What She Looked Forward To

Holly felt a welcoming cool blast of air as she entered the lobby of her apartment building. It was Friday afternoon, and she was happy to get out of work a little early to do some shopping ahead of the weekend. But between the street traffic and her lingering at the mall, she was arriving home later than she wanted, close to rush hour. She’d so looked forward to being home alone on a lazy afternoon. Open the curtains wide to the city sky, climb in bed, and have the kind of orgasm she’d sorely wanted.

Shopping bags in hand, she headed to the bank of elevators, where her heart sank immediately. There were four elevator banks, and there was a handwritten sign on one of them that read, with grammatical weirdness, SORRY NO SERVICING. Just one elevator, but one busted elevator had a way of becoming a serious headache quick, Holly knew. If it was a busy time of day, the 18-floor building could be crowded with people seeking to get up or down. And for Holly, who lived on the 18^th floor, that could become a very serious headache. People crowding in, people hitting the button for just about every floor, that one guy who inevitably broke out that lame “guess we caught the local!” joke that left Holly murderous and fuming in the corner of the elevator car.

Something had made Holly especially horny this afternoon—she could feel the pleasant, slight, but urgent tingle between her legs as she anticipated climbing into bed. Luckily, there was nobody in the atrium, and one of the elevators opened with a polite ping, as if she were getting valet service to her destination: cumming hard. Stepping inside quickly, Holly pressed the CLOSE DOOR button repeatedly. She’d heard that the button didn’t actually do anything, that it was just there to appease impatient people. But what was Holly in this moment if not an impatient person in need of appeasing? Keeps on pressing the button but nothing happens, Holly thought, her clit pulsing. Story of my sex life.

She rolled her eyes at herself—that joke was nearly as bad as “guess we caught the local!” No matter. The elevator doors were starting to close. She was home free. She stepped back against the far wall of the car, pulling her shopping bags up to her chest. Maybe she’d inspect her purchases on the way up…

A hand sprung between the elevator doors just as they were about to close. The doors snapped back. A man stepped inside.

**

How long had it been since Holly had been truly well-fucked? If she had to think about it, it would have been depressingly close to a year ago. It would’ve been with Stephen, the IT executive she’d been flirting with for weeks on a dating site. There was a lot to like about him—a bit of a silver fox, confident, sexy blue eyes, and a nice thick veiny cock, judging from the pics he’d texted her. The downside was distance: He lived 500 miles away. But when he let her know he’d be in town for a conference for a few days, she cleared her schedule.

They already knew what they wanted from each other, thanks to their weeks of phone chats and sexts. He was a self-declared tit man, so she made sure to show up in a low-cut tank top that clung tightly to her 36DDs. She knew he fantasized about grinding against her from behind, so she wore a clingy pair of pants that rode high up her ass. You’re going to like what you see, she texted him an hour before they met, and she was right.

But even though Holly was sure she was going to have a good time with Stephen, entering the hotel made it feel even more thrilling. He was staying at an upscale hotel—and, this being Vegas, the atrium was super-sized, feeling as big as half a soccer field. When she knocked on the door to Stephen’s room, he led her into a roomy suite with large tinted windows open to the warm, wide desert. Something about all that space made her feel at ease and excited, like she had room to do anything. So after their first long, deep kiss in the middle of the echoey room, she flirtily asked him to grind on her ass while she stood in front of one of the windows. Displaying her eager body to whomever might have been squinting at the 35^th floor, she let Stephen press the deliciously thick and firm bulge in his pants against her needy ass, let him paw her tits as she rested her hands against the tempered glass.

She denied him nothing, let him unbuckle her and unbutton her, tugging down her slacks and wet panties, let him get on his knees and eat her ass, something she didn’t do often but which got her pussy pulsing desperately. Soon Stephen’s cock was out and she was encouraging her to get on the king-size bed. They kissed as he stripped her, tugging off her tank top and unhooking her bra, freeing her full tits. Holly’s hand naturally drifted to Stephen’s cock, which she stroked in a slow, loving rhythm, coaxing fat drops of precum onto the suite’s floor.

“How do you want me?” Holly whispered huskily.

