I Don’t Know Who Hates It More When You Have To Leave.

You stay until the last possible moment, and then you stay a little more.

I'm still naked, you gave me one more quick fuck. You were almost out the door, then you turned, came back in. You didn't even take your jeans off, you pulled them down around your ass, then fucked me hard. Hard enough, we both hope, to last us another week or so. But we both know better.

I wrap myself in a sheet, follow you outside so I can watch you pull away. I want to see every second of you. I stop short of running down the street. I'm not given to such theatrics, even if it is what my heart wants.

Your car turns the corner. If I peer at the right angle, I'll see a flash of white between those two houses, then you're really gone. I go back inside.

I'm too sad and restless to sleep. My hand lingers on my thighs, still damp from you. I feel the bruises on my hips, my breasts. I push into each one, remembering the moment you forced them into bloom.

Then I see it, your butt plug, there on the dresser. Did you leave it deliberately? I think it's too big for me, I'm always in a bit of awe when I see it glide into you so easily. I turn it on, it vibrates in my hand like a purring kitten. I hold it to my clit and shut my eyes, slowly rubbing it back and forth. But then I wonder… I wonder if I could take all this inside me? It was just in you not long ago. I want to feel what you feel, I want the fullness to spread my ass wide open.

Your car isn't even to the city limits yet. You could turn around, come back to me. You could find me here working your butt plug into my ass. You could stand in the doorway and watch, amused, as I struggle to fit it all in.

I coat it with lube and lay on my side. The tip goes in easy enough, it's not much bigger than my own toys at this point. It's when I gently push that the difference becomes immediate. My ass isn't as greedy and as practiced as your own. I work the tip of the plug in and out of my ass and think about how I was doing this to you only hours before.

I love to watch you open. I love tasting you with the tip of my tongue. I love running a fingertip around your edges, sliding in an inquisitive fingertip. I love when you ask me to be your man.

I fit a little more inside me now, but it's still a struggle. The widest bit is still to come. I think about when I fisted you for the first time, how surprised and eager we both were. It was one of those things I thought only happened in porn movies, but here we were. So warm. So hard, I could feel you spasm from the inside as you came.

My ass aches, the plug is at the widest bit. I wish I could see it stretching me out. I rub my pussy with my other hand, to distract me. I slowly fuck my ass, teasing and testing myself, trying to go a little further each time.

The phone rings. Your name flashes on the little screen. You tell me you miss me already. You tell me you left something for me, I tell you I already found it. I tell you that it's in my ass, how I'm fucking myself with your toy, how it's the closest thing to being able to fuck you. How it's so big, it's so big.

You tell me to take it. You say I have to put the entire plug in now, I have to fuck my ass like you would fuck it. Hard, with no mercy. I push it in the rest of the way, over the bump. It stings, I gasp and swear, biting my lip.

You tell me that I'm being good, that you want me to pull it out almost all the way, then slam it back in. You breathe harder. I say maybe you should pull over, or maybe you should come back, but you won't do either. You tell me I'm a good girl and you need me to come. I fuck my ass on your command. I shut my eyes, hold the phone close to my ear. The plug pounds in and out, becomes an extension of you.

I shudder, make little noises into the phone. I come hard, you tell me how much you love it that I can come from just an ass fucking. I'm exhausted, spent, the restlessness burnt away.

You tell me you love me, we hang up. I drift off to sleep, with you still inside me.

Republished with permission from Daisy Danger. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.