Our Adventures Pt. 01

It has started out as a small request. A simple "We should get one of those small vibrators. Small enough to put inside you." as an offhand comment. But I couldn't help obsessing it. The bullet deep in my dripping pussy while I tried to pretend nothing was wrong. Sitting in the front of our shared chem class, trying to take notes on the functions of elections while the faint buzzing is drowned out by the lecture going on near me. My face is red, maybe someone even asks me if I'm okay.

A fantasy turned into an amazon search, and two days later, it was there, waiting for me. Waiting for us. So I waited for you, and, because I'm always ready for the extra danger factor, for Easter dinner. Sitting right next to my dad, across from my brother, his gun strapped as always to his hip as if he'd shoot you on the spot (he might, hopefully we don't find out).

While dinner got finished, I went into the bathroom and pressed the soft silicone-coated cylinder into my pussy. It wasn't difficult when I was soaking wet, anticipation for the naughtiness about to unfold. I want to turn it on. To just finally cum since I haven't allowed such a luxury for the past three days since it arrived, not wanting to ruin the main event with side shows. But I don't, because that would defeat the point of my three days of torture. Three days of tossing and turning in my sleep, waking up with soiled panties and flushed cheeks from dreams about your big, fat cock. Three days of going without at least one solid orgasm before bed every night, usually one or two through the day, and definitely one to wake up properly, like my own personal coffee.

I set the table with the bullet moving inside me, and I have to clench down to keep it from falling out as I stretched, my slick cunt threatening to push it right out with every twitch of my internal muscles. I struggle to hold in moans, wincing instead to keep any signs of arousal as low-key as possible. My nipples are hard against the extra-padded bra I put on to conceal that fact, which may have kept the nipples from notice, but have kept yours for most of the night combined with a v-neck and cleavage. My panties are nearly soaked through already-I pray that my mother's precious upholstery will last through this little tryst.

When that's done, my dad starts carving the turkey and I head back into my room where you're waiting. You look up from playing my xbox with a raised brow. I tell you that dinner is almost done and hand you the remote, as if that were part of the conversation. You give me that incredulous look that I love more than nearly anything. The one you gave me the first time I went commando (again after you mentioned it-you should stop being shocked when I do whatever it takes to feel your hot cum splatter against my skin). That same one you gave me when I asked you to cum in my mouth with my dad in the next room, and two days later when I asked you to fuck me in the same situation, my cunt exposed and pulsating, begging to be filled up as only you can provide. And now, as you struggle to compute the little 3-button remote sitting in your palm.

"This one turns it on and up, this one down, and this one off." I explain softly, not wanting anyone to hear. You stuff it in your pocket, nodding. I wait for you to turn it on, but you're even more cruel than I thought. You just let it sit there, making me ever more aroused but giving me no relief. It's only a few minutes until everyone is sitting down at the table, food on our matching plates and soon to be in our stomachs in unwise quantities. You wait until conversation is going before you strike.

Worse, you wait until I'm talking to strike. In one of my many monologues, talking fast enough that I get it all out before someone talks over me to end the torrent of information, I feel a jolt deep inside me and nearly choke on myself. Everyone gets a concerned look. Well, my dad and brother just look happy to have me stop, but underneath at least a little worried. My mother asked what was wrong and I mumbled something about stomach cramps. Immediately, any sarcastic comments were halted for fear that I would begin discussing menstruation in graphic detail, and with the age-old cop out, I don't have to instead explain in graphic detail how my "friend" is actually a sadistic bastard who has access to my ever-moistening pussy via the best purchase I ever made.

You leave it on the lowest setting for a while, but when you turn it up, I'm ready. Mostly because I saw you reach down to the pocket you're keeping it in. Because of this, I don't make any noise, though I can't help but shiver as you keep turning it up until you see a reaction. It must be half way through its 20 settings already and we aren't even a quarter of the way through the dinner. I get cocky, thinking that I really should have made some sort of wager. If I make it through all of dinner without cumming, then you do whatever I want for a day. But if I did, or quit out, then you got the same prize, and I got pretty used to the feeling of your cock inside my ass. Though there was hardly ever a request made that was denied on either of our parts, it would have been fun to have bragging rights.

I'm just starting to calm down, and finish eating my food, when you take it up ten notches in the span of a couple seconds. I inhale a piece of yeast roll, choking and nearly pushing the bullet out with the pressure. At least it gives me an excuse to be panting as hard as I am when I finally hack it back up, my face bright red. I gulp, and stand up, running to the bathroom. I know there's no way I'm going to be able to hold it. I lock the door behind me, not wanting a worried, worrisome mother to burst into find what I plan to do in there. Which is mostly bend down on the floor and desperately clutch the towel rack while my pussy twitches in preparation for the best orgasm of my life.

And then you turn it off.

Yeah. Prick that you are, you turn it off right as I'm about to cum, my entire body burning up as I try to gasp in air, my pussy just on the verge of exploding and angry about being stopped. Just when I think I've calmed down, you start it again, my over-sensitized clit taking the brunt of the assault. I can't help but let out a moan, catching most of it before it gets out and hoping that no one heard. A few moments later, I hear a knock at the door and panicked, trying to hide the evidence of our shared crime until I hear your voice.

"You okay in there?" You ask and I can hear the grin in your voice.

"Y-yeah." I manage, without sounding too obvious before hearing my phone buzz.

"Having fun in there?" your text reads, and I'm not sure if I'm pissed or even more aroused by the fun you're having at my expense and to my benefit.

"Please can I take it out?" Is my response, eager to get back to the table before anyone gets suspicious, but almost hoping you say no.

"If you do, I'll punish you later." You reply, and that's a sure fire way to get this thing out of me. You must have been just as worried as me about getting caught. I've never passed up a "punishment" after all, even antagonizing you in the hopes of getting rough. Getting you anger so you have something to take out on me.

I let it fall out, panting as I try to dry my cunt and thighs, the bullet buzzing on the floor futilely for a moment before you turn it off.