Me again. Will wrote saying that all his writing companions had abandoned him. So, feeling sorry for him, here I am. What can I say. I broke up with my boyfriend and moved into a new apartment. Melodrama is my middle name.
I have a private blog where I share stuff. Before that I was on SOL. Don’t look for my stuff. I moved it. Let me tell you about dick pics. I used to get one about once a month. That’s why I moved to an invite only blog. But one fan went the extra mile. Instead of sending me a pic of his dick, he sent me his actual dick.
It wasn’t gory or awful. His dick was alive and well and in a little box with a red bow tied around it. I think his dick must have heard me opening the box, because it was hard and barely fit. It was nestled in a cloth handkerchief and the outside of the box said ‘Fragile’. The box was also insured. I had to sign it for it.
To be honest, I don’t know what to make of dick pics, and I totally didn’t know what to make of an actual dick. At first I wasn’t even sure I wanted to touch it. But after I went to get a glass of orange juice, the spirit of scientific inquiry descended on me. I got some rubber gloves from under the sink, then decided against them. Would the dick be warm? I think that’s a reasonable question under the circumstances. And how was I going to know if I was wearing gloves?
I went back to the box, lifted it to my nose, and smelled. The cock smelled clean, like soap. I appreciate genital cleanliness. And so I took a deep breath and picked it up. The dick was warm, and firm and the skin was soft and I could feel it sliding just a little. I held it up and looked straight at it. The dick was surprisingly heavy. It was also kind of long and thick.
“Well. What do you know!” I said.
I had a lot to do. I took the dick into the kitchen and put it on the counter while I got busy making lunch. When I put it on the table, the dick must have gotten bored watching me eat. It kind of deflated until it looked like a slinky.
“Poor thing” I said, and peeled an orange.
When I went to the sink to wash dishes the spirit of scientific inquiry descended again. “Hey dick,” I said. I lifted up the back of my skirt and bent over the sink. I spread my legs, reached behind me, and spread my pussy with two fingers. “I don’t know what’s come over me,” I breathed. “Do you know what I need?”
The dick straightened and then was almost desperately straight. A little pre-cum slipped down its underside and pooled on the table.
“Please, Mister!” I begged.
The dick turned red, like it was staining, then burst. A rising and falling fountain of semen spattered the table and then the dick fell over in the middle of it like a fainting opera star. I lowered my skirt and straightened.
“Poor little dick,” I said.
I brought a towel to the table and cleaned up the mess. “That was a lot,” I said. “How long were you in the mail?”
Of course, the dick didn’t answer. I picked up the deflated dick and carried it like a stricken diva to my desk. I had writing to get done. As the day went on the dick recovered little by little. Soon its head perked curiously upward, as if to discover where it had been brought. I had always wondered what it would be like to have a dick, but this isn’t exactly what I had imagined. I thought the dick would get lonely so I stood up my two favorite dildos next to it. I think that only made it jealous and maybe insecure. But company is company.
Around seven o’clock my friend came over. She had thrown herself on the couch while I wrote an email to my Mom.
“Do you ever have guys,” she said, “who, right after they’ve done it, want to know if like your other boyfriends were as good?”
“Two,” I said.
“So,” she paused. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say that,” said Sammy.
“What did you say?”
“Hey,” she said, “there’s a party this week-end at Jake’s. I hear Ned’’s been looking for you. I think you should go.”
“Fine,” I said.
“Hey!” she stood up and came to my desk, “is that a new dildo?”
“Sort of,” I said without turning. “Got it in the mail today.”
She grabbed it.
“Oh, wow!” She said, enthused. “This is like, so realistic. Look!” She began stroking the dick, sliding the skin back and forth over the crown.”Where did you get this?” The crown was turning a panicked purple, like it had been suddenly woken from a deep sleep. “Wow! And it’s getting longer and harder. This is amazing!” She held it up and looked straight at its urethra.
