After quite a bit of research, I ordered this vibrator as a Valentine’s gift for Kiera, but then never got the chance to give it to her, thanks to her dumping me. And so, my meticulously researched gift sat in my toy box in my closet for months, wrapped in heart-covered paper, taunting me. Reminding me that, no matter what I tried, I was never enough.
But now, I couldn’t be more thrilled my ungiven gift was still sitting there in that toy box, still in its packaging, when I went into my closet to formulate my game plan for Amy’s wild ride. Indeed, I can’t think of another woman I’d rather use this toy on for the first time than the little redheaded puppet tied to my bedposts—a woman who sends rockets of arousal shooting through me in ways I’ve never felt before.
I show Amy the egg-shaped contraption I’m planning to press against her clit. I explain what it does. How it works. And when she says she’s excited for me to use it on her, I gleefully get to work.
I gently place the rubber opening precisely around her swollen clit and turn the thing on at its lowest settings. And as the vibrator begins pelting Amy’s most sensitive spot with meticulously directed puffs of air, she instantly starts moaning at the tops of her lungs. So loudly, in fact, the sexy sounds lurching from her seem to be reverberating off the walls of my bedroom.
As I continue holding the Womanizer in place, I lean down and lick Amy’s tits voraciously. I suck and bite her nipples. Whisper into her ear. I know I’m cheating a tiny bit by letting this miracle of modern engineering do some of the heavy lifting for me. But there’s no margin of error here. Amy thinks I walk on water, and I need to prove her right. No matter what. At least, when it comes to this.
When I’m positive Amy’s on the bitter edge of a clitoral orgasm, despite the fact that I’ve kept the vibrator on its lowest setting this whole time—seriously, the thing is barely doing anything at all—I slide my fingers deep inside her, way past her G-spot this time, to her magical A-spot—a place deep, deep inside Amy’s body, as deep as my fingers can go, until I find the spot that feels like a seam.
When I find exactly what I’m looking for, I begin stroking that spot, beckoning Amy’s orgasm to come out to play, while whispering yet another non-stop stream of dirty-talk into her ear. And, of course, through it all, my little helper—the Womanizer in my palm—remains in place and never stops doing what it’s ingeniously designed to do.
It doesn’t take long before I feel a sudden, sharp tightness seize my hand—a tell-tale shudder that informs me Amy’s deepest core muscles are on the brink of releasing in explosive fashion.
My breathing hard and erratic, my excitement spiraling, I stay the course in every way, without variation. I continue stroking with one hand while keeping that vibrator in place with the other. I continue whispering to Amy that my dick has never been this hard, this wet. That I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone else the way I want to fuck her. Which is true. I tell her she tastes so good, I almost come every time I eat her. Also, true. I tell her, in every conceivable way, she’s the sexiest, hottest, tastiest woman alive. All true. And soon, I feel her body squeeze my hand inside her so sharply, so forcefully, I know it’s coiling up in anticipation of releasing like a hurricane.
I keep going, staying the course, expecting that orgasm to release for me, any second now . . . but to my surprise, that tightness doesn’t release.
No worries. I’ll help her along.
Dizzy with arousal, I slide my fingers to Amy’s G-spot, dig my fingertips into that rough, swollen patch until I find a certain corded band buried underneath—the gland that’s a tripwire for female ejaculation. When I get my fingers in place, I go for it, milking that gland with authority, without mercy, the same way I’d squeeze the last bit of toothpaste out of an almost-empty tube.
But still, to my shock, nothing happens. Goddammit, she’s holding back. Too self-conscious to let go that last little bit and push through and release the pressure building inside her—a sensation I’ve been told feels exactly like a full bladder.
“This is the moment I told you about,” I blurt hoarsely, returning to stroking her G-spot the usual way as I speak. “Baby, trust me. It’s time to let go. You feel that pressure inside you?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Feels like you’re gonna pee?”
“I am. I think I’m gonna pee! We should stop!”
“No, this is it,” I say. “Those are the same muscles that release when you pee, but this time you’re gonna come. So hard, you won’t believe it. Relax those muscles the same way you do when you pee. Exactly like that. Don’t hold back. Release. Trust me.”
As she shakes and convulses, I slide my fingers back to her A-spot and get her going hard again. And soon, I feel her ratchetting right back up to where she was before.
When I’m sure she’s on the brink again, I slide my fingers back to her G-spot, back to that buried cord, and milk her, hard, yet again, while cooing into her ear.
“Don’t fight me on this,” I growl into her ear. “I’m telling you to let go and you’re gonna fucking do it. Right fucking now.”
With a loud roar, Amy digs her nails into my forearm, convulses sharply, and then hurtles into the most glorious, squirting orgasm I’ve ever seen in my life—one that gives me nearly as much pleasure as it’s so obviously giving Amy. As she loses control of herself, completely, she thrashes in her bindings. Screams and then babbles incoherently about how amazing she feels. And then, predictably, starts begging me, desperately, to fuck her.
“It’s not time for that yet,” I say, my body on fire. “Baby, we’re just getting started.” With that, I remove the toy, crawl between her spread-eagle legs, and lick up her cum—my trophy—as she unleashes a stream of delicious noises and whimpers.
When I’ve completed my task, I kiss and lick and worship the rest of her body, careful to leave her pussy alone for a bit to regroup. When she starts making all the right tell-tale sounds again, the ones that tell me her body’s ready to go again, I slide my fingers inside her, all the way to her A-spot, and start again, from the very beginning.
There’s no need for me to get an assist from the Womanizer this time around. Now that Amy’s learned how to let go completely, how to trust me and her body’s signals, I’ll need only my fingers and voice from this point forward. In fact, I’m pretty confident I’ll be able to get at least two more orgasms out of her with my fingers before fucking her and getting one more. The holy grail.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve successfully pulled two more massive orgasms out of Amy, exactly like I thought I would—though neither one was a squirter—which means she’s now a glorious, moaning animal who can’t stop begging me to fuck her. I’d love to keep going, but I’m too turned on. Plus, I have a feeling, if I don’t get inside her now, she’ll pass out from exhaustion and the holy grail will elude me.
Panting with excitement, I release Amy’s soft cuffs, place a pillow underneath her lower back to maximize my angle and ensure maximum friction with her clit, draw her arms above her head, and plunge myself deep inside her like a man possessed.
At the invasion of my body inside hers, Amy growls and squeezes my hands, while I grunt and groan with relief and pleasure. Oh, my fuck, heaven itself couldn’t feel more pleasurable than this. She’s as wet and warm and perfectly molded to me as I’ve ever felt. I feel drugged by the sensations of pleasure overtaking me as my body rocks in and out of Amy’s feverishly. I feel physically drugged. Like someone has shot physical bliss straight into my bloodstream.