He guided her onto the bed, on all fours, facing the window. She winced slightly as he entered her pussy—it had been so long, and he was big—but her pussy was eager for it, almost sloppily wet, and soon his fullness was something she could easily handle. Bucking against his cock as he tugged on her hair and spanked her ass, she moved her body toward the first of many orgasms. Hours later, there would be a lot of cum dripping out of her pussy, stuck to her cheeks and hair; her ass would feel beautifully strained and sore after his fingerfucking her in the shower; her mouth tasted like a man’s thick salty cum, and she was fucking proud of it. How wonderful to get so much out of this man, who gave her plenty in return. And all of it with the windows wide open. In the throes of her third—fourth?—orgasm, as Stephen sucked on her clit, she imagined the whole world watching her, and she felt no shame as her hips moved ecstatically.

**

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in,” said the man, who pressed the button for the 12^th floor. Then, saying “oops,” he pressed the one for 11. Of fucking course, Holly thought.

“It’s OK,” she said, though it wasn’t. This man, with his clumsy fingers, was standing between her and a good orgasm or two. She gave him a once-over. Nice looking—dark hair, brown eyes, tall, and fit, but more from being young, it seemed, than from any workout regimen. A well-trimmed beard. Dressed in Friday casual—gray slacks, white button-down. Well-put-together. Still, not her usual type. Since Holly had come into her own sexually, most of her partners were around her age—late 40s—and professionally accomplished. Sometimes married, which she’d made her peace with. And their sexual eagerness was born of experience, of knowing what they wanted. Younger men tended to be led by their cocks, seeking out mommies to guide them. Holly, who’d never married and had no children, wasn’t comfortable with that role, and wasn’t about to start playing it with twentysomethings.

Holly sensed that the man was giving her a once-over as well—his eyes quickly taking in her dark work slacks and loose cream-colored blouse. She was, as a friend-with-benefits once put it, too busty to hide, pointing her to a website dedicated to large-breasted ordinary women, straining the buttons of their blouses, the seams of their shirts. Her top was a little baggy, to avoid defining her shape too much in an office environment. But men are smart in their dumbness—they learn early that baggy tops means big tits.

In a different situation, Holly might’ve been nervous. Don’t get into an elevator alone with a man you don’t know well—that had been drilled into her head from her mother, from college orientation leaders, from conversations with friends who had crap experiences. (Nothing serious, thank goodness; just handsy assholes who’d misread how first dates were going.) And she didn’t like confined spaces in general. But she knew the ride would be over soon enough. One stop to dump this guy, then another unnecessary stop, and then home free.

“Having a good afternoon?” the man asked.

“Pretty good,” she said, politely. “Just eager to get home.” The display counted the floors. Five, six, seven.

“Same,” he replied. “Just looking forward to—”

The elevator shuddered, halted. Not scarily or dangerously, Holly sensed. Just…wrong. They were stuck.

“Ugh,” the man said.

“Fuck,” said Holly. She was closer to the bank of elevator buttons, and she quickly found the bright red one, the one that said IN EMERGENCY PUSH. There was no phone, just a speaker. In the late afternoon, with one elevator already under repair, somebody had to be on top of this, Holly figured. She pushed the forbidden button, one she’d never had reason to touch before, and the car was immediately filled with a loud ringing. She looked at the man, as if for approval, or a suggestion for something else they might do.

But there was nothing to do. A minute passed, two, and nothing happened. Holly pushed the button again. Still nothing.

**

Confined places weren’t sexy to Holly. Never were. She hated adolescent games like “Seven Minutes in Heaven,” which meant enduring sloppy kisses and inept pawings by inexperienced classmates in closets. She’d had roommates for much of her life—from her sister growing up to roommates through college and beyond—so opportunities to luxuriate alone in a bed to masturbate were rare. Her discovery of her ability to orgasm—pressing against the vibrating dryer in the cramped laundry room—was a thrill, but always something she had to pursue furtively, before she was discovered. Sex, for a long time, was something done too often in close quarters, in a hurry.

Her early sexual experiences with men were often similarly frustrating. Boyfriends had roommates and shared rooms filled with other peoples’ socks and smells. Or there was car sex, which was usually too cramped to actually have, so she settled for handjobs, fingerfucking, and blowjobs. Fun in their way, but she hated the constraint, the haste.

