"I'm a simple guy, Beesly, I promise." Setting down his mixed drink, Jim tugged her into his arms and tucked her head under his chin. "What can I do to convince you that you are meeting one hundred percent of my needs?"

"You can look at me when you say that," she insisted quietly against his neck.

If he hadn't been fairly drunk, he could have pulled it off. Instead he stiffened, almost imperceptibly, the words sticking in his throat. "Where is this coming from?" he asked incredulously.

His words, his tone were convincing. If she were sober, she would have let it go at that. Instead, she pulled back and looked into his eyes. His carefully guarded expression convinced her of something else entirely… she was onto something. "We're engaged, Jim… living together. But I've never found your porn stash." That meant he was either asexual–which, holy God, he was anything but–or that one hundred percent of his needs were currently being met by her–which she could almost believe–or he was ashamed of it and very good at covering his tracks. She was betting on the latter, because his browsing history was a little too clean. Not that she'd been keeping track per se, but there were a few evenings she knew he'd been online and the history from that time was curiously empty. "I swear, I don't care what it is. Even if it's not something we do together… even if it's not something you want to do yourself, just something you like to watch. Why can't I know about it? Don't you trust me?"

He'd never trusted any woman with this. She went on before he could formulate a response. "Don't you think I know what's out there? Is it schoolgirls? Schoolteachers? Cross-dressing? Exhibitionism, voyeurism? Twins? Threesomes? Orgies? Guys? Spanking? Feet? S&M? Bondage? Orgasm denial? Buttplugs? Machines? My Little Pony? Pterodactyls? Two girls one cup?" His eyes widened as she spoke. At any other time, it might have been comical. "None of that would shock me, just…" She sighed. "Please tell me, Jim."

Actually no, he hadn't thought she knew half of those things were out there. "Is there really such a thing as a pterodactyl fetish?" Yeah, he'd seen the video–out of curiosity, not titillation–but he had trouble believing she even knew it existed.

She let out an unladylike snort and twined her arms around his neck. "Answer the question."

Jim felt his cheeks grow hot. Her eyes were like lasers, penetrating him to the core. "Why?" he asked quietly. Why did she want to know? Why now? Had he somehow given it away? He'd been careful, but Pam was nothing if not observant, and it was hard to hide everything from the person you lived with… loved to hell and back.

Pam practically sagged with relief. It was as good as an admission. "Well, what if we're into the same things?" she asked, insufficiently sober to notice that the words were an admission unto themselves.

Intrigued now, his eyes narrowed. "Are you saying Pam Beesly watches porn?"

Now it was her turn for the wide eyes and the blushing. "No."

He grinned. She'd said that much too quickly. "We're getting married soon," he reminded her, turning the tables. "And," he continued, rubbing his chin ponderously, "I've never found your porn stash. What are you into?"

"Hang on, look, Jim. Just–" She was drunk, but not enough for this. She let him go and scurried over to the refrigerator. "Most girls don't have one, they have… but um, guys, like…" She opened the freezer door and pulled out the whiskey. "You know?"

He leaned against the counter, enjoying the conversation at last. "I'm afraid I don't. What do girls have in the place of a porn stash?"

"Oh I dunno, some girls just, like. Read." She chanced a glance at him through her glass. "But that's just what I–what I hear–Kelly says Cosmo–"

He chuckled, wondering if Kelly was the reason they were having this conversation in the first place. "Does Cosmo talk about bondage? Spanking? Machines?"

She coughed into her glass, then set down her drink. "Truth or dare?" she asked quietly once she recovered her composure.

Jim considered it. If he said dare, she'd probably dare him to show her a video. But it might be easier than talking about it, which he'd have to do if he went with truth. He scrubbed a hand down his face. "I don't think I'm drunk enough for this," he replied in a desperate bid for time.

Fortunately, Pam was a problem solver. Silently, she uncapped the whiskey.

An hour later, they were snuggled together on the couch while Mallrats droned on in the background. He fixed his gaze on the screen, but he was too drunk to focus on anything but his train of thought. "Truth." She'd spilled a few things already, tipped her hand. He supposed he could go first.

She smiled enigmatically, resembling nothing so much as the Mona Lisa. "Would you be into doing any of the things I listed earlier?"

"Yes. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Would you?"

"Yeah."

"How many?"

"My turn. Truth or dare?"

"Kiiinda not in a dare mood tonight."

"Okay then. How many?"

He couldn't honestly remember. "More than one, but definitely not all of them. I'm not sure, I didn't write it all down."

Her cowardly side won out. "Hey, that gives me an amazing idea." She popped off the couch–it took more than one attempt, but eventually she gained her feet. She grabbed a pen and a pencil and tore two sheets of paper out of a notebook. "Just write down… I dunno, your top three."

