Objet d'art

"I'll tell you, ah, a secret, Mr. P," Rachel breathed as she brought it round to look at it, still fingering herself. "I've never, ah, used a dildo before. I mean, I figured, ahh, I'd get to it eventually. It's just I never found one as, oh, as nice as you. Mm, but you are a work of art, after all"

The plastic penis didn't have anything to say. It just wobbled enticingly in her grasp. Her fingers couldn't reach all the way around it, but they settled into an easy grip, her thumb pressing into the groove where the head met the shaft. She squeezed it absent-mindedly, mimicking the motions of her other hand against her pussy, her fingers curling inside. When her probing fingertips found her G-spot, she clutched the dildo to her as a gasp escaped her chest. The fabric of her blouse pulled tight as she pressed Mr. Purple between her breasts. She could feel her heart pounding, and her nipples strained hard against her bra.

She wanted to run her hands all over herself. To draw circles on her hot skin. To pinch her nipples and breasts and her inner thighs. To tease her pussy lips and clit as she fingered herself. That was the problem with playing with yourself. You never seemed to have enough hands.

Her silicone friend nestled against her breast, tempting her. It was all but designed to scratch several of her itches. It had the girth to spread her, the length to fill her, and that perfect curve to touch her where she needed. If only it wasn't a piece of art that she was responsible for.

"Mm, screw it," she groaned. "Y-you can't tell me nobody would've ever tried to bone theMona Lisa, ahh, g-given the chance." With another sigh, she slipped her glistening fingers from her sopping pussy and eased herself away from the counter, which had left her with a crease across her buttocks. Time to take this somewhere more comfortable.

After bending shakily to pick up her skirt and knickers with the same hand that clutched the dildo, Rachel tottered across the room and cracked the door. It was almost impossible for anybody else to be on the landing outside her restroom, but still she was relieved to find she was alone. She dashed bottomless into to her office and slammed and locked the door. Since she had slept there the night before, blinds were already closed across the windows that looked onto the landing, and those that looked outside.

She made a beeline to the couch that sat opposite her desk, discarded her skirt and undies once more, and flopped down on the cushions. She lay on her back, sliding her free hand into her crotch as she spread her legs. Slicking her fingers, she brought her other hand down, to spread her wetness over the purple dick. So much for getting cleaned up. Switching the dildo to her wet hand, she slipped it between her swollen labia, rubbing it along her slit, getting used to the feel of it as she lubricated it with her juices. Against her vulva, it didn't feel so plasticky, just smooth and sturdy. Even with its realistic bumps and ridges, it felt streamlined, designed to slide against her. To slide inside her.

Mr. Purple nudged against her entrance, and her whole pussy throbbed with anticipation. Even though she had full control, the dildo's subtle wobble could make her believe it was excited too. Not attached to a horny man, not throbbing with hot-blooded desire, but it was as though it was made to fuck her. Rachel curled her grip around the paint-splash base and pushed the silicone shaft inside.

She stifled a cry as it stretched and filled her. It slid in with one smooth stroke, she was so ready. The tip, with its perfect curve, rubbed against the sweet spot inside her like she knew it would, reigniting the tingles she had coaxed with her fingers moments before, fulfilling her fantasy. She pushed it all the way in and held it there, thrilling at the clasping of her inner walls around its unyielding girth. As she squirmed with pleasure, the barest movement caused it to touch her in new ways, sending fresh shivers through her entire body. She pulled back, sliding it slowly out of her, almost all the way, then she let out a desperate groan as she filled herself with it again, and again, and again.

Her other hand, resting on her belly, slipped up and under her blouse. She clutched at one breast through her bra, feeling the hard bud pressing into her palm through the fabric. She kneaded her boob until the cup of the bra slid up her chest, and she pinched the swollen nipple with her fingers.

Eyes closed, heart pounding and breathing hard, Rachel grasped at each breast in turn as she continued thrusting the dildo. Even when it penetrated as far as it could, her fingertips barely grazed her lips. She adjusted her grip to bend the shaft up, so it rubbed against her clit with each stroke. That would be the advantage of having the real thing, or the man to which it was attached: an extra pair of hands, and the thrusting was taken care of.

She failed to bite back a gasp of 'oh, fuck me', as she conjured a vague fantasy of the man Mr. Purple may have been copied from. Nothing specific, just big and strong and all over her. First, she imagined the dildo was his dick, filling her over and over as he pounded away eagerly between her legs. Then, she thought of him lying to her side, gripping the fake cock himself, thrusting it into her as the real thing pressed hard and throbbing against her leg, waiting its turn. Oh, the things she could do if she had both the real thing and the copy. Certainly, she could do with another pair of hands then.

