The Dildo That Stole Claire Bonneville's Memory
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By the time she
the restaurant, Claire was no longer constantly conscious of the fact
had a dildo in her purse. Part of that
might have been because as they walked to the restaurant, she knew that
had something similar in her purse too, and even though she knew that,
couldn't see any hint of it.
other things as they walked. She did
not, in fact, bring up the subject of tools for helping females gain
satisfaction until after the waiter had brought them their drinks and
she reached into her purse and extracted a bluish, translucent object
held up for Claire - and anybody else in view - to see.
Rabbit," she said.
all around, and realized they really were shielded from the view of
by the walls of the alcove they had been seated in.
Her eyes finally landed on the thing in
Cindy's hand and stayed there.
It was bizarre
looking. You could see through the
exterior to the workings inside. And
there were definitely workings inside.
Some were vague, and of unknown purpose, but she could see wires
It was shaped
a penis than it was a ginseng root, or something similar.
It did have the penile projection,
rising from a round battery case. But it
also had an offshoot, like a misshapen branch that looked stunted, and
a sharp tip.
would hurt," she said, doubtfully.
the bottom, and with a humming, mechanical noise, the device came to
life. Claire watched in awe as the long
began to turn in asymmetrical circles, like some kind of strange drill
makes you happy inside," said Cindy, putting one slim, manicured finger
the tip of the rotating shaft, "this other part makes your clitty
sing." She moved her finger to the
branch. Claire could see that the sharp
tip was actually soft material of some kind. It was also split at the end, like a snake's tongue. Cindy flexed the two little tips with a finger."And these are the rabbit's ears. It's hilarious, but believe me, it works."
Claire's mind, as she recognized the efficacy of the design.
The one she'd bought could only be inserted
in one's vaginal canal. True, it had
balls attached, which could, she supposed, be pressed against her clit,
thought of that seemed odd, since the balls would be in the "wrong"
orientation. At least in her experience.
yours?" asked Cindy, turning the motor of her sex toy off.
said Claire, faintly, touching her purse.
Her eyes followed as Cindy lowered the Rabbit, holding it
body and the edge of the table.
"Well, let me see it!" said Cindy.
"It's not like
yours," said Claire, reaching in her purse. When
she pulled it out, it was still securely
wrapped up in the paper towel.
said Cindy, nodding in approval.
towels," she said. "I like that idea. That way you can clean
up with them."
"I don't know
you, but I get all wet and juicy. Danny
says I'm a squirter, but I don't think I actually do that."
Claire, breathlessly. She was being
exposed to so many new concepts she was having a hard time keeping up.
"I don't think I do either."
brilliant to have the paper towels to tidy up.
That way you can use it anywhere you want."
She reached for
and unrolled it, letting the flesh-colored dildo land on her palm.
"Ooooo, it's a
one," she said. "A little
bigger around than I prefer, but I like it when I can push something way up in there, nice and deep." She turned it over and
examined it, squeezing the balls and bending it. "Nice
and firm. Lots of ridges and texture.
I like the foreskin. I
don't think I've ever seen one that wasn't
circumcised. It's a good choice."
said Claire, unable to think of anything else to say.
vibrate, though," said Cindy.
"That's the only drawback I see."
Claire, her voice faint.
"Well, that's no
problem," said Cindy, grinning happily."You can always get another
one that does."
"Have ... more
one?" In Claire's mind, that seemed
like having two cars for one driver.
laughed Cindy. "I have five, one
for each day."
numbers, and math. What popped into her
head at that moment was probably explained by that.
"But there are
seven days in a week," she said.
fade, but her voice lowered and she leaned towards Claire,
take care of me twice a week," she whispered.
It was a good
there wasn't all that much to do that afternoon, because Claire had a
concentrating on work. All she seemed to
be able to think about was that Cindy Richardson, who was the same age
and had been married for three years longer than her, got a real, live penis
her twice a week.
And she was
feel that once a month.
It wasn't fair!
long list of her self-perceived faults, before she decided, angrily,
wasn't anything wrong with her, at least nothing wrong enough that it
John neglecting her like he did.
That led to
possible reasons why he seemed so uninterested.
