Memory - Sex Stories

Memory

... in the doorway, embarrassed and a bit frightened. On the left, there were rows and rows of DVDs, on the right, racks of what must be sex toys. I screwed up my courage, turned to the right, and stared at the offerings. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even tell how you were supposed to use some of them. But there were the plastic penises, some of them scary huge, and a few toys that claimed just to vibrate. I bought the smallest vibrator I could find. It was nondescript, maybe four inches long, silver. Thank God a woman was at the register.

"Something for travel, huh?" she suggested. I was beet red. I paid cash.

When I got home, I found it came out of the package partly charged. I turned it on and rubbed it on my clit. It was amazing. I got a huge orgasm. But I guess you're not supposed to aim it at your vagina. My toy went right in and stayed there. I got so scared I didn't enjoy its vibrations inside me. I had to stand up and jump up and down to get it out. I learned how to use it within its limitations.

I played with it morning and night between visits to Ray. But I couldn't get my mind off the plastic penises I'd seen at the store. And frankly, I wanted something inside. A little less shy, I returned to the store and bought a big blue plastic vibrating penis. I pretended it was Ray licking my clit til I had an orgasm. I even teased my nipples which had gotten hard. But I needed to be fucked, and with my legs wide on the bed, I teased my opening. Then in and out a ...

... little. "Oh Ray, Ray, fuck me," and in went the blue plastic penis. In and out, in and out. So good. So good. My hips rocked up against the hand that shoved it in.

I have to admit it wasn't always Ray who my imagination attached the toy to. "Quince, Quince, oh God, so good, so good. Cum inside me. OH OH OH." And even, "Julie, Julie, your fingers, yes yes yes." By about the fourth or fifth time, I would laugh quietly, "OH OH Plastic Vibrating Penis, fuck me."

I had to laugh out loud when she started referring to it like it was a person.

I should mention that there were periods at the memory care home when visitors were sent to a waiting room. A man, maybe ten years older than me, was there on occasion. "Is it your wife," I had asked.

"Yes. Emily. It's awful. Your husband?" We learned about each other in bits and pieces. "She is ... was an attorney." "She's only fifty."

I told him about our careers: engineer and teacher. His name was Eliot.

"I don't have anybody to talk to anymore. Perhaps we could have a drink?" he suggested.

It was a nice idea. We would sit in the back corner of a nearby pub and talk about all the events in our lives - children, travel, sports, college.

Back home with Plastic Vibrating Penis slipping in and out, I began to wonder what Eliot's penis would feel like. Would he do all the things that Ray loved to do? It's OK for a girl to have these thoughts, I told myself. But the thoughts grew on me. One night in the pub, I blurted out, ...