Five Sunsets: Bonus Scene

The following is a two-chapter bonus scene from my book Five Sunsets, a spicy older woman younger man romance. You can find the book here, and I do recommend you read  this first before diving into this scene because not all of it will make sense. If you want to read  the book before enjoying this bonus content and therefore want to avoid spoilers, stop now and go get the book. This scene will be here waiting for you when you're ready, don't worry.

For those of you who have read the book, this is the scene that takes place during Jenna and Marty's last day together, and specifically is what happens when Marty cashes in the bet he won from playing and winning Scrabble.

A gentle warning that this scene is SPICY. Like truly not safe for work. As in, do not read if you are at work. Or doing anything where you may not want to be interrupted. And also, get yourself a glass of water. Like now.

Now, enjoy!

Chapter One - Marty

Two dildos and a bottle of lube lie in front of me.

If they could, I'm pretty they would be winking at me, but as it is they lay motionless and inanimate and yet, I'm excited. I'm agitated. And I'm also a little nervous. This - what we're about to do - is not completely new to me, but it is new to me with a woman. I know it shouldn't make a difference, but somehow, rightly or wrongly, it does and I just spent a long shower, washing myself thoroughly, thinking about this and how constantly surprised I am by these new revelations relating to my bisexuality.

I don't spend much time deliberately thinking about being bisexual - rightly or wrongly, I don't spend much time deliberately thinking about anything - but when I do, I realise that as comfortable as I am about my queerness and as confident as I am in it, there are still many ways that heteronormativity bleeds into my thoughts and sometimes, my feelings. Because, if I'm honest, if you had told me six months ago that the next person I'd fall in love with after losing Arnie would be a woman, I'm not sure I would have believed you.

But here I am, standing in a beautiful woman's holiday villa and staring down at two of her sex toys.

"You know they're not going to shove themselves up your arse?" Her words are crass but the way her arms slide around my waist is anything but. Her skin is warm and smooth against mine, and when I feel two stubborn points rub up against my back, I know she is naked, or at least topless. Even though it's a sight that has blessed my eyes for a good percentage of the last few days, I can't help but turn around to see it again. As I do, she pulls back, as if knowing I want to drink her in.

"Are you okay?" She asks looking up at me. Still wearing her bikini bottoms from the jacuzzi we had before my shower, I slide my hands under them to knead her butt cheeks. "Is this... do you still want to do this?"

"I'm more than okay. I'm just struggling with..."

"I get that this was probably an Arnie thing," she jumps in and my hands stop moving.

"No, well, yes. It was an Arnie thing. He was my first. But he wasn't my last," I say and can't stop myself from sucking the side of my cheek into my mouth. 


"I definitely put the bender in my Balearic Bender, that's for sure." I try to laugh it off but it doesn't land right.

"You're not in Ibiza now," she says in a quiet voice. "You're here, with me."

"I am," I say. I debate telling her about some of my concerns and nerves, but I already know she will be gentle with me, and I will do everything I can to reassure her that I will be gentle with her. I would do that anyway.

"Which one do you want?" She leans to the side and looks down at her toys on the bed. She looks just as eager as I'm feeling.

"You choose," I say unable to stop my hands from roaming up her back, sliding them over more smooth skin.

Jenna steps to the side as I turn around. Suddenly we're side by side looking down at the dildos and I can't help but think how funny we would look if someone were to walk in and see us looking at sex toys as if we're trying to pick out a new kettle together. That little reference to normal life, to brilliantly dull domesticity has my mind reeling with giddy, wild, almost impossible hope and it only starts to settle when I tell myself that one day, Jenna and I will have that.

"Hmm," she hums and I know her mind is far from kitchen appliance shopping. She points at the large blue one that is shaped like a very large, thick cock but with perhaps an excessive number of veins. "This one is big. Really big. So, if you don't mind, as this is my first time, I'm going to pick Pinkie."

Jenna bends down and picks up Pinkie, the one that has buttons, suggesting it's a vibrator. It is indeed slimmer and slightly shorter, and has a gentle curve that had caught my eye, but I agree it's a better choice for someone's first time.

"You've really never done this before?" I ask her.

Jenna doesn't meet my gaze to reply, and her cheeks flush pink. "Not with someone else." She clears her throat. "I've played around by myself though. Is that weird?"

"Weird that you tried something you were curious about by yourself before trusting someone else to do it? Not at all. Sounds pretty darn sensible to me."

"I have my moments," she says and her eyes find mine again.

"And you know you'll need to get me ready? As much as I'd love you to just shove it in me, it's so much better when we take our time."

"I know." Jenna blushes again. I realise that she probably knows as much as I do about these things. Her job means she knows about things even if she has never tried them herself. Or at least her former job. I hope she realises she is still qualified to do that work, and I can imagine, she is very good at it too.

