Beyond the Drawer: If your sex toys could talk
featuring: LELO SONA Cruise
Her legs quivered. Her ass was nearly off the chair. A moment more and she’d slide right off. She curled her toes under and pushed her body and pelvis up. She was coming. She let out her usual elongated, yet quiet, sigh.
When we first met, Zoe did make an attempt to get to know me. She pressed all my buttons, up, down, high, low, held me tight in her hand at each setting as if she was studying and memorizing the patterns of my sonic waves. But despite all her research, she always settled on my first setting.
It became routine that after her close to silent orgasm, she would get up from her chair to clean me, nothing but a little shake of the tight black curls on her head. She was a creature of habit and I knew that after my bath, she’d set me on the side of her tub until my silicone was dry.
The next step in her routine was my favorite. As I dried, even though I could no longer see Zoe, I could hear Zoe playing with the toy she loved more than me – her cello. I’d wish I could will myself on to make music with her, or better yet, wish she’d play me in the way I could imagine she was playing her instrument. The emotion and movement of the music from the bedroom didn’t match her one note performances with me. She knew the sounds and speeds I could show her. Why wouldn’t she give me a chance to prove myself?
One night Zoe stormed in the apartment. Frustrated. I was in my drawer and heard the door slam.
“She’s threatening to pull me from first chair!” She was making an attempt to sound mad but it was the notes of sadness that bellowed. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. I rehearse and rehearse but she says something lacking. I’m not creative enough.”
The conversation ended and it became eerily quiet except for the sound of her sniffling. It felt like an eternity as we both sat in our own places of darkness. Suddenly the drawer opened. She looked down at me. Something stirred in her tired eyes.
She sat down on her bed and faced her cello. She held me tight in both hands, turned me on and cycled through my 8 patterns like she had done before. She did this at least 6 times, and never once removed her gaze from the cello. Her breathing became heavy. At this point, I needed the release and much as she did! While she drained my battery in her hands, I knew she was charging hers, waiting for the perfect moment to place me on her body below.
Finally, and with a deep breath, her body fell. She placed me on her clit and continued to cycle my patterns. Zoe writhed and moaned in tune with me. She played me as I wish she’d always done. Her body moved in a way that was much different than her usual, controlled self. I wanted her to come, to truly lose herself but I worried that with the battery wasted in her hands, I wouldn’t be able to provide.
She read my mind. Zoe pressed me against her the hardest she’s ever pressed. She released herself as I released the power I reserved for her in my Cruise Control setting. Her once quiet sigh became a melodious orchestration of expression. There was no longer a conductor keeping us on track as we improvised through her climax.
When she could come no more, the only sounds left were the deep rise and fall of her chest. Her coda of pleasure had begun. Our piece was coming to an end but I hoped the music we created together would give Zoe, my first chair, the creativity she deserved.
Carolyn Busa is a comedian and writer based in Brooklyn, NY. She has opened for Demetri Martin, been featured on SheKnows and appeared on Good Day New York. Her comedy is a reflection of her newfound confidence in herself, her style, and most importantly, her sexuality. Carolyn blogs weekly for My Sex Project.
About the Author . . .
