Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Russell.
Shit. I wasn’t expecting it to be his. There’s something so restrained about the man that this cock doesn’t really fit with him. This cock is so big and weighty that it seems out of control simply by existing. When they nicknamed him Snake, they got it wrong. They should have called him Baseball-Bat, or Club, or maybe Sex-Weapon-of-Doom-and-Ecstasy instead!
I drop it on the bed as my cheeks begin to heat. Even pressing my cool hands to my flushed skin doesn’t reduce the flame I feel across my whole face. It’s ridiculous that I’m so embarrassed by looking at cock replicas while alone. How would I ever face seeing these in real life with real men attached to them? I’d be a sweating, trembling tomato!
The next one I pick up isn’t quite as thick but it’s still big enough to make my eyes water and my legs weak. I perch on the side of the bed, twisting my body so that I can review each of the vibrators in detail and by the time I’ve put a cock to a name for each of the men downstairs, my panties are shamefully wet.
Embarrassed at my own arousal, I gather the purple penises, resting them on my nightstand like a garish forest. I wash my face with cold water, ignoring the dilated pupils that have darkened my eyes so much they seem unfamiliar. I brush my teeth vigorously, trying to focus on mundane tasks rather than the men downstairs and their appendages.
This has been a good exercise. It’s important that I try to deal with the out-of-control parts of my brain and body in private. I’ll be more composed tomorrow. I’ll be able to hold it together in front of all the men and continue to gather the information I need to write the article.
I should wrap up some of the interview information from today but I’m too tired and more than a little restless. The distant rumble of male laughter emanates from downstairs, tickling up my spine and setting the hair on the back of my neck rising. When I turn off the light and slide into bed, the coolness of the sheets is a welcome relief, but my mind won’t stop turning over thoughts that make my internal temperature soar. My clit is swollen and aching to be rubbed in slow tight circles and I’m so restless that even tossing and turning doesn’t do anything to settle me.
I blow out a puff of frustrated breath at the fact that there are ten good looking men downstairs and ten vibrators on my nightstand, but relief is out of my grasp. I'm mostly frustrated that Dawn would never find herself in this situation. She goes for what she wants, with no regrets and not for the first time, I wish I was more like her.
You only live once. I remember when she told me about her tattoo, I was horrified. But I get her fascination with the phrase. I understand the fear that comes with feeling life is passing by and nothing exciting is happening.
In the darkness, I can make out the shape of each vibrator, standing together like soldiers ready to advance. I lick my lips, imagining what it would feel like to use one of them to ease the ache.
I shouldn’t. It’d be like taking advantage of someone downstairs without their knowledge.
It’d feel shady and wrong.
An invasion of privacy.
But it’d also feel good.
I can almost imagine it. The slickness between my thighs covering the smooth head. The gentle vibrations stimulate me until I cry out with release. I could bring myself to orgasm, wash it and pretend nothing happened. No one would have to know. I could even see what it would feel like to be penetrated by something so big. It’d be my first time feeling that delicious spreading sensation I’ve read about in romance novels and Tom talked about downstairs. The first time I would discover why women have such a fascination with well-hung men. It’d be strictly about educating myself in this field of study I find myself engaged in.
Is it a waste for it not to be with a real man, in the flesh, with all the associated feelings?
Maybe.
But maybe it’d take me a step closer to feeling brave enough to let go with someone in real life. And it would definitely give me a perspective on this article without having to do something crazy with anyone downstairs.
Even if I wanted to, how would I choose between them?
I snake my arm from beneath the sheet, reaching out for the nearest vibrator, not wanting to know who it belongs to, knowing I wouldn't be able to look them in the eye tomorrow if I did.
Wriggling out of my shorts and panties, I spread my legs and run the head of the vibrator over my clit and lower, gathering enough slickness to make easy progress. I turn the little dial at the top just slightly, leaving it on the lowest setting, cringing at the low hum but confident the men downstairs won’t be able to hear. The first buzz of it against my clit is like the fizz of sour candy on my tongue. The head of the cock is so big, it’s like running the end of a baseball bat between my legs. I shift my hips, rocking a little to adjust the pressure and position, closing my eyes to imagine what it would be like to have a man looming over me, big cock in hand, sliding it between my labia, teasing and teasing until I’m at the point of no return.