"And if you want to try it too," I find her hand and wrap my fingers around hers. "I will go slow with you."

"I know you will, Marty. I can't imagine you being anything but very, very gentle with me." Jenna nods at me as my chest gets close to stretching beyond comfort. "I should go shower."

"Please be quick." The words rush out of my mouth before I can catch them.

"I promise," she says and after squeezing my hand, she's gone.

Hearing the shower switch on in her en-suite bathroom, I climb over the dildos and lie down, keeping my towel wrapped around my waist. Out of nowhere I have an urge to talk to someone, out loud.

"Do you remember my first time?" I ask Arnie. "How terrified I was but how that just translated into nervous energy? I was rushing you to get on with it, but you knew. You knew I needed to go slow. God, it annoyed me until you started using that scary voice of yours, telling me to stop wriggling and shut up, and then I was just crazy turned on so I just did whatever you told me too because, fuck, I loved it when you took control."

I lift my hand and pick up the blue dildo thinking about some of the toys we had bought together.

"I'm sorry I threw them all away," I say and I feel my mouth change shape, from smiling wide to frowning small. The temperature of my body drops too. "I just couldn't keep them knowing we'd never play with them together again."

Somehow a single random thought saves me from melting into tears.

"Jesus, I can't imagine what the binmen would think if they happened to open up that bag." I laugh and it hurts my chest a little, but doesn't take me away from where I am, lying there waiting for Jenna to return from her shower.

It doesn't take her long and when she steps into the room again, wrapped in her robe, I can tell from the small droplets hanging from the tips of her hair that she's barely dried off after her shower. Seeing her eagerness so transparently, has me kneeling up on the bed and opening my arms for her. She climbs up on the bed and cups my face with her two hands and there's only the briefest moment for me to admire her smile before she's kissing me, deeply. I grab her around her waist and pull her in close. We should be bored of this already. The kissing. We've been doing it on and off all day, and for much of the last four days, but I'm so far from over it. I want more. I always want more of Jenna, but it's not unsatisfying. In fact, it's a desire that satiates. A lust that always wants, but with it comes comfort. This desire is almost what satisfies me the most. Always wanting more is a headspace I have always been comfortable in.

Prompted by this, I move my hands to untie her robe, but she is quicker and before I know it, my towel has gone and she has my dick in her hands, stroking it until it goes from semi-erect to rock hard in seconds. I moan and her tongue is more insistent, claiming as much of my mouth as she can.

"Lie down," she pulls away to say and her voice is low and deep. "On your back."

I do as she says and both of our eyes fall to my erection as it stands upright for a second before landing on my stomach with a light slap.

"I love your dick," she says, her mouth sounding breathless and dry.

"I love how you're looking at it right now," I say and I put my hand behind my head, elbow bent, so I can lift up a little and watch her closely as she moves to straddle my knees.

"Pass me the Smurf," she says, reaching out a hand. It takes me a few seconds to realise she's talking about the blue dildo.

"Smurf? Pinkie? You name your vibrators?"

Jenna shrugs with a smile. "They've been good to me. It's the least I can do."

I slide my hands under her robe. "Apart from the evenings when I make you video call me while playing with them, I will spend my lonely nights in Dublin thinking about you and your toys. You know that, don't you?"

It's not a surprise when she doesn't reply. I know Jenna is avoiding talking about the future today. It is a surprise, however, when she bends down and takes my cock in her mouth. All of it.

"Fuck," I hiss as Jenna's throat grips the head and the rest of it is wrapped in her warm slick mouth. Just as soon as I am closing my eyes and tipping my head back, the heat and moisture is gone. Instead, I feel her tongue snake it's way up the underside, before countless kisses rain down on the head. She alternates between more long licks and showers of kisses until her hand takes over and pumps me slowly, gliding along easily thanks to the saliva she's left there. It's good, it's a slow build, but it's also not the dizzying feeling of having her deep throat me and I am torn between enjoying what's happening and mentally begging her to take all of me in her mouth again.

But then I suddenly get what I really want, but had no clue, because her mouth is back on me but it's not on my dick, it's skating past my balls and down, down, lower, lower to put her mouth exactly where I apparently need it.

"Oh, shit, Jenna," I say, sounding as surprised as I am that she's doing this. Her only response is a hum into the sensitive skin there that is craving more, more, more of her mouth.

Tingles, sparkles, and all other manner of sensations light me up. It tickles, it soothes, it is almost healing in how good it feels. Instantly, my body is torn between going tight and rigid and relaxing completely. It feels like being wound up, and yet also being unwound all at the same time. It's been so long since I had this experience, this sensation - and of course, it was with Arnie, my beautiful Arnie - and I honestly hadn't thought much about it since, but now I'm utterly perplexed how I survived this long without it. 

