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you believe it?" Veiling her
face with the cloth, I decided not to show Tony the mess I'd made
of her eyes. I had to pull myself together, I thought, gazing at my
trembling fingers. I'd done nothing while Tony had been away, I had
to pull myself together and complete the painting!
    Sperm?
Enzymes, testosterone... I'd been swallowing Tony's sperm for
years, when had I become addicted? Thinking back, not a week had
passed without me taking him into my mouth and sucking him to
orgasm. The thought of his glans sperming in my thirsty mouth sent
a pulse of pleasure through my clitoris. My arousal was
soaring.
    Climbing the
narrow stairs to the attic, I switched the light on, breathing in
the scent of time - age, musk. Little boxes, where was my
once-treasured little box? Dildo, a strange word, I mused,
searching through a tea chest. Dildo. There it was, the long red
box. Lifting the lid, I gazed at the white candle, ran my
fingertips over its smooth surface, recalling my teens - I'd
imagined it to be a penis, as real as any penis. I used to imagine
many things when I masturbated.
    Standing with
my feet parted, I bent my knees and pulled my damp panties to one
side, unveiling my vaginal lips, my open sex hole. Taking the
candle, I placed the rounded end between my swelling labia, parting
my inner sex folds. As I twisted and pushed the shaft, it entered
me, stretching my inner flesh, filling me - memories flooding me,
drowning me
    I needed to
come, but my heart was beating wildly, my hands trembling - I
needed sex. Pushing the candle fully home, the end pressing gently
against my cervix, I pulled my panties over the protruding shaft,
holding it there, deep inside my aching vagina.
    Descending the stairs, the beautiful sensations emanating from
my bloated pussy sending tingles up my spine, my clitoris throbbed
expectantly. But I couldn't masturbate. My breathing fast, shallow,
I was in no fit state to concentrate on masturbation, to enjoy
orgasm. Later, I decided, when I felt better - if I felt better.
    Tony arrived
at three that afternoon. My secret was in its secret box beneath my
bed, wet, vagina-wet - sex-wet. Fortunately, Tony didn't question
me when I told him about the phone; he was more interested in my
state of health, my unhealthy state. I'd done my best with my
makeup and hair, but I looked haggard, tired. A rag doll,
ragged.
    I tried to
explain my condition away by telling him that I'd not been sleeping
properly, which didn't sound particularly convincing, especially as
I was obviously having difficulty breathing. He frowned, noticing
my trembling hands.
    "I think you
should go and see John," he said concernedly, his dark eyes
catching mine. "You don't look right to me."
    "I'm fine!" I
lied with a little chuckle. I'd never lied to him before. "I'm just
tired, that's all."
    "How's the
Blue Lady?"
    "Er... almost
done." Another lie. "I'll show you when it's finished."
    Gazing at his
bulging trousers as he stood before me in the kitchen, I pondered
on Doctor Harvey's ludicrous theory. Sperm? Mad though the notion
was, it was worth trying. I was in a terrible state, and it was
becoming pretty obvious to Tony that there was something wrong with
me other than tiredness. My heart beating wildly, my vision
blurring, I was prepared to try anything!
    Kneeling
before him, I tugged his zip down and hauled his magnificent penis
out, his pizzle, his candle. "You're keen!" he chuckled as I pulled
his foreskin back and engulfed his purple plum in my hot mouth,
fervently sucking and licking. Juices of arousal oozed from my
vagina, wetting my panties, as I took his swollen glans to the back
of my throat.
    "Mmm," I
moaned through my nose, savouring his salty glans as I hurriedly
unbuckled his belt and tugged his trousers down. His balls hung
heavy, full - sperm-laden.
    "You're very
keen!"
    Sucking,
mouthing, cupping Tony's fraught balls in my hand, I again pondered
on the doctor's theory. If it was true, and I was addicted to
something in