Getting It Warmed Up For Her

Lauren brought the box inside and opened it without checking the label. She pulled back the lid and froze. A thick dildo lay nestled in tissue paper, silicone catching the afternoon light. She thought someone had sent her a surprise until the name printed in small, clear letters sank in: Charlie Forde, not hers. She started to seal the box again, but the idea settled in quickly and wouldn't leave. Two quiet breaths later, she gave in. Upstairs she peeled off her shorts and sank onto the couch. The toy was heavier than it looked, warm after resting in her palm. She slid it through her folds until it pressed just right, her hips tilting forward, a low sound slipping out every time she found a new angle. Her breathing grew uneven, thighs trembling when the head met the right spot again and again. Charlie's footsteps reached the top of the stairs, but Lauren kept her eyes shut, lost in the slow, steady drag between her legs. Charlie stood in the doorway and watched. One hand drifted down, fingertips slipping past the waistband of her jeans, moving in time with Lauren's own strokes. When Charlie stepped closer, the floor creaked. Lauren startled, cheeks flushed, the toy still glistening in her hand. "I thought it was for me," she said. "Then I just... couldn't stop." Charlie smiled, eyes on the toy. "I needed that today. Since you started, you can finish. Clean it." She brought the shaft to Lauren's lips. "With your mouth." Lauren leaned in at once, tongue tracing the head without hesitation. Charlie's fingers stayed in her jeans, the quiet pulse under them matching the wet glide Lauren gave the dildo. A moment later Charlie took it back, guided it between Lauren's open legs again, and pressed until Lauren moaned into the couch cushion. They finished what the package had started—slow, unhurried, bodies meeting in quiet, shameless rhythm until both were breathless and spent.