Chapter 3: Malibu Barbie & The Diary

I don't know what to say about Barbie... Malibu Barbie, to be precise. I hadn't seen her in all those years. Memories rushed in that I'd pushed back into the recesses of my mind. Time was, I'd use it as my primo dildo. Not the head, mind you, my hole isn't that big! The feet, always feet first. Yes, both of them. Once started, I'd poke my fingers inside me and move the legs from side to side. I realized I'd absentmindedly spread my legs apart and discovered I was cupping my mons.

Julie had her hand over her mouth, silently laughing at me. I actually felt myself blush. Holding the doll out to Julie, I recalled the incredible feelings it produced. Like a twin cockhead, used with terrific aim. It was my personal, unconventional, masturbation toy. And suddenly I recalled Julie and I using it on each other. Oh, yeah, Malibu Barbie was convenient in more than one way. We weren't very neat in those days, and on occasion my parents would drop in unexpectedly, Barbi was so much easier to explain than having a dildo or vibrator lying around the apartment. My parents never figured out why I wouldn't grow up and give up my doll collection. I found myself smiling at the memory and then for no discernable reason both of us burst into a giggling fit, just like teenagers.

It felt good.

Julie sat down next to me and hugged her knees to her chest as we slowly regained our composure.

"That's the only thing I've taken out. Once I established you owned the contents I left it alone, just waiting for the right moment to return it to you. Please, go on keep going. Let's see what else is in there. I'm anxious to see, damn it," she said feigning a morose expression, "I have nothing left of my own from those days."

Like a kid on Christmas morning, I poked around inside the box and removed several items that had little or no memories adhered to them.

Then I grasped the book.

"It's my diary!"

"Damn," Julie exclaimed. "I didn't know you kept a diary. Does it... ?"

"Oh, yeah. There's some hot stuff in here, but..."

"Come on, let's have a little sample."

"No Julie, it's my diary. It's sacred."

"Bullshit, Rach, a lot of time's gone by. Your Statute of Limitations has run out."

"Get real girl. For God's sake, you're an attorney. Cut the crapola will ya?"

Inexplicably, I found my grammar returning to that of my collegiate level. Julie's too, for that matter.

"Come on, Rachel. Please. Pretty please."

"Alright, just a small sample. Then we go out, okay?"

"Yes, sure. Pick a sexy part, Okay?"

"Let's just see. I'm not promising anything. For all I know it may be squeaky, pristine clean."

"Riiight! Just for fun, start at the beginning. Go ahead. Oh, wait, want another cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, sure," I said turning to the first entry.

She was back in a flash and I was already deeply absorbed in the opening page.

"Here. Your coffee."

"Oh, thanks," I said, and absentmindedly reached for the cup. Luckily I grasped it firmly, took a sip and started to read aloud.

"Last night I came out of the shower as I have a thousand times before. I stopped before the mirror and gazed at my nude body. This wasn't unusual, but the way I was looking at my reflection was. For some reason, I took a critical look at myself."

"Eighteen, really, really, long black hair. I noted (for the first time?) my eyes were somewhat almond shaped, and hazel in color. I stood five-foot eight inches barefoot and weighed exactly one hundred ten pounds. I cupped my breasts in my hands, hmmmm, they didn't exactly overflow them. My nipples began to stiffen. Watching them rise I thought, "Still, 33C ain't all that bad."

"My hands drifted to my waist and I watched coyly as my lips formed the words "twenty-three inches."

"Inexplicably, as if they had a mind all of their own, my hands traced over my hips. I smiled into the mirror and whispered, "thirty-three once again."

"I tossed my head and watched as my hair flew in a long arc through the air and whipped around my shoulder covering one breast. I turned to the side and checked out my profile. Speaking aloud I said confidently. "Not bad, in the vital statistic department. Not bad at all."

"Facing away from the mirror I bent over and examined my ass in the mirror. One pimple stared back. After dabbing it with alcohol, I gave my cheek a nice gentle pat, and softly said, "I know you've turned a few heads this week."

"My pubic hair had grown sufficiently so that it formed a neat triangle, and I hadn't had to trim it to get it that way. I wondered if the other girls had checked me out in the shower at the gym. Now why would I wonder about that?"