It wasn’t my idea to accept the all-expenses paid trip to Honolulu, but my husband, Connor, insisted. ‘You can’t turn down an amazing opportunity like that.’
‘But what’s the point of lying around at a beach resort when you won’t be there with me?’ Don’t get me wrong – I’m not incapable of travelling alone; I do it frequently for my job as a food and travel writer. But I’d just wrapped up a stint of back-to-back trips, and in the two weeks I’d been home Connor had been busy with end-of-year reports, and I’d been looking forward to spending a sexy New Year’s Eve with him. I’m not usually sentimental about holidays – we don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day or Christmas – but New Year’s is a particular favourite of mine. It’s also our anniversary, picked specifically because we’d assumed that any boss in the world would understand the need for a day off to celebrate the ushering in of a new year, and the fact that the world is usually celebrating with us. We often travel, and have woken up to start new years together all over the globe, from Paris to Reykjavik to Dubai to Mexico City.
I’d discovered, though, that things were different when you became your own boss. I had staff jobs for a long time and, if I couldn’t go on a particular trip, someone else could easily fill in, and we found ways of juggling the choice assignments so everyone’s needs were accommodated.
Of course, I could say no; legally, nobody was stopping me. But not only did I worry about the karmic implications of turning down such a luxurious free ride, I also knew that the travel agency arranging it could find plenty of other people more than willing, able and eager to hop on a plane on a moment’s notice for the chance to bask in five-star comfort. I love hotels, too, which is part of what led me to this job, but I love my husband even more and had been particularly hungry for him the past few weeks. My fantasies had been less about room service and more about turning off our cell phones, locking our bedroom door and getting reacquainted with every inch of each other’s body. All we’d managed lately were quickies that left me wanting more every time. I came, and so did he, but that wasn’t enough. I craved the kind of intense lovemaking that left you sore, breathless, trembling and weak; that consumed you for so long you forgot about everything else in the world.
I’d found myself seeing phallic objects everywhere, making typos and misreading words in some kind of twisted sexual dyslexia, with everything reminding me of Connor and how hot it was to slip between the sheets with him. Six years isn’t a milestone anniversary, but to me it was a big deal, and I’d planned to bake him his favourite double chocolate brownies stark naked in our kitchen, with plenty of extra batter for him to lick off me.
‘Honey, you know I want to spend our anniversary with you, but I can’t in good conscience encourage you to turn down an opportunity like this. It’s what you’ve been working towards all this time, getting your name known and recognised as the hotshot we both know you are. I have a feeling that next year we’re going to see your byline in the New York Times, and I know you’ll take me with you when you can. We can celebrate extra when you get home. And actually, well, maybe we can still celebrate in bed.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean Skype,’ he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘I mean I want a free hot sexy peepshow, and I want you to do anything I tell you to. Isn’t that what technology is for?’ He pulled me towards him, and I felt exactly how hard this discussion was making him.
‘But what’s the point if we can’t touch each other?’ I whined, wrapping my hand around his erection to prove my point.
‘I guess you’ll find out,’ he said, and dragged my mouth towards him for a passionate kiss. I usually stand on my tiptoes to reach him, but this time Connor lifted me up onto the counter, pressed his hand against the back of my head and slammed my mouth against his. His tongue entered my mouth and claimed every inch of it. When I was utterly breathless, he whispered in my ear, ‘Just make sure you don’t get too sunburned or tire yourself out because you are going to be my personal little porn star. Maybe I’ll even invite some friends over to watch you, guys you don’t know, from the office. I’m always telling them how fucking sexy you are but they don’t know the half of it.’ I knew it was just talk, but it was talk that made me very, very wet.
I pushed my skirt down and soon was sitting there bare, while my husband sucked on my nipples. He pulled my body to the edge of the counter and started stroking me as he continued. ‘Maybe I’ll get them to make suggestions about what they want to see you do. Most of them are always telling me about how they only fuck a few times a month, so I bet they have plenty of ideas about what you can put right here.’ With that, he plunged two fingers inside me. ‘Put your fingers in your mouth, Farrah, and suck them like you’re going to do when I show you off. I want them to see how good a cocksucker you are. Maybe if you do a really good job, I’ll invite one of them back and watch you take his dick down your throat.’ I was sobbing around my extremely wet fingers, right there with Connor as he spun his fantasy. I love my husband desperately, love every inch of his incredible body, especially his cock, but I had always had a fantasy, hidden from every lover but him, of taking two cocks in my mouth at once. I’d wondered if I could do it, or if I’d alternate, getting one nice and wet, then the other. In my head, I’d played out pretty much everything a girl could do with two dicks at once, but all I’d told him was the dual-blowjob part of my secret turn-on.
