The doll house

He brought the panties to his nose and sniffed them.

His face flushed red as he thought about the next time he might see Claire. Would he tell her he sniffed her panties? Would she be mad that he covered her entire body with cum? He did at least, later that evening, put her in a nice new dress, after he cleaned her. Plus, this morning, he ordered the pool.

But, there he was again, thinking of her as if she was actually real.

"Milton." It was Mr. Limbergh, standing at the entrance to his cubicle.

Milton quickly shoved the panties back down into his pocket. "Yes sir, yes, what is it, sir?"

"Do you have the 5-year projections completed?"

It was so frustrating. Each year Milton had to complete a report on productivity over the past year, as well as over the past five years, and then estimate productivity and cost over the next year, and then over the next five years. Plus, he needed to provide a report on expectations and goals over the next three years, as well desires and wishes for his division over the next ten years. Management wanted so many reports on what they have been, are currently, and expect to do that it was a wonder anyone found the time to create product. "Yes sir, just about. Will have it by the end of the day."

"See that you do, Milton," he sternly replied. "See that you do. I need these reports for the man upstairs."

Yes sir, no problem, sir, am finishing them right now."

Milton actually hadn't started them. It was just so darned boring.

"Difficult day at the office?"

"What?" Where the fuck was he now, he wondered. He glanced around, and immediately recognized the living room of his 1950's ranch house. He smiled. This was nice. This was very nice. This was so much better than being at work. Fuck the 5-year projection! If he was crazy then right now he did not mind it at all.

"Sweetie, wake-up. I was just asking you if you had a difficult day at the office?"

It was Caroline Heather, or at least that was the name he had given her. It paralleled the name of a girl he really liked, at least in his imagination.

"Yes, yes, of course," he replied, but his mind was frozen. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was so gorgeous. She had large round blue stunningly pretty eyes, lovely curled lashes, a hint of freckles, red eyebrows, rosy pink cheeks (a bit heavy on the rouge perhaps), a cute perky nose, and very bright full red lips, like woman wore back then, in the fifties. Her thick luscious red hair was worn with short rolled bangs, a partial updo, soft curls in the back, and a pink bow on the top. Any man would be proud to have her as his wife.

She was wearing a modest rose summer half-sleeve knee-length cotton dress, buttoned to the neck, around which was a white pearl necklace. Above her dress she wore a white apron decorated with all sorts of tasty colorful cupcakes. It was tied in the back with a big bow.

She was standing in the middle of the living room, in her brown back-strap, peep toes heels, rose silk stockings, holding onto a green triple-action, dual force suction, Hoover vacuum cleaner (it beat and swept as it cleaned). It wasn't clear if she was just beginning to vacuum or finishing or in the middle of her work. It must though be that she was finishing, as there didn't appear to be any dirt, dust, or other scraps of dust bunnies in sight. The room was immaculately clean.

She let go of the vacuum to ask, "Would you like me to get you a drink?"

He could in fact use one, but he didn't really want her to leave the room. He just wanted to look at her. She was such a pretty sight. Oh, to be really married to such a woman. And, besides, what if she didn't come back? What if that made him wake up? "No, no, that's fine. I think I will just sit here and admire what a very pretty wife I have."

"Oh pish posh, Milton, goodness gracious, the things you say." She waved her hand at him, dismissing the compliment as silly flattery, but one could see that she did like it, that she was indeed very flattered, and pleased, particularly as if he referred to her as his wife. She had always fancied that thought, that dream, herself.

Still, she added, "I must look a frightful mess. I have been cleaning and darning and baking all day. I wish you would have warned me that you would be coming. I mean, you must appreciate, that it's a pretty big surprise. I've heard that you have been visiting some of the other girls and well, I was so much hoping that you would visit me. I even baked your favorite cupcake: banana."

He wondered how she knew that. Perhaps he had been eating them as he worked on the village. That was probably true, as he did eat a lot of them. "Sweetie, you look as pretty as..." He wanted to say pretty as when he first married her, but he hadn't actually done that. He could say pretty as when he first purchased her. That would be very accurate and true, but it didn't sound terribly romantic. "As pretty as a fresh flower." It was corny, but it worked.

