She padded down the stairs like a cat in pink slippers.
“Where the hell have you been?” Armando called from the kitchen. “I’m up to my ass in asparagus!”
Unscrewing the base of her vibrator, Jenny tried to sneak in behind him, but he intercepted her at the junk drawer. “Six of your friends, and I’m the one cooking dinner? You guaranteed you would help this time!” His rant dropped off when noticed her satin slip and the sex toy in her hand. He couldn’t conceal the look of curiosity in his eyes. For a moment, he simply stared. Shaking his head, he snapped, “Why aren’t you dressed? Or do I have to do that for you too?”
She stood before him, unfazed by his hysteria. He always got that way before parties. He just needed to relax. “I came down for new batteries,” she said, holding up the open vibe.
“What?” His voice was high and frenzied. “What the hell have you been doing all this time?”
“Watching porn,” she replied without breaking a sweat. It was bold of her, she realized, to tease a man with a carving knife in his hand, but she was not afraid of Armando. “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t be watching it alone, but I guess you have better things to do.”
“Better things…?” Choking with disbelief, he slammed his sharp blade against the wooden cutting board. “Better things, she says! Yes, I have better things to do. I have a dinner to prepare!”
With deliberate nonchalance, she looked to the junk drawer and fingered the knob. Pulling it open, she dug for spare batteries among take-out menus and grocery receipts. “Gay porn,” she went on, popping two double A’s into the vibe. “I don’t know why, but the sight of two guys together really turns me on.” Switching it to medium setting, she handed the sex toy to a glassy-eyed Armando. She didn’t so much as glance at him as she dragged the cutting board forward on the kitchen counter. After chopping the woody bases from the asparagus, she slid a clean stalk into her mouth and chewed. “So, I’m going at my clit and I’m right on the brink, then—would you believe it?—the damn thing runs out of batteries!”
The vibrator buzzed. Armando held it upright and away from his body as Jenny scooped the asparagus into a ceramic bowl. He reminded her of a husband holding his wife’s purse outside the women’s washroom—insecure and hoping his embarrassment would end soon. She started in on the peeled potatoes. “I was so close. God! I could taste that orgasm when the damn thing died. Don’t you hate it when that happens?”
Without a word, she hiked up the back of her slip. Leaning her elbows on the counter, she spread her legs and smiled at the potatoes. Armando took the bait. He held her silky skirt above her ass with one hand while he sent the vibe on an exploratory mission. “You were close?” he asked. His voice was hot honey drizzling across her powdered-sugar skin. “If I do this you’ll come fast so we can get cooking?”
She wanted to laugh, but she knew that would piss him off, so she pinched her lips between her index finger and thumb until the urge passed. “Yup,” she said. Did all women have to fight so hard to get a man’s attention?
“What do you want me to do with this?”
Setting down the heavy-duty knife, she held her slip tight around her waist. “Run it along my pussy lips. They’re super-wet. Run it head-long between my thighs.”
Indiscreetly, he reamed the plastic shaft between her thighs, smacking it up against her engorged lips. They screamed wetness. The sting of the buzzing toy slapping her cunt again and again went far beyond any wrath she would have incurred on herself. She was always so loving with her body. Armando obviously didn’t care. He had no investment in the experience beyond getting her to come so they could put dinner on the table.
With a flick of the wrist, he struck her lips with the vibe. The thick shaft whacked her wet pussy lips and ricocheted off her clit. Spasms brought on by the pain of being smacked got her rattling all the way down to her bones. Again. She could barely stand. Again. Her knees felt weak. Her sensitive tissues glowed with hurt at one more slap in the cunt. Again. The last time was one too many, and the muscles in her pussy, thighs, and ass all tightened at once. “No more,” she cried. “Stop! It hurts.”
“Fine,” he said, drawing the wet vibe away from her. “Let’s get cooking. They’ll be here in half an hour.”
“No!” she whined. She didn’t care if she sounded like a child. “I’m not finished yet. You’ve got to fuck me with it.”
He let out an irritated sigh. “Fine,” he snapped, his voice rising in pitch as he grew more annoyed. “But you had better come soon. I need to sauté the shallots.”
She spread her legs a little further apart and bent forward a little more. “Just fuck me, damn it! Fuck me hard!”
Without another word, Armando rammed her with her own dildo. He must have cranked up the power, because the second it was inside her, she felt its vibrations all through her body. They centred in her cunt, of course, but as he drew the vibe back and then plunged it deep inside, the buzzing sensation took over her ass as well. Bundling her slip into one hand, she reached around and petted her grasping asshole while he pounded her slit. She turned to watch his chiselled jaw clench. He stayed well away from her, bending at the knees and lunging like a fencer with each stab. He battled her slit like it was the enemy, and it turned her on to no end, watching the skirmish.
When she pushed the pad of her finger inside her asshole, the vibrations took her body over. She was possessed by the buzz. Squeezing her thighs together, she thrust back against the sex toy and the man who held it. When she opened her mouth, a scream came out. She released all the tension built up over the course of the workweek. She came loud and proud. She clamped down on her vibe so tight that when Armando let go of it, it stayed firmly in place.
Sticking out of her body, the sex toy buzzed like a delirious animal. Stealing her finger from her ass, she pulled the shaft from her spasmodic pussy.
“Wash your hands,” Armando instructed from the sink. “And then tell me more about my companion for the evening.”
“Okay,” she said, smirking as she turned the vibe from high, down to medium, low, and then off. “Tim works with me in client relations. When I told him I had a hot gay roommate, he was all over me to get a date with you.”
Eroticist Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 50 short story anthologies, and author of dozens of electronic and print books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and My Mistress’ Thighs. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.
For more information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica or visit her Donuts and Desires blog at donutsdesires.blogspot.com.