Picturing him in the same room with another man who was turned on watching me get naked was overkill, and I shuddered, clenching my teeth and breathing fiercely as I clutched the counter and came. Connor’s fingers finally emerged, wet and wrinkled, and he fed them to me. I pulled them slowly into my mouth, savouring his skin and my juices, and the promise he was offering me. He eased me down, turned me around and entered me from behind, pumping into me in deep, long strokes. I climaxed again soon after he did, the rush of it all making me gasp.
I fell asleep long before dinner, woke up at 3 a.m. and curled myself around Connor’s body for a while. Then I wearily packed my skimpiest beachwear, a black-and-white polka-dot one-piece, a basic navy racerback, a hot pink bikini and a little red number complete with a tennis-style skirt and well-supported top. I didn’t really care; I was blissed out on the afterglow and rode it all the way until I settled into my first-class seat.
* * *
I arrived in Honolulu on a steamy evening, awed by the thickness of the heat and the life pulsing along Kalakaua Avenue as my taxi made its way to the hotel. During my first trip, I’d rented a room from a local, near the beach in Waikiki, where I could walk to get an acai bowl before spending the afternoon baking under the sun or learning how to surf. This time, though, I was getting special treatment, and I couldn’t wait to sink into the plush bed I’d been promised. When I checked in, I found out that, because someone else couldn’t make it, I was being upgraded to a private, secret suite, tucked away in a far corner. Upon opening the door, I was shocked. The suite was easily twice the size of our apartment back home, suitable for many guests, gluttony for one. I was tempted to splurge on a last-minute ticket for Connor, but I knew he had responsibilities too.
Instead, I explored the room, amazed again and again at the sumptuousness at my fingertips. The thread count on the sheets was higher than any I’d ever slept on, while the flat-screen TV took up practically a whole wall. Complimentary champagne came in three different vintages, and the free custom minibar featured everything from triple cream Brillat-Savarin Brie to a variety of chocolate truffles. Room service was complimentary, the leather-bound menu merely offering ‘suggestions’. We were free to order whatever we liked and, as long as the staff had the ingredients on hand, they’d send it up.
I was told all I had to do was press a button and someone would be there to greet me. As soon as I was alone, the first thing I did was the first thing I always do in a hotel room: get naked. I usually wear a silk robe at home, but something about being in a hotel always makes me want to stay as close to my birthday suit as I can. I checked myself out in the mirror, turned on the radio and twirled around the room, dancing and laughing until I collapsed on the bed. Then a pang hit me: as gorgeous as this free luxury was, I missed the one man who could make it even better. I reached for my suitcase, figuring I could journal about it, then head out for a drink. Inside, though, I found two elegant red velvet pouches I was sure I hadn’t packed.
Inside the first was a Post-It note. ‘Something to remember me by,’ was scrawled in Connor’s almost indecipherable handwriting, which had taken me at least two years to figure out. Inside was a brand-new Purple Rabbit vibrator, along with batteries. In the other pouch I found a light-blue butt plug, a small bottle of lube and nipple clamps with tiny bells attached to the ends that jingled as I moved them around, along with another note he’d taken care to write in big block letters: USE ONLY WITH ME. Clearly, the ‘with’ in that order was a virtual one, but I knew that, with Connor, watching was almost as good as being there. I smiled to myself as I fingered the toys, feeling connected to him even from so many miles away. Maybe if my career took off we could come back here together.
I put the toys back in their pouches, lest I be tempted to use them. Connor would know for sure, because I have no semblance of a poker face, and because I’d surely want to tell him about it. We didn’t own a pair of nipple clamps, because his teeth and fingers had done such a good job all these years, but my nipples were definitely among the most sensitive parts of my body. From what I could remember, though, I’d always needed a lover’s steady hand to guide them. Just thinking about that, not to mention the fact that Connor had planned such a sneaky surprise, had me so horny I couldn’t wait for him. He’d be sleeping, and it wasn’t worth waking him just now.
