Tipsy with love, Geppetto carved a companion for his darling daughter. Vision clouded by affection, the aging puppet-maker failed to notice his log was upside-down. Regardless, the whittling went well. Soon Pinocchio was sanded smooth enough to make splinters impossible.

Cindy delighted in her playmate. Years passed. They grew closer than friends, more than siblings. Yet something was missing.

“If only you were a real boy,” Cindy mused during a comet shower. In shivering blue light, the Fairy appeared. Her twinkling wand cast the usual spell.

Next afternoon, Pinocchio felt a tickle in his groin. He hurried to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Cindy called through the closed door.

“Nothing!” Pinocchio answered in shame. To his horror, his penis grew.

Through the keyhole Cindy’s view of Pinocchio’s impressive phallus made her voice quiver. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Pinocchio repeated. His penis increased in girth and length. The gleam of sap seeping from the tip sent a surge of shivers through Cindy’s core.

In Cindy’s bed that night, Pinocchio’s stiffness kept them both awake. “Would you like to put it in me?” Cindy asked.

“Oh, no,” Pinocchio insisted. His pecker had other ideas. It pressed hard against Cindy’s delicate flower.

“Fuck me,” Cindy whispered.

“I couldn’t,” Pinocchio cried. Even as his words left his mouth, his cock pierced Cindy’s quim.

“Just don’t come in me,” Cindy said.

“I won’t.”

Poor Pinocchio. If true, his statement would prove false. If false, it would prove true. The puppet’s cock knew not what to do. So it did what it was doing. Again and again Cindy came. Only the liquid of her love balm kept Pinocchio’s cock from bursting into flame. Her final orgasm tugged the moon from its moorings.

Satisfied in all ways but one, Cindy sighed, “Do you love me?”

Relief at last!