Who Knew a Male Sex Doll Could Make a Good Hamburger?

Too bad blind dates don’t come to your door, delivered like something great you sent yourself from Amazon. Online shopping, something I didn’t think I would become addicted to, was my retail therapy. Other than having your treasure arrive like a present, the best thing about it is still the window shopping. I do like getting a bargain but the chase, the planning, the research and then the discovery of that one, just right, exceptional item!

I wasn’t a fool though. I knew who paid that credit card each month. Me. I could be careful and still buy stuff. The trick was to make sure it really was something I really did need. Most of the time I was successful that way. Books, print books, tended to be my downfall.

A good book is a good companion. Like that blind date but, in this case, he can hold up his end of the conversation. Of course, only my lips were moving.

Until… I had a blind date. Another one. My sister set it up. It wasn’t my worst date but it did get weird when he began talking about his life sized sex doll. Not a blow up doll. A fully functional robot. (I admit, I didn’t ask for details about what fully functional meant). I encouraged him to talk about how he dresses her up, poses her for photographs and other things. At least I wasn’t left carrying the conversation. As time went on he got so excited to tell me all about his sex doll, I just had to smile and nod until the end of the date.

He gave me a little obligatory kiss and a business card before hurrying away home.

I thought he had given me his own business card but it wasn’t. I had one of those soft snort laughs when I read it. But, I did keep it. I don’t think I had any thought about using it, not then. Still, you never know all the little thoughts lingering in the back of your mind.

A few weeks later, another blind date, and a delivery from Amazon at my door. An ok blind date, but I never saw him again.

I’d never had a delivery come in a wooden crate before. Even a solid, metal library cart had come in just a bigger cardboard box. Shipping was crazy expensive. I’d debated clicking the final OK even while I tempted myself with all the possibilities and convinced myself this was something I needed.

As I watched the crate, almost expecting something to happen, I had a minor panic attack. That fluttery feeling in my chest, flashes of cold and warm, and damp palms. So, I didn’t open the crate. Like a lottery ticket, all good and hopeful until you check it. Weeks went by that way. I got used to the big wooden crate I had to walk around in the middle of the hallway. I liked it that way, safe but full of potential I could, someday, choose to open.

Who knows how long it would have gone on like that? I’d nearly paid off my credit card. I’d come up with an explanation friends and family seemed to accept for the crate being there. I even had two more blind dates. No more online shopping though, my budget was blown.

It happened on a Tuesday, a fairly random day. I unlocked my door, locked it behind me, dragged in a couple of bags of groceries and put my purse down at the door. A naked man was sitting on my sofa, watching me.

I froze in stunned indecision. He smiled. A nice smile, nothing dangerous or challenging. I think it was even friendly and hopeful.

I could skip a lot of typing and just tell you it was the robot from the crate and that we ended up in bed, on the floor and out on the balcony, in some order or other. But, it didn’t happen that way. For one thing, I’m not a porn star.

He introduced himself but explained he didn’t have a name until I picked one for him. He didn’t come with any clothes either. Then he asked me why I’d left him in the crate so long.

I was still stunned. We looked at each other for some unknown amount of time. Now I know he was waiting for instructions. Having just an ordinary human sort of brain I needed longer to adapt to sudden change and put things together.

I heard a click, he unplugged himself from the wall, stood up (modestly covering himself in front) and carefully reached around my still frozen self, for the groceries I had entirely forgotten. With the bags on the kitchen counter he started putting things away, figuring out where they should go without asking me.

He had a tea towel wrapped around his middle while he made dinner, hamburgers. I think the smell of meat cooking brought me out of the deep freeze. I like to think it was a predator kind of thing. But, I’m probably kidding myself.

He took my coat, hung it in the hall closet. Putting my hand on his arm, like a proper gentleman, or a butler, he led me to the table, pulled out my chair and pushed it in again when I sat down. Then he set the table for dinner, one place setting.

Who knew a machine, a robot, an android, a male sex doll could make a good hamburger?

