Chapter 7

Mandy didn’t get to inspect her new purchase until later that night. When she opened the box she just stared at the device for a minute. It really was quite purple, which looked a little strange because the long part was pretty close to looking like the real thing. Like Harold, it was about ten inches long, though some of that was taken up by the battery case and controls. The ‘clitty flicker’ part was maybe two and a half inches long and looked like some kind of torture device. She tried to imagine using it, but couldn’t.

About the time she got it out of its packaging, she realized she’d forgotten to get any batteries before she came to her room, but then she argued with herself that she wouldn’t have known what size to get anyway until it was unpacked. Unbidden, a little fantasy came into her mind. In it, Bob didn’t know what the stupid UPS man had dropped off. She’d gone to him asking for batteries and he wanted to know what size and what they were for. For some reason she’d shown him the device. Again, he didn’t make fun of her. He simply said, “You don’t need that. You have me.”

The fantasy evaporated and she snorted. She was quite sure he’d be happy to serve her needs, but she wasn’t ready for that. She discovered that, while her mind had gone off on a tangent, she’d started fondling her new toy, squeezing the outside covering, which gave in an odd way. She could see through the purple material to the mechanical innards. She examined it and determined it needed four double A batteries.

She’d already put on the long T shirt she used for pajamas. She’d also already removed her panties, in expectation of investigating her purchase.

She still felt some residual anger about how this whole sex toy thing had played out, thus far, and decided not to put her panties back on to go get the batteries. As she moved toward the door she felt cool air moving around her exposed sex. It felt ... exciting ... and she opened the door and padded, barefoot to the utility room.

As luck would have it, Bob was in there, loading the washer. Apparently Stephanie didn’t do laundry after all. He was clad only in a pair of boxers. He looked over in surprise.

“Hi,” he said. “You startled me.”

“I just came to get the...” She stopped, took a breath, and finished in a firm voice, “batteries.”

“I see,” he said, blinking several times. “They’re over there. What kind do you need?”

It was probably a mixture of all of her emotions, including a little hysteria, that resulted in her catharsis taking the form of laughter. It wasn’t just a chuckle as her mind flashed back to her earlier fantasy in which Bob had asked the same question. It was a helpless belly laugh that turned into chronic guffaws that caused her to become dizzy as her normal breathing pattern was completely disrupted.

Bob stood, looking confused, and then concerned as her face got pale and she wobbled, belly-laughing the whole time. He went towards her but didn’t quite make it before her knees gave out as oxygen starvation caused blood to pull in from her extremities, towards her vital organs. She ended up sitting down. Her naked butt registered the cold floor and she fell sideways as Bob finally reached her and broke her fall with one hand.

The impact of falling down finally broke the cycle of hysterical laughter and she got in a deep breath. Now it was just titters left over. She also had the hiccups.

“You okay?” asked Bob.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“What brought that on?”

“I’ll tell you later,” she panted. “Help me up, please?”

He bent over and she saw his eyes dip. She looked down to find that her T shirt had ridden up over her hips and her sex was right there for all the world to see. At that point the endorphins released during her ‘breakdown’, along with large quantities of serotonin, had created in her a sense of peace that let her decide it would be easier to stand up and pull the T shirt back down than try to obscure his view of things first.

She struggled to her feet, in the process spreading her legs, and watched his face.

“You’re staring,” she giggled, wishing she hadn’t giggled it.

“Sorry,” he said.

As she stood up, her eyes slid by the front of his boxers. They were tented out.

“Sorry,” he said again, communicating that he knew what she’d just observed.

She finally got to her feet and tugged her shirt down. His hands went to the front of his boxers, covering his ... indiscretion, and she almost broke out into laughter again. He looked like a little boy, caught doing something wrong. Except he wasn’t a little boy. Not at all.

His hand on her upper arm registered in her brain. Other than the massage, it was the first time he’d actually touched her that she could remember.

“I’m fine,” she said, her breathing finally returning to normal. “I think that was about stress relief.” She looked at him, still standing there in his little boy pose.

“You don’t have to cover up,” she said. “We’re both adults, here.”

“That’s the problem,” he said, and then frowned, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“It’s not a problem,” she said. “It’s just something that has to be dealt with.”

“Like stress,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Under the circumstances, I guess it’s okay to say I’m just going to go deal with mine, now,” he said.

Suddenly the situation seemed serious, and all thought of laughter was gone.

“I guess we both will,” she said.

“See you in the morning,” he said, moving towards the door.

“See you in the morning,” she agreed.

It was nothing like Harold. Nothing. Of course part of that was because she’d never employed Harold with the full knowledge that there was a man, with a real, live penis, twenty-five feet away, who was doing what amounted to the same thing she was doing while she used “him.” Despite the flood of hormones her laughter had produced, she felt like she was made of glass as she lay back on her bed. The batteries were installed and she was about to penetrate herself. All she could think of, though, was Bob, who was probably lying on his bed, stroking his stiff cock.

She didn’t turn anything on at first. There were several buttons on the control section that caused various things to happen, but her first instinct was to use the new toy - at this point, nameless - like she used Harold.

She moaned as the thing slid into her clasping tunnel, pushing it in as far as it would go. The little arm pressed where it was supposed to press, and she moved the device back and forth to make it stroke her bud.

It was good. She felt centered for the first time in a long time as she forgot everything else and concentrated on just being filled.

