THE SCHEDULE  PArt V

3 years later…

Anna planted a kiss on the brow of her sleeping lover. They were both exhausted, having made love for nearly two hours, and Svetlana was already snoring lightly, curled in a ball on her side of the bed. Anna smiled, and gently edged her way out of the bed. She slowly removed the bed sheet that covered her lover. Being somewhat intransigent on the matter of hygiene, she rolled the sweat soaked sheet into a ball and took another cover from her drawer.

Before she covered the naked body of Svetlana with the freshly ironed sheet, Anna could not help admiring the supple and curvaceous forms of the Hungarian girl. Everything in this girl was a dream, from the long legs and feminine figure to the soft and sweet scented skin that was exposed in her sleep. A little motion attracted Anna’s eyes down at the junction of the two pale thighs. Lost just under the triangle of the well trimmed bush , a little appendage seemed to move in a disorganized fashion. Anna smiled. Svetlana had apparently not removed the toy from her vulva and now a tiny hand was blindly struggling to reach the first pubic hairs, but with no results whatsoever as the weight of the now pressing thighs prevented the toy from extracting itself from the vagina in which it was buried.
 
For a second, Anna was tempted to tug at the little hand that was emerging between Svetlana’s thighs and try to extract the toy from their fleshy embrace , but she knew she would only succeed in waking up her lover. She let the bed sheet flow over Svetlana’s body, covering the little struggle under. She had introduced Svetlana to the pleasure of keeping the toy inside while sleeping, and the pleasant surprise its little motions could create in the depth of night, at times inducing a discreet but lovely orgasm. She smiled again and joined Svetlana in the bed. Soon she began to sense her lover’s thighs slowly rubbing against one another, as the sleeping woman was reacting no doubt to the sensations procured by the toy. If truth must be said, Anna did feel a pang of envy and the temptation to “steal” the toy for herself.
From under the bed sheet, in the silence of the dark room, the hardly perceptible and muffled squeals from the desperate toy did not prevent Anna from drifting into sleep.

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It had taken a few months for Anna to recover from Claire’s betrayal. The parting letter (all the more cruel that they had exchanged the toy so many times over the express mail, and the post office visit had become synonym of great joy to her for many months) , the desperate phone calls, the cold tone of Claire, as she described her affair with an American girl, all this turmoil had send waves of disruption in Anna’s life, sending her usually settled self bobbing up and down like a hollow shell on a raging sea. How she managed to finish her studies in  that atmosphere of loss and betrayal and heartache was a surprise to herself.

Then she had met Svetlana at the Instant café during a visit to Budapest, where a conference was held on her PhD topic. What had started as a casual night out together had blossomed into a full-grown love story, and to her amazement, Anna had seen the colours come back into her world, while Claire’s memories started to fade into their proper significance.
Svetlana was an assistant to Pr. Patullo, a noted biologist, whose speech was to be a key-point in the coming conference. She was beautiful, and witty, and sensitive, and had courted Anna so charmingly, so discreetly, Anna had hardly noticed how close they were becoming till it already seemed an accomplished and decided state of affairs.  After months of raging frustration, Anna was coming to her own again, something she could never do without the support of a loving relationship.

Over this long period of turmoil and revival, it had not escaped Anna that somehow the expensive  (and wonderfully sophisticated) sex toy she had purchased three years before had come to play a peculiar role in her life.
At first Anna had sunk into a sombre depression and had somewhat transferred her anger on the toy that used to be the messenger of Claire’s love. She had one night taken it out of its box and played cruel games with it, as if punishing it for not succeeding in preserving the bond it was supposed to create between them. She had crushed it under her body, flung it high in the air, stepped on it, and bitten it, her eyes in tears and a growl in her throat. Thankfully, the toy’s strong resistance to damage had prevented her from actually destroying it during this bout of futile revenge-taking. Then, somewhat relieved, she had buried the toy and its box under her jumpers and did not open that drawer for the next three months.

Then the purely sexual frustration from her sudden isolation had brought a period during which she used the toy constantly. While her mind was distracted from grief by her concentration on her PhD, she alleviated the need for companionship by over-indulging her body. Morning, afternoon and nights, she had the toy constantly servicing her, and she extracted as many orgasms as she could from the little body, drowning her own misery in physical pleasure. She had sex with it, as if it was a real partner, talking dirty to it and even  seducing it, letting the fetish side of her sexual self take over in an unreasonable fashion. She slept with it inside her sex, or held it fiercely tight all night in her hand, only to use it again first thing in the morning.

