Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Aloud creak startles me awake. I’m disoriented for a moment, but realize I fell asleep in my favorite recliner.
The television flickers softly in the background, the slasher film I fell asleep to long over.
I stand and stretch, an empty beer bottle falling with a hollow thunk on the floor as it rolls off my lap.
A startled laugh escapes me and I gasp, then laugh at scaring myself.
“Get it together, Tori,” I scold myself.
I don’t usually startle easily, but as I retrieve the fallen bottle and head to the kitchen to toss it in the recycle bin, I can’t help but notice the time on the clock. Three thirty-three in the morning. The witching hour.
I rinse the bottle out in the sink to prep it for recycling, and look out the window, searching for BJ.
“What the—” I grab my chest, feeling my heart thundering beneath my hand.
Not only is his head turned away from how I positioned him to look out at the street, looking instead directly in my window, but his LED eyes are lit up. My fear bleeds into rage as I imagine someone touching him. It was probably that damn Lois!
I stomp out through the garage and into the backyard. The dewy grass is cold against my bare feet. I didn’t stop to put on shoes or even grab a jacket. The world is still and quiet around me, but my heart continues to pound in my chest, my movements jerky with anger.
The fence gate remains closed and not a thing is out of place besides BJ staring at my kitchen window. When I reach him, I squat down and check the timer on the extension cord. It was set to turn off at ten but his eyes still glow softly in the dark.
I don’t need to give Lois one more reason to try and ruin this for me, so I simply unplug the cord. I’ll reset the timer tomorrow. My eyes flick up to his, and I can’t help the sadness that drowns out my earlier anger as his eyes dim before mine.
“Sorry, BJ,” I whisper into the night air. “But I can’t have you lit up all night long. Who the hell messed with you? I’ll break their fingers. Tomorrow, I’ll move my Ring cam so I can keep a closer eye on you.”
One eye flickers as I stare up at him, some strange last blip of energy leaving his circuitry.
My voice takes on a teasing tone as I say, “Mr. Bonejangles! Look at you winking at me like that again.”
I run my hands up his enormous femurs as I stand between his legs looking up at him. I’ve never wished to be taller until this moment. I do some quick mental math and figure if he was proportionately hung, his “bone” would be hanging right in my face right now.
With a very ladylike snort, I say, “Too bad there’s nothing between us but air, my friend. I could use a good dicking down.”
With a sigh and a final pat, I turn and head back into the house. Tomorrow, I’ll drag out the ladder and turn his head back toward the road, but it’s late, and I don’t want to make that much noise at this hour.
Back in the kitchen, I stand at the sink drinking water.
I can’t help but look out the window one last time to see my new friend.
The white of his plastic bones shimmers faintly in the dark night.
I feel his darkened gaze as heavy on my skin as a hand gliding over it.
My nipples peak, and my breasts feel too swollen for the tight confines of the bra I should have taken off hours ago.
I slip my shirt up over my head and reach behind my back to unsnap it.
The witching hour must be getting to me, because instead of whipping it off and heading back to my bedroom, I slowly slide the straps off each shoulder and down each arm putting on a slow, sensual strip tease for my new backyard guest.
The bra slips down, baring my breasts to the window. A cloud scuttles across the moon, dropping the world into darkness. My hands rove up my chest, massaging and pulling at both nipples. My breath quickens at the stimulation, and my core throbs. It’s been so long since someone has touched me.
One hand slips down to pop the button on my jeans and slide down below my panties. I haven’t been horny in so long, but something in this dark night at this late hour makes me wild. I gasp as my finger slips between my folds and brushes over my throbbing clit.
I slide my hand down further to find my entrance absolutely soaked. Gliding the wetness up, I circle my clit, repeating this process over and over until I am so slippery. My hips rock into my hand, chasing the sensation, and my channel clenches, aching to be filled.
I can’t remember the last time I didn’t need lube.
I definitely needed it for the rare times my ex and I had sex.
My head was just never quite where I needed it to be, especially as we grew further and further apart.
And he never bothered to learn what I liked or wanted.
Sex was a one-sided transaction in his favor only.
My eyes fall back to the side of the sink where my rinsed beer bottle sits.
I take in the thick neck of the tapered bottle, and a wicked thought enters my mind.
A quick shove has my pants down, and I kick them off, widening my stance.
With one hand, I separate my folds, and with the other, I ease the cool bottle neck into my hot pussy.
The temperature change feels incredible, and the ridges on the rim rub my inner walls in an amazing way.
I slowly fuck myself, enjoying the feel of my entrance clenching around it as it tapers and swells.
With each thrust, I insert it a little more until the wide shoulders of the bottle bump against me.
The cloud finally moves on, and I can see BJ again in all his glory. I imagine if he had a cock how it would feel. Would it be cool like this and smooth? It would be fucking enormous, that’s for sure. Vividly, I imagine how it would thrust in and out of me, filling me completely.
A low moan escapes my lips at the thought, and I widen my feet, fucking myself with the bottle in earnest now while my other hand rubs frantically at my hard clit. My harsh pants fill the quiet kitchen as my pleasure swells, imagining a giant skeletal cock pumping in and out of me.
“Fuck,” I hiss as both hands move even faster. I’m so close, but I need something to push me over the edge. It feels so good, but shit, is this frustrating. It’s just not enough.
“BJ,” I cry as the slick sounds of my arousal echo lewdly, dripping down the bottle and making it hard to keep my grip as my hips drop and lift until my thighs shake.
His eyes flicker to life, beacons in the dark night, staring directly into my soul. This. This is what I needed to push me over the edge—Mr. Bonejangles witnessing me pleasuring myself to fantasies of him.
I tip my head back and groan as my orgasm crashes through me. I imagine putting this show on just for him, my heaving breasts, gyrating hips, and wetness slicking down over my thighs. His skeletal hands ghosting over my flesh. My own hands slow as a full body shiver wracks my frame.
I rub one last circle over my clit, flicking the overly sensitive bud and then ease the bottle out of my sopping pussy as the last spasms fade away all while holding my gaze locked on my new skeleton.
Finally, I blink, and the spell breaks. His eyes are dark, as they should be since I unplugged him.
In the light of the moon streaming through the window, I see my arousal shimmering on my soaked hand and the bottle.
I rinse it off again and then wash my hands.
I don’t know what the hell kind of pizza fueled, porter induced, halloween haze this was, but I have to admit, it was one of the best orgasms of my life.
After I pull my shirt back on, I take the bottle and quietly deposit it in the recycle bin outside of my garage door. I don’t bother going over to mess with BJ’s cord again but instead whisper, “Damn, I wish you were real, Mr. Bonejangles. Goodnight.”
And with that, I finally head to bed, my thighs sticking together with every step, wondering what the hell is happening.