Allie Beck
How Dirty Are You?
It all had to start with a bottle of champagne. Not just any champagne, and not just the right bottle of champagne. It had to be a bottle of champagne expensive enough to get her to fuck Joe.
If he was lucky, Marcia would be in the mood once a month. But a bottle of Taittinger-and it had to be over $100-was good for at least one or two rounds of sex on any given night.
Lately, though, even the champagne wasn’t cutting it. He had to combine it with a really nice restaurant. And really nice as in-bend over and shit $100 bills. Joe sighed and made a reservation for seven o’clock on a Saturday at the new French-Thai fusion place he read about in a friend’s Tweet. He called Marcia at work to tell her about the reservation for dinner. She wasn’t at her desk, so he left a voicemail message.
Marcia wasn’t at her desk to answer Joe’s call because she was in the bathroom masturbating. Most women prefer to keep the skin on their clitoris, but Marcia didn’t much care anymore. The head of her electric toothbrush faced away from her clit most of the time, though, and the vibrations were finally clearing her mind. No more thoughts of benefits packages and coworker complaints about harassment or body odor-challenged colleagues. Licking her fingers, she touched herself to lubricate and felt her hard nub. Rocking her hips lightly against the toothbrush, she caught the tight rhythm that would make the tension go away.
Warmth flooded her pussy and her labia ballooned, throbbing and hot now and so wet that the head of the toothbrush slipped, tangling with her pubic hair. The hair tugging felt good, adding a jolt of exciting pain as she put the vibration back where it belonged, her clit suddenly catching exactly what it needed. Inner thigh muscles screamed, strong and hot as red steel as she came and came and came, her hips curving up and in at the exact moment she plunged the spinning toothbrush head inside her vagina, the soft bristles scrubbing her G-spot.
Through gritted teeth, she let a low moan escape as she looked at the ceiling and bucked against the toothbrush as if she were riding a mechanical bull, careful to hold the handle firmly.
Experience had taught her that the vagina can be a vacuum at the most inopportune of moments. A few years ago she’d paid a $3,000 emergency room bill out of pocket to avoid having the charge appear on her insurance, where her colleagues in Human Resources might have seen the claim. The damage to her cervix had been minimal but she had become a legend on ER doctor Internet forums, known as “Vagina Dentata.”
Marcia masturbated at work every day because it was the only way she could come. She and Joe had been together for four years, married for two, and for the most part she enjoyed sleeping with him. But no matter what they did, from vanilla sex to BDSM to sex toys and porn, she just couldn’t come with him inside her or from oral sex.
She turned off the toothbrush, carefully extracted it and set it, head first, into a glass of mouthwash. Then she cleaned herself with scented wipes, washed the toothbrush, and freshened her makeup. A quick hand washing and an inspection of her skirt in the full-length mirror showed she was put together. By the time she walked back to her desk she had nearly forgotten the release and felt ready to take on the monthly planning meeting in an hour. Checking voicemail, she was startled to hear Joe’s voice and smiled tightly, knowing what he wanted.