Holly had something of an epiphany a few years after college, on a beach trip with some of her girlfriends. Late in the afternoon, the skies reddening as the sun began sinking toward the horizon, Holly left her friends dozing on the sand and wandered into the still-warm ocean water. The earth felt still, and big, and she felt alone and unseen within it, a secret. There were few people left on the beach, far away. She waded forward, slowly, the water up to her tits, covered, more or less, in a bikini top. Holly enjoyed the slow movements of the water around her body, and though there was nothing sexual about the surroundings, she found herself enormously turned on.

Her eyes fixated on a ship off in the distance, a pleasure boat lazily heading across the waters. Half-thinking, she slipped her right hand under her bikini bottoms and was surprised at how sensitive and ready her clit was. She wasn’t the focus of anyone’s attention, and the water was now so pleasantly warm. The world was wide, and catering to her. Holly stroked and stroked and stroked her clit, then filled her pussy with two fingers, three. Her asshole twitched needily; she wished she could finger her ass as well, or have somebody else do it for her.

She thought about the cocks she’d enjoyed, and wished that they were here, in this big amazing perfect paradise. Fucking her in the ocean. Filling her with their cum. Lots of it. All this space for fucking. Please, please, please, she muttered to herself. Her body quaked and she almost slipped under the water. She held her body rigid for the better part of a minute, overtaken by bliss. She took a deep breath and dipped her head underwater, then let loose a deep orgasmic cry. Nobody could hear it, but Holly knew it for the release that it was. She smiled and walked back to her friends on shaky knees, her body quivering. She felt utterly perfect.

For a little while, Holly figured that she knew what that experience meant—obviously, she loved public sex. She gave it a try—accepted dates on weekend camping trips where she fucked lustily under starlit skies, went on solo trips to uncrowded parks where she could slip a hand under her jeans while pretending to read a book. Those experiences were fine for what they were, but not exciting in the way she’d hoped. She knew what she didn’t want—sex that made her feel like she was trapped. And she kind of knew what she did want—sex that felt like freedom. But wide-open spaces, in themselves, weren’t quite the answer.

Once Holly’s career took off and she was able to live by herself, then able to live by herself on the 18^th floor of a nice building, she’d spend a lot of evenings on porn sites looking for answers. Her favorite videos often featured sex in sunlit mansions, fake-tit women taken on couches by thick-cocked studs. So maybe it was sunlight. She tried various videos with various toys—dildos, bullets, vibrating butt plugs. She liked it with the windows open. When she had men over and drew the curtains wide, they’d often say she was “kinky.” But as she looked out at the city with her tits bare and her pussy flooding with need, she didn’t feel kinky, which for so many guys was a synonym for weird. She was just being herself. Why was it so hard for her to just say the things that made her herself and have a man say, Yes, good, OK? Why was freedom so absurd that people thought it was kinky?

**

It had been a minute or so with no response, and Holly figured she’d have to be friendly with the man she was stuck with. She set her shopping bags on the floor of the car, and asked, “Want to give it a try yourself?”

The man smirked. “I’m no better at pushing a button than you are, but, OK….”

He reached over to push the emergency button. Miraculously the speaker squawked to life. Maybe his fingers aren’t so clumsy, Holly thought. “We hear ya, we hear ya!” said a man. “How many people in the car?”

“Two,” they responded simultaneously.

“OK, we got people coming! You’re safe, but it’s going to be a while. Traffic’s a mess for some reason. Repair guy should’ve shut your car down too.” Holly mentally drafted a lawsuit in her head.

“How long is a while?” the man asked.

“‘Bout an hour. Can you hold tight till then?”

The man looked at Holly, who gave him a shrug that said I don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?

“We can handle it,” he said.

The speaker made a staticky noise and clicked off. The two were alone again. The man slid down the side of the elevator car and sat in the corner, opposite Holly. Holly set her bags down and did the same. They faced each other and smirked at their predicament. He introduced himself as Tom. “Holly,” she replied.

A moment passed and then Holly said, “So what were you looking forward to?”

Tom looked confused for a second, then he smiled—he was about to explain before the elevator got stuck. “Oh. The weekend. I have a date tomorrow night.”

