Rick’s apartment was just as clean and sexy as he was. His rug looked like it was offended by feet. His refrigerator was so complicated, Carly skipped the ice and drank water from the bathroom sink using her cupped hands. His couch was beautiful and gave her shooting leg pains. Then he sat beside her, set his hand on her leg and asked if she wanted to go into the bedroom.
Carly, who thought she might be leaving a big pussy stain on Rick’s terrible couch, said sure. Rick went to the bathroom and gestured toward the bedroom.
Carly went into the bedroom, looked around, then immediately returned to the couch.
When Rick came out of the bathroom, he first went into the bedroom then went back into the living room and looked at Carly as if she must not have understood. He waved an inviting arm into the bedroom, giving her a sexy James Bond smile.
“It’s in here,” he said.
“Let’s stay out here,” Carly suggested.
“The bed is much more comfortable,” Rick insisted. “That couch cost seven thousand dollars. It cost so much because enemy nations also buy them to torture dissidents.”
Carly wiggled on the couch, then pulled up her skirt to show him that she wasn’t wearing panties. She slipped a finger into her pussy, then licked it.
“I’d rather stay out here.”
Rick walked over and held out a hand for Carly. His eyes went to her spread legs and open pussy, then lingered. Something big grew in his pants.
“Come here,” he said. “Please.”
She took his hand. He was too sexy to resist, and she had a fierce girl-boner. The clock was ticking. If she didn’t get something in her soon, she would probably explode.
He led her into the room and laid her down on beautiful soft gray sheets that had to cost more than Carly made in six months. She tried to stare at Rick’s handsome, sexy face as he laid on top of her, his suitcoat and tie off but everything else still on like a present in need of unwrapping. She wanted to feel nothing but Rick, but all she could feel were the eyes.
The hundreds of eyes. All over her.
He covered her lips with hard kisses.
Their mouths opened and his tongue went inside.
But the eyes were still watching.
Carly put a hand on Rick’s chest and pushed him up so he was a few feet above her. “Baby?” she said.
“Yes?” His eyes were seductive, his breath heavy and warm.
“Why do you have all of these dolls?”
“They’re vintage collectibles.”
“Collectible dolls?”
There were dolls everywhere. Fucking everywhere. Dozens were carefully and precisely aligned in a kind of hutch unit across from the bed. There was a large overstuffed chair in a corner, and six perched in its seat. There was a corner shelf holding two. A fancy bookshelf with fancy molding ran along the left wall, on both sides of the window, with dolls sitting in a long row, like sentinels. A few were above the headboard, almost perched, definitely leaning forward and looking down like the world’s least subtle peeping toms. A few were even still in the enormous bed. Most were quite fancy, in frills and old-looking clothing. One hundred percent of them were the creepiest motherfucking shit in the universe.
“My mother collected them. It’s something we did as a family.”
Well, mention of his mother, when combined with the creepy doll eyes, definitely made shit hotter.
Carly’s brain made a phone call to her pussy, demanding that they leave immediately. Carly’s pussy replied — almost hostile — that she’d once sucked a guy’s dick in an ice cream truck while at least fifty kids banged on the closed partition, yelling for Rocket Pops and Fudgesicles, and that if it didn’t get its due after all this sexy buildup, it was going off to join another body.
Carly closed her eyes. Rick removed her shirt. Totally naked, a sizzle ran through her body. Her pussy yelled at her brain to gloat, like HAHA FUCKER I WIN.
She heard his fingers fumbling, then the rustle of expensive fabric and the unzipping of a zipper. She felt shifting on the bed. Something hard and warm touched her leg. It was wet at the tip.
Carly opened her eyes, then screamed.
“What?” Rick’s body was as sexy as his face. He actually had a six-pack, and his cock was magnificent and screaming her name. Her pussy was attempting to pull it into her using the Jedi Mind Trick even while her heart raced.
A doll had climbed over from the edge of the bed and was staring at her. Rick hadn’t noticed.
Look at that dick, said her pussy.
Carly huffed and swatted the doll. It slapped the wall and fell off the bed.
