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“God.” I laugh, half-embarrassed and completely turned on. “This is such an awkward conversation.”
“Awkward to discuss your orgasms with your husband?”
“With you, yes.” I take another drink. “Especially considering we’re probably the only married couple alive who haven’t actually had—yes,” I say, trying to stop myself from rambling and making this even more awkward. “Yes, I can make myself orgasm through just penetration.”
“Sounds like a lack of stimulation from your partners.”
“Mmm, maybe or maybe it’s because I know how to make myself come.”
“What do you fantasize about when you’re doing it?”
“I don’t know—” I lie, grasping at anything to say that sounds believable other than you.
“What were you fantasizing about the night you were getting off right before I came over?” He lifts his glass to his lips so casually and once again I’m struck at how turned on I am with zero expectation or hope this is going anywhere.
“What are we doing? What is the point of this conversation again when we aren’t sleeping together?” I finally ask out of desperation before I melt into a puddle in my seat.
He stands up and reaches for my hand. “Shall we?”
I stand, my hand in his as I stare at him in confusion. He ushers us from the restaurant to the wooden walkways that surround the property as we head back to our bungalow.
“Dinner was good,” I say as we walk through the door.
“Sit on the bed,” he says before disappearing into the bathroom. I stand there momentarily before sliding off my shoes and walking to the bed to take a seat. When he returns, he pulls a chair to the end of the bed, sitting in it across from me.
“I need to see you come, Stella.” I don’t say a word; I just stare at him. “I’m going to sit here in this chair and watch as you fuck yourself and I don’t want you to stop until you come.”
“I-I… don’t have a toy.” I say the first thing that pops in my head. My nipples harden beneath my dress, my panties soaked at this point.
He smiles, reaching down to pick up something he set next to him in the chair, his electric toothbrush. “I know. I want you to fuck yourself with the handle end of my toothbrush.” He holds it out toward me.
“Are you serious?”
He doesn’t respond. He drops the toothbrush down beneath the hem of my dress and slowly slides it up my thigh till it’s just shy of pressing against my panties. I grip the edge of the mattress with one hand reaching down to push his hand farther up.
“That’s a good girl,” he says softly, letting me move the toothbrush up and down my slit over my panties. “Now”—he takes my hand and wraps it around the brush part—“fuck yourself so I can watch.”
He leans back in the chair, his hands resting on his spread thighs as his eyes drop down to where I lift my dress. I don’t bother removing the entire thing, just lifting it above my waist. I lean back on one hand, my thighs falling open as I begin to tease myself. I press the handle against my clit harder, then release. I do it several more times before reaching down to pull my panties to the side.
Atlas lets out a low groan as his head tilts to the side. He watches me slowly pull my panties to the side, a sticky string of arousal still connected.
“Oh damn, you are wet.” His hands ball into fists as he clenches his jaw.
“Ohhh,” I groan as I slide the tip of the rounded handle inside me. I pull it back out, teasing myself several more times.
“Fuck me. Look at you having to stretch just to take that.” His words make me grow slicker, allowing me to slide it in deeper. I watch him sit up slowly, reaching forward till his hand is around mine with the toothbrush. He presses a button, the toothbrush coming to life with a low buzz that has me clenching around it harder.
My legs fall farther open, and I lean back against my other hand as I begin to fuck myself, my head lulling back.
“Look at me, Stella.” His voice startles me and I lift my head to meet his gaze. His eyes drop down, and he licks his lips, his fingers curling into fists. “What are you thinking about right now? What has your tight little pussy so wet, hmm?”
“Oh, oh, oh.” I can’t control what’s coming out of my mouth right now. My body is tensing, my toes curling as Atlas watches my every movement. His jaw is clenched so tight as his eyes bounce between mine and what I’m doing.
I quicken my pace, the handle disappearing inside me over and over again. I’m on edge, so close to coming. Atlas stands, his cock rigid beneath his pants. He reaches down, holding my chin. “You’re thinking about me, aren’t you? Imagining my big cock stuffed inside you right now, about to flood your sweet little pussy.”
“I-I’m coming.” The words come out in a jumble.
“That’s right, darling.” His voice is calm and low. “Fuck yourself for your husband. I want to see my wife come,” he encourages me as I look up at him, my eyes starting to close as my body comes undone. Wave after wave washes over me until finally it subsides. I open my eyes, Atlas still standing in front of me. He reaches down, slowly pulling the toothbrush from me.
