. After a long while of build-up, when he hadn’t followed her orders as well as she had followed his, she had not only refused to release the cock ring, but had tied him up so that he couldn’t do so either, and then made him watch as she masturbated to several more orgasms before leaving him secured as she showered. Only after she had made sure that he fully understood how upset she was at his dismissive behaviour did she release his hands and cock, so that he could give himself a long-overdue release of his own. He didn’t want to trifle with her after that occasion.

Face warming, he stuffed the wadded napkin in his pocket and hissed, ‘And just how do you expect me to do anything without something to ease the way?’

Gemma’s smirk spread into a deviant grin and she plucked the individually wrapped pats of butter from the breadbasket, proffering them and saying, ‘The clock is ticking, Donavan. You know you won’t like the consequences if you’re late coming back.’

She opened her purse again and pointedly tilted her head toward it. He looked down again to see the cock ring nestled between the side of the purse and her billfold. Swallowing hard, he grabbed the butter pats and shot one last glare at her before hastening out of the booth and to the toilets. Gemma watched him go with a smile of anticipation.

Donavan locked himself in a stall and laid the butter on the toilet roll dispenser. Scowling at how neatly she had turned things around on him - You only have yourself to blame... Where else would she have learnt such devious ways? - he leant against the door, fished the napkin out of his pocket, and unwrapped the toy they had bought the year before. It was smooth silicone, with a tapered, flared head, a curving shaft, and a thinner neck above the base. The buttplug was of a small enough size that it could be inserted fairly easily and worn for longer periods of time. Still, he had never had to do it on his own before. Gemma had always been the one to ready him with her fingers before filling him with the toy to stimulate him as they fucked. And now she insisted that he hurry!

Sucking in a deep breath, he took his suit coat off and hung it on the inside of the stall door, dropped his trousers and pants, and perched on the edge of the toilet, his cock already half hard and bobbing between his legs. His face warmed as he gingerly unwrapped the butter pats, laying them and the plug on the toilet paper he had draped over his knees. Fortunately, the butter was already room temperature from being in the warm breadbasket throughout their meal. With one hand, he held the base of the plug, and with the other, he spread the butter to coat it. Then, hoping that no one else would enter the men’s room while he was still in there, he reached behind him and pressed a dollop of butter against his twitching hole, grateful that it wasn’t cold.

Wishing that they were Gemma’s fingers instead, he slid one long finger deep into his own arse, spreading the butter inside him and trying to stretch himself enough to insert the plug easily. Shifting on the seat, he angled his hips, allowing himself more access to plunge his finger deep. When the faint burn of intrusion faded, he added a second slippery finger, scissoring them and thrusting faster. His cock swelled even more, and he wished he could stroke himself, but knew he didn’t dare; he didn’t have enough time! Removing his fingers, he smeared the last of the butter around his puckered hole and reached back with the plug, pressing carefully and grimacing at the burning ache of his greased flesh stretching around the bulbous head.

It finally popped in, and he released a sigh of relief, only to choke at the sound of another person entering and taking the stall next to his. Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he pushed further, letting the curve of the toy sink the tip against his prostate as the base wedged between his cheeks. The sizzling tingle of it grinding against that spot inside him made him bite his lips to hold back the groan that wanted to surface.

Once he was sure that it was securely lodged, he let go of the base and began wiping his greasy fingers on toilet paper, taking a moment to clean any excess butter from his arse before standing - and catching his breath at the jolt of the plug shifting within him - so he could dress again. Fortunately, he was able to wash his hands and leave before the other man exited the adjoining stall, so Donavan was spared the stranger seeing his flushed face.

As he hurried back to the table, he saw the server arriving with their dessert, and his gut clenched again at seeing that he hadn’t made it back on time. He nearly dived into the booth as the server placed two spoons on the dish, trilled, ‘Enjoy!’ and strode away.

Gemma was watching him intently, taking note of his pink face and the awkward way he moved as he tried to sit. Eyes darkening in satisfaction and excitement, she merely offered him a smug smile.

Donavan swallowed and rumbled, ‘I went as fast as I could. It wasn’t exactly easy, you know.’

Gemma traced one hand over his leg and against his crotch, smirking as she squeezed his erection, and said, ‘I’m sure it was very hard.’