“Hey!” Rick blurted. “Careful!”
“Honey, it’s hard for me to feel sexy with all these dolls around,” she said, sounding a trifle defensive.
He leaned down and kissed her neck. She couldn’t tell if he was wearing a subtle aftershave or if he just naturally smelled amazing. He followed the contour of her tendons, kissing up to her ear. His breath circled her ear.
“They’re collectibles,” he said in a voice usually reserved for describing body parts and where one wanted them to go.
“They’re creeping me out.”
Rick pushed his cock into her pussy. It was very nice and very large and her pussy said OM NOM NOM.
“I’ll get used to it,” she said.
Rick picked up tempo. The bed shook, causing the dolls above her to fall onto her face. Carly screamed as she batted them away like a ninja repelling attackers.
“Hey!” Rick blurted.
He’d stopped. Carly grabbed his ass and closed her eyes. “Just… hurry up and fuck me.”
“Because you want it bad?”
“Because… yeah, sure,” she said.
Another doll dive-bombed her. She dealt it a karate chop and willed her orgasm to come out from hiding. It wanted to, but the dolls were all watching it and it felt totally self-conscious.
Carly wrapped her legs around Rick and pulled his dick into her pussy, all the way to the hilt. She squeezed and he moved faster. Her fuckhole started to tingle. Rick’s sexiness reasserted itself. She was a girl. She didn’t need a visual. She knew what he looked like. She kept her eyes closed and focused on the sensation. Then Rick’s cock began to jackhammer into her hard enough to knock her vagina up into her lungs. She was close. He had to be close.
Carly opened her eyes. Rick was starting to make an O face. Somehow, despite all of the contortions, it was still sexy.
“I’m going to cum!” she yelled, suddenly, blissfully losing control.
“Me too!”
“Keep fucking me, baby… I’m going to cum!”
Then Rick pulled out and started smacking his hands feverishly at the shelf above the bed. He came back with two dolls and shoved one at her.
“CUM ON THE DOLLS!” he shouted. “OH MY GOD, SHOVE THE DOLLS UP YOUR PUSSY!”
Carly felt like she’d been smacked into an alternative universe. Rick was up on his knees, his right hand tugging at his cock like he was holding a grudge instead of a dick, his left hand wrapped around a frilly victorian doll in white lace right in front of the blast zone. She looked down at the thing he’d thrown at her. It was laying by her knee, its creepy eyes staring up her with an Amish sort of ill-informed lust.
“OH GOD FUCK THE DOLL, Carly! I’M GOING TO CUM ALL OVER THIS DOLL’S MOTHERFUCKING FACE!” And then he did, his right hand yielding a multidirectional burst of splooge that drizzled the doll in ropes, along with the headboard, his upper legs, and, regretfully, Carly’s foot. But she was already standing, backing away as if from a murder in progress.
Rick collapsed with the sticky doll beneath him. Carly started dressing like she smelled fire. “I’ll… uh… see you later,” she said.
“Sure,” said Rick, totally spent.
“It was great. Really.” Headed for the door. Hurrying.
“Thanks,” he said.
Rick was looking down, and Carly was pretty sure he was talking to the doll, not
her.
JANUARY 26
SAW SAM AGAIN. WE HAVEN’T fucked yet. I’m not sure why, except that I don’t feel any strong need. I totally want it, of course — this is me I’m talking about — but there’s no urgency. I’m choosing to take this as a sign that I’m growing up, getting more mature, such that a cum slut can do so. It’s like I’m in a real relationship. Sam and I have never talked exclusivity, but at this point it seems implied, so I’m being good. And somehow, the fact that he’s not fucking me yet feels like a kind of bond between us. I know how that sounds, and I know what Celeste would say. She’d roll her eyes. But what the hell; she just fucks guys, and I found one I might want to fuck forever. I can wait. It feels somehow right.
So I’ve been pumping his cock like it’s a cow and I need milk. Sam’s happy. He wants to fuck me, but I like to suck dick and do it like nobody else, so there are no complaints. I’m happy because I’ve been masturbating a LOT and Sam has been eating me out like he’s at Bilson’s and someone else is taking care of the tab. We also used that illegal toy from Japan a few times. Found out why it’s illegal, BTW.
