We were supposed to fuck that night. It had been several days, lots of long nights, and we’d collapsed into bed exhausted. Now it was the weekend, our time to definitely get kinky. Sweaty sex, wet orgasms - we were supposed to do it all.
Before the sun had gone all the way down, I was in bed. I was moaning but not the way I’d anticipated. He checked on me. Got my medicine. Gave me water. Tucked me in. I felt bad. I’d wanted to fuck, too. Now we were both being denied. Eventually, I fell asleep - passed out is more like it.
I don’t know what time I woke up, but everything was dark. Except, the glow of his phone. I was already recovering because that little bit of light didn’t hurt my eyes anymore. I still felt like a two-ton weight was in my head, hammering behind my eyes. But I could handle light and I was aware of my surroundings. I was aware of the porn on his phone. Aware of the motion of his hand. The soft scrape of skin against skin was strange in the deep stillness of our bedroom.
He didn’t jerk himself hard. The bed didn’t shake. While he scrolled with one hand, his thumb moving from image to image, he stroked himself as if he had all the time in the world. Unable to help myself, I uncurled from my protective ball and stretched out beside him.
Despite the pain in my head, my body responded. A flood of heat rushed to my cunt. My nipples tightened. I wanted to touch - him or myself, it didn’t matter. I didn’t. But I wanted to.
Not much later, he set aside his phone and rummaged in the nightstand. He’s got a few toys. I wondered which he’d pick. I saw the lube first. Then...his tenga egg. I’d bought it for him, intending to use it as a way to make handjobs better for both of us. We’d never made it that far. He’d commandeered it as one of his wanking toys.
I’d never seen it being used, only heard about it. I was shocked at how wet and squelchy it sounded as he pumped up and down. It reminded me of the sound a juicy pussy makes when it’s being fucked hard and fast.
He’d known I was awake but my question startled him. “Yeah, it does. Really good.” His hand moved faster now that toys were involved. Instead of the slow, even pace of before, he used the toy and the lube in fast concert over his cock. I closed my eyes and zoned out to the sound of silicone and lubricant.
I heard his breathing change. It was a sound I was familiar with, although normally my own whimpers or cries usually accompanied him. Now, his need was the focus. He gasped. He grunted. He may have even whimpered. Not loud. Not long. But the sound was there.
Now I could feel his movements in the mattress. The strong jerks and pulls of his hand moved everything around us. When he dug his heels into the mattress, the bed dipped. As he pumped faster, he jostled me. I kept my eyes closed, enjoying the concert of movement and sound, not needing to watch him masturbate. Not this time.
A few minutes more, and I heard, “Ohhhhhhhhhh” in a long, low growl of satisfaction. He trembled and jerked, his cock sensitive to the toy, the lube, and later, the very air around us. I drifted while he cleaned up and came back to bed. When he settled back down, I curled up against him. He was more relaxed than he’d been all day.
He stroked my hair and held me close. “Me too, babygirl. It will be soon enough.” Definitely feeling better, I made a small sound of delight before falling back to sleep. Soon enough couldn’t come soon enough.
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