Very nervous.
What if I get it stuck and Sophie comes home and finds me with a buzzing vibrator lodged in my vag and then she has to drive me to the hospital where I have to have it surgically removed?? And of course the scalpel would damage the nerves down there and I’d never be able to climax ever again.
I’m an idiot.
I know this.
I’m a sexually repressed idiot.
With a deep breath, I lie down on my back with my knees bent and I close my eyes again, picturing Shade. I flip the switch on the vibrator.
The beaver’s nose trembles against my leg and I laugh at the thought that a beaver is going to stimulate my beaver. Ha. I spin Geronimo until he is positioned right where he should be. It feels like ants crawling on me for just a second and I grit my teeth. But the very next second, I have gotten used to the feeling.
And holy-fucking-pygmy-goats!
I have to suck in a breath to keep from gasping.
Sweet Mary Mother of God. A million shards of light are exploding in my crotch. All I need now is a Baptist choir to sing Hallelujah and jump around waving their hands in the air.
I suck in another breath and dare to move it a teench.
Dear God, if only it was Shade’s tongue!
I’m a dirty, dirty woman.
I’m fantasizing about a boy whose tongue is surely only in college. And the rest of him, too, of course. But I can’t help it. As Geronimo pushes me closer and closer to a precipice that I haven’t even approached in years (make that EVER), the fantasy hits me head-on and I don’t let shame stop me from having it.
I imagine that Shade has a youthfully ripped body—all tan and fit and flexible. It’s more beautiful than Rick the Dick ever was. Ugh. I cringe. Note to self: I can’t think about Rick the Dick if I don’t want my vag to implode on itself.
I focus on Shade again. I imagine what he would look like poised above me as he guides his enormous, perfect young penis into me. I imagine him sucking my nipples and pulling my hair in ecstasy as he pounds me like a bass drum at a Kiss concert.
I move Geronimo just a bit more.
Then a bit more.
And just like that, I come.
Merry Christmas to me.
As I lay in stunned, breathless satisfaction, I seriously think of texting Sara with my eternal gratitude.
Holy shit, girl! I think I love you.
Actually, I’m in love with Geronimo.
It’s the perfect penis: Huge, hard and unattached to the rest of a man who would only bring problems like a beer gut, hellacious gas and infidelity. I gaze at it fondly as I wash it again, then tuck it into my bedside stand.
Yep, I’m definitely in love.
With a happy sigh, I realize that for the first time, I’m looking forward to my date on Saturday night.
********
“You look marvelous!” Sara says when I round the corner into the bedroom.
“I feel ridiculous.”
“Why? We are simply two wealthy women with trophy boy toys out for a night on the town at one of Vegas’s most luxurious night spots. Nothing to feel ridiculous about.”
“I’m dressed like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, only without the body for it,” I say, indicating my short, tight dress. “How did I let you talk me into buying this?”
“Well, I thought it might help things with Rick the Dick many moons ago, but this is an even better use. Besides, you look mouthwatering. You do too have the body for it.”
Standing up, she walks to me. She trails the fingertips of one hand down my cheek before she rakes her long fingernails through my hair.
“Such great hair,” she murmurs. “It’s a perfect dark color and it’s so shiny and full. You could be on a shampoo commercial. Seriously.” I roll my eyes and smile, but she interrupts me before I can even speak. “And your teeth!” she observes. “You’ve got perfect teeth. Blindingly white. Your smile almost makes me hate you. What man can resist that?”
I stare at her incredulously. “My teeth? What the hell? No man is going to date me on the merits of my oral health. I’m not a horse, Sara.”
“And such a beautiful face,” she continues, ignoring me. Right before she drags her hands down to palm my boobs next. She gives them a squeeze.
“Delicious rack,” she declares, then grabs my waist and spins me around. “And a perfect ass,” she exclaims, slapping my butt. “You are gorgeous in every way and any man in his right mind would give his left nut to lick you from head to toe and everywhere in between.”
“I think you secretly have the hots for me,” I laugh. “Maybe I should be going out with you instead.”
“Oh, you flatter! If either of us swung that way, we’d be perfect together. But, alas, I’m a sausage lover, as are you. No tacos for us.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Have you always been this way and I’m just now noticing?”
“Yes. You’ve been preoccupied for a few years.”