Pen poised, he hesitated. "Black and white? Clear as crystal?"

She smiled at the reference. "Straight down the garbage chute… it leads to the furnace."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Should these be things we're into watching, reading about, or actually doing?"

Considering it, she chewed on the tip of the pen. "Doing."

"Do they have to be things you listed?"

"Nope." She grinned and began to write. He followed suit. Blushing madly, they exchanged sheets. Jim, noticing that Pam was writing on his list, did the same. They did it one more time, then read over the results.

"Well, that was… educational," Jim ventured, his head spinning with possibilities. "And no, there's nothing else. I mean, not in the top three." That wasn't to say there weren't other things he'd love to try with her, of course.

Pam beamed over at him. "There's something I gotta show you."

"What might that be?"

"Well, it's purple and it vibrates, depending on certain factors." An involuntary shiver raced down his spine in anticipation. "Buuut it comes at a price. Porn stash, please."

He nuzzled her ear. "There is no stash. Not in the physical sense. This isn't the nineties, Pam."

"You are a modern man," she agreed breathlessly. "So where do you find it?"

"Redtube. Youporn. Et cetera. You?"

"Literotica," she admitted. "I um, I like the audiobooks."

"What's the last thing you listened to?" When she squirmed uncomfortably, he held out the paper. "I'll write down the last thing I watched."

Snatching the sheet of paper, she wrote it down before she lost her nerve. A 20-minute recording of a guy telling me to undress and touch myself. He sounded a lot like you.

A video of a girl using a vibrator on herself. I pretended she was you.

Harder than he'd ever been in his life, Jim took her paper and set it down on the coffee table with his. He lowered his mouth to her ear. "Unbutton your shirt," he murmured.

"Oh my God," Pam mumbled, her head falling against the back of the couch. She lifted trembling fingers to her top button and made her way down.

"Take it off… good. Now pull down the cups of your bra." Her mouth fell open, but her eyes remained closed as she obeyed. "Look at me." Her eyes snapped open. The desire there was clear as day, burning brighter than he'd ever seen it, and he hadn't even touched her. "Tell me where your vibrator is."

"Bedside table," she whispered, eyes lambent with need. "There's a shoebox inside another box. It's labeled 'hair clips.'"

He grinned devilishly. "Hiding in plain sight? Amazing."

She raised her eyebrows. "It worked, didn't it?"

He pressed a finger to her lips. "Do you talk back when you're on Literotica?" She melted into the couch with a soft sound of disbelief… of capitulation. "Touch your nipples, Pam. And don't stop until I tell you to." She raised her hands and circled them with her fingertips. Her eyes began to fall closed. "Eyes open," he warned her firmly, but not unkindly.

"Oh my God," she murmured again, watching him watch her for a long moment.

"Don't stop," he commanded as he rose from the couch. "If you do, I'll know it." She nodded feverishly in agreement. Holy shit, holy shit, he thought as he walked down the hall, allowing his giddy grin to break free. He found the toy alongside a bottle of lube, and hoooly shit! It wasn't particularly large, but it had both rotation and clit-vibration capabilities. He played with it for a minute, making sure the batteries worked, figuring out the controls. In short order, he returned to the living room. He dimmed the lights and turned off the television, pleased to find her fingers still moving, her eyes following him around the room. "You can stop. I want you to take off your pants, now."

"Oh God, Jim," she sighed, shimmying them off her hips in a hurry.

"Lay down and spread your legs." He groaned in pleasure as the damp spot on her white panties became visible. He knelt beside the couch. "Should I use this?" he asked quietly, breaking character for a moment, holding up the bottle of lube.

"No, I'm… I'm good," she said breathlessly.

"So good," he agreed, desire deepening the timbre of his voice. "So damn sexy." Her eyes widened, her breath quickening in response. "Take off your panties." Shivering, but as far from cold as she'd ever been, she obeyed. "You're so beautiful. Spread your legs again... Wider." He nudged her opening with the toy, swirling it around, moistening it with her juices. God, she was slick. He slipped it inside. She moaned his name. Once it was fully seated, he turned it on. Her hips bucked violently in response. "Look at me," he told her in a voice gone gravelly with need.

"Can't. Too much, it's too… much," she gasped, crooking an arm over her face. "Oh! Please…"

"Okay," he relented, gently kissing her thigh. He reached for the lube with his free hand and spilled a few drops on his middle finger. Lightly, he circled the pucker of her anus, testing the waters, not intending to go inside. Yet.

"God!" she squeaked. He turned the vibration up a notch. "Shit!"