"Milton, please." Her cheeks got even redder. She patted her hair here and there, making sure everything was precisely where it should be.

She then asked, "Has the paper arrived? I could get it for you."

Milton recalled as a child that his parents received both a morning and an evening newspaper, delivered to their doorstep. Now he only got the paper on the weekend, and it was left at the end of the driveway. He had placed a miniature Hilldale newspaper on Caroline's front porch. He felt that was a nice little touch.

"No really, I'm fine." He sorely doubted the newspaper would be current.

Much as she appreciated his attention and admiration Caroline was feeling a little self-conscious over how much Milton was looking at her. "Yes, well, let me at least get this apron off." She reached behind her to undo the bow, and then slipped the strap over her head. She carefully folded it up and laid it on a side table, Milton's eyes following her every move.

He got up from his chair and strode over to her.

"Oh my," she said, noticing a smudge on the polished wood. "Now, that's just disgusting." She bent over and used her apron to rub it out.

Milton rested his hand on the curve of her little feminine rump.

"Milton," she scolded. She looked back at him and gave him a rather scolding look. "Milton, please, not now, I have so much more work to do. I haven't even started dinner. You're going to stay for dinner, aren't you?"

"Let's have a late dinner," he suggested, reaching out for her hand to bring her body to his.

"Milton," she again protested, but she let him draw her to him. She was really very busy but she wanted his affection as much as he wanted hers.

He took her fragile, soft petite body in his arms, and drew in the sweet scent of her perfume.

Caroline rested her face against his chest. "Oh Milton," she said softy, "it's so nice to have you home, where you belong."

He couldn't agree more. He vowed the next time he was back in the world he would always have a present with him, perhaps a bracelet, a necklace, or maybe even some flowers, just in case he was called back to his village. A real husband brings his wife an occasional present.

All he had now was Claire's panties, and he knew that Caroline would not be particularly interested in them. In fact, he reached into his pocket to shove them down in deeper. Milton figured that the women must know that his relationship with them is polygamous, but there was no need to remind them of that fact in such an indelicate manner.

"Caroline," he replied, "I don't think anything could make me feel happier than holding you in my arms."

"Oh honey," Caroline softly whispered, feeling so happy, so good.

Milton gently kissed her on her neck as his hands began to explore her back.

Caroline sunk deeper into his arms. "Mmmmmmmm," she softly sighed.

Milton's hands drifted farther down, one of them eventually reaching the soft perky round curves of his wife's little bottom.

Caroline, though, pushed him away. "Honey, in the middle of the day? Here, in the living room? With the drapes open?"

"Well, we could go to the bedroom," Milton suggested.

"Sweetie, you're such a scamp," Caroline scolded him, but did so with a smile on her face. She took his hand and led him to their bedroom, her face reddening as she did so.

Milton's cock swelled as he followed along, his heart racing with excitement. At the moment he didn't care if he was dreaming or even if he was crazy. If this was insanity it was clearly preferable to reality.

When they reached the bedroom Caroline let go of his hand and went over to the opened wall to close the curtains. This was one of the few rooms in any home that could actually be hidden with its own curtains. Milton felt it was quite fitting for a modest wife of the 1950's.

Caroline did like them, but was disappointed that the curtains were neither effective in darkening the room or even hiding her completely from view, as they were quite sheer. She wished Milton had kept the houses covered in thick, dense drapes, at least for right now.

Milton had taken a position sitting on the bed, his eyes continuing to follow Caroline. She was such a pretty sight. He actually felt like he was in love. Well, he was at least so very happy, feeling so very much loved, and at home.

As Caroline stepped out of her shoes and reached for the first button on her dress she looked over at Milton. "Honey," she complained, "don't watch me undress. Goodness, that's so rude."

Milton dutifully looked away, but fully intending on returning his eyes fairly soon.

Milton's patience and self-control were sorely tested as Caroline slowly unbuttoned her dress. His eyes returned when he finally heard her stepping out of it, and he caught his modest wife in her state of undress, adorned in a very pointy white brassiere and dainty white cotton slip. His cock twitched within his pants. Perhaps her underwear was not as sexy or revealing as that worn by women of today, but the modesty made her slip and brassiere all the more provocative given that they were now being exposed to the eyes of a man, and for the very first time. He was most definitely certain of that.

