The Toy

The house on Aspen's west end squatted like a forgotten ski boot among the aspens, its cedar siding warped from too many snowy winters. The hospital had tossed the place at Diane and Jay like a spare blanket—rent-free digs to keep the night-shift nurses from bolting to cheaper towns. It worked, mostly, because Diane and Jay turned the joint into their personal after-hours bunker. Both RNs with a shared itch for hiking steep trails by day and shredding black diamonds by winter, they bonded quick over post-shift beers and stories of chaotic ER runs. Nights blurred into parties that spilled onto the deck, drawing a rotating crew of hospital folks and locals—guys with scruffy beards, girls in tight jeans, everyone chasing the high of off-hours adrenaline.

Diane crashed on the worn leather couch most mornings after a twelve-hour shift, her scrubs still smelling like antiseptic and coffee. Jay, with her sharp laugh and easy grin, was the spark that kept the place humming. They'd hike the Maroon Bells at dawn when sleep wouldn't come, or hit the bars until the wee hours, bodies buzzing from the kind of freedom that came with flipping days and nights inside out. The house became legend: the spot where a tipsy surgeon once stripped down to his boxers for an impromptu beer pong tournament, or where a cluster of nurses ended up tangled in a giggling heap during a late-night hot tub session. Diane loved the chaos—it made her feel alive, her skin prickling with the thrill of not knowing who'd crash next.

One sluggish afternoon, after a brutal stretch of back-to-back shifts, Diane shuffled down the hallway in socks, her feet aching from the linoleum grind. The house was quiet for once, the kind of quiet that amplified every creak. A low hum snaked under Jay's bedroom door, which hung slightly ajar like it was daring someone to peek. Diane froze, her hand hovering. Curiosity tugged harder than fatigue. She nudged the door wider with her toe, just enough to glimpse inside.

Jay was sprawled naked on her unmade bed, legs splayed wide, her skin flushed pink against the rumpled sheets. A bright pink vibrator—curved and thick, with a little rabbit-ear nub—disappeared into her pussy, buzzing steadily as she worked it in and out. Her tits swayed with each thrust, nipples hard and dark, her free hand pinching one roughly. The toy's head vibrated against her clit, sending her hips bucking off the mattress. Jay's mouth hung open, eyes squeezed shut, a sheen of sweat glossing her thighs. "Fuck," she gasped, voice raw, pushing deeper until her pussy lips gripped the silicone shaft. Wetness slicked everything—her folds glistening, a puddle forming on the sheet beneath her ass. Her body arched, thighs trembling, and then she shattered, cumming with a guttural moan that echoed in Diane's chest. Juices squirted out around the toy, sloppy and unrestrained, her whole frame shaking as the orgasm ripped through her.

Diane backed away, heart pounding, cheeks burning. She slipped into her own room and locked the door, but the image burned behind her eyelids—Jay's face twisted in pure, unfiltered pleasure, that toy buried deep, her pussy clenching and flooding. It wasn't just shock; it was heat, pooling low in Diane's belly. Jay had always been the bold one, the one who flirted shamelessly at parties and disappeared with whoever caught her eye. Seeing her like that, raw and alone, made Diane's own neglected body ache. It had been weeks since her wild night in the park with Cory and Doug, their hands and mouths everywhere under the stars, or the steamy hookup with Marcus in his truck, his cock thrusting hard while she rode the edge of getting caught. Those memories usually fueled her, but this? This was intimate, forbidden, and it left her wet just thinking about it.

A couple days later, Jay pulled the graveyard shift, leaving Diane alone in the house with a fridge full of pinot noir and a bone-deep exhaustion from the week's grind. She poured a generous glass, the bold red warming her throat as she sank into the bathtub, steam rising around her. The wine hit fast—frisky thoughts bubbling up, her skin tingling. It had been too long since she'd let loose, since Marcus had pinned her against the apartment wall, his fingers digging into her hips as he fucked her slow and deep. But tonight, her mind looped back to Jay: that hum, the buck of her hips, the way her pussy had gushed around the toy. Diane's hand drifted between her legs, fingers circling her clit lazily, but it wasn't enough. The curiosity gnawed at her.