Instead I drew myself a bath and took out the one sex toy I always carry with me, because you never know – a small waterproof vibrator that had seen me through many trips and adventures. I’d used it while showering outdoors with Connor, in a bathroom stall during an eight-hour unexpected airport layover, and in my own bedroom. It was a standby, one my body was as attuned to as to any lover. I admired my choice of bubble-bath scents: vanilla, strawberry and lavender. Vanilla has always smelled like sex to me, so I chose that, along with an ice-cold bottle of Coke and some M&Ms from the mini fridge, and soon the sumptuous bathroom, far too big for one person, was sweetly scented. I slid into the marble bathtub, resting my head against the sloping side as the bubbles washed over me. I sipped my drink, the chill a welcome contrast to the hot-as-I-could stand water. Normally I watch what I eat, but when I’m at a hotel I let go in every way. Connor and I have had some of our hottest sexual escapades in hotels, and I thought about the threesome in Belize as I reached under the water and began to touch myself.
As it turned out, I didn’t even need the vibrator, but I was grateful it was handy. My biggest turn-on ever is, clichéd as it may sound, Connor. Hearing him talk to me, telling me anything – that I’m his special little slut, that he wants me to do the most depraved things you can imagine, that he wants to kiss me until we can’t breathe – sets me off like nothing else. In lieu of that, I spoke to myself, pretending alternately that I was a queen with manservants waiting at the ready to service me, and that the tub was empty and those same servants were in fact my captors and were going to come all over me. That’s what did it – blasting the water down onto me and pretending it was really the anonymous men’s come. I barely made it out of the tub and into bed, but when I did I crashed hard, lulled into the beauty of post-orgasmic sleep.
* * *
The next morning I woke up to a blaring cell phone. Connor had been calling me, and, though I was sleepy, I quickly woke up when I heard his sexy voice in my ear. ‘You’re still in bed?’ he asked with a hint of arousal, enough to make me stop longing for the luxury of sleep, enough to wake up my clit and tell him all about what I got up to in the bathroom the night before.
‘Did you get my present? You didn’t thank me.’ He didn’t sound upset, more mock annoyed, the tone he gets when he’s looking for a reason to take me over his knee and give me a spanking. Sometimes he’s too good an actor, and I can’t actually tell whether he’s upset or giving me grief, but this time I was sure. We don’t need the pretence of punishment, but we both like it.
‘I like it, baby,’ I murmured, slowly waking up, happy to hear from him but with a slight pang that all I could do was hear and not touch him. My favourite times with him are lazy mornings when nobody needs our urgent attention and we can spend hours kissing and entwining and eating and then starting all over again. It’s not as much fun on my own, but perhaps that’s about to change, because Connor told me, ‘Why don’t you show me how much you like it? I’ve been thinking about seeing you wearing those clamps and how pretty the butt plug would look in your ass. It’s made me very hard. I want you to hang up the phone, set up your laptop and get your ass ready to show me you putting it in.’
I flushed, even though he couldn’t see me yet. It’s one thing to wear a butt plug, but to have him watch me put it in? That was a whole other thing. I’d never done that before; he was always the one who’d penetrated me, who’d held me open and made me aware of just how much I like to be played with there. I never did, before him. I could handle a finger if the guy I was with really wanted to give me one, but it didn’t do anything for me, not the way I’d seen women in porn go crazy, or even the way the guys who let me do it to them went crazy. But with Connor my backdoor was as sensitive as any other erogenous zone. The first time, he had me take a bath, then knelt at the edge of the tub and licked me back there until I begged to touch myself. From there, we moved on to his fingers coated with lube, various sizes of butt plugs, and his cock, usually with a vibrator whirring against my pussy or clit – or both!
So many images of him stroking me there flashed through my mind as I hung up on our call, got out my laptop, logged into Skype and checked out my ass in the mirror on the wall. It would be a great mirror for fucking, for watching ourselves, but now I would get to watch as I penetrated my ass – and so would Connor. He answered the call right away. ‘Show me that sweet body I miss so much,’ he said. ‘Stand back, that’s it,’ he coaxed as I positioned myself so my breasts were on display. ‘Pinch those pretty nipples for me, and come a little closer so I can make sure you’re doing it hard enough.’ Just hearing him say that made me wet, and doing it? Well, that had my pussy literally dripping, in a way I knew he’d be able to see once I bent over. ‘Good girl. You’re almost ready for the clamps. But first I want to see that ass. I want it ready for my cock when you get home from your tropical paradise there.’