Milton watched as Caroline pulled her slip down, stepped out of it, and carefully folded and laid it on her dress.

She was revealing now her tight girdle, beneath which appeared her rose silk, thigh high stockings. He smiled.

"Milton!" Caroline complained, noticing that he was again watching her. She quickly bent over and ineffectively tried to hide her brassiere and girdle with her hands. Goodness, she was in her girdle! It was embarrassing enough for Milton to know she wore one, let alone see her in it. "Dear, a wife expects some privacy."

Milton though suggested, "Honey, it's not like I haven't seen them before."

That was perhaps a good point. But, it was much different with him right there, in her bedroom, in real life.

Still, as her husband, he did have a right to see her without her dress. She slowly removed her hands and stood back up straight, letting him see as much as he wanted, albeit it just felt so awkward, so wrong, so lewd.

Milton hadn't imagined that a woman could look so attractive, so appealing, so sexy in a girdle, although it might have something to do with the fact that she clearly didn't really need one, as well as that she was just so darned pretty. He also liked how her brassiere was so pointy, like the bullet bumper on a 1950's Cadillac.

Carline asked, "Are you going to watch me take off my girdle?"

Milton smiled, his penis twitched.

She apparently had her answer. Caroline struggled to get her girdle down, wriggling her bottom left and right. This was just so terribly embarrassing, battling to get her girdle down, right in front of Milton, squirming around like she was trying to entice him.

She warned him, "You know, you're going to have to take your clothes off too." But somehow that fact didn't really make it any easier for her.

When she had the girdle all the way down to her ankles she stepped out of it and tucked it behind the bed, out of sight.

She did at least feel glad that she was wearing nice panties today. Milton did always put her in very nice panties. This one was rose cotton, with white lice trim on the waistband, a small dark red bow front and center, and decorated with pairs of red cherries, attached together by little green stems.

Her face became as red as her panties as she reached behind her body for the clasp of her brassiere, her breasts thrusting out before her, as if she was intentionally trying to show them off, like some sort of cheesy pin-up model.

"You're just so beautiful," Milton quietly observed.

"Hush now!" Caroline scolded, but finding the compliment again very flattering and pleasing. She worked hard to be pretty, and it was nice to have all that effort, all that attention, be appreciated, even adored.

She glanced at the bedroom curtain as she pulled the straps of her brassiere down each shoulder, each time holding the cup to her breast with her other hand. Once the straps were entirely off her arms she hesitated and then took a deep breath as she pulled the cups away, revealing to his eyes, for the first time, at least in real life, her naked breasts.

They were, once again, so fucking perfect, so fucking big and round, with dark thick long pointy nipples. He realized she must have a vagina as well, because as a doll she didn't have nipples. Why have nipples with no vagina? What was the point of that?

Milton had imagined Caroline as a 1950's housewife, but at the moment he didn't actually recall any 1950's television housewife with big round boobs. There were though a few movie stars like that back then. Perhaps there had been such wives as well on television, although he sorely doubted that 1950's television would have a housewife as hot as Caroline.

"They're gorgeous," he softly exclaimed, his eyes as wide as her breasts were big and round.

"Stop that," she again complained, but smiling sheepishly through her blushing cheeks.

She asked, demurely, "You don't think they're too big?" She did at times wonder about that. She felt they were rather immodest. It wasn't like she was trying to be a showgirl or pin-up model or something.

"I think they're perfect," Milton replied.

Caroline smiled, with satisfaction, and relief.

Now came the true moment of truth. "Ooooooooh," she whimpered with flustered anxiousness as she slipped her fingers into the waistband of her rose panties. She bent over, her breasts falling and swinging beneath her, and pulled her panties over the curves of her bottom.

Milton's dick swelled hard at the sight of Caroline's perky little bottom coming into view.

She pulled her panties down her thighs, and bending further, all the way down to her ankles.

