Dinner, Chapter 8

Disclosure: AI-Generation. This story is a product of collaboration between the author and AI, serving three key roles: Writing Assistance (to refine grammar, enhance ideas, and adjust tone); Personalized Feedback (offering critique and suggestions for improving the narrative); and Visual Creation (entrusting the image generation to AI, as it lies outside my expertise). In crafting this narrative, I employed the capabilities of ChatGPT and Mistral for textual content, alongside Dall-E-3 for the visualization aspects.

Lyra sat cross-legged on her bed, the silk of her pyjamas cool against her skin. The petite, new vibrator lay inert before her, its promise of discovery as intimidating as it was enticing. A few days had passed since its purchase—a witness to the chasm of intimacy between her and Mike. She was excited at the prospect of reigniting her lacklustre intimacy with him, but guilty that she was taking this first step without him.

Emma's words echoed in her mind, a mantra of self-assured exploration. "Understanding yourself is the first step to being understood," she had said. Lyra's heart wavered between trepidation and resolve; she was determined to bridge the gap with Mike, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of solitary betrayal.

With a steadying breath, she dimmed the lights to a soft glow and slid beneath the covers, her fingers grazing the synthetic surface. "Just a first step," she whispered to herself, more a question than a statement.

She began tentatively, the hum of the device set to a gentle purr. The vibrations traced a hesitant path over her clothed body, each movement punctuated by Lyra's quiet sighs of unease rather than pleasure. Experimenting with angles and pressures, she sought an elusive harmony—something that felt right. She drew it across her stomach, then inched a little lower—across the silk barrier separating the toy from the soft hair of her lower abdomen.

She didn’t know what she was looking for. She didn’t know what right was supposed to be. The vibrations jarred against her through the fabric barrier, an uninvited sensation rather than a welcomed caress. The toy seemed less an extension of her desires and more a foreign entity, its presence pushing against her skin. The buzz was more irritating than erotic, and when it reached the apex of her thighs, even through her pyjamas it was immediately uncomfortable.

Turning off the device, Lyra set it aside with a furrowed brow. She closed her eyes, reaching inward to Emma's advice. Her hands moved again, with more confidence, guided by intrinsic rhythms rather than mechanical ones. A warmth began to stir within her, a glimmer of the connection she yearned for.

But even as she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation, Lyra felt a pang of guilt. Was it wrong to be doing this without Mike? Would he be hurt if he found out? She pushed the thoughts away, trying to focus on the present moment.

With her hand inside her pyjama bottoms, she stroked herself through her panties. In her thoughts, Mike was there, whispering in her ear how much he loved her, how much he wanted to connect with her. She grabbed the toy again, but keeping it off she gently rubbed herself with it. It was more comfortable, even as it pushed her panties into her intimate zone.

She started to feel aroused—was it time to turn it on again? Lyra still had pangs of reservation and tossed the vibrator aside, curling up in bed. She felt as if she was being unfaithful. She tried to reason with herself, how could this be wrong, she was thinking about Mike. It was Mike she wanted, Mike she wanted to caress her, Mike she wanted to tell her how much he loved her. It was Mike who was allowed to touch her there. She smiled, maybe she just needed Mike

Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, thoughts of Mike kissing her neck and running his fingers over her skin, she heard him coming up the stairs. She scrambled to hide the vibrator under her pillow.

"Hi, Mike," Lyra said, trying to sound nonchalant. "How was your day?"

"Hey," Mike said, jumping into bed. "Wow, you're looking hot tonight." He lifted the bed sheets and then groaned “Oh, no-sex pjs.” looking dejected.

Lyra protested, “I don’t have no-sex pyjamas, Mike… and are you listening, did you have a good day or not?”

"Jesus Ly, yes… You know, you’re so sexy when you’re all riled up. I've been thinking about taking you again for a while actually. When I saw you on that stupid waterbed with Emma and Vix, that was pretty hot.” he said with a wink.

Lyra felt a twinge of embarrassment and confusion. She had no idea what Mike was talking about—they had just been chatting on the waterbed, nothing more. But she didn't want to ruin the mood, so she just smiled and nodded.

“We were just talking,” Lyra said, perplexed at how he could think that was a turn-on.

“You were all hot and flustered,” he continued. “A bit like you are now. Time to play with Mikey Mike, me thinks."

Lyra sighed inwardly, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. She knew that it was pointless to argue with Mike when he was in this mood. Instead, she forced a smile and tried to muster up some enthusiasm.

"Okay, Mike," she said, trying to sound excited. "Let's do this."

Mike grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "That's my girl," he said, pulling her closer.

As they began to kiss, Lyra felt a moment of hesitation. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had been unfaithful to Mike by even trying to use the vibrator earlier. But she pushed the thought aside, trying to focus on the present moment.

After two short kisses, Mike manoeuvred behind her. Lyra found her voice, bolstered by a fragile newfound insight. "Mike, I want to see you, to connect," she implored, seeking an intimacy that had become foreign.

