Chapter Text
Long story ended unsatisfyingly short—you do end up managing to bringing yourself to orgasm.
Multiple times, in fact.
Caleb knows this because every free moment of his time was spent watching the cameras, interfering where he could, huffing your worn underwear while furiously jerking off watch you whine and hump into a pillow that both of you know was entirely not enough for how greedy you were.
But at least it was nice hearing you moan his name everytime you came by yourself.
Who was kidding? He was jealous.
Now, this isn't his first rodeo being jealous of inanimate objects when it came to you.
Especially during his pining teenagerhood where every touch not received by him felt like purposeful manipulation on your part. And as he got older it only got worse in more specific ways—the speed at which he hid your vibrators to guide you into using him more (as if he needed to do that) was unseen before.
So, even when it was his pillow you were humping, his pictures you fingered yourself to, his shirts you wrapped yourself in at night—he couldn't help the curdle of envy; the insistent, poking voice of it should’ve been me.
Caleb’s current most hated enemy? The one above even that damn neighbor who kept flirting with you?
That dildo.
It was by far your most used in the past few weeks, languishing greedily inside your—what he knew must've been—wet, warm cunt. He’s had dreams of her before. Tight, fluttering walls that without his carefully curated control (that you somehow still manage to wear down), he would cum in seconds. He’s fulfilled each of those dreams by cockwarminf you till his balls, head, and heart felt impossibly heavy with lust and he was somewhere between panting and choked back whimpering due to over-sensitivity.
(To be fair, you would never be in much better condition—stuffed as you were, but you were a tease; clenching, squirming, making the cutest noises all on purpose. On second thought, your prolonged orgasm denial was reparations for that excruciating torture.)
And yet, he’d do anything for that torture if it meant it was his cock that you’d be on. Not some plastic.
It was in that same bathroom—the one of the phone sex call he added to his bedtime rotation of what he titled ‘The Love Of My Life’s ASMR’ (password protected)—that he finally felt like he lost it a little.
He was masturbating, as per usual, and you were planning to, which wasn't nearly as often as him—he’s just memorized the likelist times for you to start playing with yourself (never at night, usually around the time he had (the past tense, it hurts) consistently had sex with you at.)
And this was it. So, he already started idly stroking himself, praying you'd just use your fingers today because then at least it’d be your fingers, and he could never be mad at anything of yours, ever—but of course, he was never all that lucky.
Instead, you took lube out. For that dildo.
This was insulting to him on numerous levels.
If he were there you wouldn't need it; he’d have fucked and sucked you so well you’d be messy with arousal from the orgasms he’d give you while sucking on your clit like it was candy. And if you did need extra assistance, he’d sooner use his saliva and manually spit on your hole.
At very least, he envied your hands and their privilege of prepping you; but he could do better.
Caleb could scissor you wide open, watching bridges of your arousal web between his fingers. He could write his name with his fingers on your gummiest spots, deep within your walls. He could make you squirt with a few well-timed motions.
And based on how you squirmed, you knew it too.
That should've been enough, but his cock swelled as his eyes narrowed, and the pit of his stomach curled up.
That night, he orgasmed with you as he always tried to.
But he was planning something. A plan that—this time—would go exactly how he wanted.
Your reunion went as expected.
You picked him up, kissed him hello, and tried to hold back your shivers when he gripped your waist a little too possessively, a little too inappropriate for the public—you had to pull back when you felt a sneaky hand attempt to find its way to your ass.
That certainly didn't lessen the weight of his stare, and absolutely didn't lessen the sexual tension that rode your bones.
Even after being able to finally cum without Caleb, it just wasn't up to par to the standards Caleb hand-fed you.
Something you knew would change tonight.
Once you brought him home you expected him to, well, immediately ravish you. Possibly with no foreplay, which you were more than prepared for. And you thought you’d be right once he retreated to the bedroom—you following dutifully, of course (not that he would let you not follow him, if the grip on your hand was anything to go by)—and your hopes were sky-high once he began stripping in front of you; tight muscle stacked on tight muscle, cutting away to a pinched waist that led to thighs you’d have done anything to ride.
