The Pill and the Stranger from the Sex Shop

I always liked sex more than what is considered normal. I knew it from a very young age, when I discovered that I thought about it with a frequency none of my friends admitted to. I met Rodrigo at twenty-two at university, and before the first month of dating was over I was already thinking about how to cross that line with him.

I didn’t take long. Two months in, I convinced him to spend a weekend at a friend’s apartment, and what we started there didn’t stop for years. I married him because I loved him, but also because the sex between us was exactly what I needed: uninhibited, with no fixed schedule, no real limits.

With the years and the routine, that changes. It doesn’t disappear, but it changes. Sunday afternoons became predictable. The positions, familiar. The ritual, comfortable. Rodrigo still got me going, but I was missing something I couldn’t quite name.

When they opened the sex shop half a block from home, he was the one who suggested we go in. I followed him out of curiosity and came out with a mental list of things I wanted to try. Rodrigo came out with a small box he tucked into the pocket of his jacket without telling me what it was.

That night, while I was taking off my makeup, he appeared in the bathroom with the box open.

—This is for you —he said—. You take it when you feel like it and they say it makes everything feel twice as intense.

It was a pill. Small, round, with no visible brand name. I looked at it, smelled it for some reason, and left it in the drawer of my nightstand.

—Should I try it now? —I asked.

—We just did it two hours ago. Tomorrow we’ll make better use of it.

I smiled. Tomorrow.

***

The next morning, Rodrigo left early for the office and we agreed he’d be back at two so we could have lunch together. I sent him a message at eleven telling him what I planned to do when he got home, with enough detail that he wouldn’t have any doubts.

I showered slowly. I put on the lingerie set I kept for specific occasions: black lace bra, matching thong, nothing else. Then I made myself a coffee and sat down to wait. At noon I took the pill out of the drawer.

So everything feels twice as intense.

I took it with a sip of water and went on with my business.

At one, I started to notice something. A kind of heat that didn’t come from the coffee or the apartment temperature. It was internal. Faint at first, then more concrete. Every time I moved, the lace of the thong rubbed in a way I normally wouldn’t have noticed. I got up to go to the kitchen, and the simple weight of my steps on the floor was already too much.

At one-thirty, the heat was impossible to ignore. I walked back and forth across the living room, not knowing what to do with all that energy that had nowhere to go. I leaned against the window frame and realized that if I kept waiting without doing anything, I was going to lose my mind.

I grabbed my phone and texted Rodrigo.

The reply came five minutes later:

—Emergency meeting. I don’t know what time I’m getting out. I’m really sorry.

I put the phone face down on the bed and breathed. Then I picked it up again.

***

I called the sex shop. I didn’t know exactly what I expected them to tell me, but I needed to talk to someone who understood the problem.

A man answered. Calm voice, professional.

—Good afternoon, how can I help you?

—I took a pill I bought there yesterday —I said, trying to sound normal—. I need to know if there’s anything to counteract the effect.

There was a short pause.

—How long ago did you take it?

—Almost two hours ago.

—Those pills last between six and eight hours. There’s no antidote as such.

I closed my eyes.

—So what am I supposed to do?

—The best thing is to speed up the process —he said—. There are products that help the body release the tension faster. If you want, I can bring you a selection to your home and explain how to use them.

I didn’t think about it.

—Yes. Please. I’m on Magnolia Street, number 18, second floor.

—I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

He took eight.

***

When the bell rang, I no longer cared much about the logic of what I was doing. I opened the door exactly as I was: the black lace set, barefoot, hair loose. By then the heat in my body was almost visible.

He was young. Not as young as I’d expected. Twenty-eight, maybe thirty. He carried a canvas bag with the store logo and had the courtesy not to look me up and down more than necessary.

—Come in —I said.

He came in, put the bag on the dining table, and started taking things out with the calm of someone giving a work presentation: a compact vibrator, a suction stimulator, and a bottle of oil.

—I brought three options —he said—. Depending on what you prefer...

—What’s your name?

—Lucas.

—Lucas —I repeated—. Can you show me how the vibrator works?

He turned it on. The vibration was soft at first, then more intense when he turned the control ring. He held it out to me. I took it and pressed it against the inside of my wrist, like doctors do with thermometers.

—That’s not exactly how —he said.

—I know —I replied—. But I wanted to see if you’d show me.

Lucas looked me in the eyes. Then he dropped his gaze for a moment, as if evaluating something. And with a calmness that threw me off, he stepped closer and pressed the vibrator right against the lace of the thong, without pushing, without insisting. Just the vibration through the fabric.

I had to brace myself against the back of the chair so I wouldn’t lose my balance.