She remembered the warmth of her own touch from earlier, the way her fingers had moved with a tender curiosity that she had not permitted herself in years. In that moment of solitude, her hand had been both comforter and explorer, a stark contrast to the detached urgency of Mike's approach.

"Maybe second round, Ly," Mike murmured, the words half-hearted as if he couldn't muster the effort to meet her needs. "It's just—like this, it feels way more intense for me, you know?" His voice held a tinge of something that might've been regret, or perhaps a dim recognition of her longing.

He glanced at her, an almost imperceptible softening in his eyes before the habitual hunger took over. "But let's not worry about that now, yeah? Come on, let's get lost in this." He nudged her gently, encouraging her to turn over, never fully grasping that what she needed was to be seen, not just felt.

Lyra complied, pushing herself up on her knees, her position one of vulnerability, a physical manifestation of the imbalance in their relationship. Mike's touch lacked the tenderness of their past, he pulled down her pyjama bottoms and panties. He shoved his hand between her legs, adding, "Wow, you’re really hot for it."

As Mike’s touch sparked a heat within her, Lyra found herself reaching for the memory of the toy's lifeless form again. Mike’s cock was already at her entrance, pushing inside.

Her fingers, emboldened by the recollection of her solitary courage, sought out her own warmth beneath the cover of darkness. There, hidden from Mike's oblivious gaze, Lyra allowed her hand to dance to the silent music of her desire, a plea for the connection she so craved.

Each subtle movement of Lyra's fingers felt like an act of defiance, a secret dance taught by Emma's frank wisdom. In the shadows of their bedroom, Lyra could almost hear Emma's encouraging voice, urging her to explore what felt good, to claim ownership of her pleasure. It was a solitary rebellion against the unspoken rules of their bedroom, rules that prioritised Mike's desires over her own.

Mike moved rhythmically, grunting and panting. Lyra tried to focus on the sensations, but she couldn't help feeling like she was just a prop for Mike's pleasure. He clamped his hands on her hips, pushing and pulling her to and fro, "Yeah, that’s it."

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the path of the vibrator again, hoping it would help her enjoy the experience more. But it was no use – Mike finished up quickly, with a final grunt of satisfaction. He rolled off Lyra just leaving her there on all four. Lying on his back he exhaled deeply “Wow, you’re still pretty tight when you put out. That was great, you tapped me out… Don’t think I can go again just now though.” He adjusted his boxers and started to fumble for the duvet.

Lyra felt a surge of disappointment. She had been hoping for more—for a deeper connection, for a moment of true intimacy. But it seemed that Mike was content with just a physical release.

Lyra reached back to grab her panties and bottoms, pulling them up as she felt the gooey mess oozing from her. He always used to clean up after himself, gently massaging her sensitive parts with wet wipes. Many times, she’d had an orgasm in his sensual post-coital routine. She couldn’t remember the last time there had been tissues on his nightstand.

In the silent aftermath, Mike's breathing evened out, the rhythm announcing his satisfaction and impending slumber. Lyra lay there, a hollow shell adorned in the trappings of intimacy but devoid of its substance. The memory of her own touch, both with and without the vibrator, lingered like a whisper of possibility amid the cacophony of unmet needs.

She found herself thinking of Emma, of the easy camaraderie they shared and the way Emma had encouraged her to explore her own desires. Lyra couldn't help but compare the intimacy she'd experienced with Emma during their spa day to the mechanical act she'd just undergone with Mike.

Lyra's thoughts drifted back to their conversation in the powder room, to Emma's sly smile and the way she'd playfully smacked her bottom. She liked Emma calling her a dirty girl, even though she wasn’t. She remembered the rush of excitement she'd felt, the thrill of hearing about something new and taboo. In that moment, she'd felt seen and understood in a way that Mike had never made her feel.

A twinge of guilt washed over her at the thought of comparing Emma to Mike, but she couldn't deny the truth. With Mike, these days, she felt like a prop, a means to an end. With Emma, she felt alive, seen, and heard.

Emma had always had a way of making her feel comfortable in her own skin, even when she was feeling self-conscious. It was one of the many things Lyra loved about her friend. She found herself longing for that same comfort and acceptance in her relationship with Mike.

Lyra sighed and rolled over onto her side, trying to ignore the feeling of dissatisfaction that lingered in the air. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to the massage table, imagining the soothing touch of the robotic arms as they worked out the tension in her muscles.

She allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy of Emma's hands on her body instead, feeling her friend's fingers trace slow circles on her back, sending shivers down her spine. She imagined Emma's breath hot against her ear as she whispered encouragement, urging her to let go and give in to the pleasure.

Lyra's mind raced, a whirlwind of questions and doubts. Was it wrong to crave this depth of intimacy? She couldn't shake the feeling that her thoughts were a betrayal. But how could it be unfaithful when all she wanted was to feel seen, heard, and understood? Emma made her feel all those things. Was it so wrong to yearn for that in her marriage? Lyra's heart quickened, guilt and longing warring within her.

"You're not being unfaithful, babe. Sometimes our dreams are just our subconscious trying to work through things," Emma said. "It could just mean that you're craving intimacy and connection in your relationship with Mike.”

