Bound By Wolves (Impregnated By The Wolves Part 1) by Bree Bellucci Page A

the smell of hot wax emanated
throughout the cabin. They talked about their waning love lives,
the last men they had been with, all the things they liked and
disliked about their jobs. As the whiskey was flowing and their
cheeks started to flush, their conversation got a little
bolder.
    “Okay Katie, truth or dare?” asked
Rachel.
    “Truth.”
    “How many times a day do you masturbate?”
    The ladies all fidgeted uncomfortably. Even
grown women sometimes felt silly talking about certain things, even
if they all did it themselves.
    “Ha ha,” said Katie. “Very funny. Like I
would ever tell you perverts.”
    “Come on, you know us! We’re like your
sisters, you should be comfortable talking to us about anything,”
Rachel pushed.
    “Fine,” she said. She thought about what she
had done just that morning, in the shower, before she had gotten in
the car for the trip, “At least twice a day, and in the summer
sometimes more.” Katie turned bright red.
    The girls erupted with laughter. They all
agreed that satisfying themselves was something they did regularly,
but talking about it in a group got them strangely riled up.
    “Your turn, Rachel. Truth or dare?” Michelle
asked, mercifully taking the heat off Katie.
    “Truth.”
    “Have you ever masturbated with something
other than a dildo?”
    “No way!” she said, as a reflex, without even
thinking about if it was true. She was trying not to think about
what would fit inside her vagina on this trip. But, she realized,
some thoughts were harder to push away.
    “Not even with a cucumber?” Emily laughed,
cracking up and almost spilling her drink.
    Rachel thought about it some more, she was
the one turning bright red now. She remembered a few times she and
her roommate at Cal State had gotten drunk and feisty with an empty
beer bottle. Corona, she remembered, had the longest neck. Modelo
was the thickest one. But all of them were cold and lifeless.
Playful, sure, but not arousing. Man those were some wild and crazy
times, Rachel could hardly recognize the girl from her college
years.
    “I don’t know, maybe in college? I don’t
really remember," she said evasively.
    “Once I used a hairbrush,” said Emily. She
was usually the first to open up to the group in any conversation.
“I was trying to tease this guy I was fucking. I wanted to show him
what I could do to myself and get him really riled up so I made him
a video. He went crazy for it.”
    They made a list of things they had used to
penetrate themselves when there was no one else around to do it for
them, the weirdest by far was Emily's admission of once using a
hotel travel-sized shampoo bottle. It was a desperate situation she
pleaded.
    “Once I rolled up a sheet and used it,” said
Katie.
    “I will admit, I do touch myself a lot. But
it is not the same, though,” said Michele, “as it is with a
man.”
    The other girls nodded in agreement. One by
one they all got the glazed look of someone who was imagining
something far more visceral than could be played out in decent
conversation. Even a conversation among close friends.
    “I mean sure, you can orgasm. But nothing
beats the warm hard feeling of someone coming inside you. Let’s not
kid ourselves, it is still just like fucking a mirror.”
    She was right, Rachel thought. Of course
there was nothing better than a real, rough and tumble man. With
his sweat and strength and hair rubbing her chest raw as he
straddled her.
    “It's not that there aren’t any men out
there,” Rachel said. “We’ve all had our fair share of dicks and
johnsons. It's just that none of them are tough enough. None of
them can climb as far or as fast as we do. None of the city boys we
date like to get dirty. I don’t want to be the wildest one in bed,
do you know what I mean?”
    The other ladies knew exactly what Rachel was
talking about. They all echoed back to her, “yes," and “hell yeah!"
They were getting riled up, the whiskey bottle had a good sized
dent in