The doll house

When she finished rinsing him off she got behind him, apparently to get a towel to dry him off.

Milton looked over his back at Claire across the street.

She was sitting on her simple old couch, watching television, occasionally glancing over at him.

He took hold of his cock.

She scowled at him, daring him to jerk off in front of her, or at least making it clear that she would not appreciate it. She turned her attention back to the television.

Milton didn't know what to do. He considered jerking off, but clearly Claire wouldn't appreciate that, and it would most definitely be rude to do in front of Rio. That was probably not appropriate protocol even within a Japanese bath house, even if they did in fact employ female bathers.

"Geez!" he suddenly squealed, as he felt Rio's tongue on his nuts.

Rio had lied down on the wet tiled floor, on her back, and slid her face under the stool. She didn't have to go far to get her tongue to his balls, as the stool was quite low, and she began to lick and lap at his nuts like they were sweet balls of tasty ice cream.

It was an indescribably odd yet wondrously titillating sensation for Milton. He was particularly ticklish behind the balls, and Rio made sure that she fully capitalized on that fact. Milton squirmed and wriggled on the stool. He felt such a strong urge to try to escape, but the discomfort was also so intensely pleasurable that he wanted it to sustain, to continue.

The position allowed Rio to bounce and jiggle Milton's balls with her tongue. She played with them like a seal in a circus, at times even tea-bagging him, sucking both of his nuts into her mouth, and then swishing them around, like they were big tasty gum balls.

Milton wondered if perhaps he had in fact died, it was just so unreal and so intensely pleasing.

But, Rio wasn't finished. She shifted farther down and with no hesitation applied her little wet feminine tongue to his asshole.

Milton glanced out the front of the house at Claire across the street. This was just too weird, too obscene, having an audience while getting a rim job. Could he in fact even look Claire in the face the next day? His face reddened with embarrassment as he saw her shake her head and wag her finger at him. She clearly did not approve.

But, of course, there was really no reason for Milton to feel embarrassed. It's not like any of this was real. He closed his eyes, blocking from his mind Claire's disapproval, and let himself enjoy the intensely stimulating feel of an actual rim job. He was unlikely to ever have the opportunity for this again, certainly not in real life. How many men ever get this experience even just once?! Life can be so cruel and uncaring.

Milton just sat back and enjoyed it, and was more than comfortable with the decision. His sphincter kept twitching and squirming against the girl's tongue, like it was engaged in a very unseemly, dirty dance.

He even reached down and took hold of his cock. Somebody had to stroke it. He couldn't just let it stretch out like that, yearning for some contact, yet receiving none. He certainly wouldn't ignore it if he was alone, and for all intents and purposes he was essentially alone, alone within his own dream, so at least he felt, perhaps.

He gasped with delight as he stroked his cock while his anus continued to be cleaned, caressed and tickled, Rio's slippery girlish feminine tongue continuing to provide little licks and flickers on his so very sensitive tingly anal nerves.

Fuck, he never realized that his anus was so hypersensitive, so excitable.

"Rio," he gasped as he suddenly felt himself on the verge of explosion. He couldn't help himself. He just had to cum, right now. There was no stopping him.

Rio immediately, quickly, pushed herself all the way through the stool, sliding up to lie between his legs, inches below his stiff cock, the bulb so shiny and inflamed.

He gazed down into Rio's pretty Asian eyes, beneath his manly stiffness, and then felt a large gush of cum jolt up through his shaft and explode out the bright red swollen knob to splash down onto her pleased smiling face.

Milton smiled as well. He was actually cumming onto a girl's face. This was something he knew full well would never happen in real life. Even if one fine day he became married there would be no way that he would ask permission to do this. He couldn't imagine a girl actually letting him do this, let alone smiling as he exploded all over her.

But, Rio certainly appeared to be enjoying it.

"Yes, yes, very good, much cum, yes, yes," she kept exclaiming as spurts, sprays, and wads rained down upon her forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips.

Milton never felt better in his life than when he was within the throes of an orgasm. Was there a better physical experience? There couldn't possibly be. And, this one was accompanied by the visual delight of seeing his cum finally put to good use: coloring and decorating the face of a very pretty, happy, smiling girl.

