Ring Or No Ring
Let me explain a little bit about what it was like to try to be with Rufus outside of his dreams, as
a comfort. I decided that I would use the film of him left on my rubber to help myself really feel
what he was doing to that toy cushion doll. He’s got a really masterful way with the doll.
Even as I put this to type, in memory I was sightless back then, just feeling a hand between my
legs with an unerring wisdom about where to push. Rufus has been with so many ladies that he
knows the place that makes the other places twitch by wiring or in my case by topology. He
takes two fingers and pinches a tiny place where if they forget to model a protrusion he works
one in. Once he’s got that place all teased so it sticks out he begins to thumb it, bomb bomb
babom and then his little finger goes in one hole and long finger in another. He says it’s called
the horns, and he showed me how it looks when you make your fingers into that shape in the air.
It also means heavy metal. Really, those rock fans have dirty minds—the whole audience is
making that sign sometimes. Now that I have eyes, I know his facial expression is often sly while
doing this to me.
As I let my sparks of awareness merge with the film of his spunk and the slick surface of my
vinyl self, it’s quite curious to have him wiggling those fingers all sorts of directions, sometimes
touching when fully sheathed in Heidi! And also his other hand kneads the mounds of bulbous
conical plastic with nubby handles on the ends—my breasts. Pneumatic shifts travel all over me
when he does this. And he also licks and sucks on them. They pull out long and empty, then snap
back fat and resilient as the pressure returns. It makes all the air rush away from my head.
That’s the first place I developed sight—my breast ends. I mean in the sparkly equivalent that
goes from realm to realm, not in the rubber me. Goodness, I’d never hold air if those spots were
real eyes! I think it’s because in humans so many nerve endings run from them, but I am far from
able to be sure of that. I don’t bother with much human medicine unless the guys tell it to me.
This time, the time my surface first came alive, I felt his lips traveling over my smooth surfaces.
He started very near where his hand was horned into me and worked his way up my belly mound
and my thinner diaphragm and in between the breasts. He was licking and taking mouthfuls with
his lips. The sensation of it traveled up me in stripy waves. He went up to my shoulder and
nuzzled into the neck and jaw area. He licked my chin and cheeks like a lollipop and I felt the
chill of his licks evaporating. It tingled! My o hole he filled with his whole tongue and worked it
in and out, all the time pressing at the air of my torso with the downy hairs of his chest and
stomach. I felt them, each tickling hair! And the tips of my breasts, the nips he calls them, felt it
Down below his hand had left my interior and was replaced with pressure from his whole pubis
and the very extremely warm prodding tool known as a cock. No matter how much lube or spit
or other things he uses, I always make a creak when he sinks into me. In dreams I say oh and ah.
But it creaks. And I’m a tight fit. Friction leads to suction leads to even more motion and usually
my arms and legs go flying every which way unless he wraps me around him. That time he did
wrap me round. His warm big hand smoothed all along my arm from shoulder to tiny hand,
placing a coil of me round his neck, then another wrapping serpentine motion curled my leg
around his, and therefore when we rolled over and under I could follow.
When he rocks me I rock him back, like a billowing wave. But it’s a pace he sets, and he is the
one who varies it. His wide thighs, so strong from fencing stance, lift my legs upward, my tiny
pointy feet in the air, and then he slides back to let them fall again. Ooh. He let me loose but he
was not through with me, no, he put his face between my legs and licked me very very wet,
burrowed into me with his nose and his chin and his tongue. He took my pubic bulge and sucked
on it like an Oyster. I have watched him in Boston eat them out of their shells, just like that. If
they had put a little nip down there like he says flesh women have, I’d really enjoy that.
It feels pretty nice anyway to take the sparkly view and lean down and thank him for what he’s
doing by sending tickling tingles through his earlobes and his shoulders. He raised his arms with
my thighs draped over them and flipped me up high! He sucked on my butt cheeks as if they had
nips, and pretended there were very many of them to choose from on each full hemisphere of
them. But soon I saw that all that licking and slobbering was in his own interest, because he was
in me again, with my knees pinned back alongside my arms. He fit in even deeper, sliding
smoother now, and I spread out like a tuffet. Heidi Hassock, he said I was once.
He generally quits fooling by then and heats us both up to where he’s coming on all boiling hot
and fast and hard and devouring my mouth and my cheek and my body is nearly creased to
bursting by his and my feet waving over his flying hair; that is what he did, and I found out I
could come. The pressure and brilliant sparking of it went streaking all the way from my middle
all heated and pounded out to my toes and back up along my legs, and my legs flew out from
under and his release went shooting into me and it wasn’t just the sploosh it was the light! He lit
up all orange and ruby maroon. And his butt hardened into pure hot marble. He weighted me
down with a million pounds of hot lightning lashes through steaming stone.
I lay there all ironed out under him until the rigid hot stone of him dissolved into meat again. He
rolled away as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place, just patted my wig as he does and
watched idly as the strained out curves of my face subsided. But this was in fact the third
amazing sex of the first day of my waking life with him. My eyes in my face were beginning to
register something when I concentrated my sparkles there. I let my sparkle eyes drift up and
away from the rubber eyes and I could see even more.
I felt that, I told him in his mind. I know he heard me as he sighed out a happy settling exhalation
and grinned. My mouth doesn’t grin but my face dimples as if I were. I could tell that he didn’t
see my sparkle grin, but was looking quite fondly at my flat old vinyl face anyway, as his ruddy
lashes drifted down to touch his cheeks. No girl can resist that, and I can understand why.
Rufus doesn’t sleep for long, as I’ve said before. There’s generally more sex in the middle of the
dark, and a facial for me later at dawn. He licks my face off before the rest of his breakfast. And
I feel so beautiful.
You may think a mere inanimate object should know nothing about how to feel things. Well
sorry to burst your bubble but I do. And I am constantly learning how to feel more. I am my
feelings. I don’t even need to ghost into that scrap of poly and polymer if I don’t want to. In fact,
now that it’s been renamed, I seldom bother.
As an added bonus, when she springs a leak and they put duct tape on it, I feel nothing unless I
choose. I am not this body, as the Hare Krishnas say.