“You might want to—” but before I could finish my sentence Mr, Dick was squirting all over her face and shirt. My friend was shocked, then burst out laughing. “Oh my God. That is so realistic. Just like a real dick. All I have to do is touch it and he’s squirting all over the place.”
“You might not want—”
She licked the corner of her lip. “And it even tastes like come.”
I exhaled and huffed. “Use my towel in the bathroom.”
The dick had swooned again. And now there was no recovering. I washed him off, half dead, and laid him like a mortally wounded knight errant on the night stand next to my bed. I switched off the light and went to sleep.
He was sort of, almost, hard the next morning. You know. Dicks get hard in the morning. He was upright but he still looked a little hung over.
“Hey big boy,” I purred, “how are you doing this morning?”
That seemed to perk him up.
“It’s been such a long night,” I said. I spread my legs and fingered my clit. He began to straighten up, and by the time I turned over, got on my knees and turned up my pussy, he was purple with that little arch. “Don’t you think I need something to start the day?” I asked as I fingered myself. And that was when I wondered what he’d feel like inside. But I really shouldn’t be rewarding a fan’s dick like that. A little pre-cum dribbled onto the nightstand. The dick would have come by now if he hadn’t been so hung over from the day before.
I got up and carried him into the kitchen.
I carefully cleaned and soaped him, patting him instead of rubbing him.
And since I was feeling experimental, I said: “Don’t you think we should get to know each other? Let’s go out for lunch.”
And a couple hours later that’s what we did.
We went to an outdoor eatery with a discrete table in the corner. I put the dick on the table where we could people-watch. I made sure we were in the shade so he wouldn’t get a sunburn.
“What do you think of him?” I’d ask, when a cute guy walked by. The dick drooped petulantly. But when a woman walked buy, the dick perked up. He was at full attention when a woman in a yellow tube skirt and sun hat bent over for a dropped credit card. And then two teenaged girls sat at a table kitty corner to ours. The dick stood straight up, purple, and attentive. “Seriously?” I said. “All you dicks are the same”
I put the dick back in my messenger bag.
And then I got a bee in my bonnet. “After that little display I think you need a new look.”
So I took the dick to my fav tattoo parlor, the tattoo girls. One of the girls is my best friend.
“So where do you want a tattoo?” she asked.
“It’s not for me.”
“Who’s it for?”
“My dick,” I said, and whipped it out.
But no, seriously, that’s not what happened. I just had to write because, you now. I had to. He was still hard when I got him out of the messenger bag, then all the girls started laughing hysterically. The dick shrunk. And then shrunk even more when he saw where he was.
“So what should we do?” Flip, my best friend, asked.
“A stem with thorns and a pretty pink rose on top,” I said.
“Oh,” said Flip, “Like totally symbolic.”
I’ll spare you the gruesome details. The girls have done dicks before. So that wasn’t anything new. When it was over, the dick was comatose. Okay, I felt guilty for the rest of the day but I just knew the dick would eventually see it my way. He looked so adorable with a pink rose.
He still hadn’t recovered by the end of the day and by then I was feeling super guilty. And so when I got home I took him into the shower with me. I cradled his poor swoon under the water and little by little, with soap, soap suds, loving scrubs and maybe a kiss, I brought Lazarus back from the dead. He thickened, straightened and pretty soon he had that cute little arch. I put him on the floor, between my feet, and soaped myself. That got his attention. He looked like he was going to burst he was standing so tall and straight.
“You want some of this?” I asked, teasing him.
I squatted just above so that his tip almost touched my pussy. I gave him little strokes, drawing his skin back and tantalizing him. Then I was on my knees, spreading them and letting the head of the dick kiss me right between You see the problem, right? I’m seducing dick and dick is seducing me. Funny how that works. Next thing you know I’ve got the tip inside me and boy does Mr. Dick feel good. Just before things get out of hand I lift myself off him.
“That’s enough of that,” I say, still stroking him because – you know.
Next thing I know the dick’s shooting all over my pussy. And then next thing you know I’m rubbing my clit with the dick’s come all over and I’m coming like crazy.
