The Train Not Taken

Originally posted: November 17, 2006

He was on the train again. The guy with a shaved head, charcoal grey suit this time and a red silky looking scarf. No hat, he never wore a hat no matter how much it snowed or rained. I always watched him, shy, from my seat. Sometimes he noticed me, sometimes he didn’t.

I hadn’t seen him this past week. One whole week of commuting without seeing him. I had nearly cried on Friday night, thinking he must have moved or changed jobs and I would never have the chance to meet him now. I regretted not doing something, even something really dumb.

But, there he was back again. Same shaved head, same suit and that same smiley face. He was just one of those people who seemed to smile easily. Sometimes he had conversations with the people around his seat. He laughed easily too and it was a laugh that made me smile, even on the hardest days when I felt worn down to a stub of myself.

I had to meet him tonight, finally. I couldn’t let another day pass by. Maybe he had moved and today was one last trip on the old commuter train. My palms were slick and my stomach in knots but I just had to do something this time.

I knew I looked ok, not one of my better days for looks but it wasn’t too bad. Hopefully I didn’t get too wind blown while I was waiting at my stop for the train. I couldn’t quite dare reach up to pat my hair, he might look over at just that moment.

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Pushing It

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)

The fine print in the instructions had said “Never push the red button.” …But, always, there was the red button and finally, in spite of whatever the consequences were, she just knew she had to push it.

The fine print in the instructions had said “Never push the red button.” It had been there from day one, she noticed it while she was unwrapping her new toy. The instructions had fallen out as she unwrapped it from the bubble wrap. She had left them on the floor until she had her fill of playing and then tidied up all the packaging. She’d kept the instructions, somewhere. She hadn’t actually read them but they were around if she needed them, somewhere.

But, always, there was the red button and finally, in spite of whatever the consequences were, she just knew she had to push it.

What could happen, really? Her love toy was in off mode, lying on his/ it’s back on the rug by her bed. The red button was tiny, located under his left ear lobe. To push it she would need a needle from her sewing box. She had come prepared. At first nothing happened. Well, he/ it was in off mode. Maybe it only activated if the toy was on at the time. She watched awhile longer but got bored and felt sleepy and mildly disappointed in the lack of drama.

She had a great dream. Better than the dream of having sex with a dragon in mid-flight. This time her toy woke up, really woke up not just powered up as he/ it usually did. He stripped off his veneer of animation and became real. She felt his breath on her skin, as if he were really breathing rather than functioning to please her. She could smell his sweat and his passion, as if he were really aroused. She half opened her eyes as his fingers played with her pussy, stroking the lips and folds. She really, fully opened her eyes as his cock slid inside of her. It was such a great cock, the exact thickness of her specifications. The exact shape, length and fullness she had always needed from a man but never found.

The odd thing was, she was sure she was awake now and yet the dream continued. He was on top of her, riding her, caressing her inner thighs, sucking her breasts, nibbling her skin. Of course, it wasn’t possible. He was only a love toy, bought at her local department store for the off season sale price of just $199.

She ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing a hunk and pulling it hard. He only grinned shamelessly and bit down on her nipple. It hurt but felt good too. He opened his thighs, forcing her own legs to open wider and rise up along his warm thighs to wrap around his waist. His cock felt so good, pumping inside of her. His lips, tongue and hands took their fill of her body, teasing her, making her need more and more. Her pussy ached to orgasm. It was a great dream, but it could only be a dream.

When he grunted and orgasmed inside of her she really woke up. This could not be a dream. He wasn’t supposed to orgasm without her permission and he certainly wasn’t supposed to orgasm before she had her own pleasure.

His hard body fell over her, trapping her underneath his firm, warm flesh. His hot breath warmed the side of her neck while his cock softened, still inside her. “You pushed the red button didn’t you?” He laughed.

She said nothing. What do you say to a toy come to life?

“I’m so glad you did.” He levered himself up, reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out her favourite handcuffs. “You might regret it but I never will.”

My First Divorce

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)

That was when she looked at websites about disposing of bodies. Not that he was quite a body, he was still breathing after all. But… she was only curious really.

His head was heavier than expected, kind of like a really big cabbage she’d once cooked for making cabbage rolls. She had a hard time fitting it into the pot, the cabbage, not his head. Although, cooking him was an alternative under consideration.

What do you do with an extra husband after all? Once the marriage was over, he became kind of disposable, like an extra toaster after the wedding. You could always give it away, but somehow that seemed so small minded. Why saddle someone else with your spare toaster? Even more so with a used toaster, one you had cleaned up after, slept with and all that other labour and time not so well spent. Maybe, it was really more like having a sixth finger than an extra toaster. Imagine how awkward that sixth finger would be? Holding a pen would be like a wrestling match and typing would be, well… interesting.

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