Milton had a strong urge to tell her to stay just like that. He would so fucking love to take her from behind. And, why not, she was either his doll or his dream, or his hallucinatory psychosis. He should have at least some authority in any one of these possibilities. But, he kept his mouth shut. He recalled Nora objecting to his request simply to look under her skirt.

More blood rushed into Caroline's face as she stepped from her panties, due in part to having been bent over so far, but as well because she was now almost entirely naked. All that she had left were her silk thigh-high stockings. She stood back up straight, her right hand modestly hiding her cunnie.

Milton didn't tell her to take it away. He would eventually be able to see it. He wouldn't rush things. But, he did say, "leave the stockings on. I think you look nice in them."

Caroline again smiled. "Such a scamp," she again softly exclaimed, and made her way to him, her hand remaining on her cunnie, her naked breasts wriggling and bouncing with each tentative, nervous step.

When she arrived he got up from the bed to greet her.

He took her naked body into his arms, and held her close to him, feeling those big round naked boobs pressing against his chest. They felt so, so nice. He wrapped his arms around her little trim waist.

She appreciated the reassurance, the affection, as well as the opportunity to hide her nakedness from view, at least for a bit. She said quietly up to him, "It's just like a wedding night, isn't it honey. It's our first time."

He smiled back at her. That was a good point. He had this doll for years, but this was the first time that their marriage would in fact be consummated. "I guess it's about time," he said.

She didn't respond. Her face just flushed as she imagined what they were about to do.

Milton held her like this for a while, but then eventually, gently, pushed her away, to suggest, "Honey, why don't you take off my clothes for me?"

"Milton!" She quickly covered her breasts and pussy again with her hands, as if somehow that had something to do with removing his clothes. "Please, let's just get under the covers and then you can..." Her voice became softer, "...you know."

"You don't want to see me naked?"

Caroline's hand left her breasts to cover her mouth as she stifled a giggle. "I guess," she quietly confessed. Actually, she very much wanted to see him naked, but it wasn't something a modest wife should admit, at least so she felt. "Okay, okay," she finally relented.

She used both hands to unbutton his shirt.

Milton smiled with pleasure, and deep satisfaction. This is what he imagined married life would be like: an innocent bride, enjoying the intimate delight of exploring one another, giving pleasure to one another. He looked down, and his smile grew bigger as his eyes feasted on the little jiggling of her big white boobs as she worked on his buttons. They were just so round, so milky white.

"Goodness, this is a little confusing," Caroline confessed. "All the buttons are backwards."

"You're doing fine," he suggested. Her nipples looked as stiff as his dick felt.

Caroline giggled, and did eventually complete the job. She pulled the shirt out of his pants to be sure that all of the buttons were undone, and then opened it up to gaze upon her husband's chest. It wasn't a particularly muscular chest by any means. In fact, most girls would probably be rather disappointed, or at least not impressed. But, Caroline was not most girls. She was a doll; Milton's doll.

She sighed, as her fingers worked their way along his chest, through his hairs, "Oh my, so manly. I lovely a hairy masculine chest."

Milton's dick swelled with pride. He reached out for her chest as well.

Caroline giggled and wriggled as Milton flickered her nipples with his fingers. "Honey, that tickles," she complained, but everyone likes to be tickled.

Milton looked further down her body but he couldn't see much from this angle, other than a little round puff of hair. There had been no hair on the doll down there, but then again there was no slit, no lungs, no heart, and Caroline apparently had all of that.

Caroline eventually pulled away, getting down on her knees to take care of his pants, but perhaps as much as well to get away from the incessant tickling.

She quickly undid the belt, the pants button and pulled down the zipper, the sound of the zipper ringing in her ears like a warning siren. "Oh my," she softly whispered in trepidation, and excited anticipation.

She looped her fingers over the waistband of his pants and briefs, averted her eyes from the considerable bulge in his slacks, and then slowly pulled them both down.

Perhaps she should have paid more attention to his bulge, as Milton's briefs became stuck on his hard dick.

Milton noticed the problem but didn't say anything. There was no need to embarrass her. It was also perhaps something that one should learn on one's own, although he did question his silence when his briefs began to pull his stiffened dick down into a very awkward position.