THE PROTOTYPE
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s a prototype,” Edward says, grinning like a kid.
“For what?”
I ask because the form and function of the thing in Edward’s hand remains unclear. For all intents and purposes, it looks like a beach ball that’s been shoved through a piece of three-quarter-inch plastic pipe. The pipe forms a sort of handle—I can tell because that’s where he’s holding it—while the uninflated ball flops out the other side, all strangled and primary colored. He has a bright-red bicycle pump clutched in his other hand.
“It’s something I’m making. For you.”
Edward smiles at me. His eyes, behind his glasses, are earnest and adorable. Edward invents things for fun. In real life, he does something abstract with currency markets, but in his dreams he has an underground lab and a henchman. At the moment, he’s wearing his eureka! face, which means he’s onto something.
“That’s really sweet, babe,” I say, coming closer. “But I’m not sure what I’m going to do with a ball shoved through a tube.”
“Ah,” he replies, “but it’s not just a ball shoved through a tube. Watch!”
Edward holds out the contraption, which is, apparently, more than it seems, and rummages around in the “handle” before pulling out the ball’s valve. Then he attaches the bicycle pump. Cradling it like a baby, he lays the prototype on the counter and pumps the ball full of air. Once the ball is inflated, it sticks awkwardly out from the top of the plastic rod like a…like an I don’t know the hell what. Then he looks at me, triumphant. He’s so jazzed he’s nearly rocking on his heels. With a grin, he presents it to me like a bouquet.
“See?”
“Uh…yeah, babe. I see.”
I reach out and accept it, holding it awkwardly, like an unsuspecting bridesmaid after the toss.
“But what do I do with it?”
Edward gives me the look he always gives me when he can’t believe I’m serious. Last time I got it, I’d confessed to not liking Queen.
“Really, Jess. Think.”
I give him what amounts to a very blank stare.
“C’mon, babe,” he says, adjusting his glasses. (Edward’s really cute when he’s exasperated). “Use your imagination.”
He stares at me meaningfully. I stare back. Then I notice the lusty glint in his eyes. Okay, I think, meeting his lusty glint with my own. That’s a quality hint. Clearly, its use isn’t purely academic. I study the prototype.
The plastic handle is smooth, with rounded edges, and the ball is one of the pricier kinds that doesn’t have any seams. Still, it’s just a rod with a ball shoved through it—a ball that, when filled, bulges obscenely out from one end. I still don’t know what it’s supposed to do, but it sure could fill a girl…I gasp. Suddenly, it clicks.
“Oh my god. Really?”
I stare at my boyfriend. He grins.
“Yeah. Wanna try it out?”
The look on his face is all I need. My belly flutters, and I go syrupy inside.
“Yeah. I really do.”
“Good,” he says, taking the prototype back. “Then come to the bedroom with me.”
Edward takes my hand and leads me down the hall. He’s looking at me with his sweet, hungry eyes and rubbing my palm with his thumb. When we finally reach the bedroom, he puts the prototype down and kisses me full on the mouth.
“Sure you want to do this?”
“Oh, you know me and science…” It’s a little hard to breathe with him nuzzling my skin.
“Yeah,” he says, nipping my ear. “Now, take off your clothes.”
I slip out of my shirt and bra, like a good little guinea pig. The room’s chilly, but when my nipples peak, it’s from arousal, not the cold. I unbuckle my belt and slide down my jeans, but when I go to slip off my panties, Edward pulls me close.
“Here, let me.”
Without taking his eyes off me, Edward slips his fingers into the waistband of my panties and slowly draws them down. Then he plants a kiss on my hip bone before tossing them aside.
“Okay, Jess. Lie down. I want to see how wet you are.”
He’s excited, but judging by his tone, which is more clinical than sexy-sexy, it’s the prototype that’s got him hot. Suddenly nervous, I lie down and watch him kick off his shoes (Edward never wears shoes on the bed). Then he gently parts my legs. They fall open, inviting, as he fingers my damp curls. I shiver again.
“Cold?” he whispers.
I shake my head.
“Nervous?”
“A little bit.”
He nods, slicking his fingertips over my folds. I’m wetter than I should be, under the circumstances.
“Don’t worry, Jess. I’ll take care of you. I know how you love to be filled.”
Still fully dressed, he kneels between my legs and slowly licks up one side of my slit before licking down the other. I gasp and move my hips, but he holds me steady. Then he goes to work with his tongue.
Let’s be clear. In addition to being good at doing abstract things with currencies, Edward has a brilliantly filthy mind, as evidenced by the gadget he’s about to use on me. He is also, I should say, incredibly good at licking my clit. Tiny circles, slow sucks, little whorls just beneath the hood. The man is a multitalented genius and I, lucky girl that I am, am in the middle of benefiting from not one, but two of my genius’s talents.
He’s at me for less than two minutes when my breath catches and I start to moan. That’s when he raises his head.
“How’re you doing, Jess? Feeling good?”
He gives me a cheeky grin before pressing his lips to my cunt. I shudder and mewl a protest when he lifts himself away.
“Hold that thought.”