The dozen or so articles she'd read in
magazines about "spicing up" married life had all seemed so
complicated. She'd tried having a good
meal, with candles on the table, ready for him when he got home.
His comment had been, "Electricity
out?" And when he'd found out that
wasn't the problem, he'd picked up his plate off the table and taken it
in his recliner, eating it while he watched the news.
It wasn't that
spice-up-your-sex-life schemes were complicated.
It was that
required two people to make them work.
most of her attention all afternoon, and even during the drive home.
As she pulled into the garage that night, she
was astonished to find that her hand was on her purse ... squeezing the
of her dildo.
for supper, and put some potatoes in the pressure cooker so they'd mash
perfectly. She knew this was one of
John's favorite meals, but she didn't make it for that reason.
It was one of
favorite meals too.
John came in as
everything was ready to put on the table.
She didn't do that, though. She
left everything on the counter, and served herself.
John got a beer from the fridge and opened it
while he went, inevitably, toward the room that had the 50" flat screen
TV. And his recliner.
She ate quickly
her dishes in the sink. Then, she went
to the bedroom and changed into running shorts and the powder blue
she had purchased on impulse one day.
She lifted a tank top out of the drawer, but then hesitated.
She always wore a shirt over her sports bras
when she ran. Now, she imagined herself
running in only the shorts and bra. She
knew her breasts bounced, even in the confines of the bra.
For years she'd been ashamed of them,
thinking they were grotesque, huge, ungainly.
She'd gotten over that when all her boyfriends seemed to love
them. John had lavished attention on them
bra. It was called a "bra" but
it didn't look like one. Not
really. It was more of a spandex
top. The seams were finely
finished. It could even be considered
modest, insofar as it was thick enough that her unruly nipples couldn't
announce they were excited.
excited on a good run. All of her did,
for that matter. Feeling the wind in her
face, and knowing that she was moving faster than almost everyone
made her feel powerful, agile, capable.
She tossed the
on the bed, bent to tie her shoes, and left the bedroom.
"Going for a
run!" she yelled.
" 'kay," came
the distant, uninterested voice of her husband.
She stopped at
to do her stretching. She usually
stretched inside, but today she wanted to get away from the house.
She grasped a picket and bent to apply
pressure to various muscles, holding each pose until she felt the
release and stretch. As she did so, she
took in the picture of the front yard, with its carefully clipped
perfectly shaped flower beds. The picket
fence was blindingly white, as was the paint on the house, with its
green trim and shutters. John spent
thousands making his house look like the perfect fairytale place to
As she stood,
the spandex covering her body also accentuated her curves, and the flat
she knew many women would be unduly jealous of, it occurred to her that
probably thought of her that way too.
She was the perfect wife, pretty, shapely, talented.
She fit the house to a tee.
But, just as
money on the house, but used only a tiny fraction of it, he also spent
her, and used only a tiny fraction of her as well.
into a stride that was much too fast to sustain for long.
later, she had
calmed down, and reduced her pace to a ground-eating lope.
The run had already done its job of calming
her. The endorphins she depended on had
been produced, and she felt wonderful, alive, if not fulfilled, at
content with life.
saw someone ease up from behind her, also running, to fall in step with
her. She glanced over to see a young
man, his face placid, looking ahead. He
said nothing, but in this situation, nothing was required.
They ran together in companionable silence,
their breath hissing in and out of their lungs.
forward just a fraction more, which required her to lengthen her stride
compensate, and she pulled ahead of her impromptu running partner
He caught up
seconds, and matched her stride. He
obviously wanted to run with her, despite the fact they were total
She'd only gone
miles by then, and had intended to run at least eight, so she
pace, not wanting to wear herself out before she got the miles in.
When she passed the five mile mark, though,
and her partner was still breathing more or less easily, something in
demanded that he be tested.
When the eighth
behind her, she decided she wasn't stopping.
Not until he did. At ten miles he
was still with her. Not a word had been
said. He was breathing harder,
though. Claire had done marathons
before, though she wasn't in shape for one now.
She could feel the burn that had replaced the feeling of
in her muscles. Her body was telling her
she was, after all, human, and that she was stressing things too much.
