She tried. God knows she tried. Each night it was the same thing. She told herself she wouldn't do it. She resisted until the wee hours of the morning. Until she was so tired that her eyes were about to dry up like raisins. Until her body was vibrating with exhaustion. Until she gave into her cravings and gained her release.
It was two a.m. and Veronica fisted her hands to stop them from creeping down to quench the ache that tortured her. With a dramatic sigh to rival any Babs could dish out, Veronica rolled over in bed and reached for the knob on her nightstand drawer. With a cringe, she slid the drawer open. She peered into the shadowed interior lit only by the light of the moon and looked for her favorite vibrator.
It was purely psychological, she knew that. She was an intelligent, forty-two-year-old woman with a college degree and at least enough common sense to fill a cup full. Yet she was a secret masturbator. Secret because no one, no one, knew how much she did, or how many sexual toys she'd accumulated over the last two years. If her friend Babs found out about her collection, she would never live it down.
She could almost hear her mother's voice in her ear.
The devil dances 'twixt your thighs, so you'd better keep them closed so he has no dance hall.
Veronica didn't want to turn on the light, so she kept feeling around, sure that Big Purple was near the top. She'd already used it twice this week; it couldn't be far. When her fingers slid across a familiar bumpy rubber, she sighed in relief and pulled it out.
She hadn't intended on becoming a collector. It was quite by accident. Babs had given her a vibrator for her birthday two years earlier, and she was mortified, especially considering it was in the Sugar Shack restaurant. Veronica brought it home and one night, in the deep darkness, she reached for it, almost against her will. Thus began her path down the road of licentiousness that would make her mother have the vapors for a month if she knew.
She started purchasing online at a website that delivered in plain brown packages. At first, it was simple vibrators, and then she worked her way through butterfly vibrators, clit ticklers, nipple rings, double dongs, and simulated tongues. She must have at least fifty different devices in her drawer. She had her favorites, of course, like Big Purple.
Veronica took the warming gel from the drawer and squeezed some on the ribbed vibrator, then used her fingers to coat it. Setting the gel back, she slid the drawer closed and snuggled back into her comfortable spot on the mattress. The warming gel wasn't necessary of course, but it gave at least the appearance of something other than a rubber sex device. It wasn't human, but at least it wasn't cold.
She eased the nightgown up her thighs and spread her legs until the air conditioned air caressed her heated, hungry pussy. Like Pavlov's dog, it wept because it knew a treat was coming. A treat that would relieve its pain, its hunger.
She twisted the end until it vibrated slowly. She liked to tease herself as she turned it up. As the slick hardness made contact with her clit, a zing of pleasure echoed through her. She slid the vibrator back and forth, pulling her clit to aching hardness.
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