I shuddered as I dropped my breasts, turned around and bent over, hoping my ass was in the right position. ‘Very good, Farrah, especially since I can see your ass and your pussy from this angle. Now hold your cheeks open for me, the way you do when I run my tongue along your crack.’ They were just words, right? But they weren’t, not really. From him, they were more than words, and hearing them made me want to hop on a plane home so I could hear them right in my ear. I held myself open and waited while he admired me, his whistle followed by the unmistakable sound of him stroking his cock. ‘Touch your hole, baby. Press your finger there and show me you’re ready for your present. After you get the plug in you can put on the clamps.’
I automatically followed his instructions, and quickly found that the sensation of touching my own anus, knowing Connor was watching my every move, was almost as powerful as when he touched me there. I genuinely wanted more, and, without even asking him, reached for the lube and the plug. I stayed bent over so he could observe my ass as I coated the toy thoroughly, then set the lube bottle on the ground and brought the toy to my ass. I wasn’t sure if it would be a challenge to get it in, but to my delight it wasn’t at all, especially when I began playing with my clit with my free hand. ‘Did I tell you that you could touch yourself, Farrah? No, I didn’t,’ he asked and answered. ‘Just keep going now that you’ve started, but know that the nipple clamps will have to go on extra tight to teach you a lesson about listening.’
With that, the plug slipped all the way in. I let go and gasped as I tightened my anal muscles around it. It felt wonderful yet strange. I’d never used a plug on myself, and probably wouldn’t have on my own. But under Connor’s tutelage I felt exposed, like the whole world was watching and knew what a slutty girl I was, one who couldn’t go another minute without something filling her ass. ‘That’s right. Now I want you to twist it around, the way I would if I were there.’ I did, slowly, feeling each sensation as the toy penetrated me. ‘It’s too bad I’m not there to hold your cheeks open.’ The more he talked, the more aroused I got; I wasn’t sure if I’d have been able to do this in front of Connor, with him observing me from inches away. But from a whole country away? That was OK, and in a way felt even more intimate. Before Connor, there’d been times in my life when I’d tumbled into bed with someone I’d just met, but what we were doing now required a level of trust that only came from knowing each other so deeply for so long. He knew how far he could push me, and I knew that he’d be there to take care of me, even if ‘there’ was a virtual place. The more I twisted the toy, the more I knew I needed something in my pussy, too. I didn’t care what, as long as it filled all the places that were now aching and empty.
‘How does it feel, Farrah?’ he asked when I dropped my hand and looked behind me at him. Seeing him with his hard cock resting in his hand, I whimpered, wishing I could wrap my lips around the head and lick him slowly, savouring the drop of pre-come I could see. I shuddered and shifted so I was on my knees, the plug still carefully snug between my cheeks. Connor slapped his hands together, the sound startling against the quiet.
‘Tell me, right now, or you’re going to have to spank that pretty ass until it’s bright red.’
‘It feels good. But it makes me want your cock inside me.’ That wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth, either. I wanted his cock, for sure, but I liked the distance, or, at least, how we were using it. I felt even more wanton than usual, which made me shove three fingers inside myself. It wasn’t my usual way of masturbating, but in the moment it felt perfectly right – not a substitute for my husband, but a complement.
‘That’s good, baby, that’s what I want to see. Get yourself nice and wet, and then you’re going to put those clamps on.’ I trembled as he said that, my fingers sleek and slippery as I realized how fully under his spell I was, and how much I liked it. ‘Now take out those fingers and wash your hands and we’re going to have some fun with your nipples. I want to make sure they’re nice and sore and sensitive so you don’t forget about me out there in paradise.’
I didn’t tell him I could never forget about him, sore nipples or not. I eased my fingers out, my pussy contracting at the loss of penetration. I stood, but the minute I started to walk away, staying in view of the laptop for as long as possible, I realised that walking while wearing a butt plug between my cheeks was very different from not wearing one. Every step produced a twinge of arousal, a reminder that I was doing far more than placing one foot in front of the other. By the time I got to the bathroom, I ached to touch myself again. Instead, I rinsed my fingers and stared at my reflection, my cheeks pink, my breasts heavy with desire.
I walked back towards the vision of Connor’s dick in his hand, my naked body in a smaller picture on the screen, envisioning myself wearing the plug while out with Connor sometime. I pulled out the clamps and dangled them for him to see. ‘Oh, I know what they look like, sweetheart. Now I want to know what they look like on you. I’m going to put those on you when you get home and make you jingle while you fuck me.’
