As Amy releases a string of excited, incredulous sounds, I return to the top drawer of my nightstand and grab the toy I’ve stowed there—an egg-shaped vibrator about the size of my palm that features a rubber spout that’s perfectly designed to encapsulate the hood of a woman’s clitoris. Unlike other vibrators I’ve enjoyed incorporating into my fun, this beauty never touches a woman’s most sensitive nerve endings, but instead blows streamlined puffs of air onto its target. Which means, it’s perfectly designed to complement my piercing. Thanks to this genius invention, I can stimulate Amy’s clit, gently and precisely, as we embark on The Sure Thing together, while not worrying I’m over-stimulating it. That’s important for a guy like me, with a hoop of metal attached to my dick. Because it means Amy’s clit will still be open for business for my piercing by the time I get around to finally fucking her at the end of this magical carpet ride. Which, of course, is the whole point of this for me, besides giving my partner pleasure. Getting to experience the holy grail for myself.
After quite a bit of research, I ordered this vibrator as a Valentine’s gift for Kiera, but then never got the chance to give it to her, thanks to her dumping me. And so, my meticulously researched gift sat in my toy box in my closet for months, wrapped in heart-covered paper, taunting me. Reminding me that, no matter what I tried, I was never enough.
But now, I couldn’t be more thrilled my ungiven gift was still sitting there in that toy box, still in its packaging, when I went into my closet to formulate my game plan for Amy’s wild ride. Indeed, I can’t think of another woman I’d rather use this toy on for the first time than the little redheaded puppet tied to my bedposts—a woman who sends rockets of arousal shooting through me in ways I’ve never felt before.
I show Amy the egg-shaped contraption I’m planning to press against her clit. I explain what it does. How it works. And when she says she’s excited for me to use it on her, I gleefully get to work.
I gently place the rubber opening precisely around her swollen clit and turn the thing on at its lowest settings. And as the vibrator begins pelting Amy’s most sensitive spot with meticulously directed puffs of air, she instantly starts moaning at the tops of her lungs. So loudly, in fact, the sexy sounds lurching from her seem to be reverberating off the walls of my bedroom.
As I continue holding the Womanizer in place, I lean down and lick Amy’s tits voraciously. I suck and bite her nipples. Whisper into her ear. I know I’m cheating a tiny bit by letting this miracle of modern engineering do some of the heavy lifting for me. But there’s no margin of error here. Amy thinks I walk on water, and I need to prove her right. No matter what. At least, when it comes to this.
When I’m positive Amy’s on the bitter edge of a clitoral orgasm, despite the fact that I’ve kept the vibrator on its lowest setting this whole time—seriously, the thing is barely doing anything at all—I slide my fingers deep inside her, way past her G-spot this time, to her magical A-spot—a place deep, deep inside Amy’s body, as deep as my fingers can go, until I find the spot that feels like a seam.
When I find exactly what I’m looking for, I begin stroking that spot, beckoning Amy’s orgasm to come out to play, while whispering yet another non-stop stream of dirty-talk into her ear. And, of course, through it all, my little helper—the Womanizer in my palm—remains in place and never stops doing what it’s ingeniously designed to do.
It doesn’t take long before I feel a sudden, sharp tightness seize my hand—a tell-tale shudder that informs me Amy’s deepest core muscles are on the brink of releasing in explosive fashion.
My breathing hard and erratic, my excitement spiraling, I stay the course in every way, without variation. I continue stroking with one hand while keeping that vibrator in place with the other. I continue whispering to Amy that my dick has never been this hard, this wet. That I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone else the way I want to fuck her. Which is true. I tell her she tastes so good, I almost come every time I eat her. Also, true. I tell her, in every conceivable way, she’s the sexiest, hottest, tastiest woman alive. All true. And soon, I feel her body squeeze my hand inside her so sharply, so forcefully, I know it’s coiling up in anticipation of releasing like a hurricane.
I keep going, staying the course, expecting that orgasm to release for me, any second now . . . but to my surprise, that tightness doesn’t release.