He adds a second finger. I whimper, my back arching slightly off the mattress. The stretch is deeper now, wider. He rotates them slowly, working the muscle open, and I can feel every ridge, every deliberate movement. My phone buzzes against the nightstand, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet room. I don’t move. He presses a finger to my lower back, a silent command to stay.
“Answer it,” he whispers against my ear. “Act normal.”
I reach up with my free hand, fumbling until my fingers close around the phone. I press it to my ear, keeping my breathing steady. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, honey. Just checking in. How’s your day going?” Her voice is warm, familiar, completely unaware of the man stretching me open beneath her.
“Good,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “Just relaxing. You?”
“Fine, fine. I’ll call you back later. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I hang up, placing the phone face-down on the pillow. His fingers are still inside me, deep and patient. He adds a third finger, and the stretch becomes profound, my body opening to him completely. I can feel the fullness, the way he’s molding me to his shape, and a shiver runs from my shoulders to my toes. The air in the room feels heavier, charged with the quiet promise of what’s coming. His thumb brushes the rim of my hole, and then I feel it—the broad, heavy head of his cock pressing against it, waiting. I stop breathing. The moment stretches, taut and electric, right before he pushes in.