I make sure the door to my room is locked- I don’t want to be disturbed- then I get a small toiletry bag from the cupboard. I put the bag on the bed, unopened, and stretch out with my head propped up by the pillows. I think about it for a moment and stand to slip out of my sweat pants and knickers. Lying down again, I spread my legs a little. It always feels naughty to do this, to be naked, half-naked, when there are people walking around outside. The thought sends a little tingle through my body.
I still need something to turn me on more, and I know just what I want. There’s no need to consult my notes, I remember the name Greg gave me for his erotica writing alter ego. It doesn’t take long to find his stories for sale. There are so many, which slows me down a little. There is a series of tales which have phallic spaceships and other suggestive stuff on the cover. Those will involve the big-breasted spacewoman that Greg mentioned. I don’t have the time for a whole story, I want a short story. But which one, there are so many of them. The answer lies half way down the page. There’s an omnibus collection of his short stories. It costs seven pounds, but he did buy me lunch and Mojitos. It’s downloaded almost as soon as I’ve ordered it.
Rather than worry over which story to read, the same way I dithered over which e-book to buy, I start with the first tale in the collection. The set-up is simple enough- a man meets his neighbours when they move in, and helps shift some of their furniture. A couple of days later they invite him around for a meal, where the conversation quickly turns rude. Before long, the wife is serving pudding in the nude whilst her husband and the neighbour are comparing the sizes of their erections. At the wife’s suggestion, the husband soon goes down on the neighbour.
That surprises me, and turns me on. I’d have thought that man on man would never do it for me, but the exuberance of the scene sweeps me up and carries me along with it. Propping the tablet up with my left hand, I push my T-shirt up with my right until the fabric’s pushed back just past my nipples. I run light fingers up the small mounds of my breasts, back and forth between the two of them, then concentrating on the right. I circle the areola then flick and tweak the nipple.
As the story goes on- though I’m reading it in ever more distracted bursts- I need to put people in the story. It’s Greg’s tale, so he’s the husband. But without the beard. I’m not sure what he looks like without his beard, but this is my fantasy, so he’s really handsome. The neighbour is Greg too, somehow, and that’s not weird. at all. I am the wife. She’s blonde in the story, but she does have small, perfect tits. By now in the story she’s sitting on the neighbour’s face and urging him to lick her deeper and deeper.
My hand slides down my body and I spread my legs. I rub gently along the outsides of my labia and then over them, feeling them soft and warm and a little slick. One of the lips comes out further than the other, I gently push it aside and spread them. Needing a little lubrication, I bring my hand back and lick and suck my fingers, getting them wet. When I reach down again, they slide more easily between the splitting lips. My forefinger pushes easily into me. I move it in and out slowly, then build up the speed and push another finger in.
Soon, I’ve got three fingers in myself, and the juices are flowing. On the tablet, the wife has slid down the neighbour’s cock and the husband has come around so that he can move his prick between her mouth and the neighbour’s. But I’m not really concentrating on them any more. I put the tablet down- they can carry on without me- and fumble for the bag with my left hand. My right hand slides out and fingers settle either side of my clit’s hood. I squeeze and gently move them from left to right, then in little circles, shivering with the step up in pleasure.
My left hand closes around what I was searching for. The vibrator is the pinkest thing I own, but it’s very quiet and waterproof. I haven’t dared use it in the shower yet, but it’s nice to know I could. It always feels a little dry at first, so I take the tip in my mouth and suck and lick around it. Then, holding it awkwardly, I twist the knob at the end until it’s buzzing just enough to be heard. I tease a nipple with it, rubbing my clit harder at the same time. I’m getting closer, and I want to shout out my pleasure. But I don’t want the rest of the flat to hear. Transferring the vibrator to my right hand, I pull up the sheets with my left and wad up a corner to bite on.
I move the vibrator around and through my pubic hair, feeling the buzz through the bone and muscle. Then I move it down, closer and closer, until it touches my clit. I bite harder on the blanket and close my eyes. That was a little too intense, even when I’m this excited. But I’m getting closer, ever closer. There’s something tight and tensed between my legs, waiting to break free and flow through the rest of my body. Running the vibrator over my labia just teases the orgasm building inside. I rub it up and down some more, getting it slick with my own juices, then change the angle to slide it in.
Now I remember the story again. I don’t know what they’ve been up to, but on my bed in my room, Greg is sliding his hard cock into me, and we’re both about to climax. I angle the vibrator so that it shakes and stimulates my clit without touching it and start pushing it in and out. Two, three, four thrusts and I’m coming, all my muscles tensing and then the warm, beautiful thing pulsing out from deep in my vagina and through my body. Squeaks and squeals escape past the blanket, and the bed creaks as I move on it. I’ve squeezed my legs together, trapping my hand and the vibrator, and the buzz drives aftershocks through me.
Slowly, slowly, I pull the vibrator from me, and let the little mini-orgasms subside. I pull the blanket from my mouth and lick my dry lips. I don’t know how that was for Greg the vibrator, but it worked for me. There’s a little tear running down my right cheek, always a sign that I’ve come hard. I don’t think Carl has ever featured in a fantasy that’s managed that. He certainly hasn’t achieved it in real life.
Best not to think about that and bring the mood down. I close my eyes and let the afterglow warm me.
[Submitted to Smut Sunday]