Strap-On Phone Sex Confession

Okay, confession time, and this is a real strap-on phone sex confession, not the sanitized version. My boyfriend's birthday was coming up and I was sick of giving men watches. Watches are what you give someone when you've run out of imagination. I have never run out of imagination in my life.

So I bought the harness. Black leather, beautiful stitching, the kind of craftsmanship you usually only see on things that cost more than my rent. I wrapped the box in silver paper, tied a ridiculous red bow on top, and set it on the table next to the candles like it was any other present.

Dinner was perfect. I cooked, he poured the wine, we did the whole romantic performance. He opened the boring presents first, the cologne, the book, all very thoughtful girlfriend behavior. Then he got to the silver box, and his hands actually paused on the bow.

He asked what it was. I told him to open it and find out, birthday boy.

The look on his face when the leather unrolled across the tablecloth is something I will take to my grave. Confusion, then realization, then this slow spreading grin that told me everything I needed to know. He'd thought about this. Of course he'd thought about this. They all think about it. The good ones just wait to be asked.

I told him this was me asking. Happy birthday.

He just stared at the leather spread across the tablecloth like it might bite him. He asked carefully if this was what he thought it was. I told him that depends, topping off his wine. Did he think it was the best birthday present anyone had ever gotten him? He laughed, but it came out shaky, and I watched the exact moment the idea stopped scaring him and started thrilling him. His ears went pink. He folded the harness back into the box with extreme care, like it was made of glass, and carried it to the bedroom himself without me even asking.

I didn't rush it. That's the secret nobody tells you. I cleared the plates slow. I made him carry the box to the bedroom like it was something precious, because it was. I lit the candles in there too, put on the playlist I save for nights when I mean business, and then I stood in front of him and got dressed in it while he watched, strapping each buckle deliberate and unhurried, letting him see exactly what was about to happen to him.

I told him: on the bed, on his stomach. And he was going to tell me if anything didn't feel good, because I take care of my toys. He laughed, nervous and thrilled at once, asked if he was a toy now. I corrected him: he was my favorite toy. There's a difference. Toys get taken care of.

I warmed him up properly, because I'm thorough, fingers and patience and a lot of teasing about how the birthday boy was getting exactly what he secretly wanted. By the time I pressed in for real he was shaking, gripping the headboard, making these low wrecked sounds into my pillow. I went slow. I went deep. I kept one hand on the back of his neck, not pushing, just there, just reminding him who was steering this ship.

I murmured, asking who was a good birthday boy, and he laughed into the pillow even as it broke him a little, and I felt him let go completely, all the performance of being the man of the house just dissolving under me.

Halfway through I slowed down just to talk to him, because the talking is half the fun. I told him what I loved about this: how quiet he got. The birthday boy finally ran out of words. He laughed into the pillow, breathless. He told me to take it back. I said never, and picked up the pace until the headboard started knocking against the wall in a rhythm I knew the neighbors would be thinking about tomorrow.

After, we lay there tangled up, the harness tossed on the floor, candles burned down to stubs. He was quiet for a long time, and then he said, very seriously, that was the best birthday of his life.

I told him I knew. I'm incredible at presents.

He fell asleep with his head on my chest. I stayed awake a while, running my fingers through his hair, thinking about the look on his face when he opened that box. Here's the thing about giving a man exactly what he's afraid to ask for: he never stops being grateful. And gratitude, in my experience, is the most useful emotion a boyfriend can have.

I already ordered the next one. It has a bow too.