It’s been a few weeks since I published Swallowing Secrets. I’ve had a handful of sales and gave a bunch away for free using the Select program. That still feels weird, but I was reading some blogs recently and some smart-seeming writers are giving books away for free and it’s somehow getting them more sales. I don’t understand it all, but I bookmarked the post. No family or friend complaints yet. Celeste and Brooke know all about it, but they’re total whores and don’t care. They love it. They’re all, “You go, girl.”
I also spent a lot of time this morning watching free teasers on PornHub because I was so horny from thinking that sex writing could actually be something I can do for a living, but those videos are such a motherfucking tease. I had to watch like 70 of them to get off.
JANUARY 26, LATER IN THE DAY
OKAY, I JUST FUCKED SAM so hard we put a hole in the kitchen floor.
He came over. I told him what was in the last diary entry, about how we hadn’t fucked yet, and how he was softening me and making me less of a whore.
BTW, I love the word “whore” and I’m reclaiming that shit like gay people reclaimed “queer.”
Anyway, Sam was all, “We haven’t fucked yet?” and seemed both really offended by the idea and totally taken aback that he’d not even noticed. He looked at me with this apologetic look that seemed to say I shouldn’t be bothered by it and that he was sorry he hadn’t noticed, because my cunt is like gold and any man should have T-shirts made commemorating the time they hit it like Rocky pounding his fist into a side of beef.
“No,” I said. “I’ve just been blowing you like a bubble wand.”
“It just never occurred to me. I’m sorry. You should take that as a compliment. Your mouth is like the best pussy ever. It’s like Superpussy. Like, I’ve never cum in a girl’s pussy like I’ve cum in your mouth.”
“It’s cool. But my pussy is awesome.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I can make it, like, belly dance inside. You know how belly dancers make their stomachs ripple, so they’re like squeezing from the top on down in a wave. I can do that with my pussy.”
“No you can’t.”
“I totally can,” I told him.
But Sam didn’t believe me. Normally in this situation I’d pull the guy’s pants off and lift up my skirt and pull him inside me to show him, but this was Sam, and I’ve cut off all other guys to be with him, and we may be together forever, so I wanted him to see some objective proof. I wanted to show him like Mr. Wizard would show him.
We were in the bedroom, because I assumed that once I pointed out our shortsightedness, I’d harm him in a delightful way and leave the comforter so soaking that I’d have to send it to the dry cleaner’s. I pointed toward the bathroom.
“Bring me my toothpaste and toothbrush.”
“You want to brush your teeth? Now?”
But I just stared at him like I was dead serious, which I was. THIS IS MY MOTHERFUCKING PUSSY WE’RE TALKING ABOUT. Nobody questions it or it eats them.
So Sam went into the bathroom and came out with both.
“This tube of toothpaste is pretty much out,” he said.
“Of course it is. That’s why I told you to get it. Gimmie.” I held out my hands out and Sam handed over the tube and brush.
I hiked up my skirt and pulled my panties aside. Sam gasped, like he always does when he sees my pussy. I mean, I get it. It’s pretty sweet. But now he was probably realizing, for real, that he’d never been inside. It was the way Sir Edmund Hilary probably looked at Everest before he fucked it. Or climbed it, whatever he did.
“You aren’t going to…” Sam started. But of course I was. I had the tube backward in my snatch before he could finish the sentence. I winced a little, then withdrew it and tried to fold down the rear corners as best as I could. Those corners are sharp. It’s almost as if the people who make toothpaste don’t expect people to put the tubes up their cooches.
I put it back in. The open end barely protruded between my lips. It looked like I was a robot with a dispenser in a really inconvenient place.
The tube was really flat. It was at the point where you don’t just kind of squeeze it along its length between your index finger and thumb, but you actually have to rub it hard along the corner of the sink to push the remaining toothpaste all the way out. And I’m lazy about shit like that. I have a million things to do during my day, and only half involve sex. So I won’t reach high for a new tube or even write “toothpaste” on a grocery list until it’s dire fucking straits.