As Emma whispered those words, Lyra felt a rush of pleasure run through her body. She couldn't believe she was here, in the spa again.

Emma's touch was gentle, yet confident, and Lyra found herself responding to it in a way she had never experienced before. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the sensation, feeling Emma's fingers trace a path over her stomach.

"Open your eyes," Emma whispered, and Lyra obeyed. She saw that Emma was holding Ms. Strapless, and she felt a jolt of excitement run through her.

"This is all about you," Emma said, her voice low and soothing. "This is about exploring your desires and learning what feels good for you. And if it helps you feel more connected to Mike, then all the better."

Lyra nodded, feeling a mix of emotions - excitement, nervousness, and a deep sense of gratitude towards Emma. She knew that she could trust her friend, and she felt safe in her hands.

Emma guided Lyra to lie back on the waterbed and then began to touch her in a way that was both familiar and new. She used Ms. Strapless to tease Lyra's nipples, making her gasp with pleasure, and then moved it down to her most sensitive area.

Lyra felt herself let go, giving in to the sensation and the feeling of being completely present in the moment. She could hear her own breath coming in short gasps, and she felt herself building towards something she had never experienced before.

And then, she was there, a wave of pure pleasure that left her breathless and shaking.

When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Emma smiling at her, a look of pure satisfaction on her face.

"How did that feel?" Jenna asked, lying next to her on the massage table. “I told you Emma’s all the therapy we need.”

Lyra could only nod, still trying to catch her breath. "Amazing," she finally managed to say. "I had no idea it could feel like that."

Emma laughed softly. "That's the beauty of exploring your desires. You never know what you might discover."

Mike's alarm blared, shattering the dream. His hand was already groping at Lyra's pyjama bottoms, his touch amplifying her discomfort as she registered the dampness between her legs.

"You were wild last night when I got home," Mike said, his voice thick with desire. "Wow, you're still wet, you must be really hot for me. I've only got five minutes though before I need a shower and have to get out of here."

Before Lyra could respond, Mike had flipped her onto her stomach and propped up her hips with two pillows. He yanked down her pyjama bottoms and panties, seeming to pause as if he appreciated the sight of his dried cum stains from the night before. Mike didn't have time to waste, he positioned himself behind her, ready to thrust his rapidly awoken and erect dick into her wet cunt.

“No, Mike,” Lyra blurted out, pushing the pillows aside, and rolling onto her back beneath him. “Look at me when we do this.” Lyra immediately thought, why am I doing this?

“Jesus, Ly, make up your mind. I can’t fuck you like this!” A frown of confusion appeared on Lyra's face. Mike got back on his knees, lifted up Lyra’s legs and pulled her panties and bottoms off.

Not waiting for any kind of reaction from Lyra, he pushed his way in, his hips slapping against her thighs. "You like that, don't you?" he grunted. His weight pressed down on her body. She tried to kiss him, only finding her ear, his head was buried above her shoulder, his eyes closed. She closed her eyes too, and tried to focus on the sensations, the sound of his heavy breathing.

With a final grunt, Mike came, his body shuddering with the force of his climax. He pulled out of her and stood up, leaving Lyra feeling used and unsatisfied. She heard the water in the shower turn on, and she knew that Mike would be out the door in no time.

Lyra rolled over onto her stomach, feeling the cool air hit her skin. She grabbed a pillow, burying her face in it. The memory of Mike's touch lingered, but it brought no comfort, only a hollow sense of disappointment. Tears stung her eyes as she replayed the events.

She hadn't said no to sex, only to the impersonal way Mike had wanted to take her. But her request for intimacy, for the connection of looking into each other's eyes, last night met with excuses, had now been met with anger. Even when he had relented and taken her face-to-face, he had avoided her gaze, leaving her feeling just as disconnected as before.

A nagging thought crept into Lyra's mind: had they just had an argument? And worse, was it her fault? Maybe she had pushed too hard, asked for too much. Perhaps if she had just accepted Mike's desires without question, they could have avoided this tension, this rift between them.

Lyra's thoughts turned to Emma, and a desperate longing seized her. She needed to talk to someone, to untangle the knot of emotions that tightened in her chest. Emma would understand. She always seemed to know just what to say to validate Lyra's feelings and help her find clarity.

But as Lyra reached for her swipe, she hesitated. It was still early, and she didn't want to burden Emma with her problems first thing. Besides, what would she even say? That she had driven her husband to anger by asking for intimacy? That she was the cause of their disconnection? The shame and self-doubt felt too heavy, too suffocating to share.

With a shaky sigh, Lyra set her swipe back down. She would talk to Emma later, after work, when she had a chance to collect her thoughts. She checked Emma’s coordinates, she was at her house. Of course, where else would she be so early? For now, she needed to find a way to get through the day, to shoulder the blame and pretend that everything was fine, even as her heart ached for something more.

As she listened to the sound of the shower running, Lyra hugged her pillow tight, letting the tears fall silently. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was losing Mike, that her own needs and desires were driving him away. But how to bridge the growing distance between them, she couldn't begin to imagine.