It took Anna a  month (and some remarks from her college tutor over her tired looks) to fully realize how addicted she had become to this self-indulgence but thankfully, she then quickly returned to a more reasonable use of her favourite toy. The wounds were healing. Then come on stage Svetlana, during this fateful trip to Budapest. The toy instantly lost its over-inflated importance, to become again the simple tool of pleasure between two enamoured lovers, as it was meant to be. 
Anna was glad it had proved so durable and took great care of it once again, locking it carefully in the bow every night (well, when neither of them wanted it as an inner companion for the night, that is…) . She was glad her new companion had taken quite soon  to using it as well, and full of new ideas for their sex life. All the heartache seemed so far away now.

[i]When it comes to Claire ‘s betrayal,  John had the dubious honour to be on the front seat.
For many months a routine had settled in, that saw him stuffed in well-prepared packages and shipped regularly between France and the States. On each arrival John was always greeted by an eager young woman, very much in a hurry to use him to satisfy her needs and connect once more with her missing partner. It had been a period of hope for John, as every trip was potentially offering the opportunity for the process to go wrong, for the package to be lost, and opened by another person. The girls had become so accustomed to his screams and antics, they obviously no longer questioned his struggle and pleas and mimics, and took them for granted, the welcome agitation of an efficient toy. John knew his hopes rested upon the reaction of a third party discovering him.

Which is what happened so many months ago, to his great disappointment. That day he had landed in an America airport as usual, had been tossed around as always among the many packages the plane was carrying, and then brought eventually to the door of an expectant Claire. John’s senses had attuned to his dark and confined environment, and his mind was able to project him outside the box to re-build a fragment of the huge world around it, based only on the audible clues that reached him. He even recognized the voices of some of the employees of the postage center he always transited through. When he reached the doorstep of Claire apartment, he knew exactly where he was.

A second voice was to be heard in the flat, as Claire carried the box inside. It was a feminine voice, sounding quite excited, and inquiring about the box. Claire answered (with a strong French accent) that it was “it” , of course. John was puzzled to realize Claire had mentioned his existence to another person. And when the package was opened, and the light rushed to his dark-accustomed eyes, John saw two huge faces leaning towards him.
Trish –it was her name- was a wonderful red-hair girl, with many freckles, a slender neck, and the proverbial green eyes. Her voice was so high pitch , John could understand her better than most human beings, his ear more adapted now to those frequencies (to him some syllables uttered by the French girls were totally lost at times, giving their speech a strange syncopated rhythm). The American girl immediately extracted him out of the foam and started to manipulate him. To John it was now customary to be hanging in the air, his hips or legs in the grip of monstrous figures, while overhead huge bill-board like faces considered him.

A few minutes later, John Hingsley, shrewd business man now reconverted to efficient sex toy, found himself in the familiar bedroom, standing in the middle of Claire’s stadium size bed, while the two huge women started to shed their clothes, exciting giggles in their throats. Soon, a very naked Trish sat onto the mattress and leaned over his puny form, fingers extended in his direction, heavy pale breasts hanging far above his head. On the other side, the vast body of Claire was settling also onto the bed, sending shock-wave across the moving landscape of cotton. A few seconds later, he was being exchanged between the two girls to take a loving tour of their breasts and nipples and necks and inner thighs, in a concert of kissing noises and sighs (Trish’s skin smelled of cinnamon, and was a new and novel landscape to the little man).
 John was surprised of course to see Claire betraying her beloved Anna, but his own involvement in this world of giant bodies did not include developing much sympathy for his captors. And even if  he had tried to reflect on this at this junction, it did not take long before the slow foreplay turned into a heated affair, before the sighs turned deeper, the skins hotter and soon his usual challenge had started, as he tried to dodge immense legs and crushing bellies, and stubbornly performed his futile attempts at delaying the inevitable. Claire’s unsavoury behaviour was by now far from his priorities. Soon enough Claire’s fingers were gently inserting John in her lover’s hot and dripping vagina, in a cacophony of moans and giggles and delicate loving words. Once again, the world disappeared to be replaced by the  dark, wet and hot tunnel of flesh that was now John’s natural working place.

John wasn’t otherwise surprised when, after a few hours of play, Claire did not direct him into the usual package but carefully stored him into her desk’s drawer. He knew well enough he wasn’t going straight way back to France.

