Bendy Red


A while ago I bought several toys just for me. At the time, I was having a lot of solo-sex, because A’s and my schedule was screwy, and he’s a morning sex guy and I am an afternoon-sex girl, and a lot of times the only time we saw each other was late in the evening when neither of us had the time or energy to engage in actual, for-real, sex.
Besides, I think toys are a fun way to enhance actual, for-real sex too, although it took me some years to get over the idea that if sex was “good” between you and your partner(s), you didn’t “need” toys.
Anyway, over a period of weeks and months, I eventually used all the toys (and in various and myriad bendybeads_38103ways both intended and probably not) – except one. The BendyBeads. I don’t know why it took me this long to get them out. I’ve said it before: I’m an anal slut, I love anal play, and, well, this should have been a natural.
Okay, I lied. I do know the reason. Because I may say I’m an anal slut here, I may say I like anal play here, but, in real life? Out there? Umm, not so much on the words coming out of my mouth. In fact, simply being made to say the words is pussy-wetting, acute-embarrassment-engendering humiliation-play all on its own. And anal play really needs someone else doing it to me for it to work.  It’s the humiliation factor that gets me.
There’s been a time or two that I’ve gotten that itch and scratched it myself. But usually that is accompanied by visions of them, one of the guys, doing those things to me. Forcing me. Violating my ass, using me, using my hole, making me feel like a hole put there for their use.
Sometimes, though, A has anal sex with me, or uses his fingers or toys in my ass, and even more occasionally W does, in a way that is about pure pleasure, about pleasuring me. It’s still humiliating to me, I can’t get past that. I can’t get past the humiliation I feel for liking it, for wanting it. That’s part of its (twisted) pleasure. But also there is real physical pleasure, if done right, that has nothing to do with dominance or humiliation or being used. Many times I want that…but I can’t get up the nerve to ask.  I wish I could ask for it more often.
On this one occasion, though, I did.
“Please,” I said, looking everywhere but at him, “can we try my BendyBeads?”
He was more than happy to accommodate me, as he usually is.
I straddled him, facing away, so I could get at my clit and he could get at my ass. He lubed up the toy generously.  I think I was still embarrassed, because he had to lift my ass from where I was trying to hide it against his groin. I was acutely, absurdly shy at having my ass open and waiting for him that way, but that only made me wetter. The anticipation of feeling it slip inside me, one bulbous knob at a time, was excruciating.
And…it did feel…pleasant. But one bead wasn’t going to be enough. I wanted to be filled with it, to feel heavy and full and opened wide…
I never really got that with the toy. But what I did get was almost as good.
Ad is patient. He pays attention to the signals my body is sending, he experiments until he gets it just right, until I am moaning and pushing and writhing against him, even if it takes a couple different tactics to get there. Just pushing the toy into me, even to the hilt, wasn’t doing it for me. Before, with regular anal beads, the pleasure in them was in having them pulled out, right at orgasm. With the Bendies, I was almost there, but when he went to pull them out–nothing. It was disappointment enough to chase the orgasm away. So, he did what any enterprising person would do: he pushed them back in. And lo and behold, instant pleasure. Me, saying, yes yes yes.  So, he pulled them out again. And pushed them in again.  And soon he was fucking my ass with that thing, hard, shoving it all the way in and pulling it back out over and over.  Later, he told me he was twisting it around too.  All I know is that that is what did it…soon, I was exploding into an incredible orgasm; shaking, laughing, screaming.
And seeing red.
Next, I’ll tell you about this kind of red:
Meanwhile, don’t forget to hit up Alison over at A Trollop with a Laptop and send her a story for her Scarlet Tour.

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