The anal plug

Chris woke up early, as always. Adriana’s side of the bed was empty, but still warm. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom. He got up, put on his old bathrobe, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. The apartment smelled like her: expensive perfume, dried sweat, and something else… a musky, masculine scent that wasn’t his.

Adriana came out fifteen minutes later, wrapped in a short towel that barely covered her ass. Wet hair, flushed cheeks, a lazy, satisfied smile. She walked with her legs a little more spread than usual, as if something was forcing her to. She approached the table, bent over to grab a mug, and Chris saw it.

Between her cheeks, peeking just below the edge of the towel: a black anal plug, shiny, with a wide, pink glass base that caught the kitchen light. It was medium-sized, but thick. Not a beginner’s toy.

Chris froze, coffee pot still in his hand.

Adriana turned, saw his face, and let out a soft, almost maternal little laugh.

“Oh, honey… you’ve already seen it?” she said, making no move to cover up. She slowly turned around, lifted the towel a bit, and showed him the full plug. “Don’t get like that. It’s just part of the job requirements.”

Chris swallowed hard. His voice came out hoarse.

“Job… requirements?”

Adriana sat down carefully on the chair, giving a tiny wince as the plug settled deeper. She crossed her legs elegantly and picked up the mug he had poured for her.

“Of course, poor thing. Look, being a VIP hostess isn’t just about sitting there looking pretty and smiling. You have to provide premium service. The big clients pay a lot to feel special, to feel… truly taken care of. And one of the things they like most is knowing the girls are always ready. For everything. The plug is part of the training. Abella put it in me last night, before I went into the private room. She says it makes me walk sexier, makes my ass move more naturally, that guys notice it and go crazy. Nothing sexual, okay? It’s professional. It improves the service.”

Chris felt his stomach twist. But his cock, treacherous, began to harden under the bathrobe.

“And… you’ve kept it in all night?”

Adriana took a sip of coffee and looked at him over the rim of the mug with that new, affectionate condescension.

“Of course, love. The whole shift. I put it in at nine and I’m taking it out now that I’m home. Abella says this is the first step of the training. Later there’ll be bigger dilators, so I can ‘accommodate’ the clients who want… you know, something more intimate. But relax, no sex. Just preparation. So the service is flawless.”

She paused, stroked his hand across the table.

“Last night I was the star, you know? The VIPs wouldn’t stop asking me to sit on their laps. One of them, the big guy from the other night… kept me on his lap for two straight hours. He kept telling me I had the perfect ass, that you could tell it was ‘trained.’ He rubbed me against him discreetly while I just smiled and poured more champagne. I made more in tips in one night than you do in a month. And all because I’m wearing this. See? It works.”

Chris looked at the plug again. The pink glass gleamed every time she moved.

“Does… does it hurt?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

Adriana shrugged, smiling.

“A little at first. But now… I like it. It makes me feel full, ready, professional. And when I dance or move, it rubs exactly where it’s supposed to. It keeps me horny the whole time, but that’s part of the job. Nothing I can’t handle.”

She stood up slowly, let the towel drop to the floor, and stood naked in front of him. The plug looked perfect nestled between her round cheeks, the glass catching the light. She turned, bent forward slightly, and spread her legs just enough for Chris to see how swollen, wet, and open her pussy was.

Adriana slipped her fingers around the base of the plug, took a deep breath, and began to pull with deliberate slowness. The toy emerged centimeter by centimeter, accompanied by a wet, sucking sound. As soon as the wide tip passed through the muscular ring, a thick, white stream gushed out suddenly—hot and copious—splashing onto the tiled floor in heavy drops that spread into irregular puddles. One more tug and it came out all at once: a viscous, creamy river that ran down her thighs, dripping nonstop, while her ass clenched in involuntary spasms.

Adriana let out a long, hoarse, almost animal moan. Her knees trembled. She came right there, standing, from nothing more than the sudden feeling of emptiness and the liquid pouring out of her. The orgasm ripped through her like a current, arching her back and making her bite her lip hard enough to leave marks. When she finally caught her breath, she turned toward Chris with a slow, satisfied, almost compassionate smile.

“Oh, honey… don’t make that face,” she said slowly, while another creamy thread slid down the inside of her thigh. “It’s part of the training, silly. It’s not what it looks like. The VIP clients from last night… well, one of them insisted I get a special enema before I left. It’s this premium hydrating and lubricating cream they use at the club so us girls are always ‘soft inside.’ The plug keeps it all in during the whole shift, so it doesn’t leak and my ass stays perfect and ready for the next service. It’s not sexual, okay? It’s just… professional maintenance. It improves the presentation.”

She bent over a little more, spread her cheeks with her hands, and let Chris see how her ass was still pulsing, expelling remnants of that thick cream that fell in heavy drops onto the floor.

Chris had taken a step back, leaning against the kitchen island. His hand was already inside his pajama pants, moving with barely contained urgency. He couldn’t look away. The wet sound of his own hand, the musky smell filling the kitchen, the sight of his wife dripping that thick cream… it all hit him at once.

Adriana noticed it instantly. Her eyes dropped to the island, to the subtle movement of his arm. Her smile widened, turning playful and cruel in equal measure.

“Uh-oh… what are you doing hiding there, poor thing?” she whispered, approaching slowly, leaving a trail of cream on the floor with every step. “Are you touching yourself? Do you like seeing all this cream dripping out of me?”

She stopped about a meter away, leaned forward so Chris could get a better view of the mess between her legs.

“Admit it, love… you’d like it to be something dirtier, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to tell you that last night they filled me with something thicker and hotter, and now here I am, in front of you, leaking like a well-used whore while you jerk off quick behind the counter. Isn’t that what turns you on? Because if it doesn’t… why aren’t you stopping?”

Chris let out a choked moan. His hand sped up without meaning to. Adriana laughed softly, ran a finger along the inside of her thigh, collected a bit of that viscous cream, and brought it to her lips. She tasted it slowly, staring straight at him.

“Mmm… smooth, creamy… still smells like the club’s formula.” She paused, sucking her finger deliberately. “But don’t worry, silly. This isn’t cheating. It’s just… body preparation. So the next client finds everything ready and perfectly hydrated. You’re still my husband. The one who loves me even though I need other men to really ‘train’ me.”

Chris came then, grunting against the arm he had propped on the counter. His semen came out in weak, pathetic spurts, splashing onto the kitchen floor next to the creamy puddle Adriana had left. She looked at him with that new tenderness, almost pity.

“My poor baby… as quick as always.” She stepped closer, gave him a soft kiss on the forehead, still dripping. “But it’s okay. I like seeing you like this. It reminds me why I need to go out and get what you can’t give me.”

She turned, walked toward the bathroom, leaving a trail of white drops down the hallway.

“I’m going to shower. When I’m done, you can tell me if you enjoyed breakfast… or if you’d prefer I give you more ‘details’ from last night’s shift.”