The Toy

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Climbing the round steps of the inner stairwell of the down town library, I can feel the lights laying heat along my arm, I can feel the circulated air moving by, but the sounds are what get me. The sounds of the people on the various floors flowing through doors and open arches to echo up the stairs along with me. The gently clicking of the toy that rests inside of me, helping to strengthen my keagal muscles as I go about my day. The squelching of the wet soles of my shoes on the hard stone of the steps seamed to be the loudest as I climbed and for some reason I felt embarrassed by each step up.

That is the one thing about this library I don’t like; the need for silence. One could cough and ten heads will turn to look at you as if you had just murdered a dog in their presence.

Walking through doors on the second landing for the Non-Fiction department I maneuver through the bodies that walk through and past this door all day. This is the main computer floor and this is why I am here. My only reason, as I live in the neighbor city and can not get a library card here. The machine on the other side of a row of computers that takes my money and gives me a ‘Day Card’ spits back my dollar in disgust. Flipping the dollar over I try again and receive my prize. A ticket to an hour on the Internet highway and the means to connect with my friends and the world outside my hell here in the Willamette Valley of the state of Oregon.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually do hold some tenderness for ‘The Beaver State’, but the valley is wet and one of the top producers of grass seed in the nation and I’m allergic to grass, pollen, mold and mildew, everything that makes breathing here miserable.

I make my reservation for a computer quickly and then look for my nickname on the screen that tells us who is lucky enough to receive their allotted time. I’m ninth on the list of hopefuls, given the time on the clock and my history waiting here, I’ve got enough time to get out my book and read a chapter or two before my time is up. Sitting in a near by chair I pull bursa escort my notebook out and open to the next chapter of the story I’ve been reading. I adjust my seat and close my eyes as the toy moves and bends with my body. It sends chills up my spine and through every sensitive spot under my skin.

Filled with religion, politics and sex, my own father’s erotic story is a great read and as I read about Marcia and her training for her place in the ‘Kingdom’ I find myself squeezing my legs slightly and resting my head on my raised hand, my elbow balancing on the arm chair, trying to seam calm and unmoved. I have a hard time of it as the combination of Marcia’s fingers playing havoc in Laura’s dripping pussy and my toy in mine are making it hard for me to feel calm at all.

Twenty hard minutes later when I look up I see the screen renew its self and this time there is a computer number next to my name. Computer number twelve, my favorite, cause its in the corner of the small computer lab and no one can look over my shoulder with out my knowledge.

Sitting down, the impact of my body with the chair jogs the toy slightly once again reminding me of its presence. I log in and pull up the browser to loose myself in my emails and messages on myspace. An email from my friend ‘Simon’ raises my eyebrows as pictures of a certain part of him upload on my screen. Wiggling slightly, making the toy move inside of me, my mind replaces the feel of the toy with the feel of a hard cock and I have to close my eyes again and breathe deeply to calm my body. I glance at my neighbor sitting far to close to my mind, she has headphones on her ears and doesn’t seem to pay me any mind

I type in my next two adult personals pages, one specifically for the more adventurous side of sex and relationships and the other for finding a partner for tonight, and maybe tomorrow as well.

Pictures of men whose dominate personalities seem to show through their eyes and the way they stand fill my head with bad ideas but what really gets me is the message bursa ucuz eskort from a new guy on the second site.

His profile says he is taller then me –I sigh-, he is older –I sigh again- and he actually likes to talk between bouts of sex. He claims to be slightly geeky and claims to want to know how I tick. My eyes go wide at the image in my head. What is hotter then a guy who can have sex multiple times and still want to talk to a girl, to get to know her, I’m not sure, but if someone figures it out I’d like to know.

By the time I’m off the computer, heading back down the stairs to the main floor and out the doors I’m so turned on that the toy inside of me needs to be removed before I can hide my reaction to it and end up orgasiming then and there in the lobby of the library. I try not to let it show on my face and I hope to god that some how I am not showing how my body is reacting to things I’ve read on Lit and the images of that six foot guy in my bed.

About ready to bite my knuckle, curled up in the chair on the bus, the ‘cute guy’ I’ve seen several times on my bus route sits in front of me and I nearly groan out loud at the timing. I can feel my bodies reaction in the way it tightens around the soft teal green plastic, my bodies juices soaking my black cotton underwear and the way the nipples of my large breasts have gone rock hard pressing against and showing through my black bra and black Oregon Ducks t-shirt.

Watching desperately for my stop I keep my eyes closed and my face calm, not allowing a single whimper to escape my throat, even though it seems clogged with them. I pull the cord as my stop nears and jump up to stand by the rear door. Shifting my weight from one foot to next I’m well aware that I appear to either be in a great hurry or that I have to use the restroom. As I step down I see out of the corner of my eye that ‘Cute Guy’ is watching me walk down to the sidewalk.

I make a left face on the side walk so crisp and neat as to make a solider in formation bursa anal yapan escort look sloppy as I walk briskly for home. The worst part of the walk across one small field, a street, up my drive way, up the porch step and through the door of my empty house is that I cant find any way to walk with out the evil toy inside of me from moving, bending, clinking and otherwise driving me wild.

By the time I make it down the hallway and to my bedroom, I just know if it wernt for my clothing I’d have juices running down my leg. My body is burning and though I wish I had time to remove every scrap of clothing to feel the cool air in the house on my skin, I unfasten my black Capri shorts, and lay back across the foot of my bed.

My body softly jumps on the blankets from my fingertips skimming over my lower lips, sliding through, and nudging my clit before pressing over my waiting entrance. The pressure forces my toy to move deeper only a centimeter but the heat that had been growing in my body spreads like forest fire through my veins and limbs.

As the fingers on my right hand seek out the string attached to the keagal balls, my left slides under my shirt to my breasts, plucking at my pink hardened nipples. My eyes widen as I pull the toy past my entrance, and closing again as I push it back.

My mind first pictures the guy from the bus, but as I grind my teeth in frustration, looking for a release that doesn’t seem to want to come, I picture the six footer from the adult personals site and my body arches on the bed. His boy over mine, his tongue and teeth on my breasts, his fingers replacing mine, and I can feel my body so close as to tease me.

My thumb reaches up and flicks over my clit as I push the toy back as far as it will go into my passage causing every nerve ending in me to vibrate as I cum on my own hand. Soaking a spot beneath my ass, my body twitches gently from my release. Pulling my toy out and sitting up gently, I sigh. I should be calm again, I should be done, my mind should be clear to concentrate on other things but for some reason that guy is still in my head.

Even knowing that I most likely will never meet him in person, my body vibrates so softly it’s a low hum of need. I stand to take the toy to the bathroom, rinsing it off, smiling as I look down at it, knowing that I’m never taking it back to library again.

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