“The third part discovery” theory did not work too well over the next two weeks, as John got to know Trish intimate regions very well indeed, and none of his protest gestures attracted anything more than an enamoured sigh from this new  young player. John’s world consisted in no more than the inside of the drawer and the overwhelming landscape of their hot and sweaty naked bodies. The only plus was that he actually understood them, as Claire spoke good English,  but to be lying on the cotton sheet, while huge girls above him casually said something like “Do you want it inside now?” or “ I love how it resists, it’s soooo sexy” was hardly an improvement.  He did get to listen to a very dramatic phone call to Anna , though, while a silent Trish held him absent-mindedly on her naked breast.
A week later, Claire had kissed him with a regretful look in her eyes, before sending him back to Anna, which an exhausted John had thought was somehow a decent gesture on her part.

From then on, keeping his sanity had been a full-time job for John.
The grief-stricken Anna had received him back in her Paris home with a pained look in her eyes, and discarded him at once in the darkness of the underwear drawer. For many days, all John could hear on the outside was much sobbing and angry phone calls. Unfortunately, Anna did regain an interest for her little captive, but with an edge he could have done without. That day, an inebriated and angry colossal being had treated him as a piece of meat to be tormented and destroyed. John, totally distraught, had done his best to run away from the enormous body that was so bent on crushing him, but how does one escape a being hundreds of time larger than you? He had found out for the first time how powerful and cruel those beautiful teeth of her could be. And at the same, beyond the obvious pain, he had realized how resilient his diminished body could be. A sobbing Anna had bitten on him hard, and even inserted his head between her powerful molars, but pain was the only reward, not the crushing death a screaming John feared and hoped for at the same.

John had watched in horror as an angry Anna had brought her huge  body hovering over him, before sitting down squarely on his tiny frame and he had squirmed in disbelief and pain as she had  tried to smear him into the mattress, her huge ass-cheek crushing him relentlessly. Losing all hope (and all oxygen) John could do nothing but suffer the darkness and the immense pressure under the vast body of the crying girl. That is, till he was flung onto the floor, gasping and dazed,  unable to get up, as he  watched Anna’s feet settle on either side of him, when the giant girl sat on the edge of the bed, considering him with a  dark and lost look in her eyes  (whose makeup had ran down her lovely cheeks). Slowly the young woman had lifted her right foot and John did not have the strength to defend himself as Anna’s face was replaced by the underside of her foot and she proceeded to awkwardly grind his body into the lush carpet. John’s panic was made worse by the murdering look in those vast eyes and the foot settling on him ushered him into a very real agony. .
When later Anna squashed him hard with her vaginal muscles, during a desperate and pitiful orgasm, John had no strength left in his body, no more indeed than an inert piece of meat. It took a long while for the bruises to wear off…

 This horrible experience was soon followed by three months of darkness and solitude under the scented underwear of his captor, three months during which John hung on to his memories, his broken dreams, and listened carefully to the life outside. At times, it seemed to him he had never been part of this world, had never been a huge being that was holding  just as much power as the enormous woman that made the ground shake with each of her step. At times, John actually felt he had really  been made for her pleasure, and his previous life was an insane dream inhabiting his insignificant body.

The ordeal of this trimester of isolation had been followed by a sudden and relentless search for pleasure, of which he was the main tool. One day, Anna had opened the drawer and John had stared hard into the vast blue eyes that looked down on him. The long fingers took hold of him, and a tired Anna had brought him slowly to her bed. A struggling John had then been used for hours to stimulate every part of her body, in an insistent and joyless way. Drowning in her inner juices during the first orgasm, John was being introduced to the most intense bout  of service he had ever experienced with his captor.
It seemed to John she just couldn’t get enough out of him. Orgasm after orgasm, she relentlessly sought more pleasure, using John indiscriminately in the day or in the night, in her bedroom or elsewhere in the house. Her hold on him was so tight and careless, John felt even more degraded, to the level of an every-day object (he had been used, after all to some consideration from the girls who used him). Anna never washed him and just stuffed him roughly back in his box in apparent disgust, before coming back one hour later for more play, a moody expression on her face.
She was using him now regularly now in her bathroom, drowning him under bubbly waters, or in the shower, when she came back from university. She used him while watching TV, or early in the mornings. John had tried to use those moments to communicate with her, but it was clear the girl was not receptive to anything he could try, and his attempts were  lost in the vicious circle of self –indulgement  the young woman was going through. 