—Is it having the desired effect? —he asked.

—Yes —I said—. But I think I’m going to need more help than that.

***

What happened after that was clear to both of us from the first moment. There was no pretending or long preamble. Lucas wasn’t a character without judgment: he was a man who understood exactly what was happening and made his decisions with his eyes open.

I knelt on the sofa, leaning my face against the backrest, and when I felt his hands slip under the thong and pull the fabric aside with a slow tug, the air caught in my throat. His fingers found my cunt already soaked, hot, ready, and he didn’t need to ask anything to understand that I wanted it there, hard, without tenderness. The heat of the pill made me tremble all over, as if an electric current had been injected under my skin.

Lucas started with two fingers, spreading me wide, opening me so he could look at me and touch me better. When he ran his thumb over my clit I felt my legs go weak instantly. It wasn’t a soft caress; it was direct, precise pressure that tore a long moan out of me, one of those that comes out without permission. I dug my nails into the edge of the sofa, breathing hard, while he kept going, only slow enough to drive me insane.

—Like that —I murmured—. Don’t stop like that.

He answered with a movement of his wrist that made me arch my back. Then he took the vibrator and held it against the same spot, adding the vibration to the pressure of his fingers. The sensation was obscene in how intense it was. My cunt throbbed, the lips wet, slippery, and every time he pushed his fingers deeper I felt myself opening all the way, as if my body no longer knew the difference between pleasure and need.

—Fuck —I said, more like an exhale than a word.

Lucas didn’t lose the rhythm. He lowered his head and kissed the inside of my thigh, first one side and then the other, before sliding his tongue back between my lower lips. The change in temperature made me shiver. He sucked patiently, licking from the opening up to my clit, and the wet sound of his mouth reached me with brutal clarity. My hands were sunk into the sofa back, fingers white from gripping, while my body came apart under his hands.

I passed him the vibrator and he understood without my having to explain anything. He held it against my cunt steadily, without hesitation, while his mouth kept working below. The combination was too clean, too exact. The first orgasm exploded through me without warning, with a violent contraction that folded me over the sofa and made me scream his name like it was an order and a plea at the same time.

When I came back to myself, I turned around and lay back on the sofa. Without me having to ask, Lucas knelt between my legs and opened me again with his hands. This time he was slower, deeper in the way he touched, as if he wanted to savor every reaction of my body. He held my hips and leaned down to lick me again, slowly slipping his tongue inside, skimming around my clit, sucking it until I was gasping. I grabbed his hair hard and shoved his face against my cunt, not to dominate him, but to ask for more, harder, dirtier, without the politeness I was already sick of.

—I like it like that —I told him, my voice broken—. Like that, asshole.

He let out a snort that was almost amused and obeyed. He made me open my legs wider and worked himself between them with a persistence that was anything but shy. His fingers went in and out with obscene ease, and when he added the vibrator again, placing it exactly where my body was begging for it, the second orgasm rose from my belly to my throat like a huge wave. I felt my legs convulse, my stomach tighten, and for a second I lost my breath completely. I stayed there trembling, skin burning and cunt throbbing like an open wound.

But the pill was still in effect.

—It’s not over yet —Lucas said, watching me.

—No —I admitted.

Then he tore off his clothes with dry speed, without a show, and the mere sight of his cock already hard gave me another jolt through my body. It wasn’t exaggerated, but it was firm, heavy, ready. He showed it to me for a second, as if asking without words, and I answered by opening my legs wider and pulling him toward me by the waist.

—Come here —I told him—. Put it in.

There was no hesitation. He settled between my thighs and rubbed the head of his cock against my entrance, slowly at first, feeling the wetness already running between my legs. I noticed him take a deep breath when he started to push. He entered me little by little, filling me centimeter by centimeter, and when he was all the way inside I felt that delicious pressure that leaves your head empty. I kept looking at him, biting my lip, while he paused just long enough for me to get used to him.

—Move —I asked him.

And then he did. He started fucking me with a firm rhythm, no embellishment, his cock pulling out and driving back into my soaked cunt until the living room was filled with the wet sound. Every thrust jarred my hips against the backrest, and I lifted my pelvis to take him better, to let him get deeper, to feel his groin striking me harder. Lucas grabbed my waist and held me there, pinning me beneath him, while the sofa bed creaked with every push.

I wrapped my legs around his back and scratched his shoulders, feeling sweat run down his skin. He didn’t rush; he built the intensity little by little, until every collision made me writhe and moan without control. When he changed the angle and lifted one of my legs over his shoulder, the blow of his cock against my most sensitive spot tore an embarrassingly loud squeal out of me.

