Chasing The O

by LaBelle, Lorelai

  “Vince loves you, Maci,” she comforted me, embracing me with a strong hug. “You know that. You have to be there for him when he’s ready.”

  “This could destroy him again, make everything we’ve fought through disappear.”

  “Or it could finally bring him closure,” she said.

  There was no way to guess what would happen next. I sat glued to the TV for the rest of the day and long into the night until I eventually passed out from exhaustion.

  AFTER THREE DAYS OF waiting, with my gut twisted like a rag, my nerves going haywire, and my brain concocting a million dramatic scenarios, Vince finally returned. He had called every day, but they were all short, vague conversations about what was going on.

  I found him sitting at the massive table in the dining room, his head folded in his hands, in a pose of utter exhaustion. In front of him a ring with one simple diamond gleamed under the low lighting.

  “Is that?”

  “The ring I gave Skye,” he finished for me. His voice was broken and strained. “They found it on her corpse. Her parents wanted me to have it back.” He hadn’t so much as twitched from his position, stuck there like a stone.

  I didn’t know what to say. His sorrow was plain enough. You have to be there for him when he’s ready, Danielle had told me. Was he ready now?

  When he finally looked at me, the pain in his eyes pierced my heart, and I collapsed to my knees to hold him. “I’m so sorry, Vince.”

  He sobbed into my neck, wordless. It was a long while before either of us spoke again. “It’s weird,” he said, breaking the silence. “All these years there was a part of me that was still holding on, hoping that she’d come back, that she’d washed ashore somewhere, stranded but miraculously alive. I’ve pictured her walking through that door so many times it’s hard to imagine . . . and now it’s final. She’s gone, dead. They buried her body yesterday. All that hope is dead now too.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. What could I say to that? Deep down, there had always been a part of me that knew he was holding back because of hope. Now to hear it aloud put it all into perspective: his heart was split between two women.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know that’s not something you want to hear.”

  “No, it’s all right. I think I’ve always known.” I touched his chest, placing my hand over his heart. “She was your first love. I understand.”

  A long silence passed between us again. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  How could I refuse? Although his words stung, I also knew they were words of grief, and only compassion could heal those wounds. “Of course,” I whispered. After cooking him dinner, we watched movies on the couch until we fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

  WE TALKED LITTLE THE next day. Alma called and said she checked in on Vince to find him asleep around midday. After work I headed over to his place and cooked an elaborate meal, but Vince had fallen into a deep depression, staring off into space, in and out of sleep all evening.

  My attempts to console him seemed too little, too ineffectual, and when we talked about what he was feeling his mood appeared to worsen without any breakthroughs afterward. Like closure would never come for him. I could feel Vince slipping away and I hadn’t a clue how to rescue him from the riptide that was pulling him out into a sea of despair.

  All that changed the next morning when Vince walked through the front entrance of Friends, holding a bouquet of various chrysanthemums, my favorite flowers. “What are you doing here?” I asked, utterly shocked by his appearance.

  “I . . . I realized I said my goodbyes a long time ago,” he said. We headed to the office for privacy. “Even though I never fully accepted it, I knew Skye died on that plane. I couldn’t let her go all these years because of hope . . . but I came here to tell you that I have moved on, Maci, even though I know you’ve had your doubts about that. I won’t lie and say there’s not a spot in my heart that loves her, because there is, and as much as I’d like to deny it, I can’t . . . I mean I was going to marry her. We had it all planned out, the flowers, the colors, the cake, who was going to sit where and all that . . .” His voice choked with pain, shaking. “But despite all that, and despite the difference in length between the relationships, I was never as close to her as I am with you. I came here to prove that to you. I also came here to tell you that I love you . . . and that I’m ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Ready to prove my commitment to you,” he answered, laying the flowers on the desk. “To show you that I’m ready to be with you, all of me.” My heart jumped. Is he about to ask me to marry him? “I’m ready to do number twelve on the list.”