Then things quieted down, as the Anna he knew, his usual unaware and loving and at times adorable captor came back to her senses, then  fell in love again (John listened to the phone calls, which, being now  in English at last, gave him an added grip on reality). John‘s life also returned to a normal rhythm, which meant he was once again free to feel the whole desperation of his situation.
Three years had passed by, three years during which his personality has slowly shifted from the dominant man he once was, to that of a permanently vanquished and humiliated prisoner. Three years during which he still dreamt of freedom and a return to his normal state. Three years of quiet desperation. John knew he now was surely declared dead in the real world and his life was taking a turn for the worst. Boredom, fear, and humiliation were again his slow and nagging companions. Claire’s departure, along with the harsh treatment it had spurred for him, had also re-enforced the strange and ambivalent feelings John entertained for Anna. The violence and total domination she exerted on him had slowly acquired a faint glow of …attachment.  Anna  had become the centre of John’s existence and he studied every move she did, every clue he could get as to her life. This huge, vast and beautiful being was slowly replacing in his mind all the acquaintances he had had during his normal life. Compared to her, to her power, and to her beauty, all those people he had met before seemed to him more and more insignificant. When Anna had started to flirt again, John was strangely torn between the hope it created in him ,as a new comer might detect him as a real person, and a weird feeling of jealousy, as he would no longer be the exclusive source of her pleasure. (His rational mind did remind him an extra lover also meant twice the “work” for him ) .
His concerns unheeded by the now joyful Anna, he was now waiting to meet the new lover, and hoping she would prove to be his liberator. [/i]

Anna’s fear that Svetlana may not appreciate the toy was funded on the shyness she had displayed during their first intimate meetings in Budapest. She had proved to be a wonderful lover, attentive, caring and beautiful to behold, but definitely not as kinky as Claire could be. When she visited Anna for the first time in Paris, Anna did not dare to suggest using the toy, afraid she might appear too forceful and too wild to her new friend.
But when she did eventually break the ice about her sex toy, Svetlana, passed the first moments of amazement (during the which toy displayed a surprising amount of gestures and squeals and postures, as if it too was aware it had a new user), was absolutely delighted at the touch and feel of the little body, and was more than willing to experiment with it. She flashed a beautiful smile at Anna. “Oh, can we try it now? Pleaaase!”  Anna was only too happy to indulge her and beamed back in response. Svetlana, the struggling toy in her hand by her hip, beckoned her to the bedroom, her long blond hair whooshing around her shoulders.

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[i]It was cold and sticky and sweet tasting. His whole body was covered with the white substance, and he was trying his best to prevent his eyes from being glued closed. Under him the huge breast was hot and soft and slightly gave under his weight. Trying to steady himself on the heaving ground, John has set a hand on a now turgescent nipple, a simple gesture that triggered a monstrous sigh somewhere above his head. Turning round John could see Anna’s long neck as a veritable cliff above him, as the young woman closed her eyes  and let her head back on the pillow. Not far from him on his right the long and colossal arm of the young woman was stretching down towards her the plain of her stomach and her hand was applying forceful motions somewhere beyond the shimmering bush.

But landscape gazing was not really on John’s mind, as a vast shadow was now approaching fast from the left. Sitting perpendicularly to Anna, a beautiful and vast being was coming back closer, having deposited the whipped cream can back on the bedstand. Svetlana was a sight to behold, her nubile-looking body a vast approaching cliff of curvaceous pale flesh, projecting its shadow now all over Anna’s body. She had a very slim waist, enhancing the  well shaped hips that lead to long and slender thighs. She came over John and Anna like a  pale storm of flesh, and in a second, the beautiful face was dropping towards John, till the parted lips became his only view.

