Dear Dirty Diary,
My darling husband returned today after his five day, late September fishing trip to Schooner Lake. After thorough questioning it turned out he'd gotten a little apprehensive being all alone up there amongst the wailing loons and spirits of dead Algonquin Indians. He swears there's some kind of energy around the fire pit on the island that spooks him. So he drove back down to the condo to visit the kids. On the way down from Plevna, he went to a Saturday night concert at Peterborough and saw Lisa Brokop perform. I was so pissed, but when he pulled out a signed copy of her new CD out of his bag I decided to forgive him for his wandering ways.
When I asked him if there were any more presents in his bag, he pulled out an array of HoMEDIC massagers that he'd bought at the Pickering Markets. The big one was shaped like ET's head and neck and had two black bullet-shaped bumpers on it that looked like bulging eyeballs. Ten others he said he paid $5 apiece for looked like and were labeled as wireless computer mice. Doug took one out of its package after I asked him what good they'd be with my laptop. He said they'd make good stocking stuffers for the Richelieu River gals.
With that he pulled out the waistband of my pants, stuffed it right down inside the front of my underwear then pushed the center button on the mouse. Some computer mouse! It was a personal vibrator designed to just look like a mouse and it was very good. In fact it was very powerful and shook my pussy most exquisitely. Backing up purposely, he grinned from ear to ear as I stepped ahead to kiss him for his marvelous little gizmo. But each step I took, it slipped down and came to rest in my panties like an old sanitary pad. Did I say before it was very powerful? With each stride my inner thighs ground it around unmercifully against my genitalia!
As I struggled back toward the sofa, I noticed another bag had appeared. Laura, the Curious, meandered back toward my husband. I pouted in disappointment when he pushed the off button through my pants and silenced the mouse's hum. Reluctantly I extracted it from her underpants then snuggled up to my benefactor.
"While I was in Pickering I noticed a new upscale adult boutique, so I naturally had to check it out," he began.
He told me it was full of all the usual naughty stuff but he was pretty sure I'd love his next gift. With much anticipation on my part, Doug slowly removed a box from his bag. In it was a little pistol-grip drill thing that plugged into the car cigarette lighter. However rather than a drill bit, it had an two inch diameter, three inch long screw auger permanently attached. Its fluting reminded me of the antique glass orange-juicer my grandmother used to have. It took but a second to figure out the intent of this gadget.
"I believe," he began, "You might enjoy this much more than an old ice scraper to get you through the long trip back home, to say nothing of the Cornwall border crossing."
I told the Elf in no uncertain terms that if this was a dare, I was up for it! To prove myself to be no coward, we set out on a fall foliage tour up around Lake St. Francis that afternoon. I wore a flowery yellow, low cut and cleavage exposing bra dress that rode a good six inches above my knees when I was sitting. Wanting to retain at least a hint of decency, I wore sandals and my stretchy nylon briefs underneath. Doug drove out of Port Louis, along the lakeshore road to St. Barbe, across the bridge to Valleyfield then back across the St. Lawrence River. We worked our way back down to Highway 2 where we switched and I drove the 35 miles down along the north shore of the lake.
Driving back toward Cornwall was challenging, particularly when my favorite pervert produced yet another gadget from his bag. He mailed away for the "Bionic Finger" up to Regal in Hawkesbury. He put a bumpy little thimble-like cover over its tip, slipped it on his left index fingertip then clicked its switch. A high-pitched whine immediately signaled its intent and I was not at all surprised when I felt it buzz around the aureole of my right breast. A couple of figure eights across my boobs and both of my teats were sticking out noticeably through my sundress's bodice. Next it careened over my belly, down my right leg the back up under my skirt. He teased it from thigh to thigh across my pubes but when Doug slid the vibrating little probe down the crotch of my panties, my fingers dug into the steering wheel.
The next thing I knew he was kneeling on the floorboards between the front seats. Half facing me, he lifted up the hem of my dress, pulled out the waistband of my briefs then dropped the mouse massager down inside! He let the waistband snap back, flicked the massager on then shoved it deep down my crotch. He placed it perfectly, trapped inside my billowy panties. Then he just sat back and grinned like the bad little boy he was. By the time we reached Cornwall Island I'd had two orgasms, was working into the third, when he had me pull off the highway for a pit stop. Doug had his pee, climbed back in then got out the screw blender. Parked on the shoulder, I hiked my skirts up and pulled down the front of my big silky panties. He removed the mouse then carefully positioned the drill between my thighs with the pistol grip facing up.
Doug plugged the power cord into the lighter socket then flicked the switch on for a test run. The dry screw spun around a few times then bored itself into me immediately and stalled! Figuring I'd need lots of lubrication for the dare, I got out my trusty tube of KY and moved the toy out of the way. I split my labia with one hand then squeezed a quarter or the tube right into myself. I slapped more lube all over my labia and greased up the screw for good measure. I wiped my fingers, pressed the drill back in comfortably, readjusted my panties so they would contain any splattering KY, straightened my skirts then put the van into gear.