Luckily for me, it seems Jenna has no plans to stop as she continues to lick, lap, kiss and even gently nibble her way around my hole, but after a few heady, delicious minutes I know I want more. I need more.

"Jenna, stop," I say softly and she immediately sits up.

"Are you okay? Was that... okay?" She asks tentatively. "It's my first time doing that to someone. Ever."

I reach for her face and cup her chin. "That was heaven. Could have you do that to me for hours, but not today, not now. Now is for... more."

As a relieved smile stretches her full lips, she starts using the hand she was previously relying on for balance to start playing with my balls, stroking, tickling and cupping gently. Then she slips those fingers lower until she is applying a little pressure to my perineum, and then back on my hole, which is still slick with her spit. As she moves her fingers in teasing circles, I grind down into the pressure while groaning. 

"Hand me the lube," she says as her hand dives lower still.

I scramble to obey, struggling at first to see straight let alone locate the bottle in the sheets. 

"Why did you bring lube with you?" I ask, a question that pops up in my mind as I hand it to her. "On holiday I mean. Were you expecting to do this with an emotionally unstable bisexual man thirteen years your junior?

Jenna's reply starts on a laugh but ends on a sigh. "Not exactly. I like feeling wet. And sometimes I don't get as wet as I would like. Also this blue fucker is big. I sometimes need any extra help I can get with him."

I actually gulp in response to that. I am far from reassured when the bottle clicks open and I watch her pour a generous blob onto her right hand which has come off my cock, all the while boasting an almost mischievous side grin.

"It's cold," she says, but I am already holding my breath with anticipation. So much anticipation that it has made me lose a bit of my erection, but in some ways that's good. I can instead just focus on what Jenna is doing as she brings the lube to the flat taut skin under my balls and she starts to stroke and play. As the liquid slides lower and she rubs more circles around my hole, I close my eyes again and let my head fall back.

"Tell me if it doesn't feel good. Tell me to stop anytime."

I rush out a deep breath. "Jesus, don't stop. Don't you dare fucken stop."

Jenna's laugh is light and airy, and her voice shakes as she replies. "Okay. But seriously. I want you to tell me when it doesn't feel good."

"I will," I say because I can sense she needs to hear that.

"And actually," she says as she applies more pressure with one finger. "I want you to tell me when it does feel good. Will you do that?"

"Yes," I grunt out, because the tip of her finger is now pushing up against me, the pressure coming and going, almost as if she's knocking. When she finally manages to push through, I moan. "That feels good, Jenna. So good."

"I'm not even a knuckle deep," she teases but I can hear how wide her smile is in her voice. 

"Then get on with it, woman," I joke but a beat later I gasp as she complies. The pain is a little more pronounced, no doubt because it's been so long, but it's nowhere near unbearable. All too easily my body remembers what's on the other side of this mild discomfort. "And push up."

She sucks in a breath as she does exactly what I ask. Starting to stroke me like this, curling her finger up against the inner wall, I know she's not yet touching my prostate but it feels close.

"Deeper, more."

"Another finger?"


"My middle finger?"

"Is it your longest one?"

"Yes, Marty," she says with another light chuckle.

"Then yes. Do it."

Eyes still closed, I hear another click of the lube bottle and a second later I feel more cold liquid around my hole. As Jenna's middle finger pushes inside me, there is another sting, but there's also a lot more pleasure in the stretch, and I treasure the full feeling I experience. Maybe it's because it's been over a year since I did this while sober, that it's almost as enjoyable as if I was doing it for the first time. Or maybe it's because I have the same kind of feelings for my partner as I did when I did it with Arnie. Either way, I'm loving it, and when I feel a weight shift just below my belly button, I realise my dick has become heavy and hard again. I'm not surprised because Jenna is now slowly curling both of those fingers up inside me, and she is so close to touching that tingly spot that it's the perfect tease, turning me on all over again. Instinctively I lift my right leg and bend it, sliding it away from Jenna but giving her space to kneel, and more space for her fingers to go deeper.

It's as if Jenna notices my returning erection at the same time and even though I open my mouth to confirm how good it feels, what her fingers are doing, I am silenced by her tongue circling the exposed tip of my head. Keeping her fingers inside me, a second later her mouth swallows me whole again.

"Fuck, Jenna," I groan. "I can't tell you how good that feels."

Her only response is to bob her head as slowly as her fingers stroke inside me. My hands find her hair and pull it back so I can see her mouth move up and down my length.

She speeds up her rhythm a little and it drives me closer to orgasm, but I know already that her fingers are too short to find my prostate, at least in this angle. And suddenly I feel very greedy. I know I could come as it is, but I want more. And I feel like that's okay. Besides, I feel like Jenna wants to give it to me.

