Rudolph The Red Light Butt Plug

(Literotica 2021 Winter Holidays Story Contest Submission)

There have been moments when I never thought this day would come. The most glorious Christmas Eve is nearly over. We're snuggling in each other's arms and just about to sleep. We're past the worst of the global pandemic. So earlier today and when we woke to a crisp and cool morning, ahead of just me and you hanging out together, we really felt the thrill of the new liberation. The children were at your parents' home most of the day. They already stayed there overnight. We checked in with a call in the morning, but after that they played and laughed with their beloved cousins until we went over late in the evening for a raucous and happy dinner. They squealed with delight when they saw us again. But like it or not for the rest of the day they didn't remotely want us to interrupt their own play. As much is as it should be. Now that all of us are home and exhausted none of us will wake until well into Christmas day itself.

For me and you we were happily tired because our day included a long playful dance with one another. In truth it had been building for weeks. We'd been teasing one another, building tension about the pleasures that would come. The context for the re-emergence of that banter matters. For a long period our amorous life was put into temporary lockdown. As much was so that we could play our parts in supporting one another and our communities. We've devoted ourselves to the care of one another's health, to that of our children, and to that of our parents and friends. We've devoted ourselves to our communities and to supporting them to stay well as best we can. But after nearly two years of toil, that's surely seemed like fourteen, suddenly there was nothing more we could do to address these wider spheres.

Now the world has started to get just a little brighter again. A couple of weeks ago that meant we could finally have a rare day out. We went back to the cinema once more. We folded around one another and enjoyed a foreign film and lunch on a day off when the children were in school. It felt decadent. We walked the city that not so long ago was deserted, except for ambulances and few people scurrying around in masks. We finally breathed. We talked about everything and nothing. Two days later you told me you'd dreamed of making love once more. I didn't dream but instead I'd felt it on my body.

I knew I wanted you again, as I always had, but in a way that was renewed and more urgent than I had felt in years. A few days after that we tried. Objectively good parts of it were clumsy and awkward. But it didn't matter. We started to re-connect on that level. That simple act was more important than any impossibly mind-blowing spectacular event. I didn't quite get there, which happens at our stage of life. But we opened and started exploring once more. It felt honest. We took our time. We explored inside and out as far as you felt comfortable and as far as you wanted. Your end was like a rumble from a well inside the depths of you. It made me happy to reach that.

Your body has changed after children and this hidden depth coming out more and more is one of those changes. You are more beautiful than ever. You're more rounded and more complete. To be clear you were also complete, and we were complete, without children. But if it's possible to be more so, then we are more so. Your body reflects it. When you're on top of me I love that feeling of running my hands up and over each line, tracing the way all your curves rise and fall and tell stories about your life and our life together. I shake inside just thinking of it. Indeed, now that I have allowed myself to feel desire again, knowing that it might be possible to consummate it once more and after all we have individually and collectively gone through, I burst inside with longing for you. Just reconnecting to that was more than enough to start.

A couple of weeks later we had a chance alone again and it moved ever so slowly to another level. There was no rush. We needed and still need to learn each other again. This time it was entirely different. The slow exploration was replaced for you by something that was frantic, fast, and explosive. You wanted and needed your breasts sucked hard as I hook fingers up inside. You needed my leg in between yours pushing my hand deeper. You needed it firm all over. Indeed, you cried out for it. You nearly begged for it. I was more than happy to give. If there's anything that pleases me more than being able to give you pleasure, it's that as we've grown together you've become ever more confident in your own skin, clearer about what you want, trusting that you can say anything, and that if I can I will meet your needs. All of that is a huge turn on.

To feel wanted and needed like that was and always is an incredible aphrodisiac, even if once again we didn't quite get me to the finish line. It had been taking a little longer for me to properly turn everything back on again. Once again, I was just happy to start re-connecting. I had patience that slowly it would happen. The 'it' came to pass this Christmas Eve in a bigger way than I had ever imagined. You had it all plotted out from the beginning too.