The desire to
than this young man overcame her common sense, and she lengthened her
again, running what she considered to be "fast" now, to leave him
But he stayed
caution, running as fast as she could, a dead sprint, with no finish
sight. Elation surged through her and
gave her strength as he disappeared from her peripheral vision.
She imagined him staggering to a stop, his
lungs heaving, a look of disbelief on his face, that he had been bested
woman. And not only a woman, but a woman
at least five years older than him.
passed her, moving ahead, not exactly leaving her in the dust, but
his dominance beyond argument.
She was the one who
staggered to a gasping stop, and she did it all wrong.
her right thigh give, and the sudden pain announced that either her
or one of the adductor muscles there had been stretched too far, or too
times. Her stagger turned into a
controlled limp as she tried to give that muscle some rest.
The young man
over his shoulder and then slowed, turning to run back toward her.
"You okay?" he
asked, his voice deep and resonant, even though he was breathing hard.
Sartorius," she gasped.
over there," he said, pointing.
He came to help
touching her as if this were completely normal, pulling her arm over
shoulders and providing lift for her right side, so she didn't have to
full weight on that leg.
she panted, aware of his sweaty skin against hers.
He was strong. He radiated strength
"You can rest
you sit," he said, ignoring her protestations.
She felt his
hand on the
skin of her side, below the sports bra.
It was close to her breast. She
wondered if he was going to try to cop a feel.
Then, as they
the bench, and he helped her sit, she berated herself for thinking
things. She must be out of her mind to
think that someone who she had met by chance, and run with for a paltry
six miles, was interested in anything other than running.
she said, slowing her breathing intentionally, trying to take deeper
breaths. She didn't think about the fact
that as her
lungs inflated more, her chest arched more too.
said the man, sitting down beside her.
what?" She reached to massage her
"You're a good
runner. I haven't met anybody recently
who can keep up with me," he said.
You left me like I was an old lady," she
"You're no old
lady," he laughed.
She looked to
eyes ranging all over her. She felt a
sudden flush at his frank interest, and her nipples misbehaved.
She looked down and, with horror, saw dents
had formed in the tips of her sports bra.
"I'm Chad," he
said. "Chad Morgan."
replied, carefully. She didn't give him
her last name.
looked at her
face. His eyes were blue.
He was, she suddenly realized ... gorgeous.
"Where do you
live?" he asked.
"Why would you
that?" she responded, nervousness erupting in her stomach.
"Can you get
okay with that leg?" he explained.
"Do I need to help you?"
around. After the fourth or fifth mile
stopped paying attention to where she was going, and had just run for
of running with someone. As she examined
her surroundings, she realized she was still miles away from home.
Normally, that wouldn't have mattered.
She'd have just run, or jogged back home.
couldn't do that
startled when a
city bus appeared, as if from nowhere, and sighed to a stop in front of
them. The doors opened and a girl, about
eighteen or so got off. The driver
looked at Chad and her, hesitating. She
shook her head and he closed the door.
Seconds later the monster was gone.
"I don't have
fare," she said, faintly. She
looked at Chad. "I don't bring
money with me when I run."
I," he said, smiling. "I can
help you walk, though. And if it's too
far, I can run home and get my car."
a couple of miles," she said, reluctantly.
"So how bad is
pain?" he asked.
"Right now, not
bad," she said, automatically.
"You said it
your Sartorius?" he asked.
"I think so.
Or one of the adductors."
"Maybe a little
massage therapy would help," he suggested.
around. "I don't see any massage parlors
here," she said, sarcasm creeping into her voice.
"I know a
about it," he offered. "I
coach football at Millvale High."
As if it were
normal for a man who had just met a woman to reach and massage her
did so. He moved to stand, bending over,
and applied both hands before she could object.
"Is the pain
here?" he asked, depressing her skin with a finger.
She jumped, but
from the contact than any sensation it caused.
"No ... further
in," she heard her voice say.
further inside, toward the adductor muscles.
He pressed again.
He was close,
but not on
target yet. The whole scene was bizarre
to her, and yet everything she'd seen of this man made him seem
normal. She tried to "become"
still, and a little higher," she said, leaning back on her hands.
groaned, as pain blossomed.
"Might be the
Gracilis," he said, and began to knead her firm thigh.
incredible. There was pain.
