Devilish Stuff’s Crap

His first reaction is to be disgusted and maybe a little disappointed, but then he takes a second. These are Robby's. These have all been, at some point, specifically picked out by Robby. They are all neatly tucked away into drawstring bags, so he can't see what they look like. All he can see clearly are the few stray condoms and some very normal-looking water based lube. But he can tell the size of the toys. He knows in the back of his mind these are probably what he would use on other people, there's no way Robby would bottom all by himself, right?

But oh, isn't it something to consider. Immediately his mind is flooded with images of his boss using the toys on himself. Robby laying on his side, using one arm to hold one leg up as the other fucks the largest dildo into himself, his face contorted in pleasure at finally being able to unwind after a long shift. Or Robby in the shower, using the suction cup on the end of another dildo to attach it to the wall, moving back and forth on it without having to bend his older knees too much. Hot water dripping down his-

This is an invasion of privacy.

Such a big one, in fact, that Dennis is afraid that if Robby knew, he'd surely throw him out of his house if not fire him altogether. He puts the lid back on the box in a hurried panic and shoves it back into place. Under the bed. Undisturbed. Forgotten. He finishes the chores he came to do and promptly leaves the house, never intending to look at the box again.

His willpower is strong enough to uphold this thought for all of three days. The second he's back in Robby's bedroom (just going in there to dust the shelves and air out the room, he swears!), he finds his gaze wandering back to the bed. To the spot he knows the box is under.

The thing is, everything else in Robby's house is very... plain. Sure, there are some personal artifacts here and there, but everything else is like a factory basic. White mugs, plain rugs, blankets, bedsheets and towels. Nothing that reflects any real personality. It makes Dennis wonder. Are the toys equally as plain? Would they all just be the cheapest, basic black silicone, just something to get the job done, it doesn't matter what they look like. Or would they reflect what Robby fantasizes about? A favorite color? Something that reminds him of someone?

Before he knows it, he's standing by the bedside again. Bracing one hand on the matrass, getting on his knees and reaching under. His hand finds the handle, takes hold and pulls it out. The lid comes off and he's met with the exact same sight as last time. Neat bags, expired condoms, lube and toy cleaner. This time though, instead of just staring at the contents, he reaches in. He picks up the bag laying on top of all the others, maybe this one was Robby's favorite? It surely had to be the last one he used.

The toy is firm and thick, he feels the flared base curve into a suction cup at the end of it. He feels the details through the soft bag, a pronounced gland and a few veins running along the shaft. Loosening the drawstrings, he grabs hold of the base and carefully removes the rest of the bag. It bobs gently in his grasp. The clear, neatly cleaned silicone shines in the dim bedroom light. And suddenly Dennis feels hungry for it. No matter what Robby uses it for, whether that be on himself or on other people, Dennis needs to know what it feels like.

He could blame his thoughts on the 12-hour shift he just got back from, or his increasing frustration with Robby being gone, or his lackluster sex life, or literally anything else. But he knows why he wants it. He wants it because it belongs to Robby. He wants it inside him because he knows Robby has touched it. He's touched it with a heavy breath and lube-slick fingers. And Dennis wants it.

No-one would know, right? If he just carefully cleans it before and after he uses it, right? If he tucks it carefully back into the bag and shoves the box back into place when he's done, it wouldn't be a problem, right? He knows his logic is ill-intentioned, but dammit he's never been so sure he wants something in his life. So he keeps hold of the toy and grabs the toy cleaner with this other hand, reading the instructions on the bottle as he makes his way to the bathroom. He rinses it, dries it with a clean towel, and rubs a thin layer of the blue-ish gel to the head and shaft, then sets it on the counter to air dry. He stares at is for all the six minutes it takes for it to fully dry.

When he's sure it's done, he takes it back to Robby's bed where he lays it gently on the sheet and grabs the lube from the box. Laying down after taking his pants and underwear off, he gets a waft of Robby's smell from the sheets. He hadn't been gone long enough for the smell to wear off yet, and Dennis feels it only increase the wetness between his legs. He had left the window open, so as he spreads himself he feels the cold evening breeze brush against him, a welcome contrast to how hot he feels. His breathing turns heavy as he drips a good amount of lube onto himself. Not that he really needed it by now, he just wanted to be sure. Anticipation boils beneath his skin as he picks the toy up and rubs it along his folds, his bottom growth making contacts with the edge of the gland and rubs along the imprint of veins along the shaft.

Taking a deep breath, he slides the blunt head in with barely any resistance. Moaning as the rest of the shaft follows smoothly. The toy wasn't the biggest in the box, but it was still both long and thick. Not enough to burn, just enough to fill him with the dream of Robby pleasing him. He pushes it as far as it will go inside him, leaving only an inch that won't fit. Groaning out of frustration at not being able to fit all of it, he wanted to be stuffed full of Robby, to take all of him at once, to be good for Robby.

He starts a slow rhythm, getting used to the size of what he now hopes is close to Robby's actual size because this felt utterly perfect. Whimpering and moaning his name into the empty room, Dennis hears the wet noises from his steady thrusts. He tries to imagine its Robby shoving the toy into him, sitting between his legs and aiming for his belly button from the inside. Fueled by the exhilarating mixture of shame, embarrassment and arousal he picks up the speed, increasing the noises coming from both ends of him.

"Touch yourself, puppy, show me how good I make you feel," the Robby in his head says. Shit, should've brought a towel, Dennis briefly thinks, but that thought was soon lost. Quickly soiling his clean hand with lube as he tugs and pinches the spot he wants it most. It's at this moment the last shreds of guilt dissolves completely and he feels himself sink deeper into the warm comfortable pit of pleasure. He allows himself to rearrange himself so he hits the perfect spot every time with the dildo and uses more and more pressure with his other hand on his dick. The rest of the world becomes a blur and all he hears is the sound of his skin smacking against lube and the voice of Robby in his head.

His boss, he thinks. His much older, positively straight and strictly professional boss. The man he has to present every patient to. The man in charge of how he does his job and the safest person to go to for advice. Dennis thinks of the immense comfort Robby represent for him. The warmth of not just his hands on his shoulder or his rare genuine smile, but of his competence during traumas or dealing with rare cases. Dennis wants to learn everything Robby knows. Wants to learn everything about him. Including how he'd make Dennis cum on his cock. How much time it would take him to find the perfect rhythm, the perfect angle, the perfect thing to say to make Dennis come completely undone in his grasp.

"Come on, puppy, you've been so good for me. You can come if you need to." Just imagining these words coming from Robby's mouth, being given his permission, is enough to send Dennis over the edge. His body tenses and arches and he desperately tries to uphold the pace through his orgasm. He fucks himself as waves of pleasure bursts through him, bitten moans and breathless gasp coming out of his mouth. The toy hits that spot deep inside him that only intensifies his climax as he desperately clenches around it.

Panting wildly, he slumps against the matrass, still keeping a firm grip on the toy inside him not wanting to let go just yet. But his sweaty body betrays him and starts to shiver in the cold air of the bedroom. Despite wanting to keep laying there with Robby's toy buried deep inside him, his logical brain is starting to come back online and he knows he needs to clean up and get back home to his own bed eventually. The reality of what he's just done seeps into his still sluggish train of thought, and he giggles a little to himself at the absurdity of it. Jesus Christ. He just used his boss' sex toy to get himself off, in his boss' bed, without ever asking permission.