Clutching her purple friend inside her, Rachel turned unsteadily onto her knees. In order to secure the dildo so she could use it hands-free, she lifted one of the couch cushions and wedged the hard base underneath. She gripped the back of the seat as she rocked her hips, impaling herself. When she settled into a rhythm, she was able to spread her hands over her body once more. She lifted her blouse with both hands, letting out a loud gasp as she squeezed both breasts. She wasn't usually noisy in the act -- perfect for masturbating at work -- but with the way she was touching herself on the outside, and the way Mr. P was touching her inside, she couldn't help but moan as she rode the upright cock.

Holding one hand over her left breast as her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest, she slid her other hand back between her legs. Her wandering fingers elicited no more reaction from the steadfast Mr. Purple, but Rachel shuddered and whimpered as she grazed her clit. She could continue running her hands over her body, teasing herself with various pleasures, but she was so close now, she couldn't resist.

She couldn't control the weak but ecstatic moans that escaped her as she fucked herself. Mr. Purple stretching her swollen lips and filling her hungry hole. Her fingers rubbing her deliciously aching, sensitive clit. Rushing her towards a glorious climax.

The cry caught in her throat when she released a final gasp. She pulled her hand from her breast in time to grab the back of the seat before she doubled over as the orgasm crashed through her body and turned her arms and legs to jelly. Her other hand grabbed at the purple cock as she sank helplessly down on it, her insides contracting around it. All attempts she made to move set off little orgasmic aftershocks that only kept her rooted to the spot.

As the waves of pleasure finally began to ebb away, Rachel managed to lift herself off the toy and shimmy to the other side of the couch. The silicone boner stood still, wedged upright in the middle of a dark patch, both cock and cushions soaked in her juices.

Still panting, she arched her eyebrows at her silent companion. "You can stand there looking ready to go again all you like, Mr. P, but I don't think I can take anymore right now."

Eventually, she summoned the energy to clamber off the couch, making sure both her shoes were still on properly before trying to stand. She plucked some tissues out of a box on her desk and gingerly wiped between her legs, each touch of her still-sensitive vulva threatening to set her off again. Once she'd made the best of it, she reached under her desk to claim a spare pair of undies from her bag, which she donned before wriggling back into her skirt and straightening her bra and blouse. She kicked the old knickers out of sight, then turned to appraise her little friend.

Rachel smiled wistfully at the shimmering plastic dick and said, "come on, let's get you cleaned up again." As she used another tissue to pluck it out of the couch cushions, she added, "no sexy bath for you this time, though. I have to get back to work."

She washed it quickly in the restroom and checked her appearance in the mirror too. She hadn't ended up looking quite as dishevelled as she'd expected, but she made a couple of adjustments for good measure. The flush in her neck and cheeks faded as she finished up.

Rachel thought she had every reason to feel embarrassed as she returned to the gallery floor, but she was altogether more relaxed. She scanned the space, looking for signs that proceedings had derailed in her absence, but all seemed well. Mari Chapelle, standing arm-in-arm with Violet near a wall of nude photographs, saw her looking and gave her a thumbs-up.

She strode across the space, clutching Mr. Purple in one hand. She still couldn't work out the right way to hold it, but she wasn't flustered. There were two girls and a guy checking out Violet's table as she approached. When she returned her silicone companion to its rightful place, the girls gave her a suspicious look and whispered to each other. The guy tilted his head but gave her a warm smile. He was handsome, well groomed, and smartly dressed, and he was doing his best to keep his eyes on Rachel's face. A courtesy she was working on extending herself.

"Uh, I think the artist had something to say about the impermanence of certain art styles when she decided not to affix any of the, uh, specimens, to the display," Rachel offered her onlookers in explanation. "Mr. Purple here took an unexpected trip, but we're all cleaned up now, aren't we?"

The girls exchanged a look, then one of them said, "hey, I wouldn't mind taking Mr. Orange on a little trip, to be fair." Her friend nudged her, and they wandered off giggling.

"You must be Rachel," said the guy, holding out his hand. "I'm Garrett. I'm a friend of the artist. Violet's told me a lot about you."

"Then, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Rachel replied, shaking his hand and returning the smile, "but it's good to know you. Any friend of Vi's..."

Garrett rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Well, maybe you know more about me than you think. You seem to have met part of me already. Maybe I should have introduced myself as Mr. Purple."

"Maybe," said Rachel, fingers trembling as she took her hand from his. She could only imagine what Garrett must have thought when she turned up carrying the copy of his cock. How would he feel if he knew what else she'd done with it? She fought the urge to lower her eyes towards the original version. Then, she cast a furtive glance at her object of desire.That was Mr. Purple. "I think I'll use your real name, Garrett, if it's all the same to you."

"Fine by me, Rachel," he grinned. "So, we know each other's names, but I'd still like us to get to know each other better. Of course, you're already acquainted with one of the more intimate things about me. What else can I tell you?"

Rachel resisted the urge to ask him what colour his actual penis was as her little guessing game whirred up in her brain. "Don't worry, Garrett. I'm still plenty curious. After all, good art can really make you think."