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Let's deepen this recollection with more about Christmas Eve morning. As we lay in bed, more relaxed now than we had been in years, we melded around one another, kissed, touched, and explored under night clothes. On our sides I brought my left leg up and between yours. I pulled it towards you and fancied you were warm already. Looking back on this day I doubt I was wrong. I can see now that you had carefully concocted every minute, and it must surely have given you pleasure to think about it from the outset. You reached around and got your right hand on my backside as we kissed passionately. Then you did something you haven't done in years. You traced down with fingertips so lightly that it sent shivers through me. And you ever so slowly grazed down between my cheeks and then slowly over my rear spot. I hadn't even noticed that we'd broken away from our kiss. I was frozen. You were watching me, attentive to reaction. You wanted to know if and how I had changed. For me I was barely conscious and my eyes were glazing over.

"You still like that?"

"Oh yes! I imagine that would be clear now." I half spoke and half breathed those words out.

"It certainly is", you said back laughing. Your eyes smiled kindly. It was lovely to see you smiling cheekily and playfully with your eyes. "What about that?" you add as you caressed up and down over that spot, a little firmer but still lightly. I didn't speak. We kept eye contact and my eyes glazed further. My breath slowed and got shallower. The other part of my response was to shift my left leg up as high as I could to give you as much room as I could offer. I tried to press into your finger a little. I wanted that finger inside. But you gently pulled away again.

"No, no, no", you say. "It's too early for too much." I sighed but was patient. It promised to be a day of sweet torture so I was more than willing to play along.

"Fair enough. That was quite a start to the day though. But I'm curious. You'd not liked touching me there and knowing that I've not wanted to ask for it. I'm not complaining but what's changed."

"I still feel a little uncomfortable about it. But I know you like it so I wanted to try. Also, seeing, hearing and feeling the way you respond made it worth trying." You said all this quietly but clearly and confidently. There was an earnest reassurance in it. It said you were listening and attentive. But then with a snap the tone changed and the play was back. "Anyway, I just wanted to do an early morning health response check to make sure you're up for what I have planned later. I want you to long for what's coming next without fully knowing all day long. You haven't got as much attention lately. And you've been a very good boy. Good boys get super presents from Santa after all."

Your tone was changing even more and a high energy verve was back. "Right, enough of that for now. I have plans for you today. Let's start with a coffee though. If not we're going to be like Iggy Pop and Sara Driver coffee zombies. You won't be sorry you waited."

You knew I love Jim Jarmush's films and that I'd immediately recognise the Dead Don't Die reference. Indeed we love Jarmusch films. I told you "Iggy as the crusty old comatose coffee addict was inspired but we're not at that level yet! Besides, the film wasn't remotely Jarmusch's best..."

"Oh my God, enough already! If you tell me one more time how much better Paterson's gentle unfolding relationship was I'm going back to bed and I'll stay there. If, instead, you want a functional partner who can actually give you your presents, and you will like your presents, you need to help get me started right now. Coffee, coffee, coffee..." you said rolling out of bed and feigning a zombie walk and talk.

"All right, all right, coming up" I said smiling. Whilst I went to make the coffee I could hear you having a shower. I wasn't ready for what I saw when I came back. Standing in the middle of our bedroom looking at me with the broadest, cheekiest grin you were adorned with a new black lingerie set. The short cut boy pants were made of fine and soft lace. I could see that they came up around your cheeks and left the crease below each exposed as you twirled around to give me a glimpse. I love your lines below your buttocks. Your full breasts are held in matching soft-top bra, of the kind that's glorious to work around and kiss through later on.

"Like?"

"Like! You look fantastic! I haven't seen you in lingerie for years. When did you pick those up?"

"I didn't. My mother did. She said that she thought I needed to wear something that made me feel sexy again. She gave it to me yesterday and suggested I might wear it today. Good idea, no?"

