| Lesbian: Masturbation: The Machine (1/3) |
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“Hey, Cindy, there’s still some pizza left. Want another slice?” Miranda yelled from the kitchen. Miranda and I were friends with benefits, but we were best friends in the traditional sense, too. We laughed a lot and shared secrets like other pals; the only difference was when the opportunity presented itself we fucked. “No thanks. I’m stuffed.” I was feeling like I would explode and the thought of more food was causing the bile to creep up my esophagus. Miranda had invited me over for an evening of comfort food and silly movies after my ex had unceremoniously dumped me for another woman. It was a shitty situation but the pepperoni pizza and Spaceballs were beginning to work their magic. Miranda was a big help, too. She didn’t spend the night asking me details and forcing me to talk about it, no, she just put in a movie she knew made me smile and ordered my favorite guilty pleasure food. Miranda was a lot like me, she knew when a bad breakup occurred there was no sense beating a dead horse and that it was better to have your cry and move on. Dwelling just makes you bitter. “What do you want to watch next? Another Mel Brooks or should we switch to Monty Python?” Miranda had already started rummaging her DVD collection as the end credits of Spaceballs were rolling. “I don’t know. Maybe I should go on home. It’s getting late.” I felt a wave of despondency wash over me. “Late? It’s a Friday night. Where do you have to be tomorrow?” Miranda was starting to see my desire to leave as an excuse to go home and feel sorry for myself. “I’m tired . . .I like to get up early on Saturdays and clean my house. It’s a real mess by the weekend,” Thinking about the dirty dishes and dust bunnies at my place made me more depressed than ever. “No, you’re going to stay here. I’m not letting you go home to host a one person pity party.” I sighed, grateful that she was trying to convince me to stay. I didn’t really want to leave, but I just had let my mind wander to the week’s depressing events and I needed to snap out of it. I had promised myself I wouldn’t sulk. Besides, I was optimistic Miranda and I would have one of our traditional “cheer up the dumped friend” fucking sessions. I felt my cunt moisten at the mere thought. “Alright then. Monty Python I guess, but do you want to watch The Holy Grail or Life of Brian?” I couldn’t have cared less and thought I’d let her make the call. “Hmmm. . . you know I have a better idea. I want to show you something I just got.” Miranda grabbed my wrist and dragged me upstairs to her guest bedroom. “What have you splurged on now? Clothes, shoes, furniture?” I asked. Miranda had never been hard up for funds, but she had recently inherited a substantial sum of money from her great aunt and this gave her even more disposable income, which she had set out to spend like there was no tomorrow. “No. This is way better.” Miranda was stifling giggles. She was so excited about this new purchase she looked like she would burst from the giddiness. I hadn’t seen her this happy since she had found a pair of Dolce and Gabbana shoes on sale. When we reached the room, she swung open the door and there it was. It was the oddest contraption I had |
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OMG!
