Driving Home

I texted him, “Our new toy came today!” It was the Petite Pink Ribbon Vibe. He’d picked it out for me, I’m not sure why. Maybe because its small size and body-hugging shape suggested interesting possibilities. “When can I try it out?” I asked.

“I’ll email instructions,” he told me. The instructions were simple. Tuck it in my panties on the drive home, on low. And it came with the beginning of a story, to add to my distraction.

My first clue that something was amiss was him handing me the car keys and coming around to open the door for me. He never lets me drive, “Driving is a man’s responsibility, ladies should ride and relax”, I had heard many times before. After I was seated in the car he lifted the hem of my skirt up and offered me the buckle for my seat belt, which I pulled across and clicked into place.

It was easy enough to pop the batteries in. I liked the texture of the plastic: velvety but firm. On low I could barely hear it. I turned in to high, just to see. Loud buzzing filled the car. Medium was about the volume of a malfunctioning fluorescent light – annoying but not overly intrusive. When I turned on the motor of my car, I couldn’t hear it anymore.

He went around and got in the passengers seat, put on his seat belt and turned half sideways toward me. He placed his arm on my seat back and around my shoulder. His other hand dug into my purse and took out the new pink toy. He pushed my legs apart a bit and slide the toy down inside my panties. I immediately noticed that he had put it in place upside down, with the wider base down against the seat, and the tip pointing upward.

“No, you have it backwards.” Oops.

He leaned closer and whispered into my ear “Start the car.” and reached down to the base of the toy and activated the Low setting. “Okay, let’s go.”

I turned it on low, and tucked it into my underwear, curved side down, controls in easy reach.

As I drove up out of the parking garage he was muttering soft seductive words into my ear. Between the noise of the car, of the street and the distracting of the vibrations between my thighs, I could make out very few words, but I clearly understood how he was intending to make me feel.

It did feel good. In this position, it vibrated my pelvis and the curved nub hovered near my clit. The low setting was pleasant – not quite distracting. I’d almost say it was relaxing. The story, though…

As we drove out on to the street, he reached down a pressed against the front of my panties that moved the vibrating tip of the toy more firmly against me. He increased and then decreased the pressure randomly. His hand had moved from my shoulder and was buried in my hair, alternately combing through it, then grasping a handful and squeezing/pulling.

At the first stoplight I took the opportunity to turn my head toward him but his grip on my hair kept my head looking straight ahead. And then, I felt him reach down and bump the toy up to the Medium setting . . .

That’s where his story ended. At the last light before the highway I tried the medium setting, just to see. It felt good. I was wet, imagining his had in my hair, his mixture of firmness and gentleness. As the light turned green, I turned the toy back down to low, following instructions.

Traffic was heavy. I merged, sped up for a lane change, downshifted for a steep uphill ramp, and then downshifted again as the cars around me slowed to a crawl. I let my mind slip back into daydream, feeling the persistent buzzing between my legs and imagining his hands.

“You’re distracting me from my driving,” I said. “This could be dangerous.”

“You think so?” he asked. “I’ll make sure you don’t drive off the road.” He pressed the toy more firmly against my clit. My hips arched up, trapped by the seat belt, feet balanced between clutch and gas as I shifted gears again. “See how good you are at multi-tasking?” he said, and then added, “Besides, you’re not allowed to cum until we’re parked in the driveway.”

I couldn’t resist. I was changing lanes again, making the final approach to my exit. I turned the vibration up to high.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” he said, his hand gripping the back of my neck, the other sliding under my shirt to pinch and squeeze my nipples.

I merged off the exit and hoped for a green light at the corner. I didn’t want the panhandlers ogling me in this state, skirt up, cheeks flushed, breathing fast. Luck was with me. I turned the corner towards home. It’s a school zone. The 20 MPH light was blinking. I pressed my thighs together, pulling the toy in closer. Even on high, it wasn’t overly powerful. The cars crawled through the school zone, and I turned onto street at last.

“We’re almost there, baby,” he muttered in my ear, moving the toy rhythmically against me, pressing it in circles. “You can cum when you’ve pulled into the driveway.” I was moaning and whimpering, close to the edge. His hand in my hair was all that kept my eyes focused and alert.

I pulled in at last, for once oblivious to the guilty enumeration of yard-tasks left undone. I shut off the motor and pulled the hand brake. I could see my neighbor getting out of her car across the lawn from me. I pulled the toy in hard against me and imagined his lips on mine and my body jerked as I came.
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Other thoughts on the Petite Pink Ribbon Vibe:

This vibe is called the pink ribbon because A) It’s pink and B) a portion of proceeds go to support breast cancer research.

