It was a no-frills fuck, and it didn’t last long. She walked into the room, turned and flopped backwards onto the bed, a dirty smile ricocheting across her face. He leaped headlong onto her as if swan-diving into a pool. Not a single piece of clothing was entirely removed. His pants were around his knees; her skirt was hiked up to the waist. She tore open his shirt, buttons flying like popcorn. He took the time to actually unbutton her blouse only because it was one of her favorites, fashion temporarily trumping the extra few seconds lost in fumbling with the buttonholes.
– from J G Cain’s The Gravity of Desire
“Oh my God, Amazon sells sex toys?” she asked.
“Well, stockings aren’t exactly sex toys,” he responded.
“No. Look at the bottom of the page. Where the ‘People who bought these items also bought…’ is.”
He looked to the bottom of the page. Crotchless panties. Chemises. Peek-a-boo bras.
She squealed. “Oh my God, they have vibrators!”
“…and they’re in the Health, Household and Baby Care department!”
They both laughed.
They jumped into the virtual rabbit hole after that, following random sexual links to vibrating eggs, beads, nipple clamps, wrist restraints. They described what they found, sent each other links, filled their virtual shopping carts with toys and apparel. Most of the time the items were more silly than hot – plastic toy handcuffs, cheap pleather BDSM kits – but occasionally an item would tinder a sexual spark.
While browsing the bondage section of the store (though helpfully still within the Health, Household and Baby Care department) they both clicked on the same page at the same time. The page displayed a red, handcrafted leather collar with careful white stitching and a faux fur lining. A red leather chain-link leash matched the collar. The phone line went silent, both of them hushed by desire. Underlying the silence lurked the cellular hum of their connection.
She wore only a pair of sheer panties as she ironed, her ass pointing toward him as he lay on the bed watching her. He wondered if that was a conscious choice on her part, deliberately enticing him, or if it had been a decision made on some subconscious level. He watched her ass move from side to side as she steered the iron back and forth. Her breasts swayed with each move, as if they were underwater, guided by the ebb and flow of the waves.
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Everything they could think of to say, they said, and everything they said, they did. Plus much more. Whatever occurred to them. No rules. No limits. Their sex got rougher. Spanking. Biting. Scratching. Choking. Hair pulling. Sometimes it hurt, but the sensation did not really register as pain. They created a world together where pain was transmuted into something else. Something approaching comfort. It was like alchemy.
Control. She had never lent total control to someone else.
Her therapist had called it transgressive behavior. She said it was a defense mechanism, a coping technique.
The look on her therapist’s face gave away her veiled distaste. The therapist didn’t understand how life-affirming it was. How beautiful it felt. How complete it left her.