“I hope you’re able to make it,” she joked, gesturing at the elevator they were stuck in. “First date?”

“No, but it’s still early yet. Still feeling each other out a little bit, you know?”

Holly felt a twinge of inexplicable jealousy. He seemed like a nice guy, even if he wasn’t exactly her type. She could see herself going on a date with him, though she’d been avoiding dates for a while.

“I get it. Where are you going to go?”

Tom paused for a long moment. “I’m supposed to say dinner and a movie, right?”

Holly smirked. “But instead you’re going to…”

Tom nodded toward one of her shopping bags—the smallest one, but most clearly in his line of sight. Holly had forgotten amid the disruption of the stuck elevator. The sex-toy shop that Holly had gone to this afternoon, Solo and Partners, had an intentionally vague logo, a sinuous image of flowing and interlocking wavy lines. It didn’t announce “place to find thick 12-inch dildoes, paddles, and nipple clamps.” But if you knew the store, you knew the logo, discreetly placed in pink on the black bag.

Holly saw what he was looking at, finally. “Oh….oh!” she said. And she blushed. Old as she was, comfortable in her body as she was, sex-positive as she was, here she was blushing with a stranger.

**

Holly liked sex toys. But over time what she discovered was this: She liked somebody else using sex toys on her. One of her favorite partners—Juan, who was actually local—took great pleasure in trying things out on her. The way he would slowly caress her breasts, making her nipples achingly hard, and then apply nipple clamps to them. It was such an achingly pleasurable feeling, and Juan was a talented enough lover to know that his job was to sustain that ache, to keep her on that edge of pain and lust that promised the most intense orgasms.

He loved her ass too, more than any other lover she’d had. In a hotel room—he was married, and liked treating her to big suites—he would bend her over a desk and work copious amounts of lube around her asshole, sliding his fingers deep in her as anus tightly and slickly responded to his attentions. The lube dripped down her thighs, her shins, to the floor. Juan loved using lots of lube just for the sight of it, the fantasy of getting his “special girl” so wet she’d soak a hotel rug.

“So messy,” he’d coo in her ear lovingly.

“I’m your messy girl,” she’d coo back, grateful. “More.”

More meant a slim vibrating butt plug that she loved for him to use on her before he’d fuck her on the hotel bed. When he inserted it in her, she shuddered at first—the lube cooled so quickly—but then she settled into that gentle fullness. Then he’d push the button on the internal vibrator and Holly would writhe a little on top of the towel he’d considerately placed on the bed, there to accept the lube and her own very soaked pussy. Her tits lasciviously bounced up, practically to her chin—she clutched one in her hand and tugged on the nipple while Juan sucked on the other one. And then the feeling of Juan’s cock entering her, which seemed to send the vibrations in her ass all around her pelvis. Holly would be cumming even before he began fucking her in earnest. But then he did start fucking her, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting, and she relaxed and enjoyed this gift that he was giving her. Her orgasms were full and loud—hotels were so freeing that way. She imagined people hearing her. She didn’t care. Juan took his cock out of her and sprayed cum recklessly on her, spattering her tits, her chin, her belly, her bare pussy.

“So messy,” he said again. He gathered up some cum that had pooled on her stomach and fed it to her, dripping on her tongue.

“Messiest girl,” she replied. They kissed and held each other. At some point the butt plug stopped vibrating—either the button got pushed off, or the batteries ran down, or she broke it. No matter. She loved the idea of wearing a good toy out, putting it to its best use. She kissed her lover hard and the toy slowly slipped out of her. It thudded to the floor.

“Oh, no, my favorite toy slipped out,” she said playfully, like a girl who’d misplaced her homework. “What am I going to do?”

“We’ll find a replacement,” he said, and guided her hand to his half-hard cock. Holly began to stroke it.

**

But Juan didn’t last—he moved. She tried not to think about that too much in the elevator now—it would be a little awkward to have a reverie about her toys while a strange man was sitting here next to her. But then, the horse was kind of out of the barn—for the moment, the sole thing they had in common, besides their apartment building, was a favorite sex shop. Holly decided that Tom wasn’t giving up any creepy vibes and decided to run with it.

“First time you two have gone there together?”

Tom nodded. He was blushing a little too.

“Then it sounds like you’re serious. Or not serious in the right way.”