  Number twelve? I had gazed at the list so many times I had it memorized. “Are you sure? I thought—”

  “That I’d never want to do it,” he interrupted. “You were right. Just like I know you never want to have a threesome. But I want to do this, Maci, for you. For us. Besides, I’ve been reading about it online, and I read the ‘Up Your Bum’ chapter in The Guide. There’s a reason why people do it: it’s supposed to feel great.”

  “But not if you’re not into it,” I countered.

  “I am into it,” he said. “I researched it. I watched Bend Over Boyfriend and the thought turned me on after a while. Thinking about your breasts slapping my back . . . I want to do it, Maci. That is, if you still want to . . .”

  Ever since we wrote out the list, I had thought about number twelve. Pegging: the reversal where the female does the man like a man, the thrusting, the penetration, all of it. It was one of the most arousing things on the list. “I do, but I don’t want to do it just to prove something. I want to do it for the same reasons we did all the other fantasies.”

  “To build a connection.” He took me in his arms. “To grow together, to explore each other, to strengthen our bond and let go of the past. Those are all the same reasons I’m talking about. I’m just saying that I want to show you my commitment to you by being open about the idea.” He grabbed my hands and stepped back a little. “I want to do this, Maci. I’m all in.”

  All in? What does that mean? “I have to think about it.” Was I overanalyzing his sentiment? Maybe. But I planned on analyzing it, then analyzing it again, just to make sure it didn’t end up in the mistake column later on.

  Vince left soon after that. I contemplated his words and the fantasy. I hadn’t done much research on it, so I figured I’d start there after work. Reading through the Wikipedia page on pegging turned me on. The control, the dominance: it was all so exciting. At the time, it seemed so out there, so dark and dirty and taboo. Women played the submissive in all the books I’d read, and the desire for the dominant point of view felt somewhat wrong, in that I should be more inclined for the submissive role. The thought of experiencing sex as the penetrator was overwhelmingly erotic. Not to say that I wanted to take over the role—I just wanted to try it once.

  When I got home, I cracked open The Guide to the “Up the Bum” chapter. I read it twice before I decided to pay for the instructional video, Bend Over Boyfriend. Lubrication and communication seemed key. The whole thing was a turn-on, but it was a huge commitment for a man who never desired anal play before, and that was the point Vince had tried to make at the office. But just showing up this morning and saying all those things showed his commitment to our relationship didn’t it?

  I sought out the advice of the one person I knew who had ever used a strap-on before. “Why do you want to know about strap-ons?” Danielle asked, intrigued.

  “I’ve just never thought much about it,” I lied, “and I wanted to know how it feels.”

  “Well, we’ve played around with a few different ones. The vibrating harness is my favorite,” she said. “Ashley’s is a double.”

  “Double?”

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” she said.

  “Now who’s the uncomfortable one?” I laughed. “See, you don’t have to be a prude.”
/>   She grinned at me. “A double is two dildos: one for the wearer, one for the receiver. There, are you happy?”

  “Quite.” I returned her grin. “Thanks.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you wanted to know?”

  I nodded on my way back to my room. There were still so many questions to ask and ramifications to consider, and I figured talking them through with Vince was the best option for us both.

  “Hey,” he said, opening his door around seven that night. “After this morning, I didn’t expect to see you again today.” His voice was upbeat, and his face was beaming, as if this morning he had suddenly been jolted back to his old self. He has moved on. He has found closure at last. His eyes told me this truth.

  “Well, from everything I’ve read, there needs to be an open line of communication on the subject, and so I thought we’d research and explore it together.”

  We hugged and he kissed me hello. “I was going to say that this morning, but you looked like you needed time to think it out on your own.”

  “I did,” I agreed. I led him into his office and woke his main computer, running a search for “pegging,” scrolling down the list. “The main thing I’m worried about is how you’ll feel afterward, you know?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, I think most people wouldn’t classify it as a ‘straight’ thing to do,” I voiced my concern. “And since you’ve never been curious about that stuff before, I don’t know . . . I just don’t want to lose you because of this.”

