The Death of Tammy Janeway Pt. 05

Nevertheless, Chad wasn't getting any pussy that day. A flare isn't a conflagration. There was no way I was going to his townhome to be fucked silly again. That only happens when I am crazy with lust. I'd come to Starbucks to talk about the Bible.

All too soon it was time for me to leave. The sun goes down early in Detroit's winter. I needed to be home before Brother Samuelson arrived and started asking questions. Also, I had a stop to make.

I bade Chad a cordial goodbye. Since we'd spent two hours laughing and no hours proselytizing, I agreed to see him again the following week, same time, same Starbucks. I could see us getting together in public like this continuously. Our first meet up had been innocuous. Who knows? Maybe I could persuade him to join me in the Truth. That would be dicey. If he joined, he might feel compelled to speak on our sexual interactions. That would be disastrous for me.

I thought maybe I shouldn't press Chad's biblical education too hard, too soon.

I left him at the bistro and drove to the local Adam and Eve store in Southgate. Of course, I couldn't be seen going into this store so I donned my trench coat and a floppy hat. I'd watched one of their infomercials late one night. They had a dildo I thought might serve in Chad's stead. I couldn't order it online and have the charge show up on my account.

Having never felt the need to purchase a dildo in the past, one couldn't help but assume that when I did that dildo fit the bill. I bought a double-headed dildo, one for each southern opening. It was battery operated. Each tip performed circuitous swipes deep in my pussy and my ass. On the far end there was a suction cup that anchored my new toy to my toilet seat (or any flat surface). I could sit on it while doing my nails or my hair and let it do its thing. Best of all, the vaginal tip was thick and long and had a smattering of scrubbing ticklers round and about. The anal tip was smaller, but that was OK. I don't have G-spot in my ass. I immediately named my new toy "Finnie". That was Chad's nickname in high school.

I took this toy home and, since Mr. "Him on top" wasn't home yet, I put it to good use. I made sure to turn up the music in my bathroom to quell the dull buzzing emanating from within. By the time Mr. "Him on top" came home, I was the perfect Stepford wife, flush with relief and ready to do his bidding. "Finnie" was a godsend.

Donnie and I attended the weekly book study that night. Afterward, he was in a jovial mood.

"You were well prepared for the book study," he said. "I think you're coming around."

I just smiled.

He took me to bed and lasted almost three minutes, a new record, before he groaned and slumped. I waited for him to drift off to sleep before wandering into the bathroom to spend time with Finnie. This time the shower drowned out Finnie's droning moans.