*peeks out of hiding* Um, so I wrote this? And would like feedback?

[mkp]

I don't like the way it starts or the way it ends, and I know I have a problem with run-on sentences, which wasn't helped by my writing it in the conditional tense.



I have this new vibrator and it's just slightly too big so it feels good but it also hurts a little and I can't seem to stop fucking myself with it. Even when I'm not actively fucking myself, I like to just leave it inside me so I can feel it there. And when it's gone I can still sort of feel it, sort of a soreness and I want more and when that wears off or sometimes even before I just need it again so badly.

I want to have it inside of me when I answer the door. I want to not wear underwear over it, to have to rely on myself and luck that it doesn't come slipping out in front of someone.

Or maybe I do want it to slip out in front of someone--the nice man at the door who was just there to drop off my mail that got delivered to him by mistake. It'd make a dull sort of thud as it hits the floor, and he'd stop talking in surprise. I wouldn't be able to do anything except close my eyes and pray that this wasn't happening. The next thing I'd know would be a hand on my face, making me look at the man. I'd open my eyes to see him looking at me, just contemplating.

He'd laugh a little and shake his head. "You can't even help yourself, can you?" He wouldn't expect a reply. "Such a little slut."

I'd feel like crying, I'd be so humiliated. He'd push me back a little so there's room for him to come through the door, and he'd shut it and lock it behind him. Later maybe I'd be grateful for that. He'd let go of my face and look down at the floor, sliding his hands casually into his pockets. "You made a mess," he'd say.

I wouldn't want to look but I couldn't close my eyes and I couldn't look at *him* so instead I'd be looking at the floor. The vibrator would just be lying there, black silicone, obscenely large and glistening from being inside me.

That wouldn't even be the worst part. I'd be blinking back tears as I felt hot slickness sliding down the inside of my thighs. I'd be dripping on the floor, I'd be so wet, and I wouldn't know what to do.

His hand on my shoulder would be a surprise, and he'd give me just the slightest push downward and my knees would buckle under me. I'd drop to the floor. His hand would move to my head, stroking my hair a little. The gentleness would be disconcerting.

"I think you ought to clean it up," he'd say. Mortified, I'd try to get up, to get some cloths, to apologize, to lock myself in my bedroom and never leave--but he'd hold me in place. "I said, clean it up." He'd be implacable. I wouldn't understand what he meant to start with, but finally I'd figure it out.

I'd shake my head no. I wouldn't.

He'd make me look at him, and his face would be so kind but stern and disappointed. I'd want to melt away. He'd sigh at me, and somehow, that would be what did it.

I'd slide back just a bit, and then, in response to the pressure of his hand on my head, I'd bend down and start to lick my own juices up off the floor.

It'd taste sour, and I wouldn't know if that was me or the floor. It wouldn't matter.

He'd stoop down next to me and pick up the vibrator, holding it up to me. I'd balk a little, but he'd just stay there patiently until I started to lick that clean too. He'd slide it into my mouth, and I'd choke a little and try to pull back.

"None of that now," he'd chide me. "We both know you want it, sweetheart."

I'd try to deny it. He'd only laugh. "It's okay, sweetheart," he'd say. "I know you can't help yourself. You're just a little slut."

He'd make me spread my legs. I'd be kneeling, legs open obscenely wide, skirt hiked up around the tops of my thighs, a plastic dick in my mouth.

He'd fuck my mouth with it for a while--not too roughly, but he'd make me take it further down my throat than I ever had before, and every so often I'd gag on it. He'd pause, give me a chance to catch my breath, and then slide the vibrator back between my lips.

My world would narrow down to the aching heat between my thighs, the trickle of wetness I'd feel dripping down, and the feeling of a cock in my mouth.

It wouldn't be warm, or the right texture, and it would taste kind of weird to start with, but all of that would fade away as it fucked in and out of my mouth. I'd try to swallow more and more of it--try to keep it in my mouth when it was withdrawn for another thrust.

Suddenly, it'd be gone, and I'd be chasing after it, spit sliding down my chin. I wouldn't understand why it was no longer in my mouth until I felt his hand gripping my jaw again.

He'd be making soothing sounds but I wouldn't care. I'd need the feeling back too badly. "Slut," he'd say fondly, and dimly I'd know that I should hate being called that, dimly I'd want to argue--"I know, sweetheart," he'd say, "I know. You've been so good for me, I'm going to let you have a reward." A reward? He'd lean down and use one of his hands to hold me still as the other slides the vibrator into me. I'd squirm, unable to help it, and it'd slide right back out of me, I'd be so wet. He'd shake his head and put it inside me again, only to catch it as it starts to slide back out. He'd frown, but his eyes would look like he was still laughing. "You little slut," he'd say, taking one of my hands and placing it on the vibrator. "Hold that still." He'd draw himself back up to his full height and I'd be trying so hard not to fuck myself I wouldn't even notice him unbuckling his pants till he was guiding my mouth towards his cock.

Suddenly, that would be the only thing I wanted. My mouth would be watering for it and I'd lean forward, eager to suck it into my mouth, only to be brought to an abrupt stop by his grip on my hair. I'd let out a whine of discontent--God, a *whine*, how embarrassing,--and he'd shush me. "Turn it on," he'd say. "Highest setting." Highest what? He'd sigh again, shaking his head like one might at a small child who'd somehow made a mess *again.* "The vibrator," he'd tell me, hand tightening in my hair almost painfully. "Turn it on."

He'd fuck his way into my mouth as I gasped from the first vibrations. I'd choke a little, and I'd accidentally press the vibrator further in me, harder than I should, causing a sharp ache to echo through my abdomen. He'd hold me steady, though, and then it would all be about the warm weight of him on my tongue, the way my jaw was starting to ache and the way my lips were starting to burn from the friction.

He'd come in my mouth and I'd chase every last trickle of it with my tongue before he'd pull away. I'd be gasping from the blowjob and from the vibrator still going inside of me, and he'd crouch down to kiss me, softening cock still hanging out of his pants.

He'd pull back and make eye contact with me before he told me to come.

[Snark]

Knock, knock..."Ma'am...I have some mail for you..." The only two things I find wrong with this story is a: it's too short. It needs another 8-10k words. Then the rest of the chapters. b: I wasn't at the door. The tense is fine, just difficult to maintain over a longer story. The run ons are okay because they sound like you were out of breath...probably from all that vibrator play. I am. And it's not even my vibrator. Let's have a nice strong climax...then get back to writing. I can't wait. Oh...here's the mail.

[mkp]

*blushes* Thank you! I'm not sure I could manage to write much more of it, but I was pretty proud I managed to write what I did and actually post it.

[Snark]

By now you either have calmed down...or the batteries have run out. Regardless of which one it is, think of another fantasy that could build on the first. Pizza delivery is an old standby, as is the plumber/electrician/pest control guy. Or a date. As the date progresses the alternate imaginary events unfold until...is it real or is it memorex...? Just some suggestions to keep you going. Now...get going!