—That’s it —he said, his voice tight—. Like that, fuck.

I liked that he didn’t pretend to be elegant. I liked that he said it plainly, dirty, without trying to sound pretty. The pill had my body open like an instrument, and Lucas’s cock was tuning everything up again. I felt the orgasm coming back, slower but more brutal, building from below while he kept going in and out with ever more ferocious precision.

When I came apart, all I could do was clamp him with my legs and cry a little from the effort, the pleasure, the overload. He kept going for a few more seconds, driving even deeper until the tremor in my body left me empty. Then he pulled out, turned me with a hand on my hip, and put me on my knees on the sofa.

—Now you —he murmured.

I wasn’t going to stay still. I took his cock in my hand, ran it from base to tip, feeling the hot pulse in the skin. It was wet with me, heavy, and when I put it in my mouth the taste was salty, intimate, animal. I sucked him with hunger, without ceremony, tracing the underside with my tongue, massaging with my hand what my mouth couldn’t reach. Lucas let out a low moan and rested one hand on the back of my neck, not to push me, but to steady himself.

—Shit —he said—. Like that, like that.

I kept going, taking him deeper each time, feeling the tip brush the back of my throat and his breathing start to break apart. I licked the base, sucked his balls carefully but without too much gentleness, and the tremble that started in his thigh confirmed he was getting exactly what he wanted. Then he laid me back on the sofa again and made me spread my legs once more, as if my body still hadn’t had enough.

This time there was no tenderness at all. He fucked me hard, with the roughest rhythm of the afternoon, grabbing my hips and driving into me as if he were in a hurry to take me back to the edge. I took every thrust with my mouth open, moaning and saying obscenities I don’t even fully remember. My cunt was dripping, my thighs were burning, and the mix of the pill and exhaustion left me in a kind of filthy trance where only his cock, my breathing, and the sharp smack of his body against mine existed.

Then I sat up, grabbed the vibrator from the table, and made a clear gesture.

—I’ll do this one myself. But stay.

—Of course.

He sat in the armchair while I finished. He wasn’t staring at me with lust or looking away awkwardly. He watched me with the same calm attention with which he had listened to my problem on the phone.

I pressed the vibrator to my clit and stroked my cunt with my other hand, spreading myself better, searching for the exact spot that made me lose my mind. The third orgasm was the longest: it came slowly, rose up my thighs, clenched my stomach, and left me trembling from head to toe. When it ended, I let out the breath and stayed still, feeling my body finally give. The heat had gone down. Not disappeared entirely, but down to a level my head could handle.

I picked up the phone from the nightstand. There was a message from Rodrigo: I’m leaving in ten minutes. Are you still up for lunch?

I read it twice. Then I went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and put on a little perfume.

***

Lucas gathered his things, left the vibrator and the stimulator on the table with a discretion I appreciated, and handed me the bill on a folded piece of paper.

—If you have any questions about using the products, you can call the store —he said, as if none of the above had happened.

—Thank you —I said—. Really.

He left. I closed the door and stood there for a moment, leaning against it, listening to his footsteps fade down the hall.

Rodrigo arrived twenty minutes later. I was still in the lace, with nothing else over it. When he opened the door and saw me, his face did exactly what I expected it to do.

—What happened? —he asked.

—I’ll tell you later —I said—. Sit down now.

I sat on top of him without any preamble. The effect of the pill had gone down considerably, but what was left was enough for the next forty minutes to be some of the best we’d had in a long time. Rodrigo was present, attentive, more turned on than usual, though he didn’t know why yet.

Halfway through, he started asking me what had happened while he was gone.

—Later —I said—. If I tell you now, you’ll finish sooner than you want to.

***

Afterward, while the two of us caught our breath with the lights off, I told him. Everything. Without editing, without softening it, without making it more dramatic or more innocent than it had been.

Rodrigo listened in silence. He didn’t say anything for a while, and the silence stretched.

—What was his name? —he asked at last.

—Lucas.

Another silence.

—And he helped you?

—Yes.

Rodrigo nodded slowly. And then, without my expecting it, he turned toward me with an expression I knew well and that wasn’t exactly anger. It was something else. Something I recognized.

—Tell me again —he said—. From the beginning.

***

Since then, the sex shop sends me orders with a small frequent-customer discount. The vibrator and the stimulator Lucas left are in the nightstand drawer, among the ones we already had.

And when Rodrigo needs the night to last longer than usual, there’s a story we both already know how to start.

We always start from the same point: the afternoon I took the pill too early and asked for help from the only place I could think to call.

Rodrigo says the best thing about the story is that it’s true.

I think the best thing is that he knows it, and we’re still here.