Milfs: Dear You're Buzzing

Hi, it's me again. Cathy. I have to tell you about the last time our coffee club got together after I give you some background about our group. Our group got together initially to talk about church-related items, but evolved into talking about our homes, our families, our histories and our plans. Occasionally the conversation would innocently wander into topics related to sex, relationships before our marriages and relationships with our spouses. One of our group, Pat, was divorced and told us hair-raising stories about her experiences with various men. Although we were all faithful to our men in the strict sense of the word, I'm sure Pat's stories fueled everyone's imagination as much as it did mine. As we continued to meet together, the topic of conversation turned more and more quickly to matters involving sex, and it emerged that we were a bunch of horny, sexy, repressed, middle-aged women obsessed by thoughts of sex.

Although we talk about being turned on, our last get-together was the first time that any of us brought up the taboo topic of masturbation. After reluctantly admitting that we all did it, we began to tentatively discuss where, how, and how often. It was terribly embarrassing, but exciting at the same time. Curiosity turned out to be stronger than embarrassment, so each of us had to give up little tidbits in order to learn more about the others, and we were soon all flushed and squirming in our chairs. Then Martha (the most uptight member of our group) surprised us all by admitted to using toys. Sex toys. She reluctantly explained how she came to own a little device called a "pocket rocket."

"I don't know what got into Bud," she told us, "but he decided one day that he wanted to try to spice up our sex life. I mean, I don't know what his complaint was – I'm willing to spread myself almost any time he wants it – but somehow he thought that if he bought this thing then somehow it would make us want to do it more. So I said, 'Sure, Bud. Knock yourself out.' He went off and got on the internet and next thing you know, here's a package in the mail from some outfit called "Wet World Devices". He was red as a beet while we opened the package, and inside was a bubble package with stars and lusty-looking women printed on it and inside is this little plastic thing that looked like a kid's flashlight. It was made out of cheap pink plastic and took two AA batteries.

"I said, 'My God, Bud. What did you pay for that thing?'

"He mumbled something.

"I said, 'What?'

"Do you want to know what he paid? Twenty-six dollars – twenty bucks plus the shipping. I could have bought the same thing at the dollar store if they sold that sort of thing at the dollar store. 'Bud,' I said, 'you got took again.'

"He looked so pathetic standing there, looking down, red faced, and he just kept turning it over in his hands dejectedly, looking like Jack who brought home the beans, so I felt sorry for him and said, 'It's OK, Bud. Why don't you get some batteries and we'll see if it even works.' Well, we put some batteries in and figured out how to slide this ridiculous-looking plastic thing over the top – it had rubbery knobs and little things that looked like pearls stuck on it -- it wasn't like a penis at all, unless it was a penis that had some sort of horrible disfiguring skin disease. We went to the bedroom – this was the middle of the afternoon -- and it was really weird. It wasn't romantic at all. He just gave me a little peck and I got undressed and... " She paused. "This is too embarrassing."

"What did you do?" "Tell us." "Come on. It's just us," we coaxed.

"OK. Well, I took all my clothes off, pulled down the covers, lay down on the bed, and spread my legs. It was like a trip to the doctor's office. Bud sat between my legs and experimented with turning the thing on and off. It made a very mechanical buzz, and you could feel it vibrating in your hand if you held it.

"That's why they call it a vibrator, honey,' Pat interrupted.

Martha ignored this and continued. "Bud said, 'I've never used one of these things.'

"'Well, I certainly haven't either,' I informed him, in no uncertain terms.

"'What I mean is, you'll have to tell me what feels good.'

"'Uh, OK. Try something. Try putting it near my clitoris.' So he just put it right on top of the clit and pushed. I hollered and jumped; it felt like I'd stuck my finger in a light socket.

"'Oh. SORRY!' he exclaimed wide-eyed. He looked as if he'd just cut my finger off.

"'Better let me see that.' I took it from him, and sort of moved it around my vagina lips holding it gently. "That's kind of nice,' I said, and explored a bit more. I moved it up closer to my clit without actually touching it, pushing against the spot between my clitoris and the opening of my vagina. 'Oh, yeah. That's nice. Oh, my goodness yes. Hold it right there.' Oowee! It *was* nice, too.