"You are so fucking sexy right now. God damn," he all but purred. She was a goddess, his goddess. He couldn't believe she'd had a toy all along. He really couldn't believe she was letting him touch her ass. "When was the last time you used this?"

"New York," she panted. "Don't need it… when you're around."

He grinned, pleased. Not that he would have minded. It wasn't as though he never masturbated, after all. "I guess you didn't know you could have us both at once. All you had to do was ask."

"Fuck," she breathed.

"Have you ever had anything back here before?" He tapped her pucker lightly.

"Noo," she moaned, a deep delicious sound.

"Do you want to tonight?"

She hesitated before answering. "Top three," she said timidly.

He turned up the vibration another notch. She moaned loudly and arched her back. He took advantage of the burst of pleasure to slip his fingertip inside her ass. He pulsed it inside her, ever so gently, rocking the vibrator in time with his movements. She loosed an incoherent series of sounds and grabbed her nipples, tugging hard. "Gonna fuck you so hard after you come," he muttered, knowing she was close, already halfway there himself from the sheer number of fantasies they were simultaneously fulfilling.

"Yeah, oh… yeahh," she whimpered, mindless with pleasure, rocking her hips in time, so close, so close… She fell apart, quivering, keening, gorgeous.

"Good fucking girl." Carefully, he withdrew his hand and the toy from her. After ascertaining that her eyes were closed, he took the barest second to sniff the musk on his fingertip. He felt a beast surging to life within his chest. "I can't wait," he growled, dropping the vibrator to the floor, dropping his pants and boxers in one fell swoop.

"Then don't," she sighed happily, flushed, sweating, sated. She opened her arms and welcomed him as he lowered himself over her. He impaled her dripping pussy with his cock, then gathered her to his chest and lay back, sprawling her over top of him. He began plunging into her from below, hard and fast, slipping his finger back into her ass, a little deeper this time. "Love. Your. Ass… fuuuck," he groaned, feeling the head of his cock against his finger with every thrust.

"I love what you're doing to it," she confessed, biting her lip. She hadn't expected to have anything left after coming so hard. But the twin sensations, the dirty talk, and the unprecedented strength of Jim's reaction were all contributing to drive her up quickly.

"Earlier… you said… buttplugs," he gritted out.

"I don't own one yet," she responded breathlessly.

"Yet?" She shook her head. "Oh… my… Pam!" He closed his eyes and imagined sliding one into her. Just like that, he was gone. The release swept him away hard and fast, way too soon, white fucking hot, better than their first time together, better than anything he'd felt in his entire fucking life. He was out of control, a goddamn animal, and he gloried in it.

Pam fell hard, right alongside him, taking possessive glee in the sight and sound and length of his climax. He was normally fairly restrained, rather controlled, even during orgasm. Maybe a grunt or a quiet exhalation of her name, a blissful opening of the mouth, wide eyes, a loving kiss, a respectful tightening of the arms. Not that he didn't enjoy it–with as much sex as they had, she'd never questioned that. But there was nothing controlled or restrained or respectful about this, and she loved him all the more for it. His eyes practically rolled back in his head. He shouted her name and a series of expletives, demanded she come now sweetheart, come hard, fucking come with me.

I am, I am, she panted, tugging on his hair. Coming so hard for you, honey.

"Better be," he muttered, slapping her asscheek with his free hand and squeezing tight, burying the finger in her ass to the hilt, mashing his cock up into her or mashing her down onto his cock–it was all the same. Then he sank his teeth into her shoulder and sucked hard, beyond words and into a land of strangled groans, jerking and undulating so powerfully that she jerked and undulated with him. Swept away, she held on tight, chanting his name as she unraveled, the pleasure going on and on and on, clenching frantically around his dick and his finger, enjoying the ride, shocked that he hadn't stopped moving or moaning yet, hoping he never would.

At last, breathing and sweating like he'd won the Boston marathon, he collapsed beneath her with a drawn-out hiss. Spent, boneless, his head hit the arm of the couch with an audible thunk. "Mmmf," she murmured against his ear, just as limp and spent. "That was hot," she said, not caring how much she probably sounded like Paris Hilton.

"Shit," he concurred hoarsely, slowly easing out of her.

Damp, gloriously replete, Pam snuggled against the most important person in her life. She grinned, so content, hardly able to believe she'd finally gotten to see this side of him. And to think… if she hadn't put anal in her own top three, she might never have known she was engaged to an ass man.