He gasped and tensed up, which made the plug shift again. Forcing himself to relax, he sank back into the booth, letting himself rest fully in his seat, pressing the plug deeper and grinding it against his prostate. His cock bounced in reaction and Gemma purred.

‘Let’s enjoy dessert and get out of here.’ She picked up one spoon for herself and offered the other to her husband. ‘And, since you were back before the server was finished, I’ll let this one slide.’

Donavan heaved a deep breath and said, ‘Thank you.’ They both sampled the dessert, and then he said, ‘You said, “get out of here.” Are we going home soon?’

His hopeful leer dissolved at Gemma’s stern glance. ‘Of course not. We’re going shopping, remember?’

He blinked several times, then rasped, ‘Like this?’

‘I’m not done with you yet, dearest.’

Donavan shuddered at the wicked import of her words. Turning to face him, Gemma licked the chocolate off her spoon, taking care to do it as sensually as possible. When her hand closed over his erection again, his eyes narrowed, and he dropped his spoon to thrust his hand into his pocket and toggle the controller to over halfway all at once. Gemma jumped and gasped, and they locked gazes in a battle of wills.

Both were trying to slow their breathing and Gemma carefully lifted her hand from his cock, murmuring, ‘Truce?’

Donavan lowered the toggle to almost off and inclined his head. ‘Are you sure you want to go shopping?’

Gemma tilted her head, squirming at the low buzzing between her legs. ‘I do. But I would like to finish our meal first without causing a scandal.’

Donavan reluctantly turned the vibrator off and nodded. ‘Fair enough.’

Making a show of both hands being above the table, Gemma ate more of the dessert. Eventually, they polished off the last bit of chocolate, and the server appeared with their bill. Managing to maintain decorum, they paid it and left the restaurant, both walking rather slowly and deliberately.

They made their way to the first shop on their list: a high-end lingerie and fetish-wear boutique in a hidden pocket of London. Gemma spent quite a while going through all they had to offer, finally settling on a few items that she wanted to try on. Before she entered the fitting room, she pulled Donavan close and whispered in his ear, ‘I’m going to take the butterfly off and stash it in my purse. I can’t wear it if I want to try things on.’

He scowled in disappointment, but nodded. ‘What about my situation?’

Gemma beamed at him and said, ‘Fair’s fair, Donavan, you’ve still got a while before you’ll have suffered as long as I have. Now, why don’t you have a seat there and relax?’

Donavan pulled a face at her and she chuckled as she shut the fitting room door. He walked over to the plush armchair she had indicated and slowly sat, his arse clenching again and again as every move he made shifted the plug and massaged his prostate, maintaining his starting-to-really-get-uncomfortable erection.

He was grateful that his suit coat was long enough to hide the lump in his trousers, but he couldn’t help shifting in the chair, enjoying the jolts of pleasure the plug sent through his body, ending in his throbbing cock. After a long while, Gemma emerged from the fitting room and made a beeline to the checkout counter. Donavan, sweating with the effort it took to not come in his pants, waited until she finished her purchase.

Gemma saw the tell-tale flush on his cheeks and the beads of perspiration on his brow and said, ‘Donavan, dear, if you’re so warm, why don’t you take off your suit coat?’

He snapped a glare to her amused gaze and hissed, ‘Do you want everyone in the store to know?’

Gemma pulled him to his feet and stepped in close, lilting, ‘Know what?’

She blocked the view of her hand cupping his tented trousers and squeezing, making him buck in her grasp, his eyes closing involuntarily.

Affecting concern, although her eyes were dancing with wicked mirth, she said, ‘Oh dear, you don’t look well at all. Let’s get you right home where I can take care of you.’

Donavan was so overwhelmed that he could only grunt an affirmative. Gemma wrapped her arm around his waist, her shopping bag swinging against his arse and making him gasp, and marched him out to the car, nodding for him to ease into the passenger seat so she could drive them straight home. As soon as they arrived, she dragged him to the bedroom, the shopping bag clutched tightly in her hand.

Releasing him, she pointed imperiously at the trunk at the foot of their bed and said, ‘Strip! Sit! I’ll be back shortly.’

He sucked in a ragged breath as she secluded herself in the bathroom, quickly shrugged out of his suit, and toed his boots off. By the time the bathroom door opened again, his clothes were in a rumpled circle around his feet and he was perched on the trunk, his cock bobbing spastically and dripping with moisture.