And yet, unbelievably, he put clothes back… on?
“Caleb?” Tentatively, hesitantly, you follow him… away from the bedroom? “Are you okay? Need anything?”
Caleb hums—as if he were innocuous—sitting down on the couch. “I’m sort of hungry,” my pussy’s right here? But instead of the obvious natural conclusion, he turns and grins at you. “Let’s make something together!”
All you wanted to make was sweet love, order in, and then sleep. Morning sex afterwards.
Instead, the two of you actually do eat—watching the news, and y’know, not each other’s orgasm faces.
“Caleb,” your voice sours to a stern note, and Caleb’s eyes widen—big, deer-like, innocent if you didn't know better—blinking up at you. “Are you okay?”
Caleb cocks his head, before nodding, patting your thigh comfortingly. Big, warm palms so close to where you ached. “Yeah. It was just a rough month without you.”
Your face softens at that, but not too much because you couldn't stop watching Caleb’s hand on your thigh. “You must be tired then,” this was your chance. You sidle up toward him, practically on his lap. “I can help with that.”
You watched as the look in his eyes changed in real time.
And you just couldn't ignore the violent clench from below.
Still, Caleb—definitely pretending to be nonchalant at this point—just sat himself back and watched you; eyes roaming over your figure. The attention excited you, and was absolutely the reason for you to start rocking against his thigh.
The friction was nice, a firm pressure to your clit, but soon enough—under Caleb’s heated, but restrained gaze—your hands grew antsy.
Sliding your hands up his chest, you measure and memorize each hitch and stall of his breathing. But it was only when you began sliding back down, fingertips brushing against hems, were you entirely interrupted.
“If you want my attention so badly,” Caleb took your hands, pinning them to your sides—which would’ve been fairly comfortable had he not started moving your hips against his thigh. “At least make yourself cum first,” he grins something cruel and boyish. “Use all that practice you got over the month I’ve been away.”
“Caleb—” You begin, but he releases you with a fat slap on the ass.
“Get to it, sweetheart. For every minute you don't cum is a minute I deliberate on the best way to punish you.”
Panic, arousal, excitement—God knows what else—rises in you, and with little fanfare, you strip, lying your unclothed, wet pussy on his thigh.
The pressure was heightened tenfold as each spasm of his muscle was like a nick to your clit, and the noises? Obscene. But you haven't been this wet since the day you had phone sex with him, and that thought only has you speeding up, tightening your thighs, mumbling his name.
Caleb swears he sees stars, and almost cums untouched.
He was doing zero deliberation on anything; purely hypnotized by the motion of your hips, and the wet sensations produced by your cute cunt that seduced him into giving up all control.
You were his temptress, and it took approximately zero minutes for him to begin bouncing and flexing his thigh.
You moan, surprised. Caleb’s thigh dwarfed yours in strength and thickness, especially when it laid flat on the couch like this—thick and fat, not unlike his cock which was very keen on saying hello.
Maybe it was against whatever silent rules Caleb suddenly seemed insistent on following, but with no warning, you grab him by the balls.
“Fuck—!” Caleb hisses, hips violently jerk—almost sending you flying off his thigh—eyes squeezed shut as you fondle his heavy balls, before stroking what you imagined where his tip would be; something you were proven right when you felt a trickle of pre-cum well beneath your finger.
“Greedy girl,” Caleb yanks you forward, dragging and grounding your clit down with him—spiralling you into emitting an almost pornographic moan. He bounces you again for that, a reward. “You want my cock so badly? C’mon baby,” he pushes your head down, down to where you knew his leaking, fat tip would sit waiting to enter you one way or another. You lick your lips, maybe a bit too excited before he interrupts you—“Ah, wait.”
He guides you back, motioning toward his thigh which was, well, drenched.
The entire expanse of the front was shining with slick which dribbled down the side of his powerful thighs, over veins and ridges of muscle. Caleb takes a spare finger, smears some of the dewy arousal onto it, before popping it into his mouth, licking it clean, and removing it with a sigh of unadulterated pleasure.
“Well? Clean me up.”
You don't dawdle.