  He crossed his arms by the door. “Lose me? Why would you lose me?”

  “I don’t know . . . what if you feel violated afterwards, or insecure, or emasculated?” I paused, looking at the links. “Come here and read this.”

  He strode up beside me and started reading the article in Men’s Confidence Magazine. When he finished, he squared up my shoulders so that we faced each other. “Maci, I’m right there with the author. I’m perfectly secure with my sexuality and masculinity, and I don’t think you fucking me with a dildo will rip us apart. In fact, I think it will bring us together. I’m in this to share your fantasy.”

  I leaned up on my toes and kissed him. “I just needed to be sure. All in?”

  He gave me a reassuring smile. “All in,” he said. “So are you ready to shop for some toys?”

  Excited, I nodded with enthusiasm. “Danielle said she enjoys the harnesses that vibrate.”

  “You told Danielle about this?” he asked, his tone a bit tart.

  “No, I just asked her about strap-ons, about what she likes—that’s all. I didn’t tell her about us, about pegging, though I’m sure she wouldn’t say anything to anyone besides Ashley.”

  “For now, let’s just keep it between us,” he said, slightly warmer. “I guess that’s good to know since you come more from touching your clit.” He took over the keyboard, better at searching than I was. We eventually found a strap-on vibrating harness with a pouch for a bullet vibrator to stimulate the clit during the act.

  “That article said to start small with a five-inch or six-inch dildo that’s one-inch thick,” I noted. “Since the area is so sensitive.” After a half hour of searching, we ordered a five-inch dildo that was only point-eight inches thick. We bought both with next-day delivery.

  “All of this talk has my heart pounding,” I admitted. I stripped off his pants, pushed him into the office chair, and blew him until I had a mouthful. We ended up in the bedroom for round two. Tingling, I drifted off minutes after Vince came, satisfied by his gifted tongue.

  VINCE AND I HIKED through Forest park the next morning and long into the afternoon. By the time we returned, both packages had been delivered. Before we began our night of exploration, we ate dinner downtown, then visited Spartacus, where Vince bought four bottles of Uranus water-based lube, since every article, book chapter, and instructional video made it clear to use a lot of lube. We also bought a spare bullet vibrator as a backup.

  Vince took a shower when we got back to his place, and I decided to join him for some soapy, wet fun. Afterwards, we adjusted the harness straps before we continued with any more foreplay. “You look so hot in this,” Vince said, tightening the straps around my thighs, squeezing my ass. He slapped it, and then began kissing my skin, traveling down my leg, up my other one until he reached my other cheek, where he gently bit me. He stripped off the harness, leaving me in only a sexy black corset that pushed up my breasts. “God, you’re so damn sexy,” he whispered, pushing me onto the bed.

  I slowly pulled down the boxer-briefs he’d put on after the shower. His cock sprung up and I caught it in my hand, my grip tightening around his girth. I watched the blood rush to his head before I took it in my mouth.

  He pushed me back and climbed onto the bed. I lay back, swiping all but one of the pillows off the bed, while he rotated around, his cock in my face. He lifted his hips so that I could place the pillow under him, positioning his hard-on at the perfect sucking angle.

  Unable to wait, he dove between my legs, kissing my pussy. Immediately, my nerves exploded, the sensitivity greater than usual. “I love the way you taste,” he said, licking from my pussy to my clit in broad strokes. I caressed his cock, gazing at how his head and balls responded to the movement.

  “Do I taste sweet?” I asked, glancing down at his eyes.

  “Sweet like candy,” he said, rubbing his tongue between my inner lips.

  I gasped. Sixty-nine’s were so hard to do, yet were so sexy and arousing. I tried focusing on his cock instead of the glorious sensation, licking his tip with my tongue. Vince rocked his hips forward in reaction. I rubbed behind his cock, and touched around his anus, getting him hot for later on. He started moaning the way he did before he came, so I backed off, and let the surge in my head take over.

