The Dildo

I am stiff and cold, yet soft to the touch -- phallic. I remain hidden, stuffed in a drawer, my body nestling between folded fabrics. My skin, latex scented and soft covering a hard frame interior, remains motionless in the silent darkness. Electrified, I can vibrate on command, the turn of a dial ignites and excites me, adjusting me from a faint hum all the way to an ecstatic moan. But tucked way I remain static, the vibration but idle potential within me. I can only wait, without moving, unchanged for no dildo can cease to be a dildo.

It was toward evening one day -- was it my first or thousandth evening? I couldn't tell, the unchanging darkness confuses me and time becomes a fantasy. If I guess, I would say it was more than just one day, but yes, certainly less than a thousand, yet how much more, how much less? The thought befuddles me. It was toward evening in summer, the constant vibration of the cooling system was felt within my drawer, the faint drone a continuing song of hope, when I heard the sound of a human voice.

"No, I think I'll just stay home tonight, curl up with a good book."

No, more than cliché', it was code, it was code for me, for me! I knew I must straighten up, make ready, and hope the damn batteries are still strong. How frustrating it can be when I am finally slipped into service and the batteries have faded. Yes, I've felt the humiliation of simply being tossed aside to watch as a pillow, or her fingers take my appointed place in her play. Regardless, I'll remain firm from start to finish, never teasing her and then going flaccid as her human friends do, no, I'm here, hard and ready whenever she is. When she finally takes me firmly in her hand I'll show her what I am made of and like a erotic god I'll thrust her until she trembles and pulsates.

She slid the drawer open and reached into her fabric pile directly to me. Grasping me firmly, she brought me into the light, working her hands over me to warm my body for her. Then she moved her finger down my shaft to my base, tentatively pinching the dial in her fingers and turning until we both heard the click and, thank goodness, the refreshing hum. Relieved that the batteries didn't fail me, I felt her recline onto the bed and in a moment I felt my bare skin touch hers.

As usual, it began with a kiss, her lips drew me into her mouth and her tongue moistened my tip for my journey downward. Soon I felt the two erect nubs, first on the left and then the right. So similar in texture and rigidity, I savored the slightest variance as she teased herself. I don't kid myself, this was just a short pause on our journey, both of us yearned for another, very different connection.

Ah yes, then I slipped downward, first through her soft forest of curls, over the mound and then softly, ever so slowly between her delicate folds. Though I've been there before, it was as if each time was different, strangely new yet so intimately familiar. Today she was moist and ready, while other times I must work my way into the folds. But yes, I felt the wet dark warmth of her as I dipped into her essence wondering, "Will she push me deeper or slip me upward, up her blossoming slit to the beautiful nub with that single, so important purpose?"

Today it was upward, and since I was nicely moistened by her I slipped easily searching for her button, the switch that ignites her without the need of batteries. Oh yes, she dialed me then and my hum became a deep moan as my movement sank into her, drawing the nub upward, encompassing it in the sheer delight of my vibration. She moved me, dancing around it, touching it, slipping away and then returning as her hips lifted from the bed and her moans joined mine in an ecstatic duet.

"She's trembling now," I told myself, she was losing control as I was pressed against her nub, her body feeling nothing, knowing nothing but me and the sensation I'm shuddering through her. Whimpering she arched her back, her every muscle taut in anticipation of almost... almost... almost YES, yes, yes, yes, now, now. I slid downward and dove into her wetness, filling her with myself as she pulsated around me once and then again.

My dial was turned and I clicked off, remaining motionless inside her. Still firm and hard unlike her human friends, who at this moment would usually shrink away to slip out in a cold wet mess, completely finished. No, I was ready for more if she wanted it, ready to be dialed in again, ready to satisfy her to her very depth if she chose. And also willing, after a quick wipe with a damp rag and then a towel, to return to the silence and darkness of her drawer, ready at any time to please her, afraid of nothing but the grim disappointment of dead batteries.