With one hand cupping him through his clothing, you begin to “clean” Caleb up; your tongue lavishing over his skin like it was addictive, which it may as well been as your hand went to take out his dick, and it was like a reunion of its own with creamy pre-cum happily dribbling at the sight of you and the occasional twitch that had his cock waving like a greeting, and you were eager to say hello once you began your ministrations on his tip.
Caleb, meanwhile, was definitely going to cum far sooner than he wanted to.
This wasn't anything particularly new for him; he pretty much crumbled in all manners of ways when it came to you; but, he had plans this time—he wanted you to be writhing in tears, wriggling for a modicum of his attention.
Caleb should've known; you were the happiest twist in his life, always exceeding and throwing off his expectations. Of course nothing would go right, and he’d choose that over everything and anything else if it meant he would be with you.
With that being said—in his ultimate desperation to at least cum inside you—he grabs you by the hair and fucks you down his cock.
You gag, but hold onto him tighter, digging your nose into his pelvis as you struggle for some semblance of stability. Caleb cannot stop babbling.
“‘M sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he recites and yet continues fucking up into your mouth, like he couldn't stop, and only God knows what catastrophes would have to happen right now for him to even imagine such a thing. “Just—fuck. Sorry.”
After he yanks you by the hair and you moan around him, he cums like his soul was just shuffled around for a bit.
But he allows neither of you a break, and instead tosses you over his shoulder, borderline sprinting for the bedroom as you laugh and hold onto his back.
“Caleb—!” You make an admittedly very odd noise as he casts you onto the bed. You laugh at the expression on his face; so very reminiscent of a younger, constantly playful version of Caleb, like he was always doing something worth keeping a secret around you. “What are you—”
“Did you cum?” He asks like it's imperative he knows, before he shoots a quick cursory glance at your cunt. “No, you haven't.”
The implication of his depth of knowledge of your body isn't lost on you, and certainly only adds to the heat he creates as he dives down toward your cunt, feasting and plundering with an edge of barbarism that leaves you quickly unprepared for the quick breathlessness of an orgasm. Especially when he was treating your clit like it made ice cream full-time.
“How long was that?” Caleb casually begins as you catch your breath for your life. “At least a few minutes. Four? That should be enough.”
Because Caleb? Had a wonderful plan, and this one will definitely, definitely work.
You groan, eyeing him as he removes himself from you (but not before giving your clit a quick pat like he was telling it to be patient). “What are you planning?”
“Nothing much,” Caleb lies, looking around the bedroom as he takes off the remainder of his clothes. You are not shy about watching him, at all. “Tell me more about all the fun you had. I want all the details.”
Huh. Well. “Worked. Hung out with friends. Not much honestly.”
You continued for a little more after that, but Caleb will be honest: he didn't pay much attention after he found it.
That damned dildo—Caleb really did dislike it, but ultimately, he needed an ally to succeed in his plan. Eventually, he comes back around to sit between your spread legs as you sat back on the bed.
“And, yeah. A few fires happened nearby, but nothing close to here. We just needed to evacuate a few times—pretty inconvenient, but hey, what can you do?” you shrug. “Shit happens, can't control it. Other than that, I didn't really do anything.”
“But you used this, right?” And Caleb held up the dildo (the dildo you purposefully hid from him minutes before picking up) as he smiled down at you, all the while observing the toy with an… interesting look in his eyes.
Was he jealous? Of the dildo??
“What are you doing?” You ask, sceptical, eyes narrowing onto him.
Caleb’s smile warped and a pool of heat redeveloped at the bottom of your stomach. “Work wasn't too exciting either. I spent most of my freetime thinking of you. Often jerking off at the same time,” the blatant confession had your eyes widening and that familiar heat swirling. “Especially after that call—all I wanted to do was go home and just be with you in any way possible,”
But this thing…” Caleb’s smile completely disappears as he narrows his eyes at the toy. “It made you cum, when I wasn't available to. I’ll be honest—” his grin returns once he forcibly looks away from it, back to you. “I got kind of angry at some point.”