Before I can do more than whimper, Edward grabs the prototype and a bottle of lube. Working with scientific precision, he slicks the ball’s cheerful, tricolored surface, which is flaccid and crinkly and not sexy at all. In fact, nothing about it is sexy. It’s just kind of weird. I shift, trying to recapture the hum between my legs, but I’m starting to feel weird too. My boyfriend is going to stick a beach ball up my cooch. That’s just fucking weird.
Determined not to blow the experiment, I focus on Edward instead, slicking away with a crease in his brow. He’s adorable, I think. The hum picks back up again. Finally, when the ball is dripping wet, he lays the prototype down on a towel.
Working quickly, as if I’m a soufflé he’s afraid will fall, Edward pulls back on a little string at the top of the plastic tube, loading the handle with the ball…sort of like a tampon. Definitely weird. Then he attaches the bicycle pump to the valve of the ball, which is peeking out the bottom.
“Okay, Jess,” he says, holding up the loaded tube. He looks like he should be wearing goggles and rubber gloves. “I’m going to insert this into you,” he says, jiggling the device. “It might be a little strange but it shouldn’t hurt. Just relax.”
Yeah. Sure. I nod.
Suddenly, Edward isn’t my boyfriend. He’s Einstein, or Tesla, or Edison…if any of those guys had bothered with sex toys. I breathe in slowly and exhale, trying to remember what my sister said about Lamaze, which is dumb because she had something coming out, and I’ve got something going in.
Edward is gentle but firm as he guides the plastic tube in past my pussy lips. As nervous as I am, it slides into me easily, meeting with little resistance. (Edward the Inventor turns me on almost as much as Edward the Boyfriend). Then he twists the tube.
“Okay, Jess. I’m going to deploy the ball now.”
“Oh yeah, baby.”
He grins sheepishly.
“Sorry, babe. Almost there.”
At this point, the haze of arousal that Edward’s tongue inspired has been destroyed by the strangeness of what’s happening between my legs. I give him a look. He pats my leg.
“I promise. Almost there.”
Suddenly, I feel the tube leave my body as Edward pulls it back, leaving the ball in place. Now that the ball is “deployed,” the tube is a handle again. This definitely feels weird. Not terrible, but not good. By now, I’m impatient, which Edward can probably sense. I’m about to tell him the prototype’s a dud when he takes the bicycle pump and begins to inflate the ball.
I gasp. With each pump of air, the ball gets bigger—first the size of two fingers, then four, then the size of a small cock, then a large cock, then a large dildo, and then a fist, and all the while it’s conforming to my shape as it fills me. By the time Edward stops pumping, the ball has become the best, most tailored, most perfect fill—most perfect fuck, even—I have ever had.
I’m panting as I stare at him with eyes that must be totally glazed. It feels so good that I’m afraid to move. It’s just sitting there inside me—pressing against my G-spot and all four walls at once—and I’m almost halfway there. The last thing I want to do is dislodge it. Edward watches me with his scientist look, taking in the sweat that’s beading my brow and my short, rapid breaths.
“How’s that feel, Jess? Good?”
I nod. He raises a brow. He’s enjoying the fact that I can’t answer.
“Okay. Tell me how this feels…”
Gently, Edward takes the prototype’s handle and turns it, very slightly. I moan as that bare hint of movement shoots straight through to my limbs.
“Good. Now, how about this?”
Slowly, slowly, Edward pulls the prototype out as my hips rise in protest. Then, just as slowly, he plunges it back in. Some sort of guttural sound drags itself out of my lungs as my back arches against this weird, perfect, glorious device. He pulls it out again, a bit farther this time, before thrusting it back in. Back and forth, back and forth. Each time, he takes it farther, makes it sweeter, as the contraption fills me like nothing I’ve ever felt. All around it, my muscles pulse and clutch. I’m breathing so hard that I’m afraid I might pass out.
Sensing how close I am, Edward keeps working the prototype with one hand while he touches my clit with the other. I buck up, accidentally pushing the prototype up on my G-spot as I rub against the pad of his thumb, which is circling my clit. I can’t hear anymore—there’s too much blood rushing in my ears, too much breathing, too many impulses firing away beneath my skin, too much, too much, too much. Edward keeps up the pressure on my clit as he thrusts the prototype into me. One more long, slow pull, and I come.
It’s one of the best fucking orgasms of my life. Filthy and aching, it spills through me, filling my arms and legs and lungs. My hips thrust against Edward’s invention desperately, of their own accord, clutching at the sweet, giving pressure of the ridiculous little thing.
Edward stills his hand as I come back down. Every cell in my body feels like it’s been fucked. I have never been so exhausted, or so satisfied. Edward opens the valve and lets the air out of the ball. Then he gently strokes my hair and kisses my face while, inside of me, the prototype shrinks and deflates until he’s able to easily pull it out.
“So, Jess,” he says, studying me like I’m the prettiest petri dish in the world. “What do you think?”
I’m still panting as I stroke his sweet, flushed face. Despite his obvious hard-on, he looks as drowsy and spent as I feel.
“Babe, I think you’re a genius. Get a patent on that thing.”