Give Me More. P.J. Mellor
it down, she walked closer to the light.
She gasped, then glanced guiltily around.
“No one’s here, dummy.” She stroked a finger down the amazingly realistic plastic. Then she gave the bulbous tip a little squeeze. Wow. It even felt semireal.
Mystery Lover Model 4099. A present from Karyl—for Maggie’s birthday last year—the vibrator had caused raucous laughter and comments from her friends when she’d opened it.
She’d never even tried it out.
She glanced around and then checked the locks on her door, just to make sure.
Walking slowly back to her bed, she untied her robe, her gaze never leaving the gleaming phallus where it lay nestled in purple velvet, surrounded by an impressive assortment of flavored body gels.
“Let’s try raspberry.” She opened the tiny pot and dipped in the tip of her little finger; then she sucked off the sweet concoction. Not bad.
Dipping her index finger this time, she slathered the gel all around the top of the vibrator and then swirled her tongue around it until every speck of gel disappeared.
Next she finger painted the entire length of the plastic shaft, squeezing her legs together to calm the sudden restlessness she felt.
Dropping her robe, she climbed on her bed to lie on her back, the vibrator held high above her.
“Open the hangar,” she said on a giggle, remembering childhood games. “Vvroom.” She guided her private missile in a gliding circle to her open mouth, taking as much in as she could without gagging.
After a while, the ache between her legs became harder to ignore.
The wet tip of the vibrator cooled her skin where she dragged it between her bare breasts and down her abdomen until she reached the point that wept her need.
A few circles around her clitoris had her moving on the sheets wadded against her back.
No point in letting the gel go to waste.
She held the vibrator between her thighs and reached for another little pot. Strawberry.
She coated the entire shaft, swirling her tongue and fingertip around the top, imagining herself on her singles cruise, a hot island breeze bathing her bare skin while she licked and sucked one of the many lovers who existed solely for her sexual gratification.
It wasn’t enough. How did she turn the dumb thing on? It was allegedly the top-of-the-line of vibrators—Karyl spared no expense when it came to embarrassing her.
The phone rang. Maggie screamed, automatically squeezing the vibrator.
Slick with gel, it shot from her fist like it was coming out of a rocket launcher and scored a direct hit on her grandmother’s china lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
The phone rang again.
With a last look at the remains of her lamp, Maggie reached for the cordless phone on the floor.
“What took so long?” Karyl’s voice echoed from the speaker. “Oh, don’t tell me you actually took pity on that throwback and let him spend the night!”
“No, of course not.” Maggie glanced around the room as if her friend could actually see the contrary evidence—which was no doubt on her bathroom floor somewhere. Eric never could seem to hit the trash can.
Karyl let out an exaggerated, relieved sigh. “Thank you, Lord. So…what are you doing? I know you’re all packed. Mags? You sound like you’re breathing hard. What’s going on?”
“What makes you think anything’s going on?” She gave a feeble laugh.
“Because I’ve known you since kindergarten, and I know when you’re hiding something. Now…what?”
“Vibrator,” Maggie managed to mumble.
“What? Is there something wrong with your refrigerator? I can’t hear you. Are you talking into the wrong end of the phone again?”
“I said,” she almost shouted, “I was just fooling around with the vibrator you gave me.”
“You were?”
“Don’t sound so pleased. I can’t even figure out how to turn the dumb thing on.” She gave a bark of laughter. “Story of my life.” She walked to pick up the “dumb thing” and returned to sit on the side of the mattress.
“Mags, it’s state of the art. There isn’t a switch.”
“But how do you—”
“See the little fake testicles at the base?”
Maggie’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t exactly call them little.” She ran her palm over them in an idle caress, tracing the flowing script of the gold ML at the base with her fingertip.
Karyl laughed. “Whatever. When you’re using it, you, um, sort of grip the balls and squeeze them together. The tighter you squeeze, the stronger the vibration.”
Maggie gave an experimental squeeze. The vibrator emanated a low buzzing sound, vibrating the hand holding the shaft. “Oh!” She gave a shriek of laughter and dropped it to the floor.
“I’ll let you experiment for a while,” Karyl said, a smile in her voice. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning by no later than eight. You already printed up your boarding pass and everything you need, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I—”
“Great! See you tomorrow.” Karyl hung up.
Maggie pressed the OFF button and laid the phone on the nightstand, then picked up the vibrator.
It wouldn’t hurt to try it. After all, it had been a gift. It would be rude never to use it.
The rounded tip teased her opening. She looked down and wondered how it would ever fit.
The gel was cool against her labia but quickly warmed as it came in contact with her internal heat. She stretched to accommodate the girth of the vibrator.
To her surprise, it slid in to the hilt quite smoothly. Maybe the gel helped. She tightened her internal muscles. ML—or Mel, as she nicknamed it—slid back out to her waiting hand. Bereft, she glided Mel back in. In. Out. In. Out.
Close. She was so close.
Panting, she reached down a shaking hand and squeezed the rubber testicles.
And screamed when the foreign object within seemed to take on a life of its own.
When she was able to relax a bit, the vibration worked its magic, setting off tingles deep within. Her muscles began to vibrate. Internal lubrication made Mel slippery. She squeezed the testicles in her fist, unable to gasp more than shallow pants of air. Her heart thundered, pounding as though it would rip from her chest.
Her next scream had nothing to do with surprise as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, drowning her in sensation.
2
Maggie awoke to sun streaming in through her open blinds, Mel still clutched in her hand.
Make that stuck to her hand. Ick. She peeled her personal device from her palm and sat up. The covers must have been somewhere on the floor.
Next she noticed she was naked. And sticky. She ran her tongue over her furry, strawberry-flavored teeth and winced.
She glanced at Mel, lying innocuously on the messy sheet. Who knew?
At that moment, her alarm clock chose to blast the room with oldies, making Maggie realize she had a headache. What was in that strawberry body gel? she wondered as she dragged herself into the shower.
By the time Karyl knocked on the door at seven fifty-five, Maggie was dressed and ready to go, a cleaned and shined Mel tucked neatly