There was relief at the realization that no
serious damage had been done, because of the kind of pain she felt,
how good what he was doing felt.
And then there
the simple fact of human contact. A
man's hands were mauling her flesh ... and caressing her flesh ... and
hands were only inches away from her sexual core.
She changed the
her eyes, to her breasts, which she'd been looking past, to watch what
doing. Those dents were much more
It was crazy.
She had to admit she was turned on.
It felt like she was cheating on John.
enough," she said, a little light headed.
ministrations immediately, and stood up.
"Try walking on
it," he said. It was a coach's
voice, and it was an order.
the bench with her hands and stood. His
hand came to her elbow, to stabilize her.
She walked in a
circle, like she was trying the fit of a pair of shoes.
walk two miles?"
start," she said. "I should
start bringing my cell phone on these runs."
"Running is the
only time I get to abandon mine," he said.
She started to
if he ran a lot, but stopped herself. He
obviously ran a lot.
"Come on," he
said. "Let's see if we can get you
home, or if I need to go get my chariot."
crutch, pulling her arm over his shoulder and putting his warm hand on
just below her sports bra. Their hips
bumped, until he altered his steps to match hers. Then
their hips seemed welded together. They
were the same height, which meant he was
taller than usual. She was usually an
inch or two taller than the men she met.
They talked as
hobbled along. Her attention was on
other things, though. The feel of his
body was something that intruded on her thoughts constantly.
That hand, moving slightly on her flesh, so
close to her breast, teased her consciousness.
At one point she wished he would slip, and cup her breast.
She chastised herself immediately.
The thigh was
better. What he had done had helped a
lot. She realized she could actually,
probably, make it the rest of the way on her own.
And all this
chatted, exchanging information about each other.
When they got
gate of her picket fence, though, she couldn't have told you a single
they talked about.
"This is it,"
she said, reclaiming her arm and pulling away from him.
She restrained herself from looking at the
house, to see if John saw her with this disturbing man.
She was late, much later than she
usually was. The added miles, and the
down time from the injury, had added two hours to her usual routine.
he said, taking in the yard.
"My husband has
this thing about The American Dream," she said, feeling she needed to
explain. She wondered why she felt that
enters the picture," said Chad.
She stared at
him and he
"I don't have a
girlfriend at the moment. I thought
maybe I had lucked into both a running partner and a possible romantic
She didn't have
think about it first, but what burst from her lips was, "Running
His grin didn't
"I'll take what
can get. I haven't had a running partner
like you for a long time. I'm looking
forward to it. But not until that Gracilis
heals up. Give me your number and I'll
call you in a week or so."
It had been years since
a man had asked for her number. It
shocked her. And yet, it was a perfectly
reasonable thing for him to do.
As she was
about it, he intruded on her thoughts.
"What was I
thinking? You just met me.
I could be a serial killer, for all you
know." He grinned. "I'm
not, by the way. But how about I
give you my number, and if you feel like running sometime, you
me a call."
said, immediately feeling better.
"Can you just
remember it, or do you need to go get a piece of paper to write it
her the number, and her repeating it by rote, under her breath, as she
inside and found something to write it down on.
Then her imagination added John, pacing, worried, jumping right
saying things like, "Where the hell have you been?
I was worried sick! I almost called
the police!" If he did that, she'd forget
And she didn't
forget the number.
back," she said.
into a trot
automatically, and then slowed as her injury barked at her.
At a more sedate pace, she walked across
flagstones that led to the front door, and went inside.
pacing. He wasn't agitated.
He was sitting
chair, watching the tube, drinking his third beer.
she called out.
" 'kay," he
responded, not looking her way.
She got the pen
they used to make a grocery list on and took it outside.
She handed it to him without comment.
He wrote, and
returned it, she saw he'd put his address on it too.
"If you're out
a run some day, and want to swing by my place, just knock on the door.
I'm always ready for a run."
"I hope to see
you," he added. His voice was
transparent. He meant it.
She watched as
slid all over her body again. The
stopped on her breasts more often than anywhere else.
It was unreal. He was ogling her!
Finally his eyes came up to her face.
He was entirely unashamed at what he'd just
done. And he was entirely cognizant that
she was aware of what he had just done.