The shape fit comfortably against my body either right-side up (tip down, controls in my pubic area) or upside down (controls between my legs, vibe giving a nice buzz to my whole labial area). I liked sitting on it, too, but it’s damn hard to change the setting in that position. It doesn’t look like a vibe or a dildo, it’s kind of sweetly abstract.

I’d call this a beginner’s vibrator. It’s not strong enough, on high, to get me off w/o a compelling fantasy. Sometimes I want to cum w/o straining my imagination, and this baby would not take me there.Overall, I’d say give some money to breast cancer and buy yourself a toy with a little more oomph.

This story is from Birds are Smart.

Gorgeous and Dark: Not the Most Coherent Exposition on Love

You’ve given me so many gifts. Each one, more dark and gorgeous than the last.

One of them came in a box, with tissue paper and a bit of ribbon. It’s the only one I can hold in my hand. That’s the one I want to write about tonight.

This little object seems to have been invented to be a gift between lovers. The Lelo Nea, all shiny black curves etched with a spray of elegant pink flowers. You gave it to me with a mixture of shyness and expectancy: you knew, I think, how perfect your choice had been.

That you gave me anything (besides a night, a morning, your gaze, your breath) was unexpected. I was flattered by your choice of something so lovely, so emblematic of desire. That you’d taken it out and charged the battery before neatly repacking it made me smile.

You gave Nea to me innocently, with kindness and celebration and a desire to bring me pleasure. And yet I almost left it behind.

I regret, now, my hesitation.

Neat little Nea. When I take her out, sleek and beautiful, and press her purring curves against my tenderest skin–of course I will always have to think of you. “That wasn’t my intention,” you said, when I told you. I knew this was true.

You’ve given me so many things. This little gift, I keep in my bedside table. The others, I hold in my heart. Your gifts. Some of them sharp-edged. Some of them seemingly too big to be contained in my chest. Still, that’s where I put them. My heart will stretch. It will endure.

Maybe it’s me, my own sadness, that makes everything beautiful into an ache. I’ve come to think of love as an unlit labyrinth of caves. There might be sweet water around the next turning. There might be glimmering phosphorescent stalactites. More likely, there’s an opening looming below, an unavoidable fall. One thing is certain: there’s no way out.

This post is from Birds Are Smart

Our New Toy

It came in the mail last week. The Rock Chick I won from The Best Sex Bloggers for my Twitter-length story. I was pretty excited. I called him up right away. “I got my new toy!” I said.

“Whose toy?”

I hesitated. “It’s mine,” I said, “But you get to play with it.” (Have I mentioned I have a toddler in the house? I’m regressing rapidly.)

“I prefer to think of it as ours,” he said.

I accepted that. “Can I try it out?” I asked, eager to experiment. I’d already taken it out of the package. The pink silicone was softer than I’d expected. Since the vibrator is not integral, the whole C-shaped contraption is pliable. A little one-speed bullet fits in the end.

“Bring it tomorrow,” he said, “I might want to watch.”

“Tomorrow?” I said, disappointed. “Not now?” I fiddled with the bullet, making it buzz against my hand.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Getting ahead of yourself? Go put it in your handbag now so you can show it to me tomorrow.”

I wrapped it in a plastic bag. You could still sort of see the shape, if you looked in my bag. I’m not in the habit of carrying anything like that! All the next day I was hyper-aware of what my bag contained. That fleshy pink curve with the vibrating tip: even if you didn’t know what it was, it would look obscene.

Dinner time could not come soon enough for me. I always look forward to seeing him, and the promise of after-dinner adventures made it hard to sit still at my desk.

We had a late dinner. When we’d arrived at the restaurant, the lot was full of cars, but when we left it was dark and only a few remained. His was the at the far end of the lot. We walked around it to the passenger side. “Let me hold that,” he said, taking my purse from my hand and setting it on the trunk of the car.

He pulled me against his chest for a kiss and I pressed the length of my body against him. His hands smoothed down my back, squeezing me closer, then caressed and cupped my ass. A little gasp of pleasure and desire escaped me. His big hands cradled my bottom, pulling me up onto my toes. I couldn’t get enough of his mouth on mine. I twisted my body a little to rub my nipples back and forth across his chest.

He spun me around so I was leaning back against him. His hands slid under my shirt, squeezing my breasts and pinching my nipples through the thin lace of my bra. I couldn’t help crying out. I heard a car door closing and a motor start across the lot. “That was the last car,” he murmured in my ear, breath warm and enticing. “Go ahead and moan, baby.”

He twisted my left nipple hard and I gasped. “That’s right,” he said. I tilted my head to the side, twisting up towards him for another kiss. And then I heard an unexpected buzz. I looked down again, at his right hand holding my Rock Chick, adjusting his grip after twisting the vibe to on. He bent us forward for a moment and his hand and the toy disappeared under my skirt. He pressed it against my panties. I could feel the vibration along the whole length of my labia. My legs shook.

