After I confessed to abusing his Pink Thing to pieces, he made me another, with a little surprise inside.
Since my last posting . (See November 8, 2007 here at SoloTouch), my lover and I have spent two weeks together. He asked and I let him know of the demise of the wonderful Pink Thing, the silicone replica he made of his erect penis. He told me that he had saved the mold and could make another. A few weeks later a package arrived at my door. He used less pigment, so its color was lighter, a shade darker than albino. The White Thang is a strange, but lovely object. When making this one, he made an incredibly tender gesture by somehow placing a tiny vial of his semen inside the tip so that when I use it, his lovely seed will be deep inside me. This Thing carries its maker's unique signature. This object was made for me, as the original also seems to have been, because it is so remarkably perfect in the way it touches me and fills me. So when I hold this gift, my muscle memory and my own imagination take me back to the many times over the years that I have stroked, kissed, tasted, and enfolded his wonderful cock. And after being spoiled with his attention, ravaged with his relentless love making for two long weeks, I find that I cannot resist this object. My need for his touch has become so overpowering.
Tonight I knew it was only 9 pm, but I couldn't resist a little test drive of the White Thing. Custom! Whooee, Baby!!!
It is strange, or maybe not really, but this time it brings a more clear remembrance of the real thing, maybe because of the weeks of bliss. Still bittersweet, but my response felt more natural and after I finished shivering with orgasm I was able to rest against that familiar firm shape that fills me so perfectly. Knowing that he made this to reach across half a continent and touch me is both a tremendous comfort and extremely erotic.
With my empty house, I have the luxury of both time and privacy. I can strip naked in the living room, wander naked, sleep naked at whatever time I choose. Any place or time I find myself sitting quietly and the memories rush back in, I am able to surrender to them completely and take myself in hand and masturbate till I am driven nearly mad with pleasure. It is a liberating freedom I have never known before.
He mailed a second tiny bottle of his semen to me, which I keep by my bed. He made a beautiful amulet with strange ritualistic trinkets and locks of his golden hair. I search for his scent in the lock of his hair affixed to it. I feel the softness of his golden ponytail against my cheek, my breasts, my torso, and my thighs.
I am looking at White Thang and marvel at its shape, turned up slightly, happy to see me. It is a beautiful hand-full. The head is the perfect shape to caress my mouth or my labia, with its velvety shield-like shape. I wet it with my kisses, then begin to caress my labia, as if we are cuddling and he is hard. Always, I see him before me, because it isn't really about me alone. I prop myself up on pillows and imagine him lying in my arms and raising up on his arms as I lift my petals to him. I allow White Thang to caress and dance its way into me, slowly and then deeper, sliding and thrusting (the sprew is good to hang onto). By this time, I begin losing my thought process, only I am trying to grasp with my vaginal muscles, remembering the feeling that his cock must be touching my spine, it is amazingly hard and large, but unbelievably comfortable and exciting all at once. I push my pubic bone against the very end of the shaft, remembering how our bodies touch that way, which is so incredibly sweet and sexy. I linger on the verge of rapture as my body writhes to the stormy rhythm of our slow, relentless fucking. Alone with my thoughts of him, I can go on like this for what seems an eternity, but with this wonderful shape filling me I can resist my desperate hunger no longer. I begin to feel the flashes of heat scorch my trembling legs, bursts of heavenly sweetness gripping my vagina and dazzling light filling my soul, wanting to see this in his eyes, and feeling them sweep through me in pulsing waves as I at last surrender myself to the unleashed surges of orgasm. I lie there for awhile, enjoying the fullness within me, missing his kisses, and yet feeling connected by this gift which he made for me.