Compulsion by JB Brooks

produced. He wasn’t even here and he’d managed to arouse me to a whole new level—at the same time that he mortified me, shocked me, frightened me.
    Could I do it? Should I do it?
    If I didn’t do it, what would he do?
    The thought jolted me into action. I’d already wasted so much time—it was almost seven! He could arrive home any minute and I wasn’t ready.
    I grabbed the pen off the counter and ran into the bedroom. Tossing the list and pen onto the bed, I hastily stripped off my clothes, folded them and popped them into his closet. Under normal circumstances I would have checked out his clothes, but I was in a frenzy of anxiety and that list was really long.
    The bed! The quilt was next. I folded it down the bed in sections then snatched it up and put it on the chest of drawers, followed by the pillows.
    What was next? The list had fallen onto the floor and the pen had rolled under the bed. I scrambled to my knees and groped for it. I suddenly became excruciatingly aware of my nakedness, my bare ass sticking up, the coolness of the air on my wet pussy. My fingers closed around the pen and I sat up, relieved.
    I quickly crossed the first point off the list and the point about the quilt—but I’d forgotten to let down my hair. I rapidly removed my bobby pins and shook out the heavy mass over my shoulders, pausing for a moment to notice how softly it brushed my naked skin. I dropped the pins onto the bedside table and made another cross on the list.
    Now for the waterproof sheet. That really freaked me out. Why did we need a waterproof sheet? I found it in the drawer and stretched it over the bed, covering the normal sheets that were already there. It wasn’t plasticky—it was soft toweling with a plastic backing, just like the sheets they make for babies. It had long straps to tie it to the mattress, which I secured with some difficulty.
    As I moved around the bed I became more and more aware of my nudity. My hair caressed my back. The toweling sheet brushed my nipples as I struggled to pass the straps under the mattress. My thighs rubbed together wetly as I walked around. I became increasingly sensitized until I could feel the air itself moving over my body.
    At last it was time for the dildos in the second drawer. I was very, very curious. I’d thought about buying a sex toy in the past but I’d never done it because, until Matt had broken my hymen, I’d never been able to insert anything into my vagina, so there hadn’t been any point. With the new insight that I’d gained over the last couple of days, I now suspected that I’d been missing out.
    I drew out the boxes and looked at them with interest. The first one was small and straight, and bright-pink in color. I read the box— Lady’s Finger, discreet personal massager, variable speeds . It was actually a vibrator, not just a dildo! I took it out of the box and a shrink-wrapped battery fell into my waiting hand. It only took me a moment to realize that the back section of the vibrator screwed off and I inserted the battery. I replaced the cover, turned the switch on the back and it buzzed into noisy and vigorous life.
    I switched it off and reached for the second box, which was much heavier. Erotic Art Objects, 15cm/6” handmade glass stimulator for anal and vaginal use. Dishwasher safe .
    Imagine putting your dildo in the dishwasher with the dinner plates!
    I opened the box and pulled it out. It looked like some kind of ornament made from smoky-colored glass. Although it was all one solid length, it looked like a series of balls stacked on top of each other. The smallest, at the tip, was no larger than a marble, and the largest, at the base, was about the size of a golf ball. My pussy clenched and tingled in excitement at its unusual appearance. The thought of that being pushed inside me, popping in one ball at a time, was incredibly exciting.
    I looked at the third box and turned it round to read the writing on the back. It was badly translated