She dried off, wrapped in a towel, and padded to Jay's room. The bedside table drawer slid open with a whisper, revealing the pink vibrator nestled among lip balms and spare scrubs. It was still there, cleaned but carrying a faint, musky scent—Jay's pussy, earthy and intoxicating. Diane's pulse raced as she snatched it, sneaking back to her room like a thief. She ran fresh bathwater, hotter this time, and sank in, the toy clutched in her fist. She'd never owned one, never really explored beyond fingers or the occasional fling, but the shape of it—curved for that inner spot, the nub for her clit—promised something new.

Awkward at first, she fumbled in the water, the warmth lapping at her breasts as she spread her legs over the tub's edge. The toy smelled like Jay, that tangy arousal clinging to the silicone, and it turned Diane on more than she expected—intimate, shared in secret. She flicked it on low, the buzz vibrating through her palm. Pressing the tip to her entrance, she eased it in, gasping at the fullness. Her pussy was already slick, welcoming the intrusion. She angled it, the curve nudging her g-spot with pinpoint pressure, while the external head kissed her clit. "Oh shit," she muttered, hips lifting instinctively. The vibrations built fast, a steady thrum that made her walls clench. She pumped it deeper, water sloshing, her free hand gripping the tub's rim. Pleasure coiled tight, hotter than her fingers ever managed—Jay's toy hitting spots she'd only read about.

Diane's breaths came ragged, tits heaving as she fucked herself harder, the toy gliding in and out with wet squelches. The scent of Jay mixed with her own arousal, pushing her over. Her orgasm hit like a wave, pussy spasming around the silicone, clit pulsing under the relentless buzz. She cried out, body jerking, a gush of warmth flooding from her core. It surprised her—intense, shaking her to the bones, leaving her limp and panting in the cooling water.

But curiosity lingered, a naughty spark. She'd spotted lube in the bathroom drawer earlier, the kind Jay probably used for all sorts of fun. Diane grabbed it, slicking the toy generously before settling back in the tub. Her ass clenched at the thought— she'd played there before, teasing with a finger during a heated session with Marcus, but never like this. Relaxing against the porcelain, she circled her tight hole with the lubed tip, pushing gently. The thickness stretched her, a burning fullness that made her whimper. Inch by inch, it sank in, the vibrations radiating deep inside. "Fuck, that's intense," she breathed, one hand on her pussy, fingers rubbing her clit to ease the pressure.

The dual sensation—vibrations in her ass, fingers on her swollen folds—ignited everything. She worked the toy shallow at first, then deeper, her body adjusting to the invasion. Her pussy dripped untouched now, arousal mixing with the bathwater. The build was slower, dirtier, her ass gripping the shaft as she thrust. When she came again, it was explosive—waves crashing through her, asshole clenching rhythmically around the buzzing length, pussy squirting a hot jet onto her hand. She rode it out, moaning Jay's name without meaning to, the aftershocks leaving her boneless.

Guilt flickered as she cleaned the toy meticulously, but she slipped it back into Jay's drawer anyway, now scented with her own juices mingling with Jay's. Diane didn't breathe a word when Jay got home, just shared a knowing smile over coffee. But when the house emptied out—Jay at work, no parties brewing—Diane's secret ritual became her release. A quick hike leaving her sweaty and energized, or a glass of wine turning frisky; she'd sneak the toy, chase that high in her bed or the shower, always returning it like nothing happened. It fueled her, made the parties wilder—dancing close to strangers, her body humming with private satisfaction. Jay's oblivious energy only amped it up, their banter laced with unspoken heat.

Weeks blurred into a rhythm of shifts and escapades. One Friday, after a grueling night saving a kid from a snowmobile wreck, Diane and Jay stumbled home together, the house already filling with the usual crowd. Bodies packed the living room—nurses unwinding, a couple of ski instructors passing a joint on the deck. Music thumped, bass vibrating the walls like that damn toy. Diane poured wine, the bold vintage hitting her veins, making her feel adventurous, sexy in her tight jeans and tank top. Jay, in a cropped tee that showed off her toned midriff, slung an arm around her shoulders. "To surviving another shitshow," Jay toasted, clinking glasses. Their eyes met, a spark there that Diane couldn't place— or maybe it was her imagination, guilty from all the borrowed pleasure.

The party ramped up, shots flowing, laughter echoing. Diane slipped away to the kitchen for a breather, her body buzzing from the wine and the press of bodies. Jay followed, grabbing another bottle. "You okay? Look like you're a million miles away." Her voice was low, teasing, as she leaned against the counter, close enough that Diane caught that familiar scent—musk and lavender soap.

