Eden Oasis

THE GARDEN OF EDEN

From above, Oasis City looks like jewels in a rock garden. Fragments of color shine and shimmer amid a sprawl of worn whites, cement grays, and dark lines of sandy asphalt. The sun lights up the greens of the botanical garden, the waterpark’s candy-colored waterslides, the neon facades of casinos and restaurants, and the sapphire-blue lake at the heart of the city.

Hidden among these dazzling colors is an especially precious gem. From the street, it looks like an odd little office building, hardly higher than the palm trees around it. The sign over the door reads “Garden of Eden – Inn and Intimacies.”

Stepping into the Garden of Eden feels like walking into a candy store, its displays a rainbow of brightly-colored merchandise. Unlike a candy store, however, many of the items for sale here are penis-shaped.

The shop is packed with vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, masturbation sleeves, lube bottles, and toys of all kinds. Racks of swimsuits and lingerie stand in neat rows. Bookshelves offer resources on faith, health, marriage, and wild crazy sex. If a visitor feels overwhelmed by the cheerful atmosphere, they are welcome to lurk, vampire-like, among the bondage gear and kinky outfits in the back.

First impressions are generally of a candy store; second impressions are of a garden. The shop is a riot of flowers, potted palms, and assorted houseplants. (The rumor going around is that the owners may expand it into a flower shop.) Against the greenery, the sex toys on display evoke an image of fantastical fruits—perhaps, even, of forbidden fruits.

Upstairs are four overnight suites, all soundproofed and themed for romantic roleplay. Solomon’s Suite boasts opulent furnishings and colorful bedding. The Doctor’s Office features an exam table, complete with stirrups and leg supports to help the “patient” air out their naughty bits. The Private Study Room gives a teacher and student an intimate setting for one-on-one education. As for the Dungeon, well… I’ll leave that one to the imagination.

The owners of the Garden of Eden are a married couple approaching middle age. Neither his beard nor her freckles can hide their smiles. Their kindness and frankness make visitors feel at home… or as close to it as anyone can feel while surrounded by dildos and anal plugs.

This is their story. It’s a weird one, I’ll be honest. The world is full of misfits—of puzzle pieces too strangely shaped to fit anywhere. Sometimes, however, such mishappen pieces turn out to be, by God’s design, perfectly shaped for each other.

EEVEE VERSUS THE PURPLE TERROR

Eevee Grüngarten was timid and quiet, except when she masturbated. This evening, she was very, very loud.

She sat against her apartment wall, legs spread wide. A wet patch spread slowly on the blanket beneath her. It was her childhood favorite, covered in cute pictures of Pokémon. As a young adult, she nicknamed it her “mastur-blanket.” The Pokémon didn’t mind the mess, she decided.

Her apartment was a dream come true. She could leave her toys lying around anywhere. It was the top floor, too, so she could walk around naked with the windows open, letting the hot desert wind caress her breasts, her stomach, and between her legs. Best of all, the offices beneath the apartment were empty at night, and the only neighboring apartment was vacant for another week. She could be as loud as she wanted to be, and only God could hear her.

Eevee was short, or as she preferred to say, “fun-sized.” Even in the desert climate, her pale skin didn’t tan. It freckled. At this point, her freckles outnumbered the descendants of Abraham, covering her face, neck, shoulders, arms, and legs. Even her breasts were freckled, now that she could turn them loose and give them some sun.

The evening air was cool, yet Eevee’s brown hair was damp with perspiration. Her pubic curls were more than damp—they were soaked. She worked a vibrator up and down her slit, lingering on her clit and soaking her bush with nectar. As the vibe buzzed, her moans grew louder and louder.

“Oh—oh—oh gosh,” she exclaimed. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” She felt her nectar trickling warmly down her perineum and into the dimple of her anus before disappearing into the sticky blanket beneath. With her free hand, she pressed a fingertip into her vaginal opening and wiped it off against herself: rubbing her nipples, drawing a circle around her navel, and making a glorious mess.