She stroked with it a few times, again in the same way she used Harold. The clitty flicker wasn’t solid like Harold’s balls, but that was okay. It still felt good as she worked it back and forth on the in stroke. The dildo part was plenty long enough that she could work the tip against her cervix, something else Harold did nicely.

It was completely by accident that her finger pushed a button and, suddenly, the rabbit whirred to life.

It was extraordinary.

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she got dizzy, and let it out with a whoosh. Dragging in another breath she marshaled her thoughts, concentrating on what was happening inside her. The circular motion of the dildo touched her in a way she’d never felt before. It was like a massage, of sorts.

Flexing her abs, she did a half sit-up, peering down at the part of the rabbit that was outside of her. She could see buttons, but not what they were for. Experimentally she pushed one and the clitty flicker came to life.

Within seconds she knew she would never be without something like this again. It was addictive. She didn’t even have to do anything except hold it in place. It worked her over like a professional orgasm creator, if such a profession existed. It was fabulous.

She was too involved with what was happening to her ... too internalized ... to realize what noises her body was making. There were a myriad of them, including gasps, wheezes, groans and, on two occasions, she uttered an “Ohhhhhh fuck!“ that was much louder than she would have allowed herself to do if she’d been paying attention to her voice. But she wasn’t.

It wasn’t her fault that she sounded like she was being murdered in her bed. Bob knew she wasn’t being murdered in her bed. At least he was pretty sure she wasn’t in danger. But he’d never heard a woman make those kinds of noises, even when he’d been the one responsible for producing noises in a happy woman.

He was already finished. It had taken him less than two minutes to spurt with Mandy’s naked, bare pussy lips fresh in his mind. It had been a particularly good cum, too. He had, in fact, made some noise of his own as it happened.

But his vocalizations were nothing like hers.

He was standing outside her door, now, poised, unsure of what to do. The hair on the back of his neck was erect and he was tense.

She screamed, and his hand went to the doorknob instinctively. He turned the knob, his fight or flight responses at full alert. To his credit, the door remained open only a second or two. During that time he’d confirmed she was alone, and that was the primary purpose of his intrusion.

Walking back to his room, his mind was full of what he’d seen. The abandon with which she’d been acting was something new, something he’d never seen in another woman. He had thought he’d seen a woman let loose, but not like that. Never like that. The split second that he observed showed him a woman completely consumed in pleasure, holding nothing back.

That he was hard again didn’t surprise him.

And, that it only took another two minutes to make it soft, didn’t surprise him either.

Bob had always been in control of his own destiny, or at least that’s what he believed about his life. He’d made decisions and dealt with the consequences, taking his lumps when that happened, and enjoying success when he could produce that result.

He wasn’t a cock-hound, by any means, but there had been women along the way. None of those relationships had survived the test of time, but none of them had ended in anger, either. Most women seemed to think of him as a solution to a temporary problem, rather than a long-term investment. That hadn’t bothered him. None of them had been keepers, either, for one reason or another.

Then Mandy had come along, appearing out of the blue, part of one of Ryan’s misguided attempts to live his life.

This woman had gotten under his skin. It was terrible, tragic because he knew there could be no future for them, as a couple. She wasn’t in the right place, and even if she was, she wouldn’t choose him ... just like all those other women hadn’t chosen him. Not for anything except a light fuck and some fun.

That’s not what he wanted with Mandy, though. When he looked at her, he saw the potential mother of three or four kids, making the world a better place for her contribution to it. Whatever man was smart enough to corral this little filly would be insanely happy for the rest of his life. If not, he was an idiot and didn’t deserve her.

She was prickly, no doubt about that, but he sensed that wasn’t her normal psyche. Ryan ... and the others ... had done a number on her head, even if they hadn’t intended to.

He sighed, pulling on his socks. It wasn’t going to be easy working with her. Not after what he saw last night. Not after what his fantasies had led him to last night.

Not that he hadn’t had a fantasy or two about her before this. A man would have to be made of fossilized wood to be immune to her raw appeal. Before this, though, his fantasies had been tame. When Stephanie lovingly practiced sucking dick on him he closed his eyes and imagined it was Mandy’s mouth on him. Several times, when her nipples proudly announced they were hard and poked through her shirt, he imagined sucking them.

But he had never imagined pinning her to the bed and making her produce sounds like her new ... toy ... had created.

He finished dressing and exerted control over his emotions. Time to get to work. Work would take his mind off her. The irony of that was not lost on him. He’d invited her here to get her mind off her problems with the work. Now he needed to do the same thing.

She was already up, in the kitchen, making scrambled eggs with sausage mixed in. She was humming, happy, relaxed.

‘She should be, ‘ he thought to himself.

She noticed his presence and looked over her shoulder.

“Morning,” she said, her voice cheery. “Sleep well?”

“Not really,” he growled.

“Awww, does Bob need a nap?” She grinned.

“That’s not what Bob needs,” he said.

“Well, I slept like a log,” she said. “I feel great!“

“You should, after all the noise you made last night.” Fuck! It was out before he could stop it. He felt shame, and that let him reassert control. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

She turned and leaned against the edge of the stove. She thought about how the only man she could think of the night before, while that rabbit did its magic, was Bob Cobb. She hadn’t even cared. It felt too wonderful to worry about the absurdity of thinking about an older man while she did something so ... personal. In the end she enjoyed it, imagining him telling Stephanie he didn’t need her anymore ... for anything.

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The City Girl Blues

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