"Yes, but, oh my that's an awkward thought." I shudder as I say it and nearly spill the coffee. Your mother is a superb and sensitive human being. Just giving something like that to help her daughter feel good is kind and exactly the sort of thing she would do. In truth we are very fortunate even if I immediately pushed the origins of the lingerie to the back of mind. You literally tucked them out of sight quickly too, pulling on a knee length black skirt, boots, and top.

"Come on. Clean up thoroughly. And I do mean thoroughly. I want you showered, scrubbed and cleaned everywhere. I'm intending for us to get particularly messy later on. Then get dressed. It's nearly time to go." I looked quizzically back and you explained. "Let's have breakfast out. And if maybe you got me any little something bring it along. I've got some little things for you and I'll bring them with me for later too. They're things you'll be able to wear."

"Oh, I'm intrigued now. I got something for you to wear too though it isn't more lingerie. My head hasn't been in that space for a while. I'm tempted to get you some more for New Years' though if you'd like that. As for my present for now, it's simple and beautiful and I hope you'll love it. I had it specially made."

"I'm sure I will. And as for lingerie for New Year I'd very much like that. Let's get you switched back on properly before then though. I'm going to try and make you feel more sexy too. But let's talk about that more later. I can feel that I already need another coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee,..." you intone in your best zombie impression as you do your performative undead-style walk slowly to the front door.

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Through the day we talked and walked and walked and talked. We took in the parks and the sounds of the city, the natural and the bustle. We weren't shopping or working, so it was strangely peaceful for us operating in a cocooned kind of realm aside from others busily going about their business. We had a long and lazy breakfast and lunch at favourite diners, catching up with the owners and customers we'd met over the years. We'd always loved living in the city, walking everywhere we could. Slowly we'd gotten to know everyone and every store within blocks. I was dressed in just ordinary cream pants and top. I looked fine but you were incredible. In those boots, skirt, and dark plain top you oozed class but also relaxed enjoyment. This was understated but it was not a work outfit. This was stylish playwear.

You turned to me in the late afternoon and said "It's just about time for one of your surprises. Look up there." You were pointing to the sign board for our local cinema. I got incredibly excited.

"I hadn't realised there was a Jarmusch retrospective on! I usually wouldn't miss such things!"

"I know. Last Lovers Left Alive is on this afternoon. I've got tickets. Let's go."

"Wow. Two non-normative lovers and Jarmush working out how they might approach life and genuine love, set in the context of declining America through the perspective of Detroit's decay, and told from within their wildly different perspectives? Best present ever!"

"Oh. My. Goodness. I say to you for the thousandth time, you are a certified geek."

"Nerd. It's different."

"Oh, far out. Seriously. That's what you're focussed on? This is a very good present I must admit. But I highly doubt it will be close to the best present of today, let alone the the best present ever. We'll get to that soon enough. In fact it's going to keep getting better all day long," you say as you grab my hand and begin guiding me across the street.

It might have seemed odd that I could be so excited about going to see a Jarmusch film. It's not just that his best films are superb though that does help. It's also that we discovered his work whilst on our honeymoon overseas. We both love film but hadn't seen anything of his. We were longing to go and see a movie, and this tiny little art cinema we found was the only one playing English material. Jarmusch was the only choice that day. We nestled together then as well, and let all the hectic lead up to the wedding and the start of the holiday ebb away. Our wedding was the happiest of times. It had such funny moments. But finally stopping together and just us, meant settling into a different kind of pleasure that we always remembered. Seeing any of Jarmusch's films has reconjured the same feelings within us ever since, with the possible and odd exception of Dead Don't Die and its Coffee Zombies.

As we walked through the cinema complex front doors you said "If you like this then the next thing is going to blow your mind. Come. Let's have a seat inside whilst we wait for the theatre door to open. It's fifteen minutes to start time. Let's exchange other presents."