"I'm so fucking ready," I pant out. "Please give me more."

She's grinning wildly when she pulls off my dick, licking her lips. Working in sync, she reaches for the lube as I grab Smurf and hold him out for a long squirt from the bottle. I rub it around it as she then squeezes out another blob at my entrance where her fingers have now stopped curling up and in, but rather are twisting away from one another, stretching me. I place the dildo where I want it, deliberately knocking her hand out of the way.

"Ready?" Jenna asks.

"Fuck, yes."

"Tell me to stop anytime," she says in little more than a whisper.

I nod and bring my right knee up higher. "I know this may be a really weird time to say this, Jenna, but I do love you."

She is laughing as she replies. "I love you too, Marty. Now let me and Smurf fuck you really good."

And she does, he does, they do. It takes a while for me to adjust to this new stretch and I have to ask for a little more lube before the head can go all the way in but once that part has sunk inside me, the worst of the sting fades and I find myself moving my body to try and get more of it inside me. Jenna sees it too and she pushes the toy in a little deeper.

"Angle it," I begin to explain but I don't even need to say in which direction because she tilts it against the front wall and I feel the wave of sparkles wash over me as the big head of the toy rubs on my prostate.

"There!" I state loudly. "There right there."

She freezes for a second, but eventually moves the toy exactly where I need her too. I don't care now if she doesn't put my dick back in my mouth, I just want to feel this. This old and new, strange but familiar high that is making me feel like I'm floating.

"Fuck, yes," I say and I throw an arm over my head to block out the light. I only want to feel.

And feel I do, when Jenna's mouth comes back on my dick. She sucks me, tongues the head, kisses me all the way down to the base, and then she resumes deep-throating me, varying it with licking and sucking. I know then that I'm going to come from this, so so hard. Far too hard for a man who has been coming non-stop for the last seventy-two hours. Instinctively I also want to fuck, to thrust my hips and ride the giant fucken toy that's stretching me so good.

"Jenna," I say. "Your mouth feels like heaven. Your toy is driving me wild."

Jenna keeps me in her mouth, her lips sliding up and down the top half. She looks up at me briefly and I reach to cup the side of her face.

"Keep looking at me. As much as you can. You look so pretty right now," I tell her.

Humming, she moves in response to that, rocking slightly, and I realise she's rubbing her pussy on the heel of her foot underneath her. Oh, she likes talk like that, does she? Well, there's plenty more where that came from.

"You're so good at fucking me, Jenna. And you're so good at taking me in your mouth," I stroke the side of her face and her eyelashes flutter as I praise her.

"Do you want to take more of me?"

She nods on my cock.

"Move your hand that's on the bed to my thigh." 

She does without breaking her rhythm.

"I want to thrust up inside your mouth and that way I can also ride the toy better. If you're happy for me to do that, hum on my cock again."

Her brown eyes stay hooded and fixed on me as she hums.

"I want you to pull at my leg hair, if it gets too much. I don't want to hurt you."

Another one of her hums vibrates my cock and I know exactly what she wants to say to me. Please. Do it. Fuck my mouth.

It's all the invitation I need. I start slow and gentle, a little thrust up into her mouth, but then it deepens when I hear her moan more, suck harder, and move her body to meet my ruts. Thrusting is exactly what I needed to do because I am now feeling a deeper rub against my prostate and the sparkles spread over my whole body. Forcing myself to open my eyes, I look down to see Jenna's mouth working my cock, her eyes watering, but the corners of her lips undeniably turning up a little as we make eye contact.

The way her eyes change colour as they find mine, darkening, melting - and the way she rocks the dildo into me and drives her mouth down harder on me, neither of us caring about the noise it makes, are the things that push me over the edge.

"Fuck, Jenna, I"m going to come," I grunt out just before I do. The rupture seizes my body and calms the centre of me all at the same time. And yet, I'm not ejaculating. I'm coming but cum is not spilling out of me.

"Holy shit," I manage to utter as I close my eyes and ride out another wave of joy.

"Come in my mouth," Jenna is saying lifting off me, but there's no time to mourn the loss because her lips are back on me a second later. I open my mouth to tell her I don't know what's going on but I feel a rush of electricity jolt down my spine and into my balls.

"Fuck," I say and I grip her beautiful face and slam my dick into her mouth, feeling her warmth squeeze the head tight as I come again, this time ejaculating fiercely down her throat.

She chokes but doesn't move. I growl but don't move. Our fingers grip each other tight - her hand on my leg, and my fingers clawed into her hair - and we don't move, locked together, just how I want us to always be.

Chapter Two - Jenna

Time is a funny thing. It tells you stories that aren't necessarily true.

