Slowly he shoved it in and out, in and out, the thrusts getting harder and quicker. She watched him move it around. The skill. The dexterity. Even though his tool wasn't as big as the others, she had to admit that size didn't matter. It was how he used it.
Working himself into a frenzy, sweat forming on his brow he was intent on getting the job done. He wasn't giving up until she was happy. Satisfied.
Stopping only to reposition it, making sure it was as deep as it could possibly go, he pumped furiously. In, out, sideways, speeding up, slowing down, he kept looking at her, checking to see he was doing it right. Don't want to let her down now, he thought. Not after she had been waiting so long for this moment.
She had dreamt about it. Begged and pleaded. Nagged incessantly. Threatened to get someone else to do it.
And the look on her face told him the wait had been worth it. The anticipation in her eyes as he pulled up his sleeves. The look of hope as he had pulled out the object of her desire. "This is going to be good!" she whispered. I've waited so long to see you in action!"
Excited, mesmerized, filling up with joy, she watched him, her husband, cleaning those baby bottles like a pro.