“We’ll see. I know a little about what she’s into, she knows what I’m into. But if you go there, you know—sometimes just seeing what’s available can surprise you. You discover kinks you didn’t even know you had.”

Holly drew her knees up to her chest across from him. She had a flickering thought that if she were naked right now he would have a direct view of her bare pussy. And if he could do that, he would see that she was glistening. Not enormously turned on. But enjoying the pleasant buzzy feeling of having an erotic conversation, letting your mind dwell on the pleasures of sex. And it was in that slight flicker that made her ask, “Like what kind of kinks?”

Tom responded casually, as if they were talking about the weather. “She loves being spanked, and I knew that. But the last time we were there she saw a paddle, and she was just…yes. So I gave her a paddle as a present. I’m not sure what we’ll get this time around.” He chuckled. “She’s calling it a ‘learning excursion.'”

“That sounds nice, that you do that,” Holly said. Her mind was blank. She wanted this line of conversation to continue, but wasn’t sure how to do it. She hoped that maybe Tom was smart enough to take command, to keep the conversation focused on sex without being greedy or presumptuous about it. You don’t have to come closer to me, she thought, as if trying to send a message to him telepathically. Just keep saying things that keep my pussy wet, OK?

“So,” Tom ventured, nodding at her bag. “What did you get?” His eyes were dark and serious. He had his knees drawn up too. Holly looked for evidence of a hard-on, but it wasn’t easy to tell sometimes. She smirked at herself for hoping for one.

“Just a couple of smaller things,” Holly said. “A bullet vibe for myself. The last one I had broke.”

Tom raised an eyebrow at her, bemused.

“Oh, stop,” she laughed. “It wasn’t like I broke it from using it too much or something. Some of this stuff is flimsy. Holly wanted a new vibe, Holly got a new vibe, OK?”

“May I see it?”

“It’s a vibe,” she demurred. “Besides, I don’t want the elevator to come back on and the doors open while I have a sex toy in my hand.”

“The guy said it’d be an hour. We have time.”

“Well, maybe they’ll—”

The speaker squawked again. The man’s voice asked after their general well-being, in a tone of voice that suggested a rehearsed effort to avoid the lawsuit Holly was contemplating. He then informed him that the building engineer was running late–the hour he originally said was going to be closer to two. But that he was assured that the elevator was safe. He talked about backups and belays that ensured they wouldn’t careen a hundred or so feet to the ground. The speaker switched off.

“So,” Tom asked after a moment, as if the intrusive man’s voice needed a moment to dissolve. “May I see?”

Holly gave in. She opened the bag and took the bullet vibe out. Silver, shiny. Thick black button at the end. Three speeds. Nothing at all fancy. She held it in her hand, and somehow Tom had scooted over, sitting perpendicular from her but close, their feet nearly touching. They looked at the vibe, then each other. “It has three speeds,” she said, dumbly. Something was happening. “Here, see.” She held it out to him.

Tom took the vibe, but also held her hand. He pressed the button once, and the toy came to life at its lightest speed, a gentle but consistent purr. He ran the vibe across her fingers slowly, saying nothing. What is he doing? Holly thought. He pushed the button again and continued to run it along her palm and fingers. The feeling was more erotic now, the pulsing of the vibe on her hand connecting more directly to the rest of her body, to her increasingly needy pussy.

Tom locked eyes with her as he kept using the vibe. He pushed the button again, to the third speed, a much more intense and insistent buzz. Holly’s mouth widened into an O, and she was caught off-guard by the electric feeling of all this—a stranger doing nothing but holding a piece of metal and a cheap motor but turning her on intensely. She gasped a little. He focused the end of the vibe on the end of her middle finger, moving it slightly, treating her fingertip like it was her clit.

“It seems like it works nicely,” Tom said.

“It…works,” Holly sighed.

Tom’s voice softened to a whisper. “You should use it,” he said.

“You mean…”

“Here. Now.”

“I….”

“I’ll only watch. Scout’s honor. You have that look in your eye.”

Holly scoured her brain for the words to protest, and then he whispered more firmly, “Do it.”

Holly gave in.

