Always Ready: A Love Story

The house was quiet. Late afternoon sun poured through the bedroom blinds, casting soft stripes of light across the unmade bed. She stood in her dressing gown, warm from a shower, her skin lightly scented with jasmine and something just... her.

She opened the cupboard above the sink, her hand moving unhurriedly. She already knew exactly where it was: the small, pale-blue case holding her diaphragm. It had been tucked away for a while--used sparingly now--but tonight, she wanted it. Needed it.

She opened the case with a soft snap, lifting out the smooth silicone dome, running her fingers along the flexible rim. It felt cool in her hand. She retrieved the tube of spermicide from the drawer, unscrewed the cap, and slowly squeezed a pearl-sized amount into the dome's cup. She smeared it evenly with practiced fingers, her breath catching slightly as she imagined what was coming--what you would be doing to her later.

Her thighs tightened instinctively.

She set one foot on the edge of the bathtub, holding the diaphragm in one hand, using the other to part herself gently. She inserted it with a slow, careful motion, pressing it back until it fit snugly in place, protecting her womb but leaving her completely open to you. She stood upright, exhaling as a wave of heat pulsed through her. The act of preparing--knowing what it meant--was already turning her on.

She walked back into the bedroom, her robe falling open. The wand was waiting. She lay back against the pillows, parted her legs again, and pressed it to her clit, slowly circling, letting the vibration hum through her. Her fingers drifted down to feel the slickness between her folds, already wet and glistening.

She imagined you walking through the front door, loosening your collar, unaware yet that she was upstairs--body ready, diaphragm in place, aching for your cum.

She thought about you filling her, deep and hard, spilling everything inside, safe in the knowledge she'd taken care of it--just for this. Just for you.

And that thought pushed her closer... closer... until she gasped, thighs trembling, her orgasm catching her by surprise.

But she didn't finish. Not completely.

She wanted to save it. For you.

The front door closed behind you with a soft click. You could feel something in the air--thick with warmth, heavy with quiet anticipation. You loosened your tie, kicked off your shoes, and climbed the stairs, already wondering... hoping.

The bedroom door was half open.

And there she was.

Laid back across the bed, dressing gown wide open, wand humming quietly beside her, her thighs still slick, parted, her fingers resting gently between them as if she were cradling a secret.

She looked up at you and smiled. That slow, knowing smile.

"I couldn't wait," she whispered, voice low and breathless. "I've already put the diaphragm in. Spermicide and everything. I want you... inside me... now."

You didn't say a word. You didn't need to. You stepped closer, drinking her in--her flushed skin, the glisten between her legs, the soft curve of her breasts rising with each breath. You undressed without breaking eye contact, dropping everything at your feet until you were bare and hard, aching just from the sight of her.

You climbed onto the bed, your mouth finding hers first--deep, slow, claiming. Her thighs opened wider to welcome you, and you slid between them, the heat of her body drawing you in. As you pushed inside, she gasped, her nails gripping your shoulders.

"Yes... just like that. You feel so good."

Her hips lifted, matching your rhythm, her eyes half-closed in bliss. She felt everything. You filled her completely. She knew there was no risk now--she had prepared for you, protected herself, just so she could feel this: the weight of you, the warmth, the depth... and eventually, your release.

"Come in me," she whispered into your ear. "I want to feel it inside me all night. Please, darling."

You groaned as your thrusts deepened, hips grinding into her, and then you let go. Buried in her. Emptying yourself with a force you hadn't felt in years. She moaned as you pulsed within her, her hands holding you tight, her body milking you, greedy for every drop.

You collapsed onto her, both of you breathless, sweaty, entangled. Her legs stayed wrapped around you for long minutes as your heartbeats slowed, still joined, nothing between you but love and heat and years of shared hunger.

She kissed your temple. "I love how you come in me."

You whispered back, "There's nowhere else I ever want to be."

Morning Light

The light was soft and golden when you stirred. She was already awake, lying beside you, stroking your chest with lazy fingers.

"I can feel it still," she murmured, shifting her hips slightly. "All of you... inside."

You slid a hand over her belly, kissed her shoulder. She got up slowly, padding to the bathroom with that same sensual grace that always drove you mad.

A few minutes later, you followed her in--she was bent slightly over the sink, two fingers slipping in to hook the rim of the diaphragm.

She glanced at you in the mirror and smiled. "Still full of you."

She eased it out slowly, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as the dome slid free, heavy with your spend. She held it for a moment, just looking at it, before turning to rinse it gently under warm water.

You stepped behind her, wrapped your arms around her waist, kissed the side of her neck.

"Thank you," you said softly, pressing yourself against her back. "For taking care of us. For letting me have all of you."

She leaned back into your chest, her clean fingers finding your hand.

"Always," she whispered. "I want you like this, again and again. Inside me. Safe. Wanted."

And in that moment, everything else fell away--just the two of you, together, soaked in trust, love, and the echo of a night neither of you would soon forget.

The afternoon sun filtered in through the kitchen blinds. You were out walking the dog, giving her a little space after the night you'd shared--a night full of sweat, whispers, and heat still lingering in the sheets.

She hadn't planned on anything today. Not at first. Her thighs were still tender. Her hips ached deliciously. But around midday, while she was folding laundry in her robe, she caught a whiff of your scent still clinging to the fabric of the pillowcase... and everything changed.

Suddenly, her pulse quickened. Her cheeks flushed. That ache returned--deeper now, wetter, insistent.

She needed you again.

Inside her.

Now.

But there wasn't time to set the mood. No candles, no teasing lingerie. You'd be home in twenty minutes.

She rushed upstairs, tossed the bedsheets back, and made her way to the bathroom. The case was still on the counter from the night before. The diaphragm was washed, air-dried, resting neatly on a clean towel. Her hands moved with practiced speed--spermicide, two fingers, a soft breath out as she hooked it in. It wasn't elegant this time. It was messy. Hungry.

She pulled her dressing gown closed, tied it at the waist. No knickers. Nothing beneath. Just the dome inside her, already making her feel full before you'd even touched her.

She checked her reflection. She looked flushed, just slightly undone. Perfect.

And then she heard the back door open.

"Love?" your voice called.

"In here," she called softly, leaning on the kitchen counter, pretending she hadn't just shoved a diaphragm into her body minutes ago, panting and dripping.

You came in, a little windblown, your eyes landing on her immediately. She hadn't done anything dramatic--just that old silk robe. But the way she stood--hips tilted, lips parted, eyes dark--told you everything.

Your brow lifted. "You look..."

"Hot?" she offered with a crooked smile.

"Wet," you replied, stepping closer. "Needy."

She slid one leg to the side, just enough for you to glimpse a flash of inner thigh.

Then she leaned in and whispered:

"I put it in again. Just before you walked through the door."

Her lips brushed your ear.

"Not because I want to be safe--because I want to be full again."

Your breath caught.

She stepped back and turned around, hands resting on the counter, hips cocked, dressing gown falling open in the back--bare, soft, irresistible. She didn't say a word. She just waited.

You pressed in behind her, hard already, slipping between her thighs, one hand wrapping around her belly.

"You didn't even wait for me to get upstairs."

She grinned over her shoulder, her voice low and smug. "I didn't want to wait at all."

You slid into her in one slow thrust.

She was soaked. Warm. Ready.

Your cum from the night before was still in your mind... and this time, you knew exactly what she wanted again: deep, slow, and inside.