“Well, what choice did you leave me?” You question, brows furrowing as Caleb leans over to kiss at your neck, like he couldn't quite stand to part with you anymore. But it was beginning to make sense; his attempt at ignoring you, forcing you to bring yourself to an orgasm all because of the most petty of jealousies over an inanimate object.
It was kind of, well, it certainly wasn't a turn off.
“To wait for me,” he chides, almost imploringly. “Like a good girl. And yet, you just couldn't part with it. Well? Did it fuck you like you needed it to?” To your surprise, he begins to slowly circle your entrance with the toy, and your breath hitches.
“What about this?” He massages the tip into your clit, pulling back to study your most minute expressions. “Did it stroke you how you wanted? Or here?” He took the dildo and pressed it against your lips, forcibly opening your mouth for you to suck on. “Did you enjoy it? Did it give everything you needed, baby? You don't need to cum anymore?”
Your head was dizzy with lust and you whined as a sickening amount of heat envelopes you and he grins harder, crueler, and it is enough to fuel a mini orgasm in its own right. “What’s that? Speak for me.”
But as you tried, he just continued idly thrusting the toy in and out, in and out, in and out of your mouth until you eventually gave up, drool dripping down your chin. You felt like you’d been reduced to a pathetic mess. It was humiliating in a way that had you tightening your thighs—until he forced them apart with his hands.
“Oh, no. You’ve gotten your fill. That pretty pussy’s been made to cum over and over. Even got me to do it when I tried to control myself. Princess, aren't you a little too greedy?” It was asked with a sort of lascivious condescension.
You gag on the dildo—the sound dislodging something inside of him—and he yanks it out, replacing it with his mouth on yours as he goes to lazily plunge the toy back inside you, easily splicing through with how much he’s aroused you open.
“Fuck,” he groans, taking a moment to hear how downright messy you sounded as you whined and withered to his control. “You're so wet,” he praises in awe before sitting back on his heels, biding his time while watching your arousal lather the toy up.
Hypnotized, he can (almost) pay no mind to your squirmish whimpers. Instead, his focus lies directly on your cunt.
His face was pure lust as he pulled the toy out from your weeping cunt—a line of arousal following it shortly after—and with his gut on fire, he took his tongue and licked a fat strip up the dildo, collecting your taste, all while watching you.
Your breath was stolen from your chest as your heartbeat dropped to your pussy.
“Caleb…” You breathe out, your attention enraptured by him as he sat the dildo down. “Oh my god…”
Caleb takes your legs, and wraps them around his waist, massaging the muscles casually. There was this… look in his eyes. You couldn't decipher it—not that Caleb would've ever let you.
It was different from lust—a look he’d let wash over him in short bursts, sporting lidded eyes and a clenched jaw.
And it wasn't an expression of love—which he was proud to admit he wore almost constantly around you, with big puppy-like eyes and a grin he could never shake because he was just overjoyed you were here, his, and happy.
It didn't even exactly resemble his possessive appearance—happened more often than you'd think, tight expressions and eyes of ink.
It wasn't even an emotion, necessarily, but rather, an action prompting a very specific glimmer in his eyes.
You were more than ready for it.
As if Caleb could tell your thoughts, he grins; looking down at you with an adoration that looked painful.
“This cute little thing,” he thumbs at your clit, your body jumping at the sensation which lit fires to weeds. “So pretty,” he flicks it, playing with your body, and you squeak. “I can tell what she wants.”
“Yeah?” You moan, your back arched as your hips chase after his expert fingers on your clit.
But Caleb just circle it, never quite giving what was needed for your next climax. You groan, clutching onto his arms as he fools with your body like it was an especially interesting instrument; you can barely hear him over the blood in your ears. “Tell me what she wants,” he says.
“Cum. I want to cum. Please, Caleb,” and he does something crazy to your clit—some maneuver that throws you to an orgasm quicker than the sob you release as you finish. “Caleb,” you cry.
He bends down and kisses your navel. “I’ll give you anything and everything you want,” he whispers before easily sliding his cock into your cunt.
You glow under him, bliss and comfort with your man hovering above your orgasm-out body.