Over the years, I'd started to think I didn't like giving oral sex. I told myself it was work, hard work. I told myself I didn't miss it and that Robert's reluctance to be intimate with me in this way was a good thing. No need to grieve the absence of lockjaw, sore throats or the sometimes bitter taste of cum. But I know I'll miss it with Marty. I'll miss feeling my lips stretch around the smooth skin of his dick. I'll miss running my tongue along the vein that vines up the side of his cock. I'll miss the sting of tears in my eyes as he thrusts into my mouth like that is all he wants to do, all he can do in that moment. Because I believe it was. And when he spilled inside me, I was thirsty for it. He tasted warm and good. And like mine.

I've often read people talk about submissive-dominant relationships in terms of respect and love and to be honest, I've struggled in the past to understand it. How could pain and force and being pushed to one's limits have anything to do with love? How can you be respected while being degraded? But as I slowly release Marty from my mouth and leave a tender kiss on the tip of his softening dick, there is a glimmer of new comprehension. When you love someone, you want to please them, make them happy. When you respect someone you know you can be vulnerable with them. And when they love and respect you back, it's grounding, enlightening, empowering. It makes you brave; brave enough to test your limits. Brave enough to be more than you are. Just then, I wanted nothing more than to be used by Marty, for his pleasure. I wanted to fuck his butt too, because I knew he would enjoy it. In that respect, I was being submissive to him - letting him, wanting him to fuck my mouth - and he was submissive to me - letting me, wanting me to fuck him back. But even if I hadn't been doing the latter, I know I still would have enjoyed opening my mouth for him. As I sit back on my knees, I can't help but already think about how I would love to do it like that, kneeling down in front of him, his eyes looking down on me.

I shudder as I realise how wildly turned on I am. Unsure if Marty wants to do anything else - he may be too sore, or too tired - I am about to suggest I just use the vibrating feature of Pinkie to come in front of him, but he opens his eyes and pushes up onto his elbows.

"I think it just happened," he says.


"I just came."

I lick my lips. "I am aware."

"No, I mean, I came before that, but didn't... you know, jizz."

"You had a prostate-only orgasm?" 

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know, but, Jesus, it was incredible."

After quickly checking that Smurf is fully removed, I move him to the side and then lie down on top of Marty, careful not to crush his no doubt sensitive genitals. I suddenly can't bear to be anywhere but in his arms.

"No," he says. "No sleeping. Not when you need some attention."

"That was awesome for me too," I say, and I'm not lying. I'll remember how open and wild Marty's features blew up and the noises he made as he came for years and years to come.

"But you want to come, right?"

I can't help but grind my pussy down onto his leg.

"Jenna?" He asks and his voice is lower and there's an edge to it. An edge I love. "Do you need to come?"

"When you talk to me like that, yes, fuck, yes." I push down hard and keep up my rocking. 

"You need to come on my dick while I play with your other hole? Do you need to come while both of your holes are stretched full?"

The way Marty says such filthy, filthy things in his velvet Irish accent and his dark eyes magnetising mine, I wonder not for the first time today how much it would cost to buy a house in Dublin, a house that has an attic or a cellar I can lock this wonderful man up in. But something tells me I wouldn't need to lock him up. It's the way his hands squeeze my butt cheeks, pulling them further apart. It's the way he lifts his head up so our foreheads meet for a second before his lips dive into nip at my neck. It's the way he growls into the skin there and the reverberations shake my whole body.

Fuck, I love this man. Fuck I want to make it work with him. 

But fuck, I don't know how I can.

Any further thoughts on that topic come to a screeching halt when I feel two of his fingers find my butthole and I can't stop myself stilling.

It feels wrong. This feels dirty.

That's the first thing that flies through my mind. I'm surprised I think this considering how long I've been curious about this, and how long I've been craving a partner to be curious with me. Not to mention the hours and hours of literature I've read about the pleasure to be enjoyed because of the hundreds of nerve endings found in the anus. It would be borderline embarrassing to admit how many articles I've read on so-called "a-gasms" and I can't even pretend they were for work.

And yet here is the hot flash of shame, and the unwanted loud voice booming about how "wrong" this is.

Well, I can be loud too.

It's not wrong and it's not dirty. I'm scrubbed clean. I'm literally begging to experience this. And I have a partner who wants to help me do just that. A partner I may not have for much longer but right now, he's mine.

And I am his.

"I'm yours," I say.

"I know," I hear him say into my neck.

"Take me. Take all of me," I whisper before I push up so I can take off my robe.

Marty watches me as I do, and wastes no time in bringing his hands to my breasts once they are free.

"How do you want to be?" He asks. "On your hands and knees? Or do you want to ride me so you can be more in control?"

"Actually, I think I'd be more relaxed on my back," I admit, knowing I need to do a bit more loud talking to myself - internally - before I am completely ready for more.

