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“Thanks.” There was no way in hell I wasevergoing to New York. Sasha could throw me out tomorrow and I still wouldn’t call her. I’d sleep in the Adler’s boiler room if I had to.
After she left, I tried watching TV to pass the time. I knew Sasha said not to wait up, but I couldn’t help it. Picturing him out with his “fuck boy,” whether it was true or not, left my stomach in knots.
I mean, I saw firsthand how hard it was for Sasha to accept who he was. But now that he had, did that mean he was looking to sow some more oats? He and Valery were together an awful lot, just like him and Misha. And Misha was gay. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility Valery could also be gay. Or bi. Or just into Sasha because Sasha was fucking gorgeous. Or—
Enough was enough.
Thinking about Sasha with another guy led my brain down a path that had me thinking about the black bag I’d stashed under the bed earlier. If I could convince him once and for all I was fine, then maybe he wouldn’t be inclined to look elsewhere for his... needs.
It was fucking insane, but maybe Frankie had a point.
In a sudden surge of confidence, I hopped off the couch and returned to the bedroom, unearthing my clandestine purchase.
Part of Sasha’s hesitancy, I’m sure, was fear of re-injuring me. Not that he wouldeverdiscuss it. So if I could show him it wasn’t an issue, then maybe things could start to get back to normal between us — whatever the hell normal was supposed to look like, anyway.
I shed my clothes and exhaled a breath, climbing into bed with a blue silicone substitute for what I really wanted. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I mean, I knew. Generally speaking. But thus far my masturbatory experiences hadn’t included anything in the realm of sex toys.
“This is so fucking weird,” I muttered, holding the blue penis lengthwise. Color aside, it wasn’t quite a replica of Sasha’s dick, but it was good enough for its intended purpose. I didn’t even care if I got off from it — I just wanted to know I could still have sex with Sasha the way we used to. The doctor might have assured me everything was “fine” and “normal” in that regard, but I was skeptical. And clearly so was Sasha.
Just remembering what sex used to be like turned my dick to fucking stone. God, I missed it. I missedhim. His large hands, the scrape of his stubble, the heat from his body. It was so hot, literally and figuratively, and raw and unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I wanted it back, all of it, just like before.
I reached for the bottle of lube and coated myself and the dildo so it was ready if I decided to go through with it. The scent of watermelon filled the air and I swore, rolling the bottle over. Sure enough, it was the wrong fucking one. Of course. But it was too late now.
Giving my finger a tentatively lick, I shrugged. At least it tasted good. Some edible lubes were so artificial it was nauseating. I was just happy I didn’t grab the peppermint by mistake. That little surprise was all for Sasha… if he ever let me near his dick again.
Laying down, I closed my eyes and focused on my memories with him. I stroked myself in long, slow movements, making sure I was completely in control and aware of everything going on with my body. Blowing too early kind of defeated the purpose of this little experiment.
It was easy to lose myself in the past, remembering the feel of Sasha’s tongue, the sound of his breathing, the way his fingers dug into me to keep me close. I focused on his hands, the way he took care prepping me beforehand, how his long fingers felt curling inside, stroking and stretching.
Biting my lower lip, I grabbed the dildo and shifted my hips, so I was more or less laying on my side. The position was new and sort of awkward, but it seemed like it would be the easiest way to maneuver it without accidentally impaling myself.
Picking up my memories where I put them on pause, I swallowed thickly and slipped the toy between my asscheeks, positioning the head at the hole.
Sitting up suddenly, I grabbed the bottle of lube and added more — more to the toy, more to me, more to my hands. It was a good thing I put a towel down. Sasha would be pissed if I ruined the sheets. Maybe I should have done this in the shower. Or the floor. Or not at all because it was a terrible fucking idea and—
“Shut up,” I hissed at myself and laid down again.
I could do this. I knew I could. It was just a fake blue penis. Nothing scary at all about that. Laughable, sure. But not scary. More importantly, I was in total control.
When I exhaled again, I pushed the head inside slowly. It didn’t get far. I consciously relaxed my entire body and took another breath. It was fine. This part was normal. Right? There was always resistance.
Nope.Nothappening.
I set the dildo aside and opted to start even smaller — just a finger. That should be a cake walk.
Reaching behind me, I ran a hand down my asscheek, squeezing it the way Sasha would. I skimmed my palm over it, along the crease, making my way to the hole. Spreading lube around the rim in slow circles, I teased myself until I felt my body relax and then pressed my finger against the opening.
A faint burning accompanied the intrusion, but it wasn’t outright pain, which I considered a fucking victory. As far as I could tell from my limited reach, everythingfeltnormal, but Sasha would know more than I would.
Sliding my finger out most of the way, I closed my eyes and pushed it back in, deeper than the first time. A few more strokes and the burning vanished entirely, replaced by a pleasurable pressure. I kept the rhythm slow and steady, giving attention to my cock again in equally languid movements.
If I tried hard enough, I could imagine everything I was doing was actually Sasha. I could smell his cologne mixed with the wintergreen gum he always chewed. Then there was the intense heat of his hand, the roughness of his palm caressing the curve of my ass.
My eyes flew open and I nearly died from mortification on the spot. “Sasha!”
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, his brow furrowed. He didn’t sound pissed, but his attention was clearly on the blue penis laying where he normally would.
“I, um…” Fuck! Please, God, let me die right here and now. “I thought you left for the night.”