As Jim recovered, staring at the ceiling, embarrassment crept in. Shame took hold. Had she really liked all of that as much as she'd seemed to? He'd been swept up in the heat of the moment, but now? It was so hard to believe Pam, his Pam, could actually be kind of kinky. What if she regretted it? What if he'd hurt her? What if… oh God she'd pretended, just to draw him out? He recalled the things he'd said, the way he'd yelled, the things he'd done… he'd slapped her ass, gone all the way in with his finger–and he had long fingers. He'd actually fucking bitten her. Oh God. He glanced at the hickey on her shoulder. He'd never lost control like that, not once in his whole life, but he'd been helpless to stop it. He cringed as his t-shirt caught the corner of his eye, a reminder that he hadn't even taken the time to undress.

Pam propped herself up on his chest. He looked up at her. Her bra was still tucked under her breasts, thrusting them up and out and oh God she was smiling, her hair rumpled like crazy. She didn’t look upset in the least. She kicked her legs up behind her, wiggling her feet back and forth, cute as a fucking button. She'd never been more beautiful… more his. But what if he was misinterpreting? Oh God.

Grinning, Pam pressed her lips to his cheek, smoothing out the furrow between his brows with her thumb. His expression was stark with anxiety. "Are you having second thoughts, or just worried that I am?" she asked cannily. "Because everything about that was amazing."

He averted his gaze, cursing the flush he could feel staining his cheeks. "Everything?" he asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"Mm-hmm," she affirmed, glancing fondly at the mark he'd left on her shoulder. Suddenly, she scrambled off him and grabbed the toy off the floor. "I'm going to clean up. Then, I have something else to show you." Giggling, she bounded down the hallway. "Five minutes!"

Oh God. "'Kay," he called after her. He pulled his boxers and pants back on and sniffed his finger again. His heart pounded at the idea of maybe getting permission to do that again at some point in the future. Or to maybe put other things there… oh God. Impossibly, he was halfway to hard again. After the amount of alcohol he'd had and how hard he'd come, he should have been out of commission for the night. Hell, the rest of the weekend.

Needing a distraction, driven by the urge to do something ostensibly productive, he washed his hands, not without regret. Then he poured himself another drink. Not that he expected her to leave him or to shame him… but he was a prepare-for-the-worst kind of guy. Just in case, it certainly wouldn't hurt to be sloshed.

"Hey, can you make me one too?" Pam called on her way from the bathroom to the bedroom.

"Sure, what would you like?" he called back, proud of how normal and not-freaked-out he sounded.

"What're you're having?"

"Jack and jack and coke."

"Sounds good. Thanks, hon!"

Jim felt a warm tingle in his chest. A silly smile blossomed across his cheeks. Terms of endearment weren't something they did. They'd made fun of them on more than one occasion, actually. As he took a drink, he noticed the faintest hint of her still lingered on his knuckle. He closed his eyes and imagined burying his face where his finger had been. His nostrils flared in anticipation.

Pam re-entered the kitchen with a computer printout in hand. He slid her glass across the counter, eyeing the paper with undisguised interest. "What's this?" he asked as she handed it over.

She smiled coyly. "You know how I said girls like to read?" He nodded, scanning her face obsessively for any sign of consternation. He came up empty-handed. "Sometimes they like to write."

He scanned the page. It was a short story, written a few years back. Several words jumped off the page, grabbing his attention… 'bondage,' 'Wal-Mart,' and oh God… 'buttplug.' He settled into a kitchen chair and began to read. Several minutes later, he set it down and chugged the remainder of his drink. "Is this something you'd want to do?" he asked carefully.

"It's something I've always wanted to try… with the right person."

"Oh God," he murmured. He strode around the table and wrapped his arms around her, so far beyond thankful. "Do you have any idea how much I love you right now, sweetheart?"

She giggled. "I love you too, hon."

"When? Where? How soon?" He couldn't keep the eagerness out of his voice. Realizing he didn't have to, he hugged her even tighter. "Pam, I can't even…" He sighed. "Thank God for you. I don't even… how are we getting married? How do you exist?"

She giggled tipsily. "Very carefully!"

In the living room, he opened his laptop and tugged her onto his lap. They agreed that they preferred not buy things like this in person. The chances of running into anyone they knew was slim, but not zero. It would be far safer to have them shipped.

"The Spank Academy?" she crowed with disbelief.

He clicked up the website. "Hey, according to Google, they're the number one source for all ass-related accessories."

She snorted with laughter. "Okay, okay. Can we get one with a… thingy on it? I'm a little paranoid about getting something stuck up in there."

"I can't imagine why," he said ponderously. "How about a chain?" he asked after scrolling past the pony tails.

She wrapped her arms around his neck with a nod. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You have NO fucking idea. "Well, it's pretty much the only option that isn't a pony tail," he hedged.

"I would try it," she said seriously. "If you wanted."

Love coursed through him. "That's too weird, even for me," he reassured her. "Unless you want to."

"I'm not a furry," she reassured him right back.

"How do you know what furries are?"

"How do you?"