Gemma paused in the doorway to show off her new purchase. The corset was shiny black leather, only coming under her breasts, showing them off, as the silver chains that linked the corset to the choker stretched around either side of them. The bottom of the corset had suspenders that were hooked to silky dark stockings. Between the corset and the tops of the stockings, Gemma wore black crotchless knickers, her curls peeking out between the sheer panels. Shiny black stiletto heels finished the look, and she favoured him with a hungry gaze.

Donavan’s cock bounced with a bit more fervour. He wanted to rush over to her and snatch her up, but he knew she had told him to sit, and with the mood she was in, he much preferred to obey.

She took measured steps toward him, smiling as she paused between his knees, her nipples pointing toward his mouth. Her voice was throaty as she asked, ‘Do you like what I got for us to enjoy for our anniversary this year?’

Donavan nodded vehemently. ‘Yes.’

‘And what about last year’s?’

‘You know I do.’

‘Good.’ She stepped back and gestured to the floor. ‘Sit. Cross-legged.’

He quickly complied, stifling a groan when settling onto the hard floor ground the plug deeper into his arse.

Gemma stepped up to him, lifting one foot to rest her leg over his shoulder, and demanded, ‘Get me good and wet.’

Donavan didn’t need to be told twice. Reaching up to steady her, he buried his face between her legs, his tongue slipping between her swollen lips and circling her clit. Her head fell back and she voiced a loud cry, her fingers tangling in his hair and holding him tight against her cleft.

After several minutes, she pulled him back, gasping, and said, ‘Oh yes, Donavan, fuck me.’

He started to try to get to his feet, but she stopped him, kicking off her heels and pushing him to lean back so she could sink into his lap and impale herself on his cock. As she enveloped him completely, he groaned, sucking her nipple and rocking his hips, sending delicious shock waves through his arse and cock.

She bucked on him, grinding her clit against his pelvis as they fucked. Knowing he had used the buttplug on her orders, and that it was still filling his tight arse as she rode him, fired her up more than she had thought it would. Their illicit behaviour in the restaurant had her ready, and it didn’t take long before she shrieked, ‘Yes! Fuck yes!’

The feel of her cunt clamping down on him, rippling down his length, sent a surge of arousal through his overwhelmed body, and his arse clenched hard, pressing the plug against his prostate and hurtling him over the edge of his climax, making him convulse and shudder under her, gripping her tight as he flooded her pussy.

Clutching each other as they trembled in aftershocks, they panted, trying not to pass out from the force of their orgasms. Donavan released her and leant back on one shaking arm, barely holding himself up. Gemma felt his cock deflating, tickling her as it slid out of her soaking cunt, and heaved herself to the side, bent forward on her hands and knees. Donavan gingerly stretched his legs and collapsed onto his back, sprawled on the floor.

After a few moments of recovery, Gemma crawled between his legs and bent down, licking him clean. He shivered and gasped, but made no move to stop her. Gently pushing his knees up, she continued laving his spent cock, tasting the evidence of their orgasms, as she spread his cheeks and tenderly gripped the base of the plug. Donavan twitched, a faint frown creasing his brow, but he took a deep breath, the signal for her to remove the toy from his arse.

He was always sensitive after climaxing, but he had never worn the plug for so long before, and he was surprised at how little discomfort he felt as she slid it out and caressed his tired hole.

Gemma placed one last suckling kiss on his cock before rising and heading to the bathroom to clean up their toys. When she returned, Donavan was still sprawled on the floor, nearly asleep. Gemma smiled and took off her new outfit. She turned down the bedclothes and pulled him to his feet, his steps unsteady as he lurched forward and collapsed onto the bed. Then, sated and sleepy, too, she curled up beside him and drew the covers over them.

Donavan was in the twilight between being awake and being asleep, but he heard her whisper, ‘You certainly do come up with some fantastic ideas, love. Maybe we should make this an anniversary tradition.’

Humming his amused response, he hugged her tighter and murmured, ‘Mmm, perhaps we should celebrate more anniversaries then... say, every week?’

Gemma’s delighted laugh was silenced by his kiss, and they settled in for a reviving nap. After all, the weekend had just begun...