Pamper Meby Dee DelaRocka
WARNING! This 6,500+ word short story contains
- LendMe LendMe™ Learn More
Shelby wakes up one day with a nasty hangover, but that's not the problem. There's a naked man in bed with her, and that prompts an identity crisis. She questions her sexuality as a lesbian. As much as she would like to run crying to her stepmother for help, she can't. So, she tries to solve the problem herself.
WARNING! This 6,500+ word short story contains explicit and graphic depictions of girl-on-girl sex between three consenting adults. It is only intended for adult and mature readers over the age of 18.
We hung up, and for a moment, I went back to channel flipping. If Lynne had calmed me down a little, it still didn’t fully dispel doubt and confusion. How could liquor make me do something so weird? I have been extremely drunk countless times, and not once was ever tempted to “switch teams” as the stupid cliché goes. I thought maybe I should masturbate – in times past, that used to always get my mind off of things, no matter if it was streaming video or a particularly nasty eBook paired with my vibrator. I got up, walked into my bedroom, and found my stash of sex toys. I rooted through looking for my favorite vibrator, and that’s when it hit me. My stash of illicit things consisted mostly of fake cocks of some sort. It was especially the case with the strap-on dildos. All of a sudden, my favorite pastime lost its allure. Instead of getting down with my bad self, I simply snatched up a strap-on and returned to the sofa and my bottle of wine.
I set the harness on the coffee table. I slurped down my wine and refilled my glass. As I got drunk, I just stared at the thing. It wasn’t like I was mesmerized by it or the memories of how it got put to good use. Instead, I stared at the shaft of the dildo itself. It was pink and flesh toned. Even more, it had ridges resembling veins and arteries. Whether it was used with my stepmother or other women, I realized how much this thing had defined my sexual life. Up till now, my idea of fun involved fucking with and getting fucked by a pseudo penis. I really didn’t like the idea. The more I thought about it, the more Lynne’s voice remained clear and true in my mind. Embrace who you are. So, part of me thought dwelling over the ramifications of a dildo was part silly. I loved dildos—so what! But, then again, part of wondered if my reliance on toys was healthy or not. Maybe they were keeping me from being what I truly was. I don’t know! I didn’t like this whole train of thought. When I finished the wine, I curled up on the sofa and didn’t even bother walking to my bed. I slept hard.
When I woke the next morning, my head hurt, but not as bad, comparatively speaking. I snatched the strap-on off the coffee table and hid it with my other toys. I brewed a few cups of coffee, and sat at my kitchen table. I spent about an hour trying to read for class, but all the recent issues still distracted me. As my hangover gently receded, I promised myself I would just lay off the booze for a few days. It seemed like a practical first step. Somebody knocked on my door, and I found myself grateful for somebody to talk to, even if it was the mailman.
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