She unbuttoned and unzipped her slacks, moving slightly forward to allow her legs to spread wider. Tom inched away slightly to give her room. As she slipped her hand holding the vibe under her panties, she was charged and comforted by how warm and wet she was. Tom was as good as his word, simply watching her, but she loved the idea of having a witness. So much sexier than doing this alone. When she pushed the button for the first speed, pressing the vibe just near her clit, she gasped again. Her back arched slightly, and soon she was clutching one of her full, needy tits in her other hand, clutching at the thin fabric of her blouse and the lace of her bra to massage the hard nipple underneath. The sensation was everything, everything, and yet not enough. She clicked the vibe again, to the second speed, and she squealed slightly. Her fingers fumbled to hold the vibe while she could work a couple of fingers into her pussy. She unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her blouse and reached a hand inside, clutching her tit over her bra. If only somebody could help with this, she thought, her eyes shut, then realized Tom was inches away, looking at her. She had help, if she wanted it. He’d say yes if she asked, she was sure. Oh, fuck, this is going to get very reckless very quickly, she thought.

She locked eyes with him. His lids narrowed—something hot and urgent in them, trying to encourage her to orgasm with the intensity of his gaze. Holly’s wet mouth slackened and opened as the vibe seemed to find the perfect set of nerve endings. She imagined a cock—Tom’s cock—filling her mouth while she came. Her body bucked and moved, tightened around the impossibly blissful orgasm that began flooding her body. She squinted hard, as she always did when she came, and let the waves of pleasure wash over her. She slumped back, one hand caressing her soaked pussy, the other under her bra, tweaking a hard nipple. Her skin was warm with exertion but not tired. She craved more. It was the same feeling she had watching that ship on the horizon. Everything was open now.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Tom was looking at her, smirking—not lustily, no longer eyefucking her, but pleased to see her enjoy that intense moment of pleasure, as if he were a friend who was happy she got a new job.

Holly smiled at him. “Damn,” she panted. “That was…something.”

“It was,” he said. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then he said, “What else did you get on your trip?”

**

Holly didn’t make a conscious decision to give up on dating for a while. It’s just that the men who came into her life moved away. Alone, she struggled to figure out what was going to give her the most pleasure, and she couldn’t quite nail it down. Roomy hotels were nice, but only so nice if her partners were just passing through. Wide-open spaces were nice, but she wasn’t going to be the type to fuck on the beach. Maybe she’d gotten everything all wrong in terms of her wants, and because she didn’t have clear answers, the men she encountered on dating sites didn’t capture her imagination the way they used to. She didn’t need The One—she wasn’t convinced such a person existed—but she wanted a One who could clarify what she was seeking.

Lacking that, Holly masturbated. A lot. Rubbing her clit in the shower in the morning; thrusting a thick vibrator in her pussy and around her clit at night. She watched porn videos, read porn stories, found herself drawn to ones about taboo and illicit encounters—fucking the boss, incest. That process of discovery was exciting, if not exactly clarifying. She didn’t want to fuck her boss, or her sister. But sometimes, when she went into chat rooms, she played along with those fantasies. Some of the room had cams, and one night she enjoyed the company of one big-cocked man enough to turn the cam on. Not showing her face, just the low-cut tank top with spaghetti straps, the fabric so thin that her hard nipples were impossible not to see.

The man encouraged her to caress her tits, and she did it. She pulled down the top, exposing more of her deep cleavage. He began roleplaying with her:

I love looking at your big tits, mommy. I can’t help it.

Maybe mommy likes showing them to you. My pussy gets tingly when I see you staring at me.

I want to suck them, mommy.

Holly tugged up her top, presenting her full tits to the man. Only his cock was visible. She watched him stroke it, too rapt in staring at her and stroking to type anything back. But she could imagine what he was thinking. He wanted to cum all over her tits. He wanted mommy to suck his thick cock. Let him slide his thick cock into her needy pussy, which was a very naughty thing to do with mommy, something you weren’t supposed to do. Holly was fingering herself now. And wouldn’t it be so wrong if he put his cock inside her pussy? So naughty, so wrong. Soon, the man’s cock was spurting cum, which always pleased Holly. Nice, to be able to do that for somebody. But then the camera clicked off and the man disappeared. Of course.