"Wherever you want to be, cupcake," he says and I want to tell him how much I like it when he calls me that, but I don't get a chance because just as I roll off him and lie down, he comes down on top of me and kisses me. Long, searing, luxurious strokes of his tongue along mine. Deep, sensual pulls of my lips between his teeth. Rushed nips of his teeth on my tongue, my lips, my chin. His body laying all its weight on my frame.

He may not have known that many minutes of indulgent kissing like that was exactly what I needed, but it is. I am now not only incredibly turned on, but I'm also relaxed, blissed out as if I'd just come already. And yet the tightening in my belly and the way I can't stop grinding my pussy against his growing erection, an erection I now want inside me, tells me I also want more. And that I am ready for more.

"Marty," I mumble into his neck.


"I want you inside me,"

He pushes up, bringing a hand down to hold his cock and I feel him line up the head.

"No," I say before he pushes further in.

"Sorry," he pulls back immediately. "I thought you said-"

"I did," I say but take a breath before I can get the next words out. "I want you inside.... my other hole."

"Oh," he says and he doesn't meet my eyes.

"Unless you don't want-" I really hope my disappointment doesn't lace my words. I hadn't even thought that maybe he wouldn't want to. If maybe this was something that he did with Arnie and wasn't ready to do with someone else.

"Oh, I want. I want to. I just... I just came harder than I ever have. I'm just worried I won't be able to stay hard."

I reach my hand down to join his and find him. "You feel plenty hard enough to me."

A few moments after I start to stroke him, his hand meets mine, slotting in just beneath it and together we rub him, feeling him harden further under our shared grip. It's another moment where something about sex surprises me. Or maybe rather, about the intimacy we are sharing. About both of us stroking him together. I never would have imagined that to feel so precious and perfect and so much more intense than much more intimate, probing acts, but it does, especially as our eyes meet and we smile at one another.

I break our gaze and my grip only to find Pinkie and the bottle of lube. 

"Get me ready for you, Marty," I say as I hand him the lube.

He kneels between my legs and uses his knees to nudge my own thighs more open. 

"You look good enough to eat," Marty says, and it's clearly a warning because a beat later his head is bent down and I can't see his face anymore. But I can feel him, his tongue. It laps at my clit, circling the outside before sliding down to thrust inside my entrance. I moan and move on the bed, twisting slightly.

"Fuck, Marty."

"Hold still," he says again and this time I do take it as a warning because I brace myself, my hands coming down to hold my knees up. 

Even so, I'm not prepared for what I feel next. Like the dreamiest pins and needles, little sparkles of feeling fire off around my hole as Marty's mouth kisses me there, slow and sloppy. As his tongue caresses the sensitive skin around the entrance, I sigh loudly with the sensation of it all. It's tingly, it's warm, it's divine. And it's dirty, and forbidden, and all in the best way possible.

Of course, I already knew all these things. I've read about rimming. I've heard what people have to say about how good it feels. I've even tried to recreate it myself with a lot of lube and a silicone toy. But that wasn't like this. The fact that it's a man I love, a man I care about, doing it to me, and he loves and cares about me, well, it feels like the most beautiful poetry. 

It makes me so pleased I did it to him. I had no idea it could feel like this. Now I really do believe him when he said it felt good, and that he could do it for hours.

Marty continues to probe and kiss and lap at me while one of my hands finds his head and the other starts to play with my clit, building even more tension in my core.

"I want you," I rush out. "Get me ready."

He doesn't rise for a few more seconds, almost like he can't bear to tear himself away, but when he does, he looks proud and happy and my goodness, do those things look good on him.

After staring down at me - all of me - for a moment, he squirts a large dollop of lube on his fingers and then looks up in my eyes. 

"You'll tell me if it doesn't feel good? You'll tell me when you want me to stop?"

I nod with my bottom lip under my teeth and my hands, somehow, on my breasts, playing almost absent-mindedly with my nipples. I know if I can stay turned on, it will help dilute the nerves.

"It will feel cold and hot, all at the same time," he says just before applying the lube to my hole, and he's right. The lube is a shock of cool liquid, while the way his hands massage me, play with me, brings plenty of heat there.

"I'll start with one finger," he says and again I just nod. I daren't speak as if it would shatter the daydream, because surely this can't be real. A man who looks like Marty, a man who is Marty, playing with me in the gentle, hungry way I have been dying for for so long. 

"Push down a little when you feel pressure."

"Really?" I panic. That is not a feeling I want to experience right now.

"Yes, really," he says and I see the smile I can hear in his voice.

Trusting him, I do what he says and it does allow his finger to slide inside. When the pad of his digit first breaches me, I feel a shard of panic lodge itself in my head. It doesn't hurt a lot, but it does feel foreign. Or rather it feels like something I don't want it to feel like.