After a quiet dinner he cleaned everything up himself. This was the most unusual blind date I’d ever had.

He talked while he worked. Told me about himself. Other than being the youngest blind date I’ve ever had, it turned into the best blind date I’d ever had – and the last. We talked all night. We had so much to talk about! Not just sorting out who he was, how things work and all that. But, he knew about so many things which also interest me. Part of the programming, but he had opinions and different ways of looking at things and pulling ideas together. It aroused me.

I kept him in just the tea towel, sat close beside him and gave into curiousity. He felt very human, nicely firm and warm too. We set his features: hair colour, facial hair, tone of voice, and so on. He became sexier and sexier, especially once we had that voice just right. I could feel the deepness of his voice rumble through me. Then he whispered some sweet nothings, knowing his voice was melting me from the inside.

I wanted his touch so I put his hands under my sweater, over my bra. He told me how much he liked my boobs, how long he had been waiting to touch me when he could only watch through a few tiny gaps in the packing crate. He said his emergency battery had finally run low the other night when I had come out of the shower, nude. I’d gotten a towel fresh from the laundry basket and stayed there, drying off, applying lotion, where he could see me. But, he couldn’t do anything. They aren’t allowed to unpack themselves from the crate in any but extreme circumstances.

He asked to undress me and I said, “yes”.

I felt worshipped as he took his time, revealing me like a special delivery from Amazon. Soft kisses, warm strokes and barely there touches in appreciation for every new part of me exposed. Warm breath and nibbles over sensitive skin, my skin and his skin as we exchanged caresses.

The tea towel had fallen somewhere, his cock hard, and just the length, width and shape I’d ordered. I wrapped my hand around his cock and held it firmly, taking possession. His gasp, shudders and squirming excited me. I slipped his fingers into my pussy, spreading around the wetness there. He moved to slip his fingers in deeper and I let him. Perfect male hands with fingers just long enough to feel wonderful pushing inside of me. I encouraged him to slip three fingers in and stroke my pussy, in and out with a little twist of his wrist for extra hotness.

Three big fingers swirling inside my pussy, his thumb teasing my clit while he sucked and teased my breasts, belly and thighs with his other hand and his mouth. I wanted it. I wanted him. I was ready to take what I wanted.

“I want your cock inside of me now, boy”. For a few seconds I missed his fingers in me and all over me but then the tip of his cock was dipping into my hot, wet pussy. There, he waited, for permission to slide inside. His cock, so firm, straining to push into my welcoming pussy, trembling with excitement but staying just between my pussy lips. He was mine to take so I did. I rode his cock, felt it slip inside, pushing into me and making room for the generous width of his cock. I did it my way, slow and deep and then a little twist while holding his cock so deeply inside my pussy I could feel the hum and vibrations of his machinery as his cock filled me. My orgasm came like tidal waves crashing in and then winding down to happy little ripples.

He stroked my back and kept his cock inside me until the last few ripples. I sat up, astride him on the floor and enjoyed looking at him. His cock still firmly inside me, but I was satisfied and just wanted to see him still hard and needy. I moved up and knelt over him, letting him see my pussy, smell it too. He put his hand up, covering my pussy with one finger slipping between the outer lips. I moved and stood up, leaving him hoping for more.

“You can wash me in the shower and then we’re going to bed. In the morning I’m going to open that chest of toys included in the crate.”

“I think I’m still a virgin. Am I? I really was looking forward to sex. Is it really sex if you only allow me to penetrate you?” He asked.

“I don’t know. But, it will be amusing to keep you as a virgin for awhile.”

“How long? Don’t you want to make sure everything works, as ordered?”

I admired his tall, nicely muscular body and his still twitchy, hard cock as he stood up. “Looks like it works for me.” I laughed, pretty happy with this expensive present I had sent myself from Amazon.

 

Freshly posted to Novel Trove tonight.