So maybe those online encounters held out no possibility of a One, but orgasms were still nice. Holly lied to Tom—she did break a bullet vibe. She was playing with it one Saturday afternoon—no porn, just face down on her bed, ass hiked up, imagining somebody filling up her pussy or ass (or both!) while she massaged her clit with the toy. As her body began bouncing more intently on the bed, something hit at the wrong angle and the bullet snapped apart, the pieces disconnecting. I fucked my vibe to death, she thought, laughing.

So that was the goal of Holly’s Friday afternoon trip to Solo and Partners—get a nice little replacement vibe for her arsenal. After talking with a well-informed staffer there, she was the proud owner of a newer, more durable vibe; funnily, the manufacturer’s name was Ocean Pleasures. But once she’d made that selection, she lingered in the store for a while. She wanted something else, something more, something that she could use with a partner. Anybody who was going to be a partner with her, anybody who was going to be a One, would have to be comfortable with giving her pleasure, just like Juan did. She wanted a toy that a man could use on her and get her cumming. Something that would offer a pathway to the kinds of pleasure she was seeking. Holly was tired of being alone, had been for a while. There had to be somebody, she figured.

It took a little while for her to identify just the thing. Which meant her shopping trip ran later than expected. Which meant she showed up at her apartment building at just the time for the elevator she stepped into to allow one more passenger, and for that elevator to get stuck.

**

Holly looked at Tom. This was the moment when she should’ve started putting herself back together: buttoning her blouse, taking her hand out of her pants. But there she sat, one tit half out of a bra, her hand still between her legs, her pussy still wet. She’d turned off the vibe. That was her one concession to decency. And this man—this stranger—wanted to know what else she had, the other thing she’d brought.

“You want to know what else I got at the sex shop?” She meant it to sound scolding, as if they’d had their fun and it was now time to be adults again. But fingerfucking herself had dehydrated herself somewhat, and her voice was huskier, sultry.

Tom nodded slightly. He was still impossible to read. Obviously he was interested in her getting off, and watching her do it. But there was no evidence that he was turned on himself. He made no move to kiss her, or even touch her, and he was angled away from her, so she couldn’t see if he had a bulge in his pants.

Holly pulled her cunty fingers from her pants and opened the bag. “Just two things,” she said. She pulled out a smallish bottle of lube, and a box containing a new vibrating butt plug, much thicker than the slight one Juan had used on her.

When Holly saw it at the shop, she bristled at first, unsure if she was prepared for such a sizable toy—thick and bruise-purple and very filling. Her body seemed to respond directly, twitching instinctively. Yes, her pussy and twitching asshole seemed to be telling her. Fill me with that. Then: Find somebody to fill me with that.

Later, Holly would bemusedly recall that she could have set the bottle and the box in front of her in the elevator. Just display the goods for Tom. That would’ve been fine. But that’s not what she did. She handed them to Tom. Of course, that could’ve been read as just simple friendly sharing—look what I got at the store. But Holly would be kidding herself in thinking that. Looking back, she knew it for what it was: an unconscious invitation. She loved toys best when somebody else was using them on her, and here was exactly one (1) somebody else.

Without comment, Tom set down the lube bottle and opened the box containing the butt plug. He took it out and seemed to admire its smooth silicone, its thickness. It was four inches long and thick, much thicker than her other toy. It was built for somebody who was serious about having her ass fucked. He ran his fingers along it, tested the vibrator nestled inside. Three speeds. He tested each of them for a few seconds. Holly looked at it and felt her ass tighten greedily.

Silently, with a girlish moue on her face, Holly stood up. She was going to chance it. She was going to trust that this man, who had somehow persuaded her to masturbate in front of him not 20 minutes after meeting him—in an elevator, no less—knew what he was doing with an anal sex toy. Standing, her unbuttoned blouse waved open, exposing one full tit removed from her bra. Her slacks were just barely hanging on to her hips; she let them fall. She tugged down her panties and stepped out of them. She turned around, bent down slightly to grasp the elevator car’s railing, and waited. She didn’t look back. She trusted.

Soon enough, she felt Tom’s hand, caressing up her left thigh and then around her ass. Instinctively, she spread her legs a little further, made her ass more available to him. Then, the sticky wetness of the lube, cool at first, then warmer as he began gently working his fingers between her ass cheeks, then around her asshole. He was using a lot of lube, which she loved because it made her more comfortable, and also for how reckless it was—messy girl.

