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“Can we try again?” I asked, an hour later, after the tea and the toast and the slow, wordless cuddle that had put me back together. “But softer. Smaller. On my terms.”
Elena propped herself on one elbow. “Are you sure? Not because you think you owe me?”
“I want to. Properly. I just want to go at my pace.”
“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.” She slipped out of bed and came back with a different toy, slim and curved and a gentle shade of blue. “I bought this one first. I’ve been saving it for a rainy day. This is the rainy day.”
She had me on my side, her chest against my back, my knee drawn up, one arm wrapped round me so I could feel her heartbeat. She used plenty of lube. She stopped every minute to ask me how I was doing. The first slide of the toy was a slow, warm stretch, nothing like the panic of before, and my body opened for it with a long groan of relief.
“Good?” she whispered.
“So good. Don’t stop.”
She rocked it in a tiny, patient rhythm, and her hand slid down my belly and took my cock, slow and slick. The pressure built from deep inside, warm and rolling, and when I came it was gentle, trembling and long, my face wet against her arm.
“Next weekend,” she murmured, “we can try the big one. If you want. And only if you want.”
I pressed back against her and said, “Rain check.”
She laughed into my hair.
Ending 8 of 16: Softer. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.