Chapter 5- THE MONTHS THAT FOLLOWED

I woke up the next morning still on the couch downstairs. My neck hurt from the way I slept on the couch. Ethan came down looking for me around seven. He found me curled up under the robe and sat on the edge of the cushion.

“You didn’t sleep in the room with me,” he said. His voice was soft. “Everything okay?”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “I couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts.”

He reached over and brushed hair from my face. “Yesterday was a lot. We’ll get better at this. I promise.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did.

The first week after the wedding stayed the same. Ethan would come to bed, kiss me, touch me carefully, then slide inside.

He moved with that same gentle rhythm. Always kind. Always finished too soon. I tried different things. I got on top.

I asked him to go harder. I pulled him deeper with my legs. Nothing changed the outcome. Five minutes at most and he would groan, spill inside me, and roll over with a tired smile.

By the third week I started crying and begging him to do more.

One night I held his face between my hands while he was still inside me. “Please,” I said. Tears ran down my temples into my hair. “Don’t stop yet. I need more. It feels like my life depends on it.”

He looked at me with real worry. “Riley, I’m trying. I'm giving you everything I have. My body just doesn’t last the way you want, I'm sorry.”

“Then try not thinking about it, it'll make you last longer. Please. Just stay hard for me.”

He softened while still inside me. The loss of pressure made fresh tears come. He pulled out and held me against his chest.

“I’ve done my best,” he said quietly. “You should appreciate the time I give you. Not everyone has a husband who comes home every night and still wants you, besides it's not my fault, your previous occupation made you like this.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and stayed silent. He fell asleep with his hands on my breasts. I stared at the dark ceiling until my eyes burned.

The pattern settled in. Weeks turned into a month. Then two. Then three. Outside of the bedroom Ethan was the same loving man I had married. He brought me coffee in the mornings. He asked about my day. He held my hand when we walked in the garden. He never brought up my past or made me feel small. That part of him stayed perfect. But the nights were terrible.

I started buying masturbation tools online.

First one dildo. Thick and long with a realistic shape.

When it arrived I locked the bathroom door and used it while the shower ran. It stretched me better than Ethan ever could.

I came hard with my forehead against the tile. The next week I ordered two more.

Different sizes. One that vibrated. One that curved upward.

Then a set of smaller toys and a bottle of thick lube. I hid them in a box at the back of my closet.

They helped for a while. Some afternoons when Ethan was at work I would take them out, lie on the bed, and fuck myself until my legs shook. The toys filled the physical space. They never filled the rest. After I came I still felt the same hollow ache. The toys did not talk dirty. They did not grab my hips and slam into me like they meant it. They did not look at me the way the young man on my wedding morning had looked at me.

One evening in the fourth month I tried talking to Ethan again. We were in the kitchen after dinner. He was drying a plate.

“I need more from you tonight,” I said. My voice stayed steady this time. “I want you to last. I want you to take me like you can’t get enough, I don't care what you take but I want you to last even longer than me this time.”

He set the plate down and turned. “Riley, we’ve been over this. My body has limits. I work long hours. I’m tired. I will give you what I can. You need to manage the rest somehow.”

“Manage?” The word came out sharp. “I cry some nights after you fall asleep. Do you know that?”

His face softened, but his shoulders stayed tight. “I’m sorry. I am. But this is the only problem we have. Everything else is good. Can’t that be enough?”

I looked at him for a long moment. Then I left the kitchen.

Upstairs I opened the closet box and took out the thickest and longest toy. I used it hard that night with my face pressed into the pillow so he would not hear me.

The months kept moving. Five months. Six.

The mansion stayed beautiful and quiet. Ethan stayed kind. I stayed hungry. The toys multiplied. I learned which ones made me squirt and which ones made my legs go numb. None of them fixed the real problem.

One evening I just placed an order on what I will eat that night when Ethan's call came in from the office. “I might be late tonight. Big meeting. Don’t wait up.”

“Okay,” I said. “Drive safe.”

I hung up and stood in the living room for a while. The house felt too big. I walked to the entertainment cabinet and opened the bottom drawer where I had hidden an old hard drive. I plugged it into the television and sat on the couch in only a thin nightgown.

The screen lit up with one of my old scenes. Me on my back, legs spread wide, a man with a thick cock fucking me deep while the camera stayed close.

The sound of skin and my own moans filled the quiet room.

I watched for a few minutes.

Then I slid my hand under the nightgown. My fingers found my clit and rubbed slow circles.

I was already wet.

I pushed two fingers inside and matched the rhythm on the screen.

The man on the television thrust hard.

I thrust my fingers the same way. It felt sweet in a way the toys alone never did. Watching my younger self take that kind of dick made the ache sharper and better at the same time. I added a third finger and curled them upward.

My hips lifted off the couch. Soft sounds left my mouth. I kept my eyes on the screen, on the way my old self’s pussy stretched around that thick shaft.

My fingers moved faster. The pleasure built clean and strong.

My thighs started to tremble.

I was so close, lost in the feeling, when a knock suddenly came through the door.

I looked at the time and it wasn't yet time for Ethan to be back from the office.

“Who could It be?" I whispered.