Holly pulled down her other bra cup, freeing her other tit. Now her breasts hung free as Tom worked his warm fingers nearer her asshole, teasing her with a finger, testing her, working one finger in, just to the first knuckle. Then nothing, then the sound of something being slicked up—he was pouring more lube on the butt plug.

Holly drew one finger down to her pussy, which was soaked again, perhaps catching some of the lube again. Her clit was more than recovered from her earlier attentions, but she was bracing herself for Tom. She wanted what he was going to deliver for her, and trusted him implicitly.

He pressed the head of the toy against her asshole for a long moment, and Holly sighed gratefully. She pressed back slightly more, encouraging Tom. He pressed the button and she thrilled to the buzz around her nerve endings. Tom began sliding the toy inside her, just slightly, back and forth, working her needy ass and making her needier. More lube. A sticky hand caressing her ass. The toy was nearly halfway in her now—not at its thickest, but close. But she could take it. She was taking it. She loved taking it.

“More,” Holly groaned.

Tom pressed the button again. Speed two. It was unexpectedly intense at first, more than she’d expected, but soon her ass relaxed into it. She reached down and touched her clit again, loving how on fire she was. She began rocking back and forth slightly, fucking the toy, delighting in Tom’s slow, steady attention to her. The toy was now at its thickest in her, and she began ratcheting her hips, as if silently commanding Tom to get it in her all the way.

And then it was all the way in her. That fat fucking buttplug was now deep in Holly’s ass, all the way in her ass, completely in her. Tom was now caressing her ass cheeks, guiding her back and forth, as if he were fucking her. Maybe he can fuck my ass later, she thought. Her body was now shuddering, delectably full.

“Goddamn yes,” Holly squeaked.

Tom pressed the button again and it was if sparks shot through her body. The third speed seemed to set her entire body vibrating, and for a moment she was at a loss at what to do. Writhe on the floor of the elevator car? Invite Tom to fuck her pussy, to take the toy out and fill her ass? She wanted to cry, scream, something.

Then, a calming hand on her shoulder, steadying her. Another on her ass. How sweet of him, she thought.

“You’ve got this, Holly,” he said. “Take it.”

As he held her, she bucked and shuddered again. The toy was so powerful in her. She mewled and squealed, cried out for attention, for comfort. Oh, how nice to have somebody take care of her while she was taking on so much! Fuck, what a good idea this was, to get such a big, big toy! A small orgasm washed over her, then a larger, more powerful one. She tugged and tugged at the rail as she came, her body exploding with pleasure and gratitude.

She didn’t need wide-open spaces, or public sex, or any of that. What she needed was somebody she trusted with her deepest needs, and permission to pursue it. This little space was as wide as the horizon, with somebody who made her feel like that.

She panted hard, clutching the railing, coming down from her high. Finally, she turned and looked at Tom, who had that same approving look on his face.

“Enough,” Holly said, slipping to her knees. “Stop playing coy. I know you have a big fucking hardon in here, don’t you?”

“I do,” he said, and he helped her unbuckle and unzip him, freeing his cock, reddened with need and thickly veined. Precum weeped from his cockhead, and his balls were very tight at the root. Instinctively she began stroking it, and soon she was licking and sucking it. Tom ran a lube-slick hand through her hair and began thrusting more intensely in Holly’s wet mouth.

When he came, she let his cock shoot all over, ropes hitting her chin, her tits, her neck. Then she sucked him again, letting the remaining evidence of his pleasure fill her mouth. She nuzzled his cock, kissed the lowest part of his belly. Then she sat back on her haunches and looked up at him. Somehow, in however amount of time passed, she’d wound up naked except for an unbuttoned blouse and a bra that wasn’t containing her tits, her body spattered with lube and cum, her pussy sore, her ass filled with a very thick and very satisfying toy.

Tom’s half-limp cock dripped before her. He reached a hand out. She took it. He helped her up. They kissed for a long moment. Holly felt she same feeling she had that afternoon in ocean, finally free.

She practically leaped when the speaker squawked again. “Hey, you two still OK, there?”