Eevee reached for the lube and trickled it slowly over her vulva. She paused, grinned, and then drizzled lube all over her stomach and breasts. If she was making a mess, she might as well do it right! She spread the lube over her belly, under her breasts, and beneath her arms, relishing the childlike thrill of getting good and dirty.

All right. It was time.

Eevee switched off the vibrator and reached for a dildo. It wasn’t all that big, but to Eevee, it seemed monstrous: the “purple terror,” she called it. She slipped a cautious finger into her vagina. Okay. Two fingers. A little tight, but not painful. Now for the dildo. If only she could work its head inside, the shaft would follow smoothly. She pressed it against the opening. Slight discomfort. She pressed harder. It felt ever so slightly painful, but she wasn’t giving up.

Eeveen wiggled and wriggled, feeling herself stretch, pain intensifying, and then—it was in! A moment of pure euphoria. The shaft slid in smoothly. She did it! Eevee had conquered the purple terror! It was a tight fit, but she could live with that.

Switching on the vibe, she buzzed her clit with one hand and worked the dildo with the other. In and out, in and out, in and out. The blanket was soaked. Everything felt warm and sticky. She was going to need the longest shower after this.

If only, if only it were a real penis sliding in and out of her: hot, hard, exploding in a fountain of white-hot cum. If only she could share this slippery mess with a friend, her lover, that special someone who would love her even though she was, well… herself. Geeky. Weird. Horny. Awkward. Extravagantly freckled.

“Oh, baby,” she gasped. Her fantasies ran wild. Her imaginary husband ravished her. “Don’t stop!” she yelled. “Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” Eevee lifted her head and roared, a beast in heat. “I love you! Fuck me harder!”

An orgasm pulsed through Eevee. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably. As her vagina clenched against the dildo, she felt so thankful, once again, that there was definitely, absolutely, unquestionably nobody next door to overhear this.

A KINGDOM OF CARDBOARD

Next door, Adán Flores could not help but overhear a cacophony of gasps, moans, and yells. “Somebody’s having a good time,” he murmured, smiling. “I really shouldn’t listen. It’s not polite.” Looking down at his front, he added, “Settle down, you.”

His erection ignored him, bouncing reflexively, undaunted in its quest to touch the ceiling. Adán was naked. He couldn’t afford to run the AC, so taking off his clothes seemed like the obvious alternative. Despite the cool night air, he hadn’t expected the evening to feel quite so… hot.

Perspiration gleamed on his brown skin and soaked his dark curly hair. His beard was trimmed almost as neatly as his pubic hair. Adán may have been short on funds, but he could always afford to be tidy.

His finances were tight at the moment. Moving in a week early was probably for the best, but it put an extra dent in his savings, and put him under extra stress. He hadn’t even had time to unpack, let alone introduce himself to the neighbors. (One of them, at least, seemed pretty lively.)

“All things in God’s time,” he reminded himself. “For now, I guess I’ll unpack. Where to begin?”

As he surveyed his kingdom of cardboard boxes, Adán felt his penis pulsing still more strongly with pent-up enthusiasm. A drop of precum had oozed from its tip. From next door, frantic moans and sharp buzzing were joined by rhythmic squelches. These walls were like paper.

“Are they paper?” wondered Adán. He considered poking one with a finger, but decided not to risk it. “Back to work. I have to start somewhere. Toybox it is!”

Adán didn’t have much money to spare at the moment, but even he could afford a few toys. His toybox held a bullet vibe, an off-brand pocket pussy, a few hair ties, and the plugs.

Metal butt plugs were expensive or garish, and soft silicone plugs retained a faint stink after use. In the end, Adán tried glass plugs only because they were on sale. It was a gift of God, he decided. They were perfect.

Glass plugs were smooth and elegant, and so easy to clean. They never smelled bad after a good wash. Best of all, each plug gave him a window into his own body; using a mirror, he could look inside himself. It was incredibly sexy.

Over the months, he worked his way through the starter set he had bought on sale, and finally splurged on an extra-long, extra-large plug. When he was aroused, he could feel its tip deep within himself, filling him, putting firm pressure on his deepest, most private parts.

