Debbie Just Got Curious

Debbie lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. It was 6 AM on a cold Monday morning and, as she heard the car pull off the drive and head off toward town, she found herself alone. Like any other morning, in so many households. Her husband John had kissed her goodbye and left for work. Debbie felt boredom and isolation overcome her as the house fell silent.

Having given up her job at the end of the year, Debbie hoped that early retirement might lead to a more interesting life. Instead, she found herself housebound and alone.

She had tried a variety of hobbies and interests, but felt trapped and out of place. She was somewhere between the younger women with families and the older couples, whose lives were set and whose wives would look at Debbie with suspicion when she arrived at an event without a partner. There were groups and activities for fifty something women, but she found their interests unappealing. Jam making and garden visits were not for Debbie.

She had imagined herself rediscovering interests and activities, abandoned when kids took over her life thirty years ago, but instead found a different world, with different attitudes. The world now looked on her as a middle aged woman, if it even looked on her at all. Without a job to give her purpose and status she felt abandoned and alone when at home, and practically invisible when going out.

Her short sexy frame had started to slip. The once firm large boobs, now even larger, but heavy and drooping, lay on her stomach when she released her brassiere at night. She now had a slim butt again though, having recently lost thirty pounds, which also bought back her bone structure, restoring her youthful facial features, further enhanced by a new short hairstyle, which framed her pale skin with newly died, shiny black hair. She was good looking and sexy, most guys thought, but they knew that she was spoken for.

Debbie's mind wandered back to memories of her younger life, when John was fit, virile and always horny. They had known each other since school and he remained her only relationship.

She held, and cherished that thought.

Only one man had ever seen her naked or touched her. Only one man had ever made love to her. She had kissed boys at school, before John, but only on the lips. She had never wanted anybody else, John was her man and she loved him, but since the sex dried up she had occasionally wondered what she might have missed.

The only other man in her life had been Tony, who she once worked with. He was a nice guy, her work husband, everybody said. They had different roles, but shared a corner of the office, laughing and joking through their working. day. Flirting, some called it, but the two of them knew it was just a friendship that had grown from a shared sense of humour, and a common disregard for their supervisors.

As these thoughts passed through her mind, Debbie's hand had unconsciously slipped between her legs, her fingers now sliding up and down over her pussy, trying to tease the clitoris from its hood.

She reached into her bedside cabinet for the dildo and lube that John had bought as a joke for her birthday a few years before. He had told her that it was a facsimile of his own cock, and told a lurid tale of how he had his cock moulded in silicone rubber at a sex shop in a nearby town. She liked the thought that he went to that trouble, so that it was still John that entered her, even when she was alone. This had become her only source of pleasure lately and when she closed her eyes and pressed her rubber hubby home, she was young again, with a young John inside her.

One of the things she hated most about being post menopausal, was dryness. She blamed this for their declining sex life at first, as it interrupted their passion, having to stop to search for the lube. Once found, John had gone limp and the moment had passed. Their sex sessions became less frequent and eventually stopped as John, embarrassed at failing to get hard, had given up trying. Debbie knew that their love life was coming to an end when John had started to make excuses or stayed up late to avoid going to bed together.

Debbie had tried to encourage him and wanted to talk about it, but John would not confront the issue, so she finally got the message and gave in to celibacy. Her only pleasure now came from a rubber copy of her husbands cock, generously lubricated with a certain brand of jelly.

Debbie applied lube to her hand, then applied it to her dildo, using it to make her pussy wet. Dildo John entered her with ease, sliding in slowly until the entire length disappeared from sight. Debbie's mind went into overdrive as she slowly fucked herself. This piece of rubber had replaced her husband in her sex life she thought and she lovingly held it inside her, pushing it as deep as she could, her body writhing with increasing pleasure until she finally came. Her wandering thoughts had confused her, as her ex workmate Tony had popped into her mind at the moment of climax, causing the orgasm to quickly fade, but Tony's face now appeared once more as she pulled the dildo from her.