We went in and sat in a booth in the corner. I passed my present over first. It was a high-quality white gold ring, to replace an old, patterned silver one that I'd given you two decades ago. It was from well before we were married. We lost it in the chaos of a house move and you were incredibly upset. This wasn't quite a replacement. But it's what I would have bought you back then if I could have afforded it. I'd had it made with simple patterned decorative features by a local jeweller. It suited you perfectly. You were more than thrilled and touched my face gently and without words, as a delicate unspoken thank you that I could translate from us having been together for all this time. But then you passed a box back to me. I gave it a shake.

"It seems like the shape of a book box but doesn't sound like books." I took the paper off. Underneath was a box for one of my favourite bookstores.

"That's cover for what's inside," you tell me. "I know you love your books but this is better. Go on, open the box." As I do so I nearly double over for pleasure. The first thing I see and pull out is a pair of men's fine underwear. They're black boy-shorts style but made from the softest cotton. They have no seams and so they're comfortable and float on skin more than grip it. I knew because I'd had this make before. They're a premium English import. I bought a pair before in a moment of feeling lonely and wanting to be touched. When I walked it felt like they lightly caressed me. But they were now years old, didn't feel quite the same anymore, and were largely disused. I'd stopped even attending to myself in that way, and hadn't felt I needed to replace the old ones until this moment. All of a sudden I wanted nothing more. Though this time I wanted the chance to more fully share it with you. I was touched you thought to do it.

"Thank you" I whisper.

"That's not all. Check out the box there." There was indeed an unmarked small black box inside. I picked it up. It had a degree of heft about it for its size. I opened it and inside was a sleak, beautifully made and weighted three-and-a-half-inch butt-plug, with smooth black high-quality silicon covering and a red ruby glass-like button on the end. It felt lovely and tactile smooth in my hands.

"Would you still like that too?" you ask. I couldn't speak. I did. I wanted it very much. My look would have told you that without a doubt. In the past I'd hinted at it to test waters but wasn't sure you had heard. You seemed hesitant and uncertain, and I wanted to hang back and respect that. You would have said yes if I'd expressed the desire clearly and insisted. I know you would. But I didn't want to force something into our intimate play that you weren't ready for and that made you feel uncomfortable. I could have a more than fulfilled amorous life with you and without it. But, that important qualification aside, actually I also really wanted it. And what I wanted even more was for you to want it with me and for me as well.

"Go on, put it all on if you like. I'd really like you to put it on and enjoy it. You'll find some lube in the box to help you." I didn't need to be told twice. I was sure it was going to be rather better than the surreptitious skipping rope ends that I'd experimented with when young and that I'd talked with you about. Fortunately, there were never any embarrassing and hard-to-explain splinters, but still it was hardly an ideal foray into such things. I looked closer at my new aid and could see it was long enough, wide enough, and heavy enough to fill me in the way I had longed for, but it wasn't so big or intimidating as to be overwhelming. It looked discreet. It was perfect.

Putting it in was glorious. I don't think I'll ever forget the feeling. Knowing that this was ok with the one person who mattered more than anyone in the world to me, and that it was ok despite it being something you'd initially felt uncomfortable with, made it feel like more than just a glorious smooth insertion of pleasure. It felt like adding another complex layer to me. It felt like welcoming acceptance of me for me. It felt like love of me for me. As I walked back with the new presence inside it caressed everything in there, whilst over the top the soft fabric of the new pants lightly amplified that feeling on my exterior.

You smiled as I walked back, noticing that I was clearly distracted. We caught one another's eyes again as I got closer, and mutually enjoyed the surreptitious and between-us knowledge of what I was experiencing. "You have such a great arse. I've always loved it. I'm not remotely finished with it either", you told me. "But come on, that's for later. The cinema doors are about to open."

There were a few others in the theatre but not many. It was almost deserted as the rest of the world frantically ran about getting ready for Christmas Day. You shuffled in your seat a little though I could hardly see a thing of you in the deep dark. I couldn't work out what you were doing. The lights had dimmed but nothing had yet started playing on screen to give ambient visibility. Some preview clips came on and filled the air with sound and let us see a little again. You leaned over and opened my satchel sitting to the side of my seat. You put something dark inside.