"Bud held it where I told him for a few seconds, but then he started to fool around with it again. He spread me open with his fingers and started to try to cram it inside me. 'No!' I demanded. 'Put it back where it was! Now! Leave it there!!!' Honestly, he's the one who's always telling me down in the shop, 'Let the tool do the work.' So I said that to him. 'Let the tool do the work!'

"I don't think he liked that much, because I think he thought he should be doing something. If I didn't need him, well... come to think of it, that's the whole idea isn't it?

"I swear, it only seemed to take about fifteen or twenty seconds of that when POW! It was like getting kicked by a horse! I let out a cry and my whole body flinched as this big orgasm just sort of came out of the middle of nowhere and smacked me. I went stiff and then collapsed, slapping his hand away."

"Bud and I didn't use it much together after that. I put it in my nightstand, and I think he thought it was a big failure, like an experiment that didn't work. But more mornings than not, after Bud had left for work, I'd go back to bed and get under the covers, and get out my new little toy. I started to get pretty good with it, too. I could tell when I was getting close and then move it away, and sort of move it around myself, teasing myself with it. It felt good on my nipples and butt, too. I'd get good and built up and then put it right on the sweet spot and finish myself off. It was fantastic! If I'd known it was as good as this I would have gotten one a long time ago.

"I didn't want Bud to know about this, though – I don't think his ego could take the idea that a dollar store flashlight was as good in bed as him -- so I kept it a secret. I think it was the best twenty-six dollars he ever spent, though. I would have wanted to buy some other toys, too, but I was too embarrassed to do it.

"The only bad time was when I took it with me on an overnight flight to Phoenix on church business, you know, planning to get rid of some of the tension when I got back to the hotel room. It was a short trip, so all I took was carry-on. I figured it would just look like a flashlight or something like that on the x-ray machine, so it should have been all right, don't you think? Well, my bag went through the x-ray machine just fine, but when it slid down to the end of the track, some moron businessman in a hurry grabbed his laptop and banged it into my bag. What would you know but the damned thing started up all by itself down in the middle of my bag. It was sitting next to a bottle of shampoo, which amplified it, and my bag started making a loud buzzing, rattling, grinding sound all by itself.

"This guy in uniform said, "Step away from the bag, ma'am," and motioned with his arm for assistance. About four guys in uniform gathered around the bag, and he said, 'Ma'am, we're going to have to examine the contents of your bag. Can you describe the item that is making the sound I hear?'

"I was so embarrassed, I could have died right there on the spot. I'm sure my face was bright red as I said, 'It's just this thing I use. It's for... It's for... stirring drinks.'

"'Stirring drinks... OK.' He glanced at the guy next to him, who was smirking, and when they made eye contact, they both immediately burst out silently in laughter. One turned to look the other way. My guy was actually a nice guy -- sort of good looking too -- and when he regained control of himself he led me over to a table where we could go through the bag without everyone watching. A few of the other passengers must have caught on too, because I heard several people chuckling and whispering to each other. When we found the vibrator, I turned it off. He told me, 'You know, when I go camping, with my flashlight, I usually turn one of the two batteries backwards so it can't accidentally turn itself on. Then when I'm ready to use it, I turn the battery back around. You can even do it in the dark without too much trouble.'

"'Thanks for the tip,' I whispered, and almost ran away."

"You poor thing." "That must have been mortifying." "Poor Martha," we all said.

I took a moment to gather my courage, and said, "I've had a worse experience with something like that turning on when I didn't want it to. Do you want to hear it?"

"Yes." "Please." "Tell us."

I took a sip of coffee and cleared my throat. "There are times in every marriage when your sex life needs a little change. If you don't try something new, you get into a rut. One time, Frank and I were getting into a rut, and I decided to try something really wicked and out of the blue.

"I got the idea reading an article in a women's magazine. At first I thought it was really funny. I read about this woman whose husband is out of town for a month or more at a time. When they'd start... you know... missing each other, they'd get on the phone and say nasty things to each other while playing with themselves."

"Yeah. Phone sex," Pat added helpfully.