I smiled at him, but when I started to move the lever of one clamp to attach it to my nipple, he stopped me. ‘Wait a second, honey. You know I’d warm up those nipples better than that. Take your left nipple into your mouth and suck on it.’ He knew I was capable of that because he’d pressed my nipples into my mouth before. I put down the clamp and lifted my nipple to my lips, glancing up to make sure he could see me. I teased myself – and Connor – with a lick, surprised at how powerful that relatively soft wet caress felt as it travelled through me. ‘I told you to suck on it, Farrah,’ he said. So I did, for a second pretending it belonged to another woman, then sucking hard before placing it between my teeth. I twisted my other nipple, pinching as hard as I thought I could stand, feeling my pussy again straining for release. ‘OK, that’s good, now I want you to wear those clamps for me.’
I picked one up, excited to feel its fierce heat, but nerves – ones I didn’t even realise I had – got the best of me, making me fumble with the clamp. It fell, and Connor said, ‘Do I need to call down to the hotel and send someone up there to help you put those on? Because I will, Farrah, if that’s what you need to appreciate my gift.’ I trembled as I listened and tried again, this time placing my hard nub between the rubber-tipped ends of the clamp, then sliding the lever up and up.
‘Aahh,’ I moaned when it started to hurt, but Connor insisted I clamp it a little higher.
‘That looks just about right,’ he said when I angled my breast towards the camera. I had an easier time with the second clamp, though the combined heat of both clamps sent waves of sweet pain through my body. ‘Jingle them for me, like my own personal Christmas present,’ Connor instructed, and I wiggled my shoulders and chest, then lightly flicked the bells. ‘You must be very wet by now. I want to see you put something inside your pussy. Get out that vibrator – I want to see you come using it. Lie on the bed, and put the laptop next to you.’ I climbed onto the bed and made sure Connor could see me, put the batteries in the toy, then got on my hands and knees so the butt plug wouldn’t press into me at the wrong angle. I’m used to being on my back when I use my vibrator, but what I was used to had flown out the window when I first started Skyping with Connor.
I pressed the thick head of the toy against my slit, then pushed backwards and pressed it inside me. Once it was in about halfway, I turned it on, the rabbit going to work on my clit. I eased the toy deeper inside me until it was as deep as it could get, and started to rock back and forth while the bells danced beneath me. I knew Connor was stroking his cock, but I couldn’t see or hear much above the whirring of the toy and my own heavy breathing.
I shut my eyes and squeezed my ass and pussy, and was instantly rewarded, the sensations compounded the more I focused on my pleasure. I’d done my part in following Connor’s commands; now I was reaping the benefits, and the toys were my new lovers, there to please me and only me. I bucked back and forth with abandon, crying out as I came closer and closer to orgasm, the vibrator almost slipping from my grasp as I got wetter and wetter. Finally, I slammed it deep inside me, the force and the continued dual vibrations of the toy making me grit my teeth lest I scream so loud I alerted security. It took me at least a minute to relax enough to turn the vibrator off and ease it out. I slowly sat up, back on my knees, still aware of the light plug between my asscheeks, the silver bells dangling from my nipples.
Connor wore a look of pure joy on his face. ‘That was amazing, Farrah. You are amazing.’ I smiled, a tear falling down my cheek. How much I’d have given for him to take me in his arms just then. ‘I’m here and ready for you to take off those clamps and remove the plug. Take a deep breath, baby.’ I smiled at him briefly, then looked down, trying to prepare for the denouement of my sex-toy adventure. I guided my fingers into place and then quickly eased down the lever of first one clamp, then the other. I bit my lip as the blood rushed back into my nubs, and cradled my breasts in my palms. Then I reached behind me and eased the plug out. My body still felt full from where all three toys had worked their magic.
‘Next time you get a trip offer, I’m coming with you, Farrah. No question about it. Maybe we can put on a show of our own for someone else like this. Same time tomorrow?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll flash you any time you want.’
* * *
When I made it down to the lobby the next morning, after sleeping soundly and dreaming of Connor using my toys on me, I found a package waiting for me. On the box it said, ‘From Connor. USE ONLY WITH ME.’ I was curious, but if I’d learned anything from the first package, it’s that Connor knows what he’s doing, and is the best gift-giver I could ask for.