N.S Faulk brings us a great sex toy erotica - I have got to say, it really makes you wonder...Enjoy!

A Toy Story

By N.S Faulk

Ah, freedom from that cramped drawer. Every time she opens it, we fight 
over who will get chosen. Personally, I think I’m her favorite. I am 
quite a bit newer than that pushy purple one with the sporadic 
short-circuits. And definitely better than that snotty pink butterfly 
with the elastic straps. I am thick and soft and a beautiful flesh tone, 
almost identical to her ivory skin. Her husband bought me for 
Valentine’s Day last year.

I can still hear the others fighting as she closes the drawer. I smell 
her, recognizing the delicate aroma of sweet pea from her extensive body 
spray collection. Personally, the floral ones are much nicer than those 
fruity ones she sometimes wears. Those make me a bit nauseated.

I wonder, the bedroom? The living room sofa? I guess it depends what is 
on television this afternoon. Her husband isn’t home yet although the 
sun is setting. Sometimes he plays with us too, but he is a little 
rough. She stops and sits. Ah, the recliner. A laugh track from 
“Roseanne” breaks the silence of the late afternoon as she arranges 
herself in the oversized tan ultra-suede chair.

Her hand is warm as she gently squeezes me, bringing me to her red lips. 
I can do without the lipstick stains. The others tease me, especially 
the purple one where her lip prints don’t show. Her mouth is warm and 
soft, not as luscious as her pussy, but a pleasant warm-up. Her teeth 
gently graze my body, nibbling a bit harder on my tip. I’ve seen her do 
this to her husband’s cock often. He apparently loves it – moaning and 
groaning and whispering words of encouragement while she sucks on him.

She’s playing with my switch, setting me to vibrate slowly at first. She 
seems to like it slow as she rubs me over her full breasts and belly, 
then faster as she holds me against her clitoris and plunges me deep 
inside of her. She lightly places me atop a nipple and I feel it harden 
as she slides me against her red satin teddy. I like red. Quite a bit 
more cheery than the black one. The lace I can do without, as it itches.

Over to the other nipple, enticing it, too, into a rigid little stone. 
Back and forth, over the satin and lace, breast to breast, nipple to 
nipple. I feel her hot breath as she moans softly, watching me.

I am vibrating on medium now. She’s sliding me down her flat belly, over 
more sleek red fabric toward her hips. More lace, then silky thighs. 
Tracing invisible lines with me over her legs, down to her knees and not 
quite all the way up to her dark, secret opening. I can smell the faint 
musky aroma emanating from her and see her glistening lips, already 
aroused from my caresses.

I come to rest upon her clitoris, that small kernel of flesh with which 
I am all too familiar. I love the way it springs to life, a mini 
erection. She switches me to high, pressing me hard against her. Her 
hips are gyrating, like the gentle swell of ocean waves as I hear her 
moaning louder. Her smell is potent, intoxicating. No wonder her husband 
spends a lot of time down here.

I am being rocked as a baby held by its mother. Rhythmic and slow. I 
could go to sleep if it weren’t for the powerful vibrations coursing 
through my body. I am eagerly anticipating the moment when I am plunged 
deep inside her, when her tightness grabs hold of me. When the warm wet 
cradle of her womb surrounds me, clenching and releasing, until she 
succumbs to her orgasm and I am embraced repeatedly as she comes.

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