And, he was doing a pretty good job at it, if he said so himself. There was one long rope that stretched from her forehead, down across an eye, and then across her cheek. There was a rather big glob right in the corner of her eye, another one first splatted on the tip of her nose and then stretched across her lips, and still more kept gushing and squirting, so much globby, sticky gooey gunk. It was so very fucking real, so deliriously satisfying, so rapturously engulfing.

He was very, very thankful that he had not yet woken up, the bane of every wet dream.

Rio was perhaps even more pleased. She raised up her face a bit. The large dollop of cum in the corner of her eye slowly dripped down, like a big gelatinous, glutinous tear. She smiled. She was crying cum, cum tears of joy.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Milton! Milton!"

"What?!" Milton was awakened from his dream, his mind returning to consciousness. It was Mr. Limbergh. Where the fuck was he?

"Mr. Widdams, were you actually asleep? At work?"

"What? Oh!" He was at work. He had apparently dozed off, thinking back upon that prior night with Rio, lost in a daydream, albeit not nearly as real as his night dream had been.

"What? No. No! No, no, I was, um, thinking about something, the W-G reports. I was, um, working, crunching, the numbers."

"Do you realize, Mr. Widdams, that sleeping while on the clock is a very serious violation of company regulations. We do not grow, we do not progress, when our employees are sleeping. Do you think the team of BlueStar is asleep at the wheel?"

"Honestly, sir, I was just deep in thought."

"Well, you'll have to complete a TX/DR-274."

A TX/DR-74 is the incident report concerning distractions, sleeping, texting, or any other similar such activity on the job. Milton would have to complete the four pages, with specific details as to when the incident(s) occurred, duration, reasons, compensation, and so forth. "Yes sir," Milton glumly replied, as he pulled the form from his desktop file. Great, more paperwork. What else did he ever do?

"And, listen," Mr. Limbergh added, recalling why he had come to Milton's cubicle in the first place, "I want you to finish up that Scranton report. Upstairs is busting my hump over this one."

"You want me to deprioritize the receipts and disbursement report until you advise a status upgrade?"

"Yes, make it your primary action item."

"Yes, but I was thinking of working on my proposal for that call for K-R innovations." Milton felt he had a lot of good ideas for that project, perhaps one that might in fact lead to a promotion, or at least a bonus.

"Let's put a pin in that one. That way we won't forget about it." Mr. Limbergh stuck an imaginary pin in their conversation, as if it was hanging on an imaginary wall. "Good then, let's let it hang there for a while, so we can think about it, okay? Smiles all around? Excellent." He walked away before Milton could respond.

"Yes sir," Milton glumly replied as he watched his boss disappear from his cubicle.

When Mr. Limbergh was gone Milton looked at his clock. What time was it, anyway? He had been at work for three hours and had so far accomplished little. This was one time that Mr. Limbergh was correct. He had been daydreaming most of the day. In fact, he could barely remember any of the details of the morning, his mind in such a haze. He had no clear memory at all of even having breakfast. Did he have breakfast?

He was feeling rather uncomfortable and more than a little nervous. Has he been hallucinating? Was he having dissociative episodes? Maybe he should see a psychiatrist, but the thought of that was so demoralizing, and a little scary. He took a deep breath and vowed to never have another cup of that tea.

He would at times wonder if life could be worse. The answer, of course, is most definitely yes. Things could always be worse, very much worse. And, perhaps they now were, for perhaps he was now in fact losing his mind.

When he got home he was feeling a little better. Time without any further dissociation was reassuring. If he just avoided the tea he would be fine. Upon arrival he immediately threw the rest of it away, just in case the temptation hit him later that night.

He did, however, visit his doll houses. He looked fondly on Rio's and Nora's homes. He considered having a cup of tea. He could rescue from the garbage at least enough for one cup, but then quickly shook that thought away.

He did though provide Claire with a new outfit. He knew it was silly. But, it did make him feel better. These girls were his family, and he did love them so very much, even if they were just dolls. He would take good care of them.