The tip of a massive tongue landed on John Hingsley, pushing him back into the breast flesh (to which another moan erupted from Anna’s lips), smothering him against the erect nipple, and the big hot slab of tremulous flesh licked his torso free of whipped cream. John tried to wriggle his way down the breast, his body now directly under the vast mouth, receiving the brunt of the hot breath. All around him a golden curtain of long blond hair had cut him off from the world. Above him, the huge lips were being licked clean, ( the face of the young woman was hardly  comprehensible to the confused man). He squealed in protest, as the lips came back, and a blob of saliva landed squarely on his chest. For a confusing moment, john was caught between the breast and the crushing push of Svetlana’s hot mouth. The whipped cream was licked away from his entire body, while John’s fists battled helplessly against the wet tongue that assaulted him. The nipple in his back was coming alive with excitation, and the vast face of Svetlana had hardly risen again above him that trunk size fingers (and John recognized Anna’s’ touch instantly) were already pushing him deeper into the breast flesh. Pinned in the saliva- covered surface, John saw the underside of Svetlana’s neck fly quickly over him , as the two lovers went for a passionate embrace. Rising now in front of John, a new breast had appeared , like a moving cliff, and came resting upon his body, stifling his shouts, as the two women were already forgetting his existence and he was lost to them in a sandwich of mammal flesh. 

John’s existence among those monstrous bodies was certainly less frightening than it used to be, but no matter how often the occurrence, there was no getting used to these moments of utter pressure and fear, when he found himself stuck for any reason under a thigh, or between bellies. It was each time as if his own flesh was melting between the hot surfaces, as if he was absorbed in the monumental struggle of those huge bodies, like a mere bead of sweat on their skins. Being used was one thing, being squashed into insignificance between the lovers was truly a humbling and scary experience. Svetlana’s arrival on the scene had brought back those intense moments  and  added her own personal touch to the massive love making he was privy (and accessory) to. John Hingsley started to spend much more time inside young women’s mouths than ever before. [/i]

Anna, who had so long hesitated to convey to her lover the strange flavours of her fetish, had been delighted by the response of her new companion. Not only was Svetlana more than responsive and supporting (she had heard of the fetish, but had not experienced it like this before), but she had added to it her own cravings, which, as it turned out, revolved rather around food games.  For such a nimble bodied person, Svetlana had an inordinate fondness for merging sex and food, in a truly refined manner.
Anna found herself often reclining on her bed while various food was deposited on her body and a hungry, horny Svetlana served both her lover and her own appetite. It was both fun and sexy and apart from the occasional chill some cold food would create, this playful practise enhanced nicely what was quickly becoming a really full-filling sex live. Of course, Anna had insisted the toy should become one of the main ingredients on the menu, a request Svetlana had whole-heartedly approved.
From then on, the tiny body had been dipped in many various sauces, chocolate and otherwise, hot and cold, sweet and sour, and methodically licked and sucked upon. Anna loved to dangle it, dripping with chocolate sauce over the expectant tongue of Svetlana, who was caught between her moans of delight at the touch below, and the greed for the little body so close to her mouth. This combination offered the best of both world to Anna, who got to enjoy her own interest , as the terrified little man (or so she thought of it, in her imagination) dangled over the wide opened mouth of the blond girl, while at the same servicing the kink of her lover.

As a result , the scope of their love-making started also to enlarge and encompass the bright and comfortable kitchen in Anna’s flat, and they invited the toy to many a culinary foreplay, involving much chocolate, much honey, and generally creating a sexy and joyful mess. The reaction of the toy had been really pleasing to both girls, and they were truly amazed how versatile its programming had to be to cope with such a new environment. Running away from the large bowls, or struggling its way out of a honey jar, or rolling around the flour, the toy provided both girls a fantastic little show of life, that ended inevitably inside their mouths, before moving on later  to the inside of their sex.
Svetlana was of course delighted, and was much turned on by the toy, and the flavour it conveyed on his smeared body, Anna was much turned on  by the ravenous look in Svetlana’s eyes, as she slowly approached her running prey on the table.  Anna and Svetlana, who had otherwise their issues regarding their couple life (as any couple has) , had found  a perfect balance in their sex lives, and the ideal partner.

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[i]The suction has long before drained all his blood down to his ankles, and John was about to lose consciousness when the mouth opened again, light flooding his rosy jail. He gasped wildly, his hands reaching out already beyond the lush lips , in an effort to haul himself out of the hot mouth. He was trying to find a foot hold on the molars under him, his feet slipping on the wet boulders, while Svetlana’s front teeth came lazily to a rest on his shoulders. Although he was aware he was a bit much to swallow, John had always felt a mortal terror at the presence of the deep deep throat under his feet. Above him, the kitchen ceiling was high and white, a true artificial sky of immense proportions. Resting a second half extracted from the mouth, his body shaken by the rough tongue against his hips and legs, he considered the small expense of chin in front of him, and beyond it, the impressive length of the naked body that lied ahead, reclining on the table at the centre of the room. As he fought to regain his breath, a shadow made him look up. A smiling Anna, wearing nothing under a comical apron, was standing next to the table, like a colossal statue of flesh, and from her high raised hand , a large spoon was descending in his direction. He shouted for mercy , as the metallic object hovered a few centimetres over his prison and he felt the mouth under him opening wider, as the content of the spoon appeared to brim over.