I started working the tube. Sam stared at my slit, either fascinated or disgusted. There’s a point where the two are almost indistinguishable, but dudes never care, and disgust can be hot. Ask me sometime about the hot homeless guy and what’s possible with a few Wet Naps from the rib joint next door. So my stomach starts to roll, just like a belly dancer, but what Sam can’t see is that I’m doing the same thing inside, to the tube.
At this point, I’m such a whorry cum slut that I’m getting turned on by fucking a toothpaste tube. I also had the very distinct thought that THIS was the romantic preamble I’d been leading up to Sam. Nobody plans these things. Hadn’t I just been saying how I thought I must be getting more mature and ready for a real relationship? It’s cool — I think I once read in Seventeen magazine or something when I was younger that like half of girls lose their virginity to guys after dispensing a condiment or beauty product with their cunts and that it’s perfectly natural, like getting your period.
So because I’m wet, the tube starts to slide out. Now I’m not dispensing toothpaste, but the entire toothpaste tube. I kind of looked like I was printing a receipt.
I pushed it back in with one hand, because I could tell I’d already gotten a decent blob of paste down the length of the tube and was about to BLOW SAM’S FUCKING MIND (or make him flee in disgust, whichever), but the tube couldn’t squeeze out like a slippery fish if that was going to happen. But the trick looks much less impressive this way, and besides, I was using my other hand to hold my panties aside. I’d have to stand up to take them off, and that would ruin the setup.
I thought of a way to make this much hotter or totally disgusting.
“Sam. Grab the toothbrush,” I said.
“Um…”
And Sam’s not exactly shy. We once had a sexting exchange involving me fucking my bedpost and pretending it was the doorman’s fist at a club we were pretending to get into. But he looked at my dispenser/cooch and then at the toothpaste and it was almost as if a girl had never asked him to take toothpaste from her clam before.
But then he grabbed the toothbrush, and I kept squeezing while holding the increasingly slippery tube inside. Toothpaste started to come out of the end, but by this point I’m so turned on (WTF is wrong with me?) that creamy white pussy juices are all around my hole, and on the tube. It’s intermingling with the toothpaste
, and because it’s plain old white toothpaste, you couldn’t tell the difference.
Sam watched, fascinated, as I used my pussy to put a perfect little line of toothpaste on the brush, complete with that little Alfalfa loop at the top that they always have on the box. The little curl that says that THIS is what toothpaste looks like in respectable households, and that only white trash just smears that shit on.
Sam held up the brush. “I’m impressed.”
I smiled. The toothpaste tube shot out of my snatch and skittered across the floor.
“But I’m not brushing my teeth with this.”
I affected a frown. “Is my pussy juice not good enough for your teeth?”
Sam looked at it, all thoughtful. We could have been discussing budget matters if not for the way my crotch was on display and the giant lump I could see in his pants. “It is strange,” he said. “I’m about to put my mouth on your pussy and make you cum, but I don’t want to put your pussy juices in my mouth using a toothbrush. It sounds too much like some sort of a weird fetish.”
“I could look it up online. ‘Brush teeth with pussy juice.’ I’ll bet there’s a German website about it.”
“Or maybe I just don’t want to use your toothbrush. But why? I’ll kiss you.” Then he looked inspired. “I’ll bet it’s because of the gallons of my own cum that this toothbrush has seen. Really, this is a gay issue. Do you think I’m homophobic? Or just that I don’t want to drink my own cum?”
“If you aren’t poking my ovaries in ten seconds,” I said, “I’ll use my pussy to devour you whole, like a succubus. Or possibly a python.”
Sam threw the toothbrush aside. The toothpaste end struck the dresser and stuck there like a handle. Then he stood up in front of me and rushed out of his pants as if I’d actually started to count. He got his pants and boxers down but didn’t pull them off or unbutton his shirt, which made him look almost executive because he’d just come from work. He dove forward onto/into me so suddenly that he might as well have yelled “Geronimo!”
The Autumn Diaries Page 2