"Give that leg
rest," he advised.
"I will," she
whispered, wondering why she wasn't outraged at his behavior.
Then he turned
loping away from her, disappearing from her life just as quickly as he
appeared in it.
As she returned
house, she felt guilty about wishing he hadn't gone.
Maybe that was
hid the slip of paper with Chad's name on it in a pair of shoes she
hurried. She didn't want to think about
it too much, because if she thought about it, she'd have to admit that,
plundered her pussy with her fingers, the image of Chad's face kept
into her mind.
She turned off
without achieving release. It took too
long for her to get what she wanted, and she didn't want to prune up.
She toweled off
stood naked, looking at the bedroom door.
writhing on her bed, her head turned once more to the nightstand ...
something long and hard ... something almost real ... something she
badly, rested, hidden from sight.
release inside her, a subtle shift. It
was very much like when her muscle had given out during the run.
She had known something had changed before
she felt the pain that announced what it was.
She rolled over
reached to slide the drawer open.
There it lay,
It wasn't John.
But John wasn't
It was what she
reflection, she reached, grasped,
She was on autopilot now, trying not to think
about what she was doing. Muscle memory
she didn't even know she had helped her introduce the thing to stretch
She eased it in.
There was no
In fact, quite
As she was
stretched and filled, her hips lurched up off the bed.
Her hand turned the device, causing the
ridges on it to stroke her insides and she moaned.
All thoughts of "wrong orientation"
vanished as she brought the balls to rub against her clit.
In doing so, the length of the thing
announced its unwillingness to give, and the tip abused the end of her
tunnel. She could feel the crown rubbing
against her cervix.
And then, with
more twists of her dildo, the balls rubbing across her clit, she had an
that just had to be classified as the best one she'd ever had
conflicted. She was relaxed ... more
relaxed than she'd felt in ages. She
felt wonderful, in fact. It was
She'd just had
the best sex in her life.
And it had been
something inanimate ... something cold and lifeless ... a tool!
But that wasn't
made her feel a guilt that filled her just as much as that relaxation.
Something else was undeniable.
And that was
that, in the midst of that incredible, bone wrenching orgasm, the face
filled her mind ... was Chad's.
She hadn't been
help it. The fantasy had overwhelmed
her, as if she was being taken against her will ... almost raped!
And yet, as that fantasy had flashed through
her confused mind, she had welcomed it.
She closed her
eyes. The memory - the false memory,
she insisted - of Chad's body being over hers, his hands touching her
everywhere, and ... him ... penetrating her, was as clear now
as it had
been while she writhed through that astonishing climax.
that it was her own hand that had mauled her breasts, pinching and
turgid nipples, as her other hand manipulated the device that had actually filled
her so delightfully.
But she had to
that part of the ecstasy had been tied into the fantasy that he had
with her, in person.
inside her bloomed into her consciousness, and she jerked the dildo
her. It was too fast.
It seemed to want to stay there, clinging,
glued inside her by her own fluids. She
winced, and then felt empty. She threw
the thing, and it bounced off of her vanity chair, landing on the
it lay, inert.
She stared at
long seconds, before rising off the bed, limping slightly, to arrange
in front of the mirror.
the mirror lasted a long time. She
looked at every inch of her exposed skin.
Her vaginal muscles reminded her ... taunted her ... with the
memory of having been locked around the thing lying at her feet.
She couldn't see her labia, hidden as they
were by the fluffy hair on her mons, but she knew they were flushed,
She felt dirty,
nothing she saw in the mirror looked any different than it had the last
she'd stood like this, looking at her image.
thought of Cindy, and imagined that Cindy was lying on her bed,
that bizarre thing implanted in her, making a whirring noise as it
inside her friend.
Cindy was normal. She
an unwanted detail. It was Danny,
standing at the footboard of that bed.
He was naked. His penis was hard.
He was stroking it slowly, watching his wife
pleasure herself ... waiting for his turn to pleasure her.
And that led to
unwanted images that replaced Cindy with herself, and Danny with Chad.
She looked down
latex penis lying on the floor, ever ready to do its job.
A barking sob
her lips as she realized she wanted to pick it up ... and use it again.
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