You're about to close your eyes, relinquishing to cockwarm him since he likes to fall asleep inside you. You’ll probably wake up and have insane morning sex, but he needs his rest and you need your rest for tomorrow. That was your plan.
Until, out of the corner of your eye, you notice Caleb bringing the dildo to your entrance—already filled by him.
He bends down to whisper into your ear, lips brushing against the sensitive skin as his voice carries an intonation of mischievous glee. “‘Cause you love it so much, baby.”
And, well, you're not stupid.
“No, no, no,” you refuse, shaking your head as your eyes pop open to attention. The dildo was a little smaller than Caleb in length but was practically the same in girth—you would break. Your vagina was impressive considering the man you had to deal with constantly, but c’mon. “That. That scares me. There’s no way it’ll fit.”
Caleb just grins at you, one hand idly massaging a tit while the other holds the dildo for display. “But, I can feel you tightening around me. You like the idea, don't you? The idea that your cunt is getting stuffed as much as possible?” Caleb’s grin only widens once he feels you twitching around him once more—your body was a traitor, you decided. “God, you're perfect,” he groans, coming over to kiss the side of your eye. “We can do this.”
“No, we can't!” And yet, a sick sense of anticipation rocks you. “That is going nowhere near me.”
“A little funny considering how much it was near you,” he mumbles, a clear edge to it. “What's the difference now? And look how greedy she is,” he caresses your clit—liquid heat straight to your gut. “Baby, I don't think you’ve wrapped tighter around my cock.”
You groan—not explicit consent, but definitely not a no—allowing your head to fall back. Your hands were admittedly twitchy with excitement but a roll of fear haunts you. There's no way you were actually going to do this, right? No way.
And yet, you watch Caleb dutifully with no interruptions as, miraculously, Caleb bullies a finger next to his cock and a sharp pain twinges and stains; you squirm, whimpering in silent protest, as he grunts. “Fuck, you're tight. I’ll go slow. Just a lil more, okay?”
“You're such a liar,” you huff, squeezing your eyes shut as the uncomfortable stretch (which is slowly transitioning to be, well, bearable) seizes a twitch from your legs—one that does not go unnoticed by Caleb. “That is not a little more.”
Caleb cocks his head, gently thrusting his finger in and out as his cock remains stationary. “But look at you now. You’re taking my finger so well, baby.”
And that you were. Caleb looked down at your drooling cunt with a look of pride, ringed with filthy thoughts you couldn't even begin to decipher.
It was those few moments of just watching you clench, pull, and suck him in so well that it subconsciously inspired him to slide another finger in, but this time, edging deeper.
Your back arches, reaching for heavens you didn't know could exist—your hips jerking upwards. “Caleb!”
“I know, I know,” Caleb coos, in awe, in admiration, in arousal. “You're doing so good for me. Here,” he sets down the dildo, before taking a thumb and playing with your clit. “There you go, baby. Does that feel better?”
You answer with a groan as spasming limbs held onto whatever they could, and Caleb wouldn't dare look away. It was beautiful. You were beautiful, he decided like it was the first time he thought of it.
As beautiful as those thoughts were, yours was borderlining between a mixture of pain and want or balancing between being too overwhelming, and genuinely not enough. Ultimately, it was the breathlessness of feeling so full that decides your position. And, sure, Caleb fondling your clit was quite nice too.
Speaking of which, he was using your body to his own whims; teasing, and edging. Every one of your convulsions had him digging his fingers in deeper, swirling ministrations that were mind-melting sensations on your poor, overstimulated body. All the while, Caleb gently rocked into you.
(He could pretend it was to prepare you for the double penetration, but really, he just couldn't hold back. You were too good for him, too tight, and he crumbled.)
This continued for such a long time that by the end of his deemed “preparations,” you were basically sobbing after being edged, stretched, and overstimulated by—at one point—four fingers.
All the while, Caleb humped you steadily, reciting praises with devotion, like: I need you, you feel so good, I want to live inside you forever.
(The last one was whispered in between your tits.)
And your clit, a convulsing mess—desperate for more of his attention; said attention being entirely caught by you and your teary moans.