"How you doing, Jenna?"

"It feels... strange."

"Good or bad strange?"

"Good strange," I say, because there isn't pain, as such, just a slightly stinging and unnerving discomfort, but it's one that's fading already.

Marty slides in further and that almost helps take the focus away from the breaching feeling.

"You feel fucking good," he drawls, his eyes hooded as he looks down on me.

Another moan leaves my lips and I know why. I love praise during sex. I have always known this, would even ask for it with partners before I got married. I even have vague memories of Robert indulging it too in the early years, but for some reason we became very silent in the bedroom. Deadly silent.

"You are such a good girl for me," Marty adds and I know he knows it too. And a part of me knows he'll never forget it. If only we could find a way to make this work after... after our final sunset tonight.

"Another finger," I say and I circle my clit a little faster, pushing all other thoughts to one side.

After applying more lube, Marty inserts another digit and I'm surprised when it doesn't sting as much as the first one did. Adjusting to the fullness feeling there, I feel new moisture welcome what my fingers are doing and I probe around to find more of it.

"I love watching you touch yourself," Marty says. "I'm going to want, no, demand videos of you doing this, daily."

"Get your dick ready," I gasp out, too turned on and worked up to feel bad about deliberately changing the subject.

But Marty doesn't need telling twice. I lift up a little and watch as he lathers copious amounts of lube on himself, and as he does so, he begins to scissor his fingers inside me so they stretch me a little. Again it feels strange, but it also feels good, so good that when he removes his fingers, I miss them instantly. However, this is a good thing. It leaves me hungry and needy for his cock, which he is lining up against me. Another squirt of lube rains down on my hole and the head of his dick, and I want to hug him for it.

"Thank you," I say instead. "You're looking after me so well."

"I really don't want to hurt you," he says. "Tell me to stop anytime."

"I will," I say. "But don't worry about me, Marty. I want you to enjoy it too."

"Jenna, I'm about to fuck your arse and I get to take care of you while I do. I am living the fucken dream."

Laughing at his youthful bluntness, I lay my head back down and close my eyes. My fingers are still on my clit, but I'm not stroking with an orgasm in mind, more as a distraction, which I find I need because as I feel the silky smooth and hot flesh of Marty's dick pushes down, I tense up.

"Bear down, again," he says.

I nod and push, still just as scared to do it as I was the first time.

"I really don't want to-" I begin.

"It's okay," he says and his hand strokes my thigh. "You're not going to."

Putting all my trust in his words, I push down with a little more intention and it does the trick. Marty starts to slide in. And it hurts. It stings. It stretches and pulls and aches. 

"Jesus," I say and I'm biting my lip again.

"Want me to stop?"

"No," I say before I even think about it. Honestly, part of me does want him to stop, but I also know if he does I may not want to try again, and it feels like it would break my heart if that were to be the case.

"Look at me, Jenna," Marty says and I open my eyes. "Just keep looking at me, breathe deeply, and tell me when it hurts too much. But it will pass. The pain you feel now, it will pass. And I'll wait. I'll wait as long as it takes."

I nod and obey, keeping my eyes fixed on his dark pupils, dropping my gaze only to take in his dimples which are framing his smiling lips. He pushes in a little further and I feel even more stretch. I open my mouth, to tell him to stop, but then it eases a little and I know the head is inside me.

"Jesus," I whisper.

"Jesus, no? Or Jesus, yes?"

I laugh a little and that loosens me up, literally. "Jesus, maybe."

"I want an enthusiastic 'Jesus, yes!', before I carry on." One of his hands comes to play with my nipple.

"Jesus, yes,"  I say as that sends a new warmth across my upper body. "More."

Adding a bit more lube before he obliges, Marty goes slower with me than he has all week. And I am grateful for it. I suddenly can't imagine doing this with anybody but him. Even if I never do it again, I'll be glad I did it with him.

"Fuck, Jenna, you feel-" Marty's eyes roll back in his head. "So fucken good."


"Jesus, yes!"

We smile and laugh a little and that helps him come to be completely inside me. Unmoving, he stays there for a moment, his hands stroking up and down the insides of my spread thighs.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

"Weird," I say. "It feels strange, and it does hurt, but I like feeling... this full."

I do, but yet I also want to feel fuller so I slip the fingers that were on my clit down to my vagina and slide two in. In no time I can feel the hard pressure of Marty's dick pushing up against my back wall.

Marty moans.

"You feel that?" I ask.

"Yes, and it looks fucken good too," he says with his eyes fixed on my fingers.

"Fuck me, Marty," I say but then add. "But slowly."

And he does. He is gentle, he is slower than slow. He is almost lazy about how luxuriously he slides in and out, noticing when it stings a little and I wince, and bringing my leg up to rest on his chest so he can hold me closer and also kiss my calf, my feet and my ankle as he glides in an out in half-strokes.