After that I was too mad to talk to him.
I banished him to a window in the guest room and went to bed.
The next morning he was at the window with a morning woody. He looked so forlorn. I was feeling guilty again. I must have a thing about guilt. I mean, after all, who seduced who?
“Let’s go have breakfast,” I said to the dick.
I stood him on the table behind my plate and read the the New York Times on my tablet. But there he was, and every time I looked at him he was a little stiffer, his poor head busting out and purple. And then, you know, there was his ever so cute rose tattoo.
I few minutes later I was jerking him off.
He shot all over the table, my plate, himself and my hands, but he looked so relieved.
Once that was over with, I packed him in my messenger bag and we went out for the day. He embarrassed me at lunch again. Some pretty girls sitting at tables close to us were giving me and the dick dirty looks. If only he got hard enough, he almost said, they would like him.
“But seriously?” I said under my breath. “That’s all it takes? Like, you just can’t help yourself every time there’s a pretty girl?”
But the problem with dicks is, well, they’re dicks.
In a pique of frustration I took the dick to the bathroom and jerked him off. Then I had to wipe off the toilet seat. Then, when I was washing my hands, the woman who’d been in the stall next to mine was giving me dirty looks. Like how did she know I was with a dick?
You have no idea how needy dicks are until you have one.
But there’s something about dicks a girl finds irresistible, like chia pets. Friday evening came round and we were stuck in traffic. My excuse is that I was bored. I took the dick out of my messenger bag and stood him up on the passenger seat.
“Hey,” I said, “ever been sucked in a car?”
Okay, let’s stop right there because I know what you’re saying to yourself. Truck drivers can totally see you. Well, I drive a ratty Honda Element with tinted glass and there were no truck drivers.
“So, just this once,” I said to him.
I leaned over, kissed the dick, licked the dick, and started sucking the dick.
Well, one thing led to another, traffic started moving a little, and next I had him between my thighs. He was stiff as rock. I was sort of stroking him with one hand and nudging his tip against my panties. Next thing you know I’m pushing the tip inside. Next thing you know he’s all the way up inside me. Next thing I’ve pulled my panties over to hide him. Truck drivers, you know? And next thing I’m kind of hot, bothered and sweating and grinding on the dick inside me.
And then I’m at the intersection of Fourth and Main and Sammy’s on the street corner waving at me like a prom queen on ritalin. Next she’s in the car, the light turns green, and she’s telling me to drive to Jake’s party because, oh my God, the party’s started. And then she asks: “Are you okay?”
“Because you’re all sweating.”
“You’re only 29. No, wait. Are you 29? I can’t remember.”
So now we’re going to the party. Nightmare. And you have no idea what it’s like to walk with a dick lodged up tight against your uterus. What’s worse, I was wearing my tight, one piece and I swore that everybody could see the bulge. My almost-orgasm wouldn’t go away. With every step it felt closer. I was standing in a circle of friends, almost faint with kegels, and I felt a first spurt in my uterus. Right there in front of everybody! I knew I had to get out. I hurried back to my car. I fumbled for my keys and dropped them. Soon as I bent over I knew I’d made a mistake. My panties tugged the dick against my cervix and I came. So did the dick. What’s a girl to do? I spread my legs, grabbed my ankles, and let him squirt straight into my uterus.
That’s when I knew things had gone too far.
And of course Sammy came out to see if I was okay.
And of course Sammy had to come home with me and make sure. I drove. The dick was going into the light and slipping out of me.
By the end of the next week I’d had enough. I was tired of the embarrassment. I was tired of a hard-on for every girl, of his neediness, of his constant nagging. I was tired of jerking him off every time I wanted to go out.
He was just, you know, a complete dick.
But you know what I did before boxing him up and returning him? I got him pierced—a totally cool stud right under his urethra and a barbell for his balls. I couldn’t resist. I guess that’s what you get when you let a girl play with your dick.
Yrs, in love, Susie Suede: All true. No lies.