Caleb licked at your tears, then your mouth—allowing you a chance to know what your tears taste like. Then, your arousal after Caleb unceremoniously took out his four fingers, sucked them clean, before sloppily making out with you.
“You're so hot,” he mumbles into your teeth. He hadn't stopped rutting into you this entire time, humping you like a dog. “I love you,” when you didn't immediately respond (too fucked out), he kissed your nose, your eyelids. “Sweetheart, say ‘I love you, Caleb, and I will only ever love you, Caleb,’” he kisses you again, this time on your chin. “Please?”
It took you a solid few seconds to accumulate the needed brainpower to respond, and even then, it was sleepy, dumbed down, and slurred.
But all Caleb did was grin, kiss you some more before hugging you close to his muscular form as he grabbed the dildo, pulling himself out of your body. You—and him—whimper at the loss, but he takes gentle care in scooping up your arousal and his pre-cum and using it as lube, before running it over your clit.
Your voice breaks into a raw, scraping noise that prompts Caleb to kiss you once more; all the while, whispering to you how well you were doing, how proud he was of you, how much he’s wanted you. It was the type of thing that made you remember why you loved Caleb in the first place—that unadulterated longing that grew from him, infecting you and sitting in your lungs (so you’d breathe him in), your bones (to hold him close), and your heart (there he was).
It was the exact same reason you split your legs, allowing him to use you as he wished.
Caleb knew this; and brought his fingers to your mouth, unflinching as you bit down on them when he began squeezing his cock in next to the dildo.
“Oh, good girl,” he coos. “You can bite down, baby. Use me. Fuck, look at you. C’mon, honey. Just a bit more,” and when you whine, whimper, and jerk in pain, he looks at you with such genuine sympathy, it’s heartbreaking, and yet—
“‘M sorry. I know, I know. But you can take it, can’t you? My girl so full for me already. My greedy, greedy girl,” he licks up the side of your face, kissing at the occupied corner of your mouth. “I’ll give her everything she wants. Me. Fill ‘er up, make you wet. Whenever you need—me.”
It felt like victory when your pussy clamped down on him with a goal he could only guess was suffocation.
That was something he was okay with.
But those thoughts were distracted as with a bit too strong of a move, the dildo lodged a bit too far, and an ache of pain swelters inside you.
You bite down, whimpering, and only just open your eyes wide enough to see Caleb’s pupils dilate—his attention lasered on the fingers caught between your pain. His cock violently jerks between your walls and the dildo. Did biting him turn him on?
Evidently, yes, as he held down your mouth, pushing his skin deeper into your teeth; all the while, he panted, whimpered, and groaned to your ear.
You always had a way with him, your body fitting him in ways he could have only dreamed of as a lovesick teenager, but you were real now—biting down till the skin broke knowing he was the one you were doing this to. Him. And yet, he felt he was on a brink of something as he tried to bully his cock deeper, sliding in with the dildo as your walls danced to the rhythm of his moans.
He was babbling now. Praises, pleas, and apologies spilled from his mouth as dropped sloppy kisses onto your neck, all the while you were sucking on his fingers—stretched and full, and somehow, never enough.
At least not until he was balls deep inside you.
Caleb’s arms trembled with wavering strength, because shit, were you tight. It was dizzying; your walls spasming and watering around him and the toy as you were filled up so well, so heavily.
He didn't even have to notice your fluttering cunt—it was your face that chipped at any of his miraculously remaining composure.
Glazed eyes, agape mouth pink with bites, and the cutest furrow to your brows that he’d kiss and nip at. His cock twitched as he looked at you, and he groaned—his head falling back towards your stuffed entrance.
You almost couldn't see the dildo because of his own length (something he was proud of), and both of your eyes squeezed shut in unison as he began thrusting alongside the dildo; its ridges knocking into your walls because of his force—a delicious pressure that sent your hands to his upper back, nails scraping down.
“Fuck, baby, fuck,” he groans. You doing anything to him that included marks was a straight stimulant. And he only grew more eager once he felt you tighten in response.