Recovering between tousled sheets, she found herself wondering if the dildo had shrunk in some way. It had felt smaller for some time, leaving her feeling less filled than usual. She imagined that the rubber had lost some quality with age, making it shrink, but in reality she realised that her vagina was not as tight as it once was.

Studying the dildo, she thought it looked very realistic and with a similar feel to John's cock, but without the warmth that once thrilled her so. She had no vivid memory of John's erect cock, as he had not managed to get a hard on for several years, so she couldn't truthfully make the comparison, but she believed his story, that this stiff, erect cock was modelled on his own.

Then a thought suddenly occured to her.

How had John managed to get the dildo moulded from his cock, when he had erectile problems?

Debbie studied the dildo carefully, holding it to mimick the position of a mans erect penis. it was the same size as she remembered her husbands cock being, certainly the same length, as she could remember how her hand wrapped around him, but she now needed re-assurance that it was a true likeness. This was the first time that Debbie had looked closely at the object that had satisfied her for so long, and as she rotated it in her hand she began to doubt that it bore any resemblance to the only cock that had ever entered her. Debbie was truly shocked and suddenly felt deep guilt and shame. As she cleaned the dildo and put it back in the drawer, she felt as though she had just been unfaithful to her husband.

Showered and dressed, she sat at the breakfast table. The feeling of guilt did not go away as she ate and she began to hope that her memory had faded and she had been mistaken.

Rummaging through old photo albums, she finally found the photos she was looking for. A faded collection of Polaroids, holiday snaps taken in Crete twenty years ago. John had hired a remote villa, out of season, and they had enjoyed glorious weather and unending peace for three weeks. With the nearest house five miles away and the villa surrounded by pine scrub, they had walked around naked for most of the day, only dressing when going out to the beach or the nearest bar. It had been their most memorable holiday, mainly because the sun and the warmth had raised their libido and they spent long hours having slow sensuous sex.

Finally she found the photo she wanted. She vividly remembered taking this photo. Whilst she had been fiddling with their new instant camera, John had got out of the pool with a huge erection and reached over her for a towel. Debbie instinctively took a shot of John's cock, just inches from her face and, despite Johns protests, giggled for hours at the resulting photo. She kept it in her bag for weeks afterwards, before eventually consigning it to the photo album to prevent anybody inadvertently finding it.

In her hands she held an undisputed record of her husbands manhood and she carefully examined it, alongside her dildo. There was a resemblance, but it was clear that the dildo was not moulded from John. The dildo seemed to be slightly thicker, and was veined, something that the photo showed John not to be. The dildo also looked to be modelled on a cut cock and it had balls much larger than John's. She guiltily remembered how she had always liked the feeling of the dildo in her hand, her tiny hand gripping those artificial balls as she thrust it into her.

Whose cock had been moulded for this dildo, she thought? Whose cock had been fucking her for the last few years, in place of her husband?

Rolling the dildo in her hand, she checked for clues, but found nothing. No name, or manufacturers codes helped identify the model.

Opening John's laptop, she went to search for the supplier.

Debbie had no idea of where to look for dildos, let alone how to identify one. Guiltily and very naively, she typed the word dildo into the search box.

All kinds of websites appeared on her screen, too many to know where to start, so she clicked on images.

Hundreds of dildo images flooded the screen and Debbie flushed bright red at the sight of huge veined cocks of every shape, size and colour. She scanned through the images, looking for a cock like John's, desperate to avoid staring at these strange members, but having no option. Nothing looked familiar, but slowly Debbie found her interest wandering from the search for her dildo, to a fascination of the various cocks on display.

Every cock seemed to be unique, with varying length, girth, shape and colour and, although she found some repulsive, others were quite attractive. John was uncut, but the dildo, she now realised, was of a circumcised cock, as were most of these dildos, with bulbous heads and no foreskin. Some stared out angrily from the screen, thrusting themselves at her as if about to erupt in her face. John had never looked like this, she thought, unwittingly rubbing herself through her knickers.