  After a few minutes, he rolled me onto my back, wet his tip with the juices between my lips, then slid in, electrifying the cravings deep inside me. As he pounded me, I awaited with palpable excitement for when it would be my turn to do the thrusting, and the thought pushed me over the edge as he took my partly exposed nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.

  He came halfway through my orgasm, both of us screaming, cursing, calling each other’s names. When he pulled out, rolling onto his back, I gazed into his elated eyes, and the urge to fuck him overwhelmed me. Compelled, I tightened the strap-on around my thighs and hips, wiggling the washed and sanitized dildo in front of him.

  He looked shocked that I was ready to go so soon. “Come on, sexy, roll over.”

  “I need a few minutes,” he rasped. “I need some water first.”

  “Okay,” I said, grabbing a pillow off the floor. I sat up in the bed while he headed for the kitchen. “Can you get me a glass, too?”

  He nodded, out of breath.

  Waiting, I played with the plastic pink cock, pumping up and down the shaft. I wonder if this is what it’s like to masturbate as a man. My thought was interrupted as Vince handed me a glass. He gulped his down in a hurry.

  We rested for a few more minutes before Vince crawled over me. “Are you ready?” he asked, touching the plastic cock.

  I nodded. “I’m so horny, I feel like I might come just sitting here,” I replied. I leaned forward and kissed him. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For coming into my life. For getting me to open up. For sharing all these experiences with me. All of it.” My words were a touch sentimental, but I couldn’t control it—they just rushed out.

  He kissed me back, harder. “I love you.” He turned around on all fours.

  My heart pumping wildly, I took the bottle of lube and squirted until my palm was full. I rubbed it on his anus. He moaned. “Does that feel good?”

  “Feels real good,” he answered.

  I poured half a bottle on the dildo, making sure it was as lubricated as possible, then stuck the fake head between his ass. I applied a little pressure on his hole and he sighed in pleasure.

  “A lot of nerves,” he
breathed.

  “Too much?”

  “No, keep going.”

  I slowly inched into him and he oohed the entire time. I paused about an inch in, checking in with him again.

  “It hurts,” he said, “but in a good way. A really good way.”

  I started again at his signal, pausing after another inch. I continued with the routine until most of the dildo had disappeared.

  Vince was breathing pretty hard by then, trying to control his breaths. “I’m okay,” he said. “It’s just different, that’s all. It feels good, but it’s different.”

  I began making gentle circles as per the instructions of The Guide. He let out more gasps and a few grunts. Even though the cock was fake and not attached in the same way, I loved the feeling. I loved gyrating my hips with him in front of me. I bit my lip in anticipation for when I could start thrusting.

  “I’m ready,” he said after about five minutes with the dildo all the way in.

  “You sure?” I could barely contain myself.

  “I’m very sure.” He started moving back to show me he meant what he said.

  I pulled all the way out as slowly as I could manage, then applied about half of what remained in the bottle on the dildo, inching in again, then out just as slowly as before, building up the speed with every plunge. I switched on the vibrator at that point, and the sensations—combined with the rush of thrusting—shot a bolt of ecstasy right up my back that swelled into my forehead. The pressure stayed there, building. I pulled down the corset and leaned over so that my breasts grazed his back as my hips rocked back and forth.

  Vince moaned as my nipples slid up and down his skin. “Softer,” he cried out, so I slowed my efforts, lost in the moment for a second.

  After a minute, I pulled out again and applied the rest of the bottle, then entered in one smooth motion, Vince exhaling through it. “Fuck—me—fuck—me,” he said between breaths. Putting the corset back in place, I grabbed on to his hips, slipping down his ass and pinching. The little bullet nearly blinded me with pleasure. With so much blood down in my pussy, my eyes were swimming. I threw back my head, calling out Vince’s name.