The first liquid touch of the honey hit him directly on top of the head, while his body was being hauled out of the mouth by an extended tongue. John was feeling the very weight of the viscous flow settling and running along  his spine and legs, covering him entirely, and flowing further down the awaiting throat of the young woman. He was still fighting the honey away from his nose and mouth, when the tongue started to retract, the upper teeth flew over his head, and gravity pulled him downwards. As the lips closed down and a deafening hum of satisfaction erupted from behind him, John squealed when he felt his feet brushed by the uvula below and when the tongue forced him to curl in the narrow space, his right shoulder pressed hard against the palate above. The sucking started immediately, nearly piercing his eardrums, and the saliva came flooding all crannies in the cavity while the tongue tasted him in a relentless massage.

A few seconds later the mouth opened again and John closed his eyes and instinctively thrust his arms forward in a futile attempt to fend off the next spoonful of honey. What entered, however , was no honey, but the hot, smelly, and damp breath of a woman. John only got the benefit of a few rays of light , filtering behind the entering tongue, before confusion swept through his mind. Sandwiched between the two interlacing tongues, balloted between the hard teeth, pushed under, pulled forward, his skin slipping on the wet taste-buds of the two girls, John fought against the kiss, a fight he was never to win. Anna’s tongue was softer than Svetlana, he knew this from experience. And her breath had a different smell to it. So in the tossing and pulling and squeezing that took place, John knew well enough when he was finally pushed into her mouth by a mischievous Svetlana. His head was touching the back of Anna’s throat already, the uvula splayed across his neck, when the fight stopped and an ascending motion told him (his feet outside the mouth conveying the rush of air ) Anna had won the kissing contest and was taking her prize in her mouth, as she stood up.
With a yelp of fear, John managed to turn round in the young woman’s mouth, just as she finally opened wide and extended her tongue outside. A sudden lurch of nausea overtook John, when the claustrophobic confine of her mouth was replaced by the vertigo inducing sight of the large room around him. Very far below, the vast body of Svetlana was revealed to him, in its naked glory, as the girl looked at him with much amusement in her eyes, still licking the honey from her half opened mouth.

Anna turned her head and the entire landscape veered around at a terrific speed. John was getting pretty tired now too, having been played with for nearly one hour. But he knew the session was coming to an end when the vast head that held him dropped towards the naked body, and he was presented with another pair of wet, luscious, eager, but very different type of lips. Large fingers crept from above the slightly hairy edge of the enormous crotch and proceeded in parting the blood-gorged lips. A rosy throbbing tunnel was revealed and the mouth moved closer. As his torso was being pushed gently against the hot folds by the powerful tongue, the smelly whitish liquid attaching itself already to his arms and shoulders in elastic viscous strands, John took a deep breath. He knew he had to maintain his strength inside. After all, when this girl would come at last, he would still have another eager vagina to attend to…[/i]

Anna purred softly, opened her eyes, and smiled at her lover. Svetlana was radiant looking, her long naked body crossing the room with the lightness of an elf, as she walked towards the kitchen. (Svetlana never postponed the cleaning of their mess till the morning, but always performed the task with no hint of annoyance or impatience whatsoever, as if it was part indeed of the routine of love-making). Anna listened to the first clanging noises from the kitchen, letting her sweat evaporate from her skin. She was happy again. It seemed so unlikely, but she was happy again. All the heartache and pain from the past months had vanished, washed away by the love and joyfulness of her new companion. She was still undecided as to whether she had a fickle heart, or if indeed her relation with Claire had been a necessary step, a lesson she had to learn, to find a love deeper and more lasting.
She got up, went to her desk and took out her faithful diary. She also picked up the fountain pen Claire had offered to her for her last birthday. She still liked it. Propping up her large pillow, she settled back in the comfort of the bed, and stared a while at a new blank page.
Absentmindedly, she pushed back the struggling toy deeper into her vagina, and then started to write.

tbc

nostromo