These dildos seemed to possess a life force, waiting for a hungry woman to thrust them into their innermost depths to find enjoyment and satisfaction. Debbie realised that her knickers were soaking wet, and her fingers found their way inside the fabric, sliding easily up and down her slit, exciting and arousing her as she continued to browse this never ending display of artificial manhood.

The images in Debbie's mind grew more erotic, exciting her as she writhed in her kitchen chair. Her body was wracked with excitement and passion as her fingers worked their way to fulfilment. With a series of animalistic grunts and stifled screams, Debbie came in a rush, falling to her knees as her legs stiffened and then buckled as the orgasm overtook her body.

For a few fleeting seconds, Debbie was helpless and feeling reckless. Her fingers didn't stop as they normally would, but slowly sought out that soft spot inside her which the dildo had always found. Erotic thoughts overtook her with obscene images flashing through her mind as she felt the onset of another orgasm.

Johns laptop was discarded as she lay on the floor, her hand held tightly between her legs. As the feelings rushed through her body, her mind became a turmoil of emotion and obscene thoughts. Faces and images flashed into her mind as she ran through the men in her life. Men who had been work colleagues, or friends of John. Workmen who had built their house, refitted their kitchen or repaired the heating; all these faces now mixed with images of erect cocks, as she tried to fit one to the other, like some obscene TV game show.

She came again, violently, a scream bursting from deep within. Only then did she realise that her entire hand was inside her, tiny fingers clenched into a fist still shaking and rubbing against the walls of her vagina as her body convulsed in post orgasmic pleasure. The floor was wet, a small puddle of colourless liquid forming beneath her as she carefully withdrew her hand, her body still shaking uncontrollably. Debbie could not believe what had just happened. Not only had she had a life changing orgasm, but she had been wet enough to easily allow her to fist fuck herself.

Shame overcame Debbie as she cleaned herself up and headed back to the shower. What had just happened, she thought?

Weeks later, with John out of town on business, Debbie was once again alone and bored. Having banished her dildo to the depths of her bedside cabinet, she had denied herself any sexual pleasure through her own disgust at her actions weeks before, Debbie found herself constantly looking for mundane jobs to distract her.

Having vacuumed the house, cleaned the kitchen and cleared out junk from the attic, she was now sorting through old paperwork from their credit card accounts. This stuff was obsolete, she told herself, now that all their finances were online, so she should just burn it. Habit made her go through every receipt though, just in case there was something that didn't look right.

Amongst the supermarket and fuel receipts, one stood out. It was a name that she didn't recognise, with a vague description of the goods supplied. Suspiciously, Debbie put it to one side and collected the remainder of the pile, consigning them to the blazing log fire. The suspicious receipt intrigued her. It wasn't too high a cost, a sum that wouldn't normally concern her, but the name struck her as odd - Diamond Dolls.

Briefly, she wondered if John had found a girlie bar, but that seemed unlikely, so she opened John's laptop and entered the name. A company of that name was shown in a nearby town, listed as an adult store. The penny dropped. This was probably the receipt for her dildo. Staring at the website home page, Debbie briefly wondered if it was sensible to follow this up, but knew that she had to know the truth. Scribbling down the address, she grabbed her coat and keys and headed for the car.

Debbie pulled up outside an industrial unit in a part of town she would not normally visit, a drab area with narrow dark streets strewn with rubbish. As darkness fell and businesses closed for the day, the area was devoid of cars and life. She wished that John was with her, but summoned up the courage to lock her car and head into the discretely signed unit with blacked out windows.

A deserted reception area greeted her. Pornographic material was piled on shelves, erotic lingerie hung from the walls and a long wall of dildos and vibrators stretched out before her. It was cleaner and less sordid than she had imagined.

Soft rock music was playing and a faint murmur of voices could be heard from the curtained area beyond the store front. Debbie quietly wandered along the line of sex toys, her heart pounding as she studied the countless effigies in front of her, until finally, tucked in a corner, she found her dildo. It stood proudly amongst dozens of others, and was easily the smallest of this vast collection.

Involuntarily, her hand reached out to touch the familiar object. She stroked it, more from habit than longing, just as a voice boomed out behind her.

