By Steph E. Strong
Review & Description
Steph is helping her boyfriend organize and catalog collections of Pez Dispensers in her boyfriend's basement. She accidentally happens across a box of vibrators and asks him why he would have such things. He answers, and instead of getting angry, she demands that they stop what they are doing and put the box of toys to immediate use.
Warning: this short story contains graphic and explicit scenes of sex toys in use, as well as a scene of anal sex. As such, this story is intended only for mature and adult readers.
Excerpt:'
I smiled at him, just to show that it was okay. Wayne may be a little bit of a freak, but he’s mostly harmless—and even more importantly, he’s my freak. I unscrewed the battery compartment of a few, noticing a chalky-white residue on the alkaline power sources. “Yep, I believe you.” I replaced compartment covers. “Still, babe, what gets me is this one.” I held up a very fancy looking gold-toned vibe. It featured a black rubber handle that was textured for easy gripping. At the non-intrusive end, on the battery cover, somebody had monogrammed the initials of WDL. Opening the battery compartment, I noticed a lack of residue, which meant it had been used more recently than the others.
Replacing the cover, I held the vibrator up. “So, what’s the story with this one?”
Wayne fidgeted and nervously sipped his beer. “Um.”
“Relax,” I said. “It’s okay.”
“Well,” he sipped his beer. “You know one of the other dancers at your club…”
“You mean the slut you were seeing before me?” I meant that as a purely factual statement, not anything against the woman. If anything, the ironically named Chastity was more than a bit of a whore—slightly dumb, too, as she bragged about spreading her legs for nearly all the strip club’s regular patrons, all the time. If anything will get you in the shorthairs of management, it’s that. As Bobby, the owner always said, Ladies, don’t fuck with the source of revenue.
“Yes, her. I broke up with her because I found her incessant talk of smoking dope and crocheting afghans boring after two weeks.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Old news.”
“Well, after I gave her the kiss off, she bought that vibrator online and had it shipped to me. The gift card said, Go fuck yourself!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose between my eyes and started laughing. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me: so you decided to take that literally?”
“I was lonely. And curious too! And then—you know me, it set off the collector bug in me.”
I thought for a moment, glancing down at all the marvelous toys in the box. Then. I stuck out my lower lip in an extended, exaggerated pout. “Sweetie, why didn’t you tell me about these? We could have put them to great use.”
Steph is helping her boyfriend organize and catalog collections of Pez Dispensers in her boyfriend's basement. She accidentally happens across a box of vibrators and asks him why he would have such things. He answers, and instead of getting angry, she demands that they stop what they are doing and put the box of toys to immediate use.
Warning: this short story contains graphic and explicit scenes of sex toys in use, as well as a scene of anal sex. As such, this story is intended only for mature and adult readers.
Excerpt:'
I smiled at him, just to show that it was okay. Wayne may be a little bit of a freak, but he’s mostly harmless—and even more importantly, he’s my freak. I unscrewed the battery compartment of a few, noticing a chalky-white residue on the alkaline power sources. “Yep, I believe you.” I replaced compartment covers. “Still, babe, what gets me is this one.” I held up a very fancy looking gold-toned vibe. It featured a black rubber handle that was textured for easy gripping. At the non-intrusive end, on the battery cover, somebody had monogrammed the initials of WDL. Opening the battery compartment, I noticed a lack of residue, which meant it had been used more recently than the others.
Replacing the cover, I held the vibrator up. “So, what’s the story with this one?”
Wayne fidgeted and nervously sipped his beer. “Um.”
“Relax,” I said. “It’s okay.”
“Well,” he sipped his beer. “You know one of the other dancers at your club…”
“You mean the slut you were seeing before me?” I meant that as a purely factual statement, not anything against the woman. If anything, the ironically named Chastity was more than a bit of a whore—slightly dumb, too, as she bragged about spreading her legs for nearly all the strip club’s regular patrons, all the time. If anything will get you in the shorthairs of management, it’s that. As Bobby, the owner always said, Ladies, don’t fuck with the source of revenue.
“Yes, her. I broke up with her because I found her incessant talk of smoking dope and crocheting afghans boring after two weeks.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Old news.”
“Well, after I gave her the kiss off, she bought that vibrator online and had it shipped to me. The gift card said, Go fuck yourself!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose between my eyes and started laughing. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me: so you decided to take that literally?”
“I was lonely. And curious too! And then—you know me, it set off the collector bug in me.”
I thought for a moment, glancing down at all the marvelous toys in the box. Then. I stuck out my lower lip in an extended, exaggerated pout. “Sweetie, why didn’t you tell me about these? We could have put them to great use.”
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