Encouraged, and more than a little cock-drugged, you rock back up into him. The dildo was pressing on something, something that had you tugging at Caleb’s hair and sticking your sweaty chests together as his cock dragged over spots and crevices he knew would send you over the edge.
And maybe that’s why Caleb’s head bows down again to look at your cunt taking him in so well, and then he sees it; the slightest bulge below your navel.
Saliva welled up in his mouth.
“Holy shit,” he body falls—borderline quivering—his pelvis falling to add just the right amount of pressure on your clit as his well-timed thrusts with the dildo stalled. “God, I see us. I’m so big for you, sweetheart. Your little pussy can barely take it, huh?”
You gasped, back arching. Every nerve was lit with each syllable that ripped from his mouth and doused with a thrust that numbed you to a pleasure-drugged drunk.
Caleb smiled, like he knew how little sanity you had left. He smiled like he wanted to douse it further.
Impossibly, it turned you on more.
“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb,” you recited and he responded in fervent thrusts that kissed your womb with reverence.
He wanted to speak. He wanted to lavish you with praises, because it was all his pussydrunk mind could conjure; so good, so tight, I love you, please, one more, all mine.
But he couldn't.
Not when his control was drawn from him by your warm cunt. Not when his eyelids fluttered to a close as his eyes rolled back just to snap open in desperation to see your face. Not when the most obscene wants lingered in his mind, waiting for him to wring them out of you.
(Most of them involved his tongue, and he was undecided on the dildo, but right now, he was currently planning to permanently retire the toy. After all, from now on, you’d only need to use him.)
But that didn't stop the fire in his body that clamped down on him, so heartwarmingly reminiscent of your pussy. The thought inspired him to use a sneaky hand to take the base of the dildo and sloppily plunged it in and out, next to his own ramming thrusts.
The pleasure he gained from seeing your face alone was drugging.
In brutal honesty, Caleb was amazed he lasted long enough to be able to do this—fucking into you with total abandon.
But he could feel it now; a desperate tug that urged him to touch you as much as possible.
Your mind puddled and wept and drooled as the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm violently rocked you—something Caleb only emphasized as he tweaked your nipples, circled your clit, and bucked into like an animal. All the while, the dildo carved a place out that Caleb quickly filled with his cum.
Said man hid his face into your neck, licking at your sweat, nipping at your jaw, and your muscles individually relaxed as your skin latched to his, and it was wonderful; for the first time in a month, you could say you were totally satiated, content with exactly where you were—cum and Caleb inside you.
Minutes, maybe even hours—this particular happiness settles into you, Caleb practically glowing with happiness.
It’s hard to believe this peace could ever break.
Until Caleb yanked the dildo out, throwing it somewhere. “Sick of that thing,” and you can't help it—you laugh. Caleb notices, eyes pinching to a smile of his own. “What?”
“Were you seriously jealous of it?” You grin, before tightening your thighs to lessen the feeling of the sudden emptiness.
Thankfully, Caleb notices (of course, he would), and pulls himself—and his cock—away from you, but not before planting a kiss on your lips. “What can I say? I have a philosophy.”
“Mm, yeah?” You watch as he grabs your legs, gently pulling them together and then putting you on your stomach—handling your body with an insane amount of attractive ease. And to your surprise, he does go and grab the dildo again.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, and sighs at the dildo, like he wasn't a fan at seeing it (an understatement). “I want to do everything for you. I want to be everything for you. It’s a lifestyle loving you,” he grins and you ignore the heat on your face. “Yet, sometimes, I need help.”
He plunges the dildo back inside you (muttering something about keeping it in), and you whimper—somehow feeling emptier than before, but you don't quite think you can handle another round of that quite so soon. “Caleb, I’m sore.”
“I know, baby. I’m sure you're also feeling empty, huh? My greedy, greedy girl,” He asks, settling a hand onto your lower spine as he bends over to kiss at your back. “Don't worry, I have a plan for that too.”
And before you can ask what? you feel his cock prodding at your asshole.
“Don't worry,” he places another fat kiss on your back. “We can use the leftover lube you bought for you to use that damned dildo with. Shouldn't leave it to waste, right?”
It was a long, long night after that.