He took his time putting on her clothes, admiring Claire's figure. He imagined it would be so nice if his dreams were in fact real. His thumb lightly caressed her hard round boobs. He then put on her undies, and paused again to admire how pretty she looked in them. She looked so sexy in her yellow brassiere and panties, all gaily covered with so very teeny daisies. These were not the clothes one could purchase at any toy shop, although he had been surprised at how easy it was to find them on the internet but, then again, what can't be found on the internet?.

He even installed large curtains in front of each home, like super-large thick drapes that could be parted at the center and then hung on hooks on the sides of each house. It was a considerable sacrifice on his part, as he could no longer readily admire the insides of each and every home. He would have to pull back the curtains. It wasn't like that was a lot of work, but it did kind of detract from the overall gestalt of the neighborhood. It looked like the homes were being fumigated or something.

He admired Claire's new dress, a yellow summer dress specked with daisies. It matched her undies.

He went upstairs to go to bed.

He had a stiff drink of gin when he went to bed, in lieu of the tea. He knew he would need something extra to help him get to sleep.

But, it was still a restless night. Alcohol helped him fall asleep but he would tend to wake up early and then toss and turn.

Well, at least there were no further visits to a doll house.

Work, however, was so difficult. It was like time had slowed down, simply to torture him. The EMER reports were due (executive merit evaluation report), and they were just so tedious. All of the information was readily available off the company computer, but management wanted the staff to compile it for them into a rather esoteric organization.

He never felt so exhausted when the day was over.

When he got home he went straight to his village.

He instantly regretted the drapes, as he enjoyed walking into the den to see all the houses open and cheery, the little woman in each one hard at work for her loving man.

Instead, it just looked like everything was closed, shut down for the evening.

But, then he noticed it: the drapes in front of Claire's trailer were open. She was standing there, looking out onto her yard, a smile on her face, wearing her new dress.

Did he leave her drapes open? He didn't recall doing that. In fact, he felt certain that he left all the drapes closed. That was the whole point of the drapes.

He sat down. He didn't understand this. He was confused, and so tired. Perhaps he had opened her drapes, just to see for one last time how she looked in her new dress, and then forgot about it.

Yes, that was probably right.

"Milton, so nice of you to visit!"

"What?"

It was Claire, standing in front of him, a big smile on her face.

'Crap,' he thought. He was back in the dream. He must have fallen asleep. He had been real tired. He apparently had dozed off sitting by his collection of houses. Yes, he must be dreaming, as he no longer felt tired. "Am I dreaming?" Clearly it made no sense to ask her, if he was dreaming, but he didn't know whom else to ask, short of a psychiatrist.

"Of course not, Milton. You came to visit me. I'm your doll, Claire." She held her skirt out at the sides with her hands. "I just love my new dress. That was so sweet of you!"

It was a pretty dress. It was the nice yellow cotton summer skirt, covered with daisies, trimmed with white lace, with a thin pink belt and a tight pink half-length puff sleeve blouse. It was really very pretty, and the blouse was terribly tight, hugging the curves of her breasts. Perhaps it might be a bit small there. "Yes, well, um...it does look good on you. But, how do you know I'm not dreaming?"

Claire giggled. "Milton, if you were dreaming then how could I exist? What a silly question."

"I could be dreaming you," he asserted.

"Yeah, right, like I could be dreaming you, for that matter," she responded, a look of exasperation on her face. "Milton, if you're dreaming me then tell me what I'm thinking."

He had no idea what she was thinking.

"There," she exclaimed. "Now, let's not hear any more of that."

He was still uncertain, to say the least. He just didn't know. He didn't have an answer, but that didn't mean anything. What answers do you have when you're dreaming?

Claire could see that he was still not convinced. "Pinch yourself," she suggested.

"I tried that. It didn't work."

"Here," she suggested, as she pulled up her skirt to reach beneath it, apparently going for her panties.

Milton's eyes went to her lovely legs, and thighs. A girl reaching under her skirt to remove her panties is such a fetching sight, and it certainly helped that she smiled flirtatiously at him as she did so.

She gave her a bottom a little wiggle as she pulled her panties down, and then let them fall to her ankles. She stood there a bit so that he could admire them, and the fact that she was no longer wearing them.

His eyes fixed on them. They were the matching panties: yellow bikini speckled with little white daisies.

