Thrill Me

This story features Jane, a non-binary femme (they/them), and Corey, a cis man (he/him). Content note for voyeurism, orgasm control, and non-sexual scenes with alcohol.

Friday, 10:07 PM

“Nope,” Jane said, their own voice surprising them as it echoed and ricocheted off the walls of their still near-empty living room. Maybe they’d had a little more to drink than they thought.

“Nope, nope, nope, definitely nope, maaaybe… YIKES.”

Jane took another sip from their glass, part of the set they bought because they reminded Jane of Olivia Pope’s iconic wine glasses from Scandal. So what if they were drinking a dessert wine out of a glass designed for a red? It was a Friday night and Jane was swiping on Hinge while pairing Moscato with a half-stale bag of Goldfish. Any sense of decorum was clearly out the window.

It was Jane’s third week in Philadelphia. A month ago, they packed up their apartment in Atlanta and took it slow as they drove north toward a new job and old friends. Nothing was missing from their life, not really, and they certainly didn’t want to date, but they could do with a little pleasure.

Enter Hinge, stage right. Feeld was buggy, Tinder was bursting at the seams with people who refused to grasp the concept of they/them pronouns, and OKCupid was, quite honestly, too much work.

And so here Jane was, somewhat absentmindedly clicking X or heart-reacting to prompts and photos on what they considered to be the most heteronormative dating app they’d tried yet. Designed to be deleted, Jane didn’t have high hopes of finding something casual there, but they were running out of options.

Half-looking at their phone, half-watching Great British Bake Off, Jane accidentally, automatically hit the X on the one intriguing profile they’d seen so far that evening. “SHIT!” Jane squinted at their screen and carefully hit the undo button.

Corey popped onto their screen. Queer cis man, 32, 6’0″, and lived in Fishtown, Jane’s new neighborhood. Orders unlimited bread for the table (already off to a good start), works in environmental justice, and wants to be sure we’re on the same page about seeking something casual. After that, Corey had included “Thrill me” and the silver chain emoji. Jane grinned, fingers flying across the keyboard.

After a short conversation about area bakeries, Jane and Corey wasted no time talking specifics about sex and kink. It was clear their interests were aligned: they were both switches, Jane being sub-leaning and Corey Dom-leaning; they loved edging and orgasm control; and they weren’t looking for anything more than a hookup, one that could potentially turn into a standing appointment, but nothing else.

In talking about where to meet for coffee—as Jane always did before playing with a new partner, even just a hookup—Corey shared that his favorite cafe was right across the street from his apartment building. Jane dropped their phone. That was their apartment building, too. SHIT. Okay. What to do now?

Jane: Before we set a time, do you mind hopping on a video chat? You know, safety and all.

Corey called them in the app. He was definitely real, and definitely hot. Okay then. His demeanor immediately put Jane at ease, and after a while, they felt comfortable telling him about the amusing situation they were in together. Corey appeared unfazed and told Jane he’d follow their lead once they’d had time to think.

Jane: Thanks for that. So, I, um, have an idea.

Jane: A fantasy, really.

Jane: For a long time, I’ve got off on the idea of someone walking in on me while I’m touching myself and having their way with me. It couldn’t be too planned out or it would spoil the surprise, but would that be something you’re interested in?

It’s true. Jane had been cooking up this exact scenario in their head for years. It started when they moved into their first solo apartment after college: all of the units were cookie-cutter, nondescript. It seemed that anyone could walk into anybody else’s apartment by mistake and not even realize it until they were fully inside. And who knew what they’d find behind closed doors?

Corey: Tonight?

Clearly, he was interested.

Jane: I’ve had a couple glasses of wine, so let’s say tomorrow. I’ll check in with you in the morning and we can talk safety and details.

Saturday, 7:58 PM

He could show up at any moment, really.

Jane and Corey had set 8-9 P.M. as the hour in which Corey would arrive. Jane was to edge themself until he showed up—until he told them they were allowed to stop, until he took over. And now, it was almost showtime.

Jane had no idea exactly how long they would have to wait. They just knew to listen for two short raps followed by three slow ones at their unlocked front door.

It could have been minutes, hours, days. Jane fell in and out of pleasure for what felt like eternity until the signal at the door jolted them to attention. They listened to Corey’s movements; the turn of the lock, what sounded like a bag placed on the counter, the removal of shoes in the hallway.

The heavy footsteps treading down the hall abruptly fell silent.

“Turn around,” a gruff voice called out. “Now.”

Jane didn’t need to be told twice. They flipped over on to their stomach and knees, ass in the air, never once losing contact with their vibrator. The footsteps began again, each one a question mark punctuating the curiosities Jane had about what the night would bring.

Corey entered their bedroom, wordless, movements nearly whisper-quiet now. Beginning to turn their head to look at him, Jane was interrupted.

“Did I say you could move?”

Well, fuck. They were in for it now. Jane’s cunt flooded, the tips of their toes and fingers growing warmer: the telltale beginning signs of an explosive orgasm. But they needed to hold it. They needed to wait.

Jane could barely hear Corey rustling around in the darkness behind them. Just as they were considering turning around again—partially out of practicality and partially out of brattiness—they felt Corey press against their ass.

Gripping himself in his hand, Corey teased the opening of Jane’s cunt with the tip of his cock, savoring the wetness as it dripped over him. He touched himself with urgency, with need, but with a touch of mischievousness, too: rubbing his cock on Jane’s pussy, he slowed down as he reached their clit, just brushing against the vibrator they were struggling to hold against their body without shaking.

In the throes of agonizing ecstasy, Jane felt their entire body get hotter, tingles spreading from the top of their head and radiating down to their chest, their cunt. They wanted to be good, to follow the rules, but—

“Drop it.”

Jane let the vibrator fall to the bedsheets as Corey pushed into them, filling them with his full length. He teased them over and over, pulling out every time, but Jane relished every single stroke—and Corey knew it. Jane told him ahead of time they particularly delighted in the way a cock pushing into their cunt ever so slightly made them feel, and he could tell they weren’t exaggerating.

Grasping Jane’s thighs, Corey pulled them closer. He wanted to feel Jane come around his cock, to clench around him as they cried out his name.

“Now,” Corey growled.

Jane didn’t bother to ask what he meant. They knew. Thrill me.


Sarah Brynn Holliday

Sarah Brynn Holliday (they/them) is a sexuality writer, speaker, and sex toy company consultant based in Salem, Massachusetts. Sarah is the Spooky-Femme-in-Chief at Formidable Femme where they primarily write about healing, pleasure, and sex after trauma and pushing for ethical, equitable business practice within the sex toy industry. In 2019, Sarah was featured on MTV News and has spoken at numerous colleges across the U.S., including Cornell University. They're thrilled to be part of Smutathon again this year!

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