Chapter 6 - The Husband I Waited For (Commission Story)

This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.

Chapter 6: The Buffet

The second we step out of our room and into the hotel hallway, I start walking a bit dramatically. I wasn’t trying to be totally obvious but it was enough that I was aware of every step.

Corey notices. “Everything okay, baby?” he says innocently, adjusting his sunglasses as we walk toward the elevators.

I shoot him a glare. “You know why I am walking like this"

He grins like a man who absolutely knows what he did. “Is it the plug?”

I whisper through gritted teeth. “Yes, Corey. It’s the plug.”

He leans in, warm breath against my ear. “You’re doing great, husband. Gotta keep that beautiful hole stretched.”

I groan. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re sexy as hell when you’re sore and walking like that.”

The elevator dings open. A family gets off and Corey gently guides me in with a hand at my lower back. We stand side by side, but he doesn’t stop touching me. His hand drifts down until it’s resting right at the curve of my ass, his thumb pressing ever so gently against the spot where the plug’s base is hidden under my swim shorts.

I suck in a breath and he chuckles, kissing my forehead. “Don’t worry. No one can tell. You just look like a man who got loved real good last night.”

I cross my arms. “Maybe I did.”

He laughs softly. “You definitely did.”

Corey leans down and whispers in my ear. “Every time your fat ass cheeks jiggle when you walk, I’m going to be picturing that little black plug spreading you open. All. Day.”

My knees almost buckled.

“Corey,” I warned.

“Yes, baby?”

“Behave.”

“Can’t,” he said simply. “You’re too sexy when you blush.”

The elevator dinged, and I practically sprinted out into the lobby. Corey followed behind, hands in his pockets, acting like he wasn’t a six-foot-three menace with a nine-inch dick and a dangerous smile.

The air smelled like espresso and warm waffles. Sunlight streamed through the massive glass windows that lined the front of the resort, catching on the polished marble floors and tall palm arrangements. The whole place felt like a dream; one of those five-star dreams where everything’s just a little too perfect. I still wasn’t used to it.

The resort was luxury to the max. A beachfront paradise with three infinity pools, gourmet restaurants by celebrity chefs, and cabanas with private butler service. There was a fitness center so pristine it looked like no one had ever actually sweat inside it, and a menu of activities from snorkelling to paddle boarding to guided bike rides along the cliffs. It was a couples’ fantasy playground.

And I was here. With Corey. My husband. Plugged and walking funny and deeply, stupidly in love.

We passed the concierge desk, where a polite man in a crisp white shirt nodded at us. Corey smiled back, casual, like we weren’t walking through this perfect lobby with a sex toy buried in my ass.

A little wooden sign outside the activity board caught his eye.

“Oh look,” he said, pointing. “Afternoon guided bike rides.”

I glared at him. “Don’t.”

He just grinned. “You know that gravel’s gonna hit just right.”

“Corey.”

He leaned in, whispering in my ear. “You’ll thank me later when your hole’s nice and loose for round two.”

I groaned, trying not to melt.

Then we turned the corner, and I smelled it...coffee, bacon, pastries. Heaven. The buffet spread out in front of us like a dream. Tropical fruit displays carved into flower shapes. Towers of warm croissants. Silver trays steaming with scrambled eggs, roasted potatoes, crispy bacon. There were little pancakes stacked like art, next to a waffle station with whipped cream and berries.

A few couples were already loading up their plates, the clink of utensils and soft jazz filling the air.

Corey scanned the spread like a man on a mission.

“Ooh. Sausages,” he said, eyes lighting up.

I didn’t even have time to respond before he turned to me with that mischievous smirk. “You know,” he added, voice low enough that only I could hear, “I know you liked slurping on my Italian sausage last night. You wanna compare it to the maple ones here?”

I blinked at him. “Corey.”

“What?” he asked innocently, sliding his hand to my waist. “Just saying you’ve got options. But I already know which sausage’s your favorite.”

I choked on a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, absolutely thrilled with himself. “Admit it, though. My Italian sausage is much bigger, and it was delicious.”

“You’re seriously talking about your dick in public right now?”

He looked around, then leaned in closer. “Only because I’m proud. My husband’s walking around the breakfast buffet with a butt plug and glowing. I’d say I did pretty damn well.”

Before I could respond, he veered us toward the fruit station, picking up a bowl and examining a tray of glistening pineapple chunks.

“Hmm. Pineapple,” he mused. “Supposed to make you taste sweeter, right?”