It was perhaps a shame to part with them, but Claire stepped out of them, reached down, picked them up, and handed them to Milton. "Here," she said, "put these in your pocket. See if they're still there when your back...wherever it is that you go when you leave the neighborhood."

That was a very good idea. He wished he had thought of it himself. "Sure, yeah, thanks, um...good idea," he admitted, out loud, which was actually a bit difficult. It isn't easy to admit that one of his dolls came to the idea before him, albeit of course he was most definitely dreaming and so the idea was really his. However, it did still bother him that the thought came to her, yet was unknown to him. That just didn't make sense.

He took the panties from her outstretched hand, his face reddening a bit as he did so. A man shouldn't be holding onto a woman's panties, at least not right in front of her. "Yes, well..." What was he supposed to do with them?

"Put them in your pocket, silly, unless you want to sniff them first."

"What?! Goodness, no!" He stuffed the panties into his pocket, but he was now planning on taking a sniff. He had never done that before. He had never even had the remote possibility of doing so, and he had not even been thinking of doing so, not at least until she brought it up.

She asked, "Do men really do that?"

"What?" He didn't know. "No, of course, that's just an old wives' tale."

She looked shocked, and hurt. "Milton, what a terrible thing to say to me!"

"No no no! I didn't mean you, of course, goodness, no!"

She knew he didn't mean her. She was just teasing him. Frankly, he kind of deserved it, given that he had visited two other dolls before he finally came to her home, and had done some very wicked things with Rio and Nora. Claire had always felt a little neglected, a bit slighted, having perhaps the least appealing home in the entire village. "I know you didn't, Milton, and I am really very glad, and honored, that you came to visit me. I know it's not much of a home, but I do take good care of it. I keep it very clean."

Milton looked around. The living room within the trailer home was pretty cramped, at least compared to most of the other homes. He hadn't thought about the fact that some of the dolls had to live in much less appealing domiciles. "Well, it wasn't personal, it wasn't like I felt you didn't deserve better."

"Oh, I'm not complaining, Milton, don't get me wrong. I think it's a wonderful home, really I do."

Well, that was very big of her, he felt, harboring no grudge or ill will. He certainly wouldn't like having to live in the worst home on the street. "Yes, well, um, could I get you something?" He didn't want to get rid of the trailer. It was such a unique doll house, but perhaps it could be fixed up somehow.

"You mean beyond this pretty new dress?" She smiled sweetly at him.

"Well, yes, certainly, of course."

"Gracious, you must be the head of some major company, Milton, to be able to afford so many homes and support so many women."

Milton smiled. He didn't correct her of that illusion. He replied modestly, "I have been fortunate in my career."

"Well, I guess so!" She thought about it for a moment, and then suggested, "Well, you know, I am glad that you moved me away from that Victorian woman. She seemed a bit stuck-up. I like Rio better but, goodness, her koi pond. It's a little difficult to see that every morning. I would so much like some yard ornaments myself, you know, like, well, a deer statue, maybe like a whole family with some little does, and an elf, and maybe some flamingoes. That would be nice."

Milton again smiled. It was a very modest request. "That will be no problem at all. In fact, how about a swimming pool?"

"A swimming pool! Really!? Oh my goodness, Milton!" She stepped up to him and clutched his shirt. "That would be so wonderful! You can do that?!"

"Well, yes, certainly, of course. But, you know, it couldn't be an in-ground pool. I'm not sure the ground here can support that." He would have to saw out a section of the table to sink a pool, and his carpentry skills were not particularly good, to say the least.

"Oh, that would be fine, really. Could it be in the front yard?" It was unusual, of course, to have an above-ground pool in the front yard, but she wanted Rio to be able to see it. Plus, none of the homes had much of a backyard.

"Sure, sure, no problem."

"And, well, of course," she added, lowering her voice, "I'll need some bathing suits."

"Of course, of course, and a lawn chair, an air mattress, some beach towels. I'll get everything you need," he reassured her.

She stepped up even closer to him, her breasts just touching his chest, "Can I have some bikinis?" She smiled coquettishly as she added, "Like, really sexy ones?"

Milton's face flushed. "Sure, sure." He would most definitely enjoy putting a bikini on her. He would even darken the rest of her skin so that she had a real good bikini tan. That would be sexy. None of the other dolls had tan lines.