“Take off your panties,” his voice said in my ear, low and matter of fact. I looked around. The lot was empty. There was a fence and another empty lot in front of us, some bushes to our left. “Go on,” he said encouragingly.

I did as he said, bending forward, leaning back against him for stability. I could feel him hardening against my ass and I stood up slowly, thinking I would let us both savor the moment. But as soon as I was upright again his fingers were my nipple and his teeth were on my neck and rational thought left me. He had the Rock Chick under my skirt again, smooth against my slipperiness, the vibe buzzing near my clit and the curved end pushing insistently against my cunt.

I tried to contain the sounds inside me. It wasn’t easy. The vibe was teasing me, the curved silicone slipping slowly between my pussy lips was the perfect size. It stretched me but slid in easily, and my hips pressed forward without my volition. He pressed it into me slowly. The vibe slipped away from my clit and I made a little mew of disappointment. But as the curved end reached its target, the straight end lay fully against my labia and clit, transmitting vibrations that I could barely withstand.

His arm around my chest tightened as my knees began to buckle. His hand slowly rocked the vibe forward and back. Or maybe that was the motion of my hips. The curve against my G-spot hurt. I couldn’t form any words to say so. The intensity of the inner and outer stimulation was beyond my tolerance. I was trying to twist away from him, to pull myself forward and down to the ground. Pleasure exploded through me and I heard myself half sobbing, half screaming.

His grip on me never slackened. He held the Rock Chick still inside me as my orgasm subsided. I lay back against him, panting. I could hear him whispering in my ear, “Good girl, I love it when you cum for me, good girl,” and I realized he’d been talking to me all along.

The Rock Chick was still wedged against my clit and G-spot. He moved it a little. A jolt went through my body. He pushed it more firmly against me. I moaned and braced my legs. He began rocking it back and forth again. And again, almost instantly, the intensity ratcheted up past what I could bear. My head thrashed back and forth. My elbow banged the car. My body pitched forward against his arms as I groaned and yelled and came.

“Are you okay?” he asked me, pulling me gently back against his shoulder. The Rock Chick didn’t fall out as he spared an arm to smooth back my hair.

I tried hard to make my lips form a Yes.

“Yes?” he repeated. “You’re okay?”

“Yes,” I breathed, nestling my head under his chin.

He kissed the side of my head. “Ready for one more?” he asked.

“No!” I said. This time the word burst out of me.

“Yes,” he said. “One more for me.”

“No!” I said again, but his hand was already back on that diabolical toy.

I felt weak as a kitten but still my back arched. He turned me around so I was bent forward over the hood of the car and I collapsed onto it gratefully. He lifted the back of my skirt. I could feel the night air cool against my damp skin. He shifted me forward a little, so my pelvis was against the side of the car, forcing the Rock Chick’s still strongly-buzzing vibe tight against me.

I could feel my juices running down my leg. His hands were squeezing my bare ass. I was still mumbling “No, no.”

“No?” he said. “Okay, baby.” His hand landed on my ass with a firm smack. The impact pushed me against the car, changing the angle of the Rock Chick, jolting it against my G-spot. I yelled. He smacked me again, just above my thigh. The sting felt wonderful, but the Rock Chick was making me desperate. I couldn’t stop saying no.

He kept spanking me, fast, sharp swats, moving over both my ass cheeks. Every blow drove me closer to orgasm. I was drooling. If I’d had any self-consciousness left I would have felt embarrassed about the grunts and cries I was making, about my naked ass being reddened in a public parking lot, about the fact that I was cumming, again, clawing at the car trying to find something to hold onto, thrusting my hips against the fender, yelling inarticulate syllables at the top of my lungs.

As my orgasm subsided he slipped the Rock Chick out of me. He bent forward over me, holding and covering me. My cheek rested on the car hood. My cunt ached and my ass tingled. His hand covered my head, grounding me. We stayed that way for a few minutes, his voice and his breath bringing me back to the world.

“Ready to stand up?” he asked at last. I sighed. I was a bit stiff. Still, part of me wanted to rest there all night. He helped me get up.

“I think I like our new toy,” he said, as he helped me straighten my clothes. “Thank you for winning it for us.”

“Thank you for helping me test it out,” I answered. He opened the car door for me and settled me in my seat. “Let’s go back to your house and I can show you how grateful I am.”

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Postscript:

I know the theory of the Rock Chick is to sit up and rock back and forth. I like that ok. But the reason I reserve it for times I’m all alone in the house involves me laying on my stomach, maybe on top of a pillow. That thing just makes me too damn loud! I’ve never had such wild orgasms on my own before. Of course, I don’t do it without permission. So in a way, someone’s always listening.

This post is from Birds Are Smart