I shot him a warning look. “Don’t.”

He just grinned wider. “I should probably load up. Gotta make sure you enjoy that mouthful of sweet cream later.”

My mouth dropped open. “Corey!”

“What?” he said, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth. “Just thinking about your experience, baby. Five-star resort, five-star service. Gotta keep my flavor profile on point.”

“I need you to stop talking about your cum as if it’s a delicacy.”, I whisper in his ear.

“Sweet cream, Liam,” he corrects. “Let’s keep it classy.”

I was already blushing, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention.

“Why are you like this?”

“Because I married the hottest man on earth and he wore a butt plug for me this morning. I’m celebrating.”

He grabs two plates and starts stacking his with food while I try not to squirm. The plug isn’t painful exactly, but I can feel it every time I move. I shift my hips, trying to find a better angle.

I groan and grab a coffee.

As we sit at a small table with a beach view. We sat down at a quiet table near the window. I was doing my best to eat normally, but the plug inside me had other plans. Every movement, every lean, every shift in my chair reminded me it was there. Stretching me for later.

Corey’s already halfway through his plate, pointing out the smoothie and protein shake bar. “That looks cool,” he says, chewing a bite of toast. “But I brought my own protein shake. Mine just happens to come with a nine-inch straw.”

I nearly spit out my coffee. “People might hear”

“Why?” he grins. “Let them”

“I’m trying to have breakfast without getting hard in public.”

“You’re the one with something up your ass.”

“Because you asked me to.”, I grin.

“And because you let me. My good husband.” He kisses my knuckles and smiles.

Corey sipped his orange juice and studied me with that amused look he always got when he knew I was trying to be chill. “You okay, baby?”

I nodded quickly. “Yep. Totally normal. Just, you know. Trying to eat my scrambled eggs without moaning.”

He laughed. Loudly. A few heads turned. I sunk lower in my seat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I just love seeing you like this.

Plugged and flustered. My perfect little breakfast snack.”

“Also,” he adds casually, “I was thinking later we could rent bikes. Do a little ride around the island.”

“Sounds nice,” I say, sipping my coffee.

“All those little bumps,” he adds, “might help keep that plug snug. Or knock it into just the right spot.”

I drop my fork. “You’re so funny”

He shrugs. “I’m just trying to help your hole adapt.”

I lean across the table and hiss, “You’re lucky I love you.”

He leans back, smiling wide. “I know.”

When breakfast wraps up, we walk toward the poolside cabanas.

The cabana is perfect; semi-private, shaded, with two loungers and a view of the sparkling blue water. Corey stretches out immediately, lying back, sunglasses on, arms behind his head like he’s an Instagram model.

“Come suntan with me,” he says.

I lie down beside him, still a little fidgety. The pressure inside me is steady now. Not painful. But full. Heavy.

Corey turns his head toward me, raises his sunglasses, and grins. “You’re squirmy.”

“It’s a plug, Corey. It’s not exactly invisible.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he says gently. “I know it’s not easy. But it’s for a good cause. I want you to be comfortable taking me. I want it to feel good every time.”

I nod. “It does feel good..”

“I know.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. “You’re doing so good Liam. I’m proud of you.”

The words hit me harder than I expect. I blush and look away.

“I mean it,” he says. “You’re amazing, Liam.”

He kissed me softly, then stood up and stripped off his shirt.

“Thirsty?”

“A little.”

“Be right back,” he said, and walked to the bar.

When he came back, he handed me a piña colada and sipped something citrusy. He pulled his sunglasses down, and said, “God, I love vacation.”

Then, casually, his hands reached the waistband of his swim trunks down just enough to pull them.

I nodded.

He pulled them down to expose the base of his cock. “Wanna give it a kiss?” he teases.

“Corey....”

“Just a quick peck. For your favorite sausage.”

I sigh, but I lean forward anyway. His scent hits me first; musk, sun and a little sweaty. And something unmistakably Corey. My whole body reacts.

I kiss the tip gently. Then his balls. Then I lick up the base and he shudders.

“Liam,” he murmurs, “you’re going to get addicted to it. I can already tell.”

“I think I am,” I admit quietly.

He pulls his trunks back up, his cock still semi-hard, and I kiss his stomach. My hands slide over his hips, his ass.

“Baby, you’re perfect,” I whisper.

“So are you,” he says. “Now relax. Let that plug do its thing. Tonight… we’re going to make round two even better.”

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