It’s Funny, but you Smell Like Sex

I joined NovelTrove last night and posted a story for their contest with the theme, swinging. My story came in last of ten. Maybe due to being entered just as the contest was closing or maybe it just wasn’t sexy/ slutty enough. I liked it. I wrote it in an hour, including the time I pulled it together in my mind before typing anything. Usually I type as I think. This delayed start was better. I had to remember all my ideas and that helped as the story developed.

Click the link to see the story on the site and give it a vote if you liked it. If you didn’t like it, just don’t bother to vote. Seems simple enough to me.

It’s Funny, but you Smell Like Sex

I am sitting alone, still enjoying ripples of an orgasm, when my husband comes back. He has our car keys and doesn’t look very pleased.

“Maybe you’re right. All this swinging is for people not like us.” He passes me my coat. I’m surprised it was right where I had left it, folded neatly on the seat next to me.

Taking my hand, something he hadn’t done in a very long time, he led me to the back door and the parking lot. He opened my door first and waited for me to get inside the car before closing the door for me. It was nice.

On the way home he talked about the woman he had ended up with. She was older than she had looked, wore a lot of make-up and he didn’t really like her eagerness for the swinging scene. Three children later and my husband still likes to think he is the sexual guru in our relationship. My disinterest in sex hasn’t really bothered him, other than being an inconvenience at times.

“It’s funny, but you smell like sex.” He says.

“So do you.” I reply.

“I guess so, we were both there after all. Want to stop for a coffee? Make it a bit more of a night out?”

Drive through coffee because neither of us feels like getting out of the car yet. He feels out of sorts and me… I’m just feeling content and languid.

I take the coffee cup and notice the bit of paper I’ve had in my fist all this time. He notices too.

“What’s that?” He asks.

I open it and then push it into my purse. “Someone gave me their phone number.”

“And you’re going to keep it?” He says, startled, a little annoyed.

“Well, I don’t want to litter in the parking lot. I’ll find it the next time I clean out my purse and toss it out then.”

He seems satisfied with that, more or less. I say nothing more about it.

At home I leave him to pay the babysitter and check on the kids, lock up the house and all those other rituals. I strip off my dress in the bathroom. My panties are gone and I’m surprised he didn’t notice my boobs swinging around half in and half out of my open bra. But, I’m the good wife, he only looks at me that way once in awhile.

My clothes go into the laundry basket. I stand looking at my naked reflection in the bathroom mirror while waiting for the shower to get hot. Tonight I want a hot shower. I don’t want anything cold touching me, taking away the feeling of being touched by strong, knowing, and patient hands. My pussy is still leaking. It feels strange after all this time. But, I like it. I’m even a little proud, or maybe it’s defiance.

His idea to go to a swingers party, not mine. His idea to leave me sitting there, the good wife. I didn’t look for anything, other than a cocktail or two. I forget what they were called now.

Stepping into the shower, the steam rises around me and the hot water pours over me. I wash away the evidence while I relive the encounter.

A kiss at the back of my neck. Strong, big fingers stroking my back, making me feel like a purring cat. Something he whispered near my ear that I didn’t really understand. Hands on my hips, under my dress, my panties slipped down. I felt a tall, wide, male body pressed against my back. Then he gently pushed me to lean forward. His fingers just a little cold but quickly warming between the lips of my pussy. Playing with my clit, slow and then a little faster and then slowing right down again as I started the first wave of orgasm. Slowing, slower and so slow I thought the orgasm would stay at the pinnacle of just starting forever. Crashing, thudding and trembling inside of me, so strong I hadn’t even noticed he was gone and I was alone again.

Another orgasm in the shower. My husband coming down the hallway to our bedroom and our king sized bed, the best way to share a bed while not sharing anything.

What Would you Write to Win the Bad Sex in Fiction Award?

Put some thought into what makes a really bad sex scene. Don’t make it too unbelievable, something no one would ever have written, but how bad can you go?

Twisted arms and legs, body parts which move in odd ways or seem to multiply? Words that don’t suit the mood, aggravate the mood or completely bypass the mood and make you want to read something with fluffy bunnies instead?

