Accessory to a Masturbator

I was asleep, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. It was 4:45 in the a.m. and