"Just wired," Diane said, her cheeks flushing. The toy's memory flashed: Jay writhing, then herself, ass filled and pulsing. She shifted, thighs pressing together. "Long week."

Jay's grin turned sly. "Tell me about it. Need to unwind properly tonight?" She bumped her hip against Diane's, playful but lingering.

The crowd spilled into the backyard hot tub, steam rising under the stars. Diane stripped down with the others, shedding inhibitions along with her clothes—nudity as natural as the snow-capped peaks in the distance. She sank into the bubbling water, jets massaging her back, her bare skin prickling in the cool air. Jay slid in beside her, thigh brushing Diane's under the foam. The wine had Diane frisky, bold; she remembered the park threesome, hands and cocks everywhere, the thrill of exposure. Here, with eyes on them all, it felt electric.

As the group thinned—couples pairing off, heading inside—Jay stayed, her foot nudging Diane's calf. "Ever wonder what it's like to really let go with someone you know?" Jay murmured, voice cutting through the jets' hum. Her hand found Diane's under the water, fingers tracing her knee.

Diane's breath hitched. The secret weighed heavy now, arousal twisting with confession. "Like... what you do when you're alone?" The words tumbled out, bold from the wine.

Jay's eyes widened, then narrowed with heat. "You saw that, huh?" No anger, just a wicked smile. "Turned you on, didn't it?"

Diane nodded, water lapping at her hardening nipples. "More than that. I... borrowed it. A few times."

Jay laughed, low and throaty, pulling Diane closer. Their breasts pressed together, slick skin sliding. "Knew it smelled different. Naughty girl." Her hand ventured higher, cupping Diane's pussy under the water, fingers parting her folds. Diane gasped, already wet despite the tub. Jay's touch was sure, circling her clit with practiced ease. "Show me how you used it."

They stumbled inside, dripping and giggling, the house emptying as the party fizzled. In Jay's room, door locked, Jay stripped the towel away, pushing Diane onto the bed. The pink toy appeared from the drawer, slicked with lube. "Your turn to watch," Jay said, but she handed it over first.

Diane lay back, legs spread, the toy buzzing to life in her hand. Jay watched, eyes dark, as Diane worked it into her pussy, the curve hitting her g-spot just right. "Like that," Diane moaned, hips rolling. Jay leaned in, mouth on her tit, sucking hard while her fingers teased Diane's ass. The dual assault built fast—vibrations deep, Jay's tongue flicking her nipple. Diane came with a shout, pussy clenching, juices coating the toy.

Jay took over then, straddling Diane's thigh, grinding her wet pussy against it while Diane thrust the toy into her. "Fuck, yes," Jay groaned, riding the friction, her clit swelling against Diane's skin. They kissed, messy and hungry, tongues tangling as Jay's hand guided the toy deeper. Diane's free fingers slipped into Jay's ass, lubed and probing, matching the rhythm. Jay bucked, tits bouncing, her orgasm crashing with a flood—squirting over Diane's thigh, hot and messy.

They didn't stop. Jay flipped Diane onto her stomach, spreading her cheeks. "You tried this, right?" The toy, still buzzing, pressed against Diane's asshole, easing in slow. Diane buried her face in the pillow, moaning as it filled her, vibrations shaking her core. Jay's fingers found her pussy, three plunging deep, curling against her g-spot. "Come for me," Jay whispered, nipping her ear. The pressure built, anal fullness mixing with the finger-fuck, until Diane shattered again, asshole pulsing, pussy gushing around Jay's hand.

Exhausted, they collapsed together, bodies tangled, the toy discarded and humming faintly on the floor. Jay traced lazy circles on Diane's hip. "Should've said something sooner. We could've made this house even more legendary."

Diane laughed, spent and satisfied, the secret turning into something shared, electric. In the quiet aftermath, with Aspen's mountains looming outside, their after-hours world felt complete—hikes by day, parties by night, and now this, raw and real between them. The toy stayed in the drawer, but it wasn't needed anymore; they'd found their own rhythm, wild and unending.

The next morning, over coffee on the deck, Jay bumped Diane's shoulder. "Round two tonight? After the shift?"

Diane grinned, already feeling the pull. "Only if you promise not to hog the hot tub."

Jay winked. "Deal. But next time, we invite the crowd—see what else we can shake up."

And just like that, the house on the west end hummed with new possibilities, their laughter carrying on the crisp air.