"That used to be one of our best sellers, but tastes have changed, so we are discounting that model right now."

Debbie's toes curled as she realised she had been watched all this time.

"Just browsing" she said, as her face burned bright red.

"No need to be embarrassed, this is my profession. I like all my customers to feel at ease and totally free from guilt in here. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Debbie took a deep breath and turned to face him. Expecting a slimy greasy slob of a man, she was surprised at the attractive, well dressed middle aged man before her.

"I'm Lee, owner of this business. What exactly are you looking for, miss...?"

"Debbie, my names Debbie and I'm married" she blurted out, quietly regretting giving her real name. "I'm here to ask about a sex toy my husband got you to make for me a few years ago. This one here actually." she said, lovingly stroking the dildo again.

"Well, as I said, it's not a popular model at the moment, probably around five years old and is the last one we have in stock."

Debbie looked surprised, "do you mean that you had more in stock?" "We had hundreds at one time. It was very popular before the recent fashion for the big black style. Every other woman seems to want BBC these days."

Debbie didn't know what he meant by BBC and didn't ask.

"Are they modelled on a real, errr...person?" Debbie's face was burning again.

"Yeah, sure, we mould them here, as well as pussy moulds. We have all the equipment and provide a discrete service. That model was based on one of our customers, who allowed us to copy it for general sale. We normally only use porn stars these days, it's what the customer wants, but we still copy the occasional guy who wants a bespoke copy for their partner. It's quite expensive though, so people usually buy a stock model."

Debbie's heart sank. John had probably come here intending to get a life copy of his own cock, but realised that it was expensive and that he probably would not be able to get, or to stay hard for long enough to cast the mould. This was proof that Debbie had been fucking herself with a strangers cock for years, and she once again felt guilt at her unfaithful behaviour.

Debbie burst into tears.

Lee came round the counter, concerned at her sudden show of grief. "Hey, Debbie, why the tears?"

Debbie blubbed out her story to this total stranger as she dissolved into more tears, deep sobs interspersing her words. Lee comforted her, taking her away from the public area and making coffee for them both, until Debbie finally calmed down enough to talk sensibly.

Lee listened to her story, then gently told her how most of his customers would think that she was one of a kind and, frankly, old fashioned, but cute.

"Let me show you around, so that you can see what being unfaithful really is" Lee said, taking her hand and leading her through the back of the store, heading toward the muffled sounds that she had heard earlier.

The sounds became clearer as he opened a door into a small cinema, showing a clearly amateur film showing the most graphic sex scene that Debbie could have imagined.

A large black guy, with a cock at least three times the size of John's, was standing behind a blonde woman of around Debbie's age, clearly pressing himself slowly into her with a series of grunts and soft exclamations of ecstasy. She watched, amazed, as the camera moved jerkily around to view this massive cock from underneath the couple, as his cock stretched the womans labia beyond it's limits, jizz dripping from her pubic hair.

The voice behind the camera urged him on.

"Oh yeah, fuck that bitch man...Do you like it honey, do you like that big black cock inside you?"

Debbie looked at Lee, amazed, as the meaning of BBC suddenly dawned on her.

"Oh my god, they let a guy film them?"

"The guy filming is her husband Debbie. It's a cuckold film. This is for real. Her husband set this up for her, he wanted to film it, and let the world see his wife being fucked by a strange guy."

Debbie looked on, shocked but transfixed by the brazenness of this film. Her peripheral vision suddenly picked up movement and she became aware of people moving slowly in the darkness. Lee put his finger to his lips and took her hand once more.

"Come and look at this" he whispered to her, leading her out through a corridor lined with doors.

Walking to the end of the corridor, Lee unlocked a door which led to a large room full of TV screens showing empty cubicles.

"What are those rooms for?"

"Gloryholes. Customers pay a fee to use them to, um...meet other people, discretely."

Lee smiled broadly as he said that, but Debbie did not really catch on. This was a totally new world to her. A buzzer sounded, and Lee moved off to greet the customers.