"He must be crazy… if he thinks I'm gonna do something like that!" she exclaimed out loud as her eyes distended upon glancing at a young woman on hands and knees hovering over a studly young man on his back, his cock in her hands, the thickened blood-engorged cap pressing into her lips. "That thing could choke a horse!"
Quickly, she flipped the page and discovered yet another obscene scene, one that involved two women and a young man. One of the women had cherry red hair and was probably forty years old. She was crouched over a man who was on his back. Her legs were widespread and her loins hung downwards on either side of his face in such a manner that her cunt lips were spread at the opening of his mouth. His tongue was pressed upwards into the splayed and glistening wet flesh of her hungrily widespread pussy! The other woman sat on her haunches over the man's groin. She had a glazed look in her eyes and she was reaching out and supporting and balancing herself over the man's cock and balls by holding onto the first, red-headed woman's breasts and shoulders. This second woman's cunt was penetrated by the man's upwardly jutting hardened cock. It was clear from the photo that his hips were rising, that the stiffened hardness was going further and further up into the belly of the young woman!
"Oh, Jeeze!" hissed Cindy Hanger, hardly able to tolerate the spectacle of so lewd and bizarre an embrace for more than a few seconds. She quickly shut the magazine and pondered out loud: "What should I do with these things? He must be nuts if he thinks I'm gonna get into one of these swinger scenes or anything like it!"
Her eyes caught sight of the power dildo on the floor of the shoe-box. She wondered if she would dare to try it out. She picked it up off the floor and held it in her hand, considering the thing. Then an idea flashed through her mind.
She quickly picked up the bedside phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. "Hullo, Angela? Angela, I want you to come over here. This is a lady's emergency. I need you here right away. Don't ask questions. I'm upstairs… Good. Thanks." She hung up. "Angela knows about such things," she mumbled aloud. "She'll be able to tell me for sure…"
Twenty minutes later there was a skid of brakes and the sound of a car door opening. Cindy looked out from the bedroom window, and upon seeing that it was her girlfriend Angela, wearing tight white levies and a cotton t-shirt, climbing away from the car up the driveway toward the house, she rushed downstairs to meet her.
At the front door, she remarked offhandedly to Angela, "Do you never wear a brassiere, Angela?"
The other blonde stroked her long, wavy hair back behind her head and smiled, "Cindy, don't you know that it doesn't matter if you wear a brassiere or not? Really, darling, I don't think that's why you called me over here."
"N-No," stammered Cindy, "it's not. I've called you here about a little gift that my husband gave me. I figured you'd know if I should use it or not."
"I'm not very big on kitchen utensils," said Angela with a kind of innocent dumbness coming into her eyes. "Is it something for the kitchen? Because if it is, well, I just never knew much about that kind of thing and-"
"No," said Cindy impatiently, "it's not for the kitchen. Would that it were, in fact!" She started up the stairs. "Come on, follow me."
On the way to the bedroom, Cindy considered that her friendship with Angela Heet went back a long ways. She'd met Angela in eighth grade and they'd spent a lot of time that year and the one after talking about boys and what you could and couldn't do with them. Then Angela started going steady every other month with a new fellow, and Cindy and she fell apart. Of course, it was always Angela who had the most fun, going to parties, meeting people, parking, carrying on and telling the best stories. In Senior Year they renewed their friendship a bit, but it wasn't quite the same. For one thing, Angela Heet had been having intercourse with just whomsoever she pleased, whenever it pleased her, and that was not something that Cynthia Hanger cared to do. Well, not that she didn't care to do that, but that she couldn't bring herself to do that! They certainly were the odd couple, when you got right down to it, and there really was no accounting for their long time friendship except in the ironic ways that people get to know each other in spite of what appears to be their basic differences.
Cindy flung open the bedroom door. Spread across the massive bed were the items that Larry had purchased-the magazines, the dildo and the grease.
"Say, Cindy Hanger! You're not trying to seduce me, are you?" asked Angela, her big eyes widening some as she regarded the strange display.
"Angela, this is serious," said Cindy, her voice cracking a bit with nervousness.
"That's what I got for a present this morning. From my new husband!"
"Larry gave you all of this?" said Angela, stepping forward and flipping through the pages of one of the magazines, and then with one finger stroking lightly across the power dildo, as if to define it by her feathery touch. "What's he up to?"
"We're not getting on that well in one department…"
"Let me try and guess which one," said Angela, her eyes bright and her face an expression of cheerfulness. "Oh me oh my… So you called up of Angela, your friendly sex counselor, is that it?"
"Well, not exactly," said Cindy, sitting on the side of the bed and crossing her long, smooth pink-white thighs. Her shorts rode up on her hips and her buttocks could be seen at the edges of her thighs, slightly peeking out.
Angela's eyes dilated imperceptibly as she watched the inhibited young bride explaining her situation. She liked listening to other people describe their sex problems and achievements, and this in particular was a rare treat. For she'd known Cindy for a long, long time, and to hear about such things as this from someone who one knew was indeed interesting.
Gesturing to the implements and the magazines and the lubricant every now and then, Cindy went on and on telling about how she had never had oral sex with any man, about how she even regretted petting in high school, about how she'd married Larry Hanger without so much as a second thought about sex, and about how she'd expected that things would eventually work out… one way or another.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," said Angela, her breasts rising and falling in anticipation of something she expected the other woman to say. "So what can I do for you?" she finally asked bluntly and outright.
"You-You-You can show me how to use these things!"
"What? You're kidding of course!"
"No Angela, I'm not! You're experienced. You're not inhibited. I'll even pay you!" Cindy blurted. "I don't want to be a prude. And I don't have time to go to a sex-workshop. And I have lots of inhibitions. I figured that if I saw you doing it… well… then-"
"Not on your life," said Angela. "You must think I'm some kind of-some kind of-I don't know what!"
"No, I don't. But you are a go-go dancer… and I just thought you were a friend who might show me a little, that's all. Just show me what it's like is all."
Angela shook her head and paced to the bedroom window, her rear end swinging tightly left and right. Cindy watched the other girl and then said, "Please? I won't tell anyone. I promise."
For a moment Angela Heet would not turn around. Then, slowly but surely, a big wide grin on her thick, moist lips, she turned slowly back and nodded. "Alright,
I'll do it!"
"Oh, say, I really appreciate it," said Cindy. "Really Angela, I won't forget this." She quickly cleared the bed of the magazines and the other items and sat down in a chair alongside. "Okay, I've got this stuff out of the way. If there's anything you need, just tell me, and I'll get it."