Short Fiction: Beads

The curtains shut, and the door locked; he and I would spend hours kissing, holding, bending and folding into each other making up for the time at college where we only got to exchange glances in class

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After class, we’d fuck with the curtains drawn.

We’d make some unintelligent excuse about not wanting to be disturbed while playing computer games in our room, but the real sport we partook was way more hands on.

The curtains shut, and the door locked; he and I would spend hours kissing, holding, bending and folding into each other making up for the time at college where we only got to exchange glances in class. Nine months ago, though, this reverie broke when we graduated. Then exactly three months later, the daydream seemed to slip through my fingers when my boyfriend left the country for university in a different hemisphere. Ten hours past, was the last time I’d spoken to him on the time difference- yet this train of thought isn’t all dull and downy- because five minutes ago a mysterious package just delivered home to my name.
It was from him.

It isn’t my birthday, and it isn’t our anniversary yet for the two years we’ve been boyfriends, I thought to myself as I undid the inconspicuous looking FedEx packaging. The rectangular parcel gave no indication of what was inside. I finally got hold of a pair of scissors and pried my way into the sealings which opened to a hint of pink and on cue, my cheeks blushed beet red. My player from across three oceans had just sent me some of his favourite toys. As I unravelled the wrapping my heart raced. I could make out a bottle of sorts, almost the shape and size of an aerosol can, and lord knows my mind already was jumping to conclusions to what this shape could mean. Pulling the package apart with hands now clammy from excitement, the contents of the package dropped to the floor— a neat little medley of a velour eye mask, a bottle of lube, and beads.

Anal Beads.

As I picked up and unwrapped the chain of silvery orbs, beads of sweat started to form on my upper lip and I could feel my erection slowly growing in my shorts. I remembered him mention something about how we ought to be skyping more now that we’re LDR, but I had probably underestimated what he really, really had in mind. What is this man even planning to do to me, I gulped.

I smiled, only one way to find out.

Click I locked the door.

Next, it was time to draw the curtains.

About the author

Rheadodendron

Soft fire sign ready with her queer eyes, ears and nose to dissect pop culture and feminist LGBT+ discourse. The wri8er boi Avril should have warned you about.
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