When it starts to feel comfortable, good almost, I resume stroking my clit.

"More. Go harder," I tell him.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," I say because I am.

Deepening his thrusts, Marty speeds up only the smallest amount. As he does, my anklet slides down my leg a little and that catches his eye. He comes to bite it and I almost tell him to stop, tell him how important that one piece of jewelry is to me, but I see then that he has it between his lips, not his teeth. It's like he's kissing it, and that single action undoes whatever final knots of nerves and tension that were inside me.

Rummaging around with my arms, I find Pinkie and switch her on to the second lowest setting, my favourite option. I place her on my clit with one hand and bring my other to my breasts again.

"Yes, Jenna," he says and I look up and see more pride in his face, but this time I know he's proud of me, for chasing my own pleasure. I wonder, momentarily, if I could write a book all about that look, or rather about the joy of men who want women to feel pleasure. I know I could write thousands of words about it. 

As Pinkie works her magic on my clit, and Marty speeds up his thrusts, but doesn't necessarily go any harder - something I am grateful for because it is still not completely pain-free - I realise I want to feel more. I want to feel fuller still.

Switching off the vibration, I slide Pinkie's tip down and turn her around so she can slide in. 

"Let me do it," Marty says and I hand it to him.

As he slides Pinkie inside me, I groan. God that feels good. Pinkie's curve has always hit me in exactly the right places but the way Marty's thrusts rub her against it, against me, has me almost certain I will orgasm, something I wasn't so sure I could do a moment ago. Not that I saw that as a problem, at all. Sex is not only for orgasms and I've often thought that sex is actually better measured not in orgasms, but rather in smiles, laughter, kisses and touches. But as I look up at Marty, whose brow is creased in concentration as he fucks me with both his dick and my toy, the muscles in his lean stomach and chest contracting, I feel all the tell-tale signs I'm close - hot pressure coiling in my lower belly, pleasure pulsing in my clit, my nipples hard and erect. And yet, there is still pain and this time not in butt, but in my vagina.

It shouldn't be a surprise. We have been fucking almost constantly for three days and my pussy is just not used to that. I am sore, and probably bruised, and stretching her beyond what she's used to is not helping.

"Does it hurt?" Marty asks and his brow is now furrowed with worry.

"Yes, but it's okay," I say and I bring my hand up to cup his face.

"I don't want to hurt you. I'll stop," he says and he stills.

"No!" I practically shout. "I want it to hurt. I want to feel the pain."

I didn't realise that was what I wanted but it's true. I do want to feel the pain. I want it to hurt now and for as long as possible in the future. I want to feel him long after we've said goodbye to one another tomorrow. I want it to hurt until the day I see him again.

"But, Jenna, I-"

"Please, Marty, please. Don't' stop. And don't feel bad that it's sore. It's the best kind of pain."

"I'm not sure I can come if I know you're in pain."

That guts me but I manage to keep my voice level. "Then don't. But please, can you keep fucking me until I do. I'm so close now."

And I am. It's as if finally being honest with him, albeit indirectly about how I really feel, how much of this week I want to keep hold of after it's over, that is what I needed to climax.

His rocking resumes and I grab his hip to show him I want him to fuck me harder, faster. I want him to really make it hurt, because now I feel like the pain is what is precisely what is taking me closer to the edge. 

"You hold this," he says as he grabs my hand and places it back on Pinkie. He then grabs my leg again and uses it as leverage to fuck me harder and faster. I push Pinkie in as deep as she can go and I angle her up and slowly rock her in the same rhythm Marty has now found.

This new depth along with the rhythm and the way Marty is making tight guttural noises at the back of his throat with every hard thrust, has me hurtling towards my orgasm. There are more than a few beats where I expect it to crash over me, but it doesn't, and I don't know why, but then it comes climbing back up again, and I stay in that dreamy place just before you climax, where everything is light and airy and fantastical, until suddenly, I'm over the hump and I'm coming. Coming so hard, I squeal. Coming so hard, I practically push Pinkie out of my vagina with how fiercely I'm contracting. Coming so hard, that Marty makes a wobbly moan and crashes down on top of me.

"Fuck," he says into my neck and I feel his dick move inside me in a series of quick jolts, and I don't know if that's him coming or if it's just me still convulsing around him, but then he makes more noises, more growling moans and I know he is coming too. "Fuck, Jenna, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck."

Yeah. I think as the orgasm eases but my pleasure does not. Fuck.

What the fuck are we going to do if we can't do that every day for the rest of our lives together?


Thank you for reading! For more bonus scenes and to find out about Frances M. Thompson's next releases, please sign up to her newsletter, or you can follow on Instagram or TikTok.