Adán was very aroused.

He couldn’t afford lube at the moment, but vegetable oil did the trick. Setting the plug upright on the kitchen floor, he coated it in oil and squatted over it. Down he went, slowly and firmly. Up for a moment, and then down again, deeper. He felt the plug stretching him wider, uncomfortably wide, almost painfully wide, and then—bliss.

The moment a plug slipped inside felt almost magical. Adán let out a sigh, stood up, and returned to his toybox to choose a toy.

He wouldn’t use the masturbation sleeve without proper lube; cooking oil would leave it all greasy. Using a couple of hair ties, he could strap the vibe beneath the head of his penis and let it pleasure him hands-free… but nah, not this time. Adán was in the mood to masturbate the old-fashioned way. It was time to relieve some stress.

He gripped his penis firmly and held it for a moment, feeling the plug deep within himself, listening to his neighbor’s frenzied gasps and moans. Adán almost came right then and there. No, no, he would take it slow. Carefully, every so gradually, he stroked upward—downward—upward—downward. The motion milked out more precum. It ran over his fingers. He kept stroking.

As he neared orgasm, Adán paused for a break. His neighbor apparently had the same idea; the buzzing had stopped, and he could hear heavy breathing and soft whimpers. He sat down on a corner of the kitchen seat. It pressed against the plug, pushing it as deep as it could go. Adán rocked his hips gently backward and forward, keeping pressure on the plug, feeling it massage his inmost parts.

The buzzing resumed next door, and Adán took it as a sign. He began to rub the underside of his penis with an eager fingertip. Up and down the shaft, round the head, beneath the head in a circular motion. His erection was slick with precum. He picked up the pace. A familiar feeling grew within his loins: a mounting pressure, a rising tension, a dam about to burst, a rubber band about to snap.

It was time.

Adán grabbed himself and pumped furiously. He erupted. Semen spurted onto the kitchen floor. He slowed his pace, shivered, stroked a few more times, and then slumped back into the seat, breathing hard. His penis softened, retreated, and gave up its ambitions of making contact with the ceiling—for now.

On the other side of the wall, his neighbor gave a final scream and lapsed into silence.

A peculiar clarity often follows orgasm, a stillness after the storm. Adán looked around the apartment in this moment of sudden calm. It was so… empty. He was alone with his boxes, the king of a cardboard kingdom.

Oasis City was huge, bustling with people and blazing with light. Why did he feel so alone? Maybe, God willing, he could make some friends, find a church, meet the neighbors… though he would have a hard time looking at least one of them in the eye.

In that moment, he and his neighbor shared the exact same thought: “I am such a misfit.”

They spent the next half hour cleaning up. Eevee hand-washed her blanket, hung it to dry, and scrubbed herself clean in the shower. Adán wiped up the semen in the kitchen, popped out the butt plug in the bathroom, and cleaned himself up. Both were exhausted. Both felt relieved, yet not quite satisfied.

Neither of them knew what would follow in the months ahead, but God knew. As always, God knew exactly what he was doing.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Hiya! My name is Poiema, and I am a strangely shaped puzzle piece.

I like telling stories. Even for idle daydreams, I find myself instinctively constructing narratives. Eden Oasis began as just a private fantasy, but almost before I knew it, its misfit lovers had built up a weird, geeky, sexy story of their own.

I’m deeply grateful for the Marriage Heat community. It’s frank and open, providing a safe space to discuss the kinds of things we dare not discuss in church. It celebrates sexuality as a God-given gift—one too wild, precious, and wonderful to waste, abuse, or neglect. Even when its members disagree, it’s practically always with the kindness and respectfulness urged by the writers of the New Testament.

In many ways, Marriage Heat is the kind of family every church is called to be.

I also appreciate how it welcomes and encourages misfit singles like me, too. Whether or not we ever find puzzle pieces shaped strangely enough to match our own, it’s nice to know that we’re not alone on the journey.

Stay sexy! Grace and peace to you all.