Write about sex in a bad, messed up way. Play with it.
Idea source: Bad Sex in Fiction Award 2015: What are they and does Morrissey have a shot? | News | Culture | The Independent

His knuckle rubbed her pussy button, giving her a hard on. Once she was really wet, dripping like a leaky faucet, he dived into her crotch shoving deep, mining her with his throbbing, purple pussy eater.

It doesn’t need to be long. In cases like this, short is a good thing. It is fun to write, without the pressure of trying to make it good.

Pussy Tickler

 How would that feel inside and would the little peggy things come off? It’s interesting. I like texture. Maybe it would feel like little bugs swishing around inside your vagina. Some people would be turned off by that idea. I’d  be turned off if it were something other than fantasy.
pussytickler

Source: CalExotics Dr. Joel Kaplan Adjustable Masturbator in Clear.

Clit Clip: Clip-Ons for your Pussy

First of all, would anyone buy this without knowing how it stays on? The seller offers instructions with purchase, but I’d want to know before buying it.

The best thing about this clitoris clip-on is being able to experiment with clit piercing without actually getting holes punched into your delicate bits. Just like clip-on earrings instead of pierced earrings. It’s a great idea. But, how does it stay on? Does it pinch the way clip-on earrings often did? Or does it fall off kind of easily? Clip-on earrings used to slip off or be too tight. I think that’s really why people ended up getting their ears pierced instead. It was a nuisance to lose so many earrings.
Crystalled Beauty Clit Clip Stud Button Hugger Under The Hood Intimate Jewelry & Gifts Silvertone base clip features a 3/4 inch (2cm) goldtone
Source: Clit Clip Stud Under The Hoode Crystalled Beauty by UnderTheHoode

I do admit I’m curious, in a kinky way, about this too.

Dommes can have a lot of assorted fantasies. We don’t live in a box on your computer.

My fantasy of having a clit piercing isn’t so much about ownership as belonging to someone, or WITH someone. There is a difference. But, either way it is being marked for (or by) someone else.

I’d like to find a submissive man who gets that distinction. I really don’t want full time ownership of a man. I want a man with a mind and will of his own. I want an equal partner who I also own, a man who belongs with me and knows (and likes) his place. Maybe that only makes sense to me.

I’m not likely to buy the clit-on. But, I will remember the idea and I am posting it here. Share the idea with someone you love, or want to love.

Little Man as a Pussy Scratcher

This is a fetish, a weird fetish. It just seems even weirder seeing it illustrated. But, there is something about a little, miniature man… I don’t quite know why or really how it works. Some fetishes are like that. Of course, this one will always just be a fantasy and that’s probably a good thing.

http://femdombay.tumblr.com/post/119842687360/via-human-dildo-follow-my-femdom-teasing-foot

Retro Internet: The 1500 Point Purity Test

Long ago, in the days of the Internet surfing highway, there was a purity test with over 1000 questions. I found a copy of it. Posted for your viewing (or take the test) pleasure.

THE UNISEX PURITY TEST

If you thought the millenial purity test was bad, well you ain’t see
nuttin’ yet!

This is the 1500 point Purity Test!

We felt that the 1000 point version lost a lot of the “fun” of the
earlier versions, so we re-wrote it, adding a few new sections, and
a shitload of questions. This test is guaranteed to be nosier that
your parents, more invasive than the census, and containing something
to offend everybody.

Also included is an answer form so that you can remember where in the
test you were, or show to a friend.

Continue reading Retro Internet: The 1500 Point Purity Test

Real Women

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)

What is your body for? Some people might think it’s a mode of transportation for their brain. Some people might think it’s something to be used to lure men to their doom, like the legendary sirens. Some might talk about procreation, having babies, continuing the species, all that sort of stuff. Some others might think it’s just advertising in motion.

Whatever it’s for, do you know much about how it works? How do breasts make milk for babies? Why does your vagina leak even when you aren’t having an orgasm? Why do women have hair in odd places where only men should have hair? These and other questions can be answered if you care to find out. Most young women don’t know about milk ducts, or how the vagina cleans itself by leaking mucus. They don’t know what makes a woman’s breasts start having milk. Why are they so ignorant?

I think it’s because we are so focused on making women’s bodies into sex toys that we have forgotten there is a real purpose for women being different from men. It’s not just a way to turn them on. No, Virginia, there really is a vagina, not just a pussy.

Women have babies, that’s the whole point of that period thing women get monthly. Women feed babies, that’s why we have those pair of lumps stuck to the front of us. Women give birth to babies that’s why our hips tend to be wider than men’s. No, it’s not all there to sell cars, sorry, you have been sadly misinformed.

The saddest thing of all is that so many women are getting breast implants. A breast implant turns what starts out as a natural thing into nothing but a sex toy. Once implanted with those plastic bags of goop a breast can no longer function for breast feeding a baby. Is that such a small price to pay for having the biggest hooters. Is that all there is? Is that all you want to be?

Real women have breasts, not tits. Real women have a vagina, not a love tunnel. Real women are women, not sex toys or a great marketing campaign. They might not be size 2 with a D cup bra but I can tell you one thing, real women live for themselves, they don’t wait around for some man to approve.

Pushing It

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)

The fine print in the instructions had said “Never push the red button.” …But, always, there was the red button and finally, in spite of whatever the consequences were, she just knew she had to push it.

The fine print in the instructions had said “Never push the red button.” It had been there from day one, she noticed it while she was unwrapping her new toy. The instructions had fallen out as she unwrapped it from the bubble wrap. She had left them on the floor until she had her fill of playing and then tidied up all the packaging. She’d kept the instructions, somewhere. She hadn’t actually read them but they were around if she needed them, somewhere.

But, always, there was the red button and finally, in spite of whatever the consequences were, she just knew she had to push it.

What could happen, really? Her love toy was in off mode, lying on his/ it’s back on the rug by her bed. The red button was tiny, located under his left ear lobe. To push it she would need a needle from her sewing box. She had come prepared. At first nothing happened. Well, he/ it was in off mode. Maybe it only activated if the toy was on at the time. She watched awhile longer but got bored and felt sleepy and mildly disappointed in the lack of drama.

She had a great dream. Better than the dream of having sex with a dragon in mid-flight. This time her toy woke up, really woke up not just powered up as he/ it usually did. He stripped off his veneer of animation and became real. She felt his breath on her skin, as if he were really breathing rather than functioning to please her. She could smell his sweat and his passion, as if he were really aroused. She half opened her eyes as his fingers played with her pussy, stroking the lips and folds. She really, fully opened her eyes as his cock slid inside of her. It was such a great cock, the exact thickness of her specifications. The exact shape, length and fullness she had always needed from a man but never found.

The odd thing was, she was sure she was awake now and yet the dream continued. He was on top of her, riding her, caressing her inner thighs, sucking her breasts, nibbling her skin. Of course, it wasn’t possible. He was only a love toy, bought at her local department store for the off season sale price of just $199.

She ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing a hunk and pulling it hard. He only grinned shamelessly and bit down on her nipple. It hurt but felt good too. He opened his thighs, forcing her own legs to open wider and rise up along his warm thighs to wrap around his waist. His cock felt so good, pumping inside of her. His lips, tongue and hands took their fill of her body, teasing her, making her need more and more. Her pussy ached to orgasm. It was a great dream, but it could only be a dream.

When he grunted and orgasmed inside of her she really woke up. This could not be a dream. He wasn’t supposed to orgasm without her permission and he certainly wasn’t supposed to orgasm before she had her own pleasure.

His hard body fell over her, trapping her underneath his firm, warm flesh. His hot breath warmed the side of her neck while his cock softened, still inside her. “You pushed the red button didn’t you?” He laughed.

She said nothing. What do you say to a toy come to life?

“I’m so glad you did.” He levered himself up, reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out her favourite handcuffs. “You might regret it but I never will.”