"Right," I said. "They'd have phone sex. But eventually, they wanted to try something a little more adventurous. This woman's husband started looking into different things that are remote controlled. Like there are some that you can hook up to a computer at one end, and the other, uh, you hook up to yourself. The guy on one end can stimulate the lady on the other. Or if there isn't a computer, there are these things like cell phones or pagers, except they're not pagers because they're smooth and egg-shaped and you put them inside yourself with a wire antenna hanging out sort of like a tampon string. When someone calls your number, they buzz. They can even control how hard they buzz. I think gay guys like to put these in their butts."

I could tell by their reactions that Pat knew about these things but the others didn't. I could almost hear the wheels turning as they thought about the possibilities. I went on.

"Well, I decided to see if these things were real, you know, just because I was curious. I got on the internet and it didn't take me long to find them. But then I saw this other thing that has two parts. One is like a pair of panties, with a thing like a skinny penis sewn onto the crotch with a vibrator built in and a flat area that goes over your clitoris area that has another vibrator. The other unit is like a little bitty walkie-talkie, about the size of a remote for unlocking your car. The guy who holds this can turn the panties on and off and adjust their intensity. He can make the penis thing vibrate inside, or the clitoris vibrate outside, or both. The guy with the walkie-talkie decides when, where, and how intense.

"To make a long story short, I shopped around on the net, read a couple of reviews, and when I found a good deal I ordered one, making sure it arrived when Frank wasn't home. Then I thought about the best way to surprise Frank with it. I read the instructions and figured how it all worked together, and then wrote out simplified instructions, something like this.

"'Dear Frank, I hope you enjoy this little toy I got for us. You hold in your hands the keys to your wife. You can turn me on when you want to, and you can bring me back down. You can even give me an orgasm in public if you want to. I know I can trust you to be discreet!!!' with three exclamation points. Then I explained how it worked. At the end, I said, 'To prove that this works, when you read this, set it on a light setting and give it a little buzz. I'll raise my hand to show that I felt it. I love you, dear. Remember, this is our secret, so be discreet!' Then, I put the control and the note in an old jewelry box and wrapped it up like a present and waited for the right opportunity to surprise Frank with it.

"The opportunity came soon enough. Frank and I were invited to a dinner party with some of his colleagues. It was an informal affair – not dress-up or anything like that. It was the kind of a party where the guys come from work and have their dress shirts unbuttoned at the collar with their ties loosened. Some fairly important clients of Frank's firm would be there. Frank and I were planning to arrive separately so I put on the electric panties under a short cotton sundress and packed a tiny purse like you'd take to a cocktail party, just large enough to hold a few items. On the way to the party I stopped by Frank's office building and had security take the jewelry box up to Frank's office as a surprise. 'That ought to get him to leave work on time,' I thought.

"When I got to the party it was already overcrowded for the house it was in. People were milling around with the usual confusion. I didn't know very many of the people there, so I jostled in line to get a drink and then cruised the house looking for anyone I might know. I spent a half an hour without success, and had started on my second glass of wine.

"Suddenly, I yelped, almost spilling my wine, as I felt a jolt of electricity. The clitoris stimulator had switched on, much more intense than the mild setting I had requested Frank to use. Remembering our sign, I thrust my arm into the air, looking around for Frank. The buzzing stopped and I put my arm down. Still I did not see Frank.

"A second jolt of electricity hit me and again I thrust my arm up while scanning the room. This time I did see Frank, who was just arriving. He looked at me and raised his arm as well in a gesture of greeting, smiling. This time the buzzing didn't stop. The bastard was really letting me have it already. I frowned and made a motion with my hands like, 'Slow down.'. The buzzer diminished significantly, but did not stop completely. I felt a sensation of warmth spread throughout my thighs and loins. Just the thought of feeling this pleasure in front of all these unknowing people! I felt myself begin to lubricate. It was so naughty.

"I worked my way over to Frank. I said, 'Mmm... Don't you just love surprises?'

"'Yes,' he replied.

"'Don't you like being in control?'

"'Yeah, sure, honey,' he answered, vaguely.

"'How about if you... and me...' -- I was stabbing his chest as I said this – 'how about if we separate, and you can have your little fun while watching me.'

"'Uh, sure. OK, I guess.'

"'You know how to turn me on, don't you?' I said suggestively.

"'I certainly do,' he replied. 'How much have you had to drink?'

"'Just a couple of drinks. Why?'

"'You just look a little flushed.'

"'See how you turn me on?' I replied, knowing he'd appreciate the double meaning. Without waiting for his answer I turned and walked away.

I was a bit disappointed, because he didn't really seem to be playing along. He wasn't as involved in this game as I'd hoped and expected that he'd be. I chalked it up to a hard day at the office, and figured that he'd get into our little game more once he'd gotten a drink. Or maybe, I thought to myself, this game just isn't his cup of tea. But just as I was thinking that, the vibrator on the inside began to buzz, and started to grow in intensity. So he was just being coy with me earlier!

"This inside stimulator had an entirely different quality. It buzzed at a low frequency, but pulsed in intensity which actually made it feel like something moving around inside me, like a big finger moving in and out. Not the kind of thing to rocket me to orgasm, but a sensation I'd describe as deep, primitive and animal. It made my knees unsure, and I looked for a place to steady myself. I wandered into the kitchen, occupied by six or eight people. I leaned forward onto the island steadying myself with my arms.

"Not a moment too soon, either, because as I leaned over the island the bastard turned up the intensity a lot. I don't know how to describe it – it was like having my body hijacked. I became overwhelmed with the intense feeling of pleasure and closed my eyes, giving myself over to it. Come to think of it, 'pleasure' probably isn't the right word. The feelings were too powerful and relentless to be called that. I half-consciously realized that I had begun to rock my hips in time to the thrumming inside me. I knew that anyone watching me would be baffled to see me thrusting my ass out into the room over and over, but I didn't care. With the small piece of rational brain I had left, I trusted Frank to be discreet, and figured he must surely have seen that no one was looking; otherwise he wouldn't be doing this. My mouth dropped open and I began to gasp heavily in time to the throbbing within. I felt myself climbing relentlessly toward orgasm and when I was almost at the peak, I had the presence of mind to take a deep breath lest I scream when it hit me. Then, abruptly the sensations stopped entirely, leaving me stranded almost at the pinnacle.

"That bastard! That bastard! I frantically waved my arms upward in a sign of 'turn it up!' but nothing happened. I looked around the room and there was no Frank; just a couple of guys standing right behind me, smirking and staring at my ass. These guys had obviously gotten a kick at my expense, watching me in the throes of lust, and now Frank had ducked away, probably to snicker somewhere out of sight. Oooh! I was going to give him an earful next time I got him alone! I gave the guys who had been staring at me a dirty look, and stomped out of the kitchen to look for Frank.

"As I entered the living room, I felt a hand grasp me at the elbow. It was Bob from church. You know Bob. The really good-looking guy? I was as surprised to see him as he was to see me.

"We went through, 'Hi, how ya doin', 'Fine, and you?' 'Where's Frank?' 'Are your kids going to be in soccer this summer?' and that sort of thing, but I had trouble keeping up the conversation because the clitoral stimulator had started up again, at a very low level. Eventually a place cleared on the sofa and he inclined his head toward it, at the same time leading me by the elbow to sit and talk. You'll have to excuse me if I'm a little hazy on some of the details here, because the clitoral stimulator was a constant distraction. At first it had been very weak, but very, very slowly it had been climbing.

"This was alarming, but at the same time exhilarating. I've never thought of myself as an exhibitionist. To be an exhibitionist you have to make a choice to expose something and then show it to someone. For the same reason, I could never be a sky diver. But if someone put a parachute on me and pushed me out of a plane I think I would enjoy the fall. I just don't think I could convince myself to jump in the first place. In the same way, this was totally out of my control and I figured if Frank wanted to stimulate me in front of Bob it was his business, and I might as well enjoy the ride.

"Fortunately, Bob's a talker. I don't think I could have held up my end of a normal conversation. In addition to the clitoral stimulator, the inside part of the device had come on again too, and was pulsing. I kept trying to find a position that was comfortable, but it seemed that every time I moved it would vibrate in a different place – it was driving me crazy. I wanted to scream, it felt so good. My nipples were hard as rocks and I kept smoothing my pant legs with my hands, stroking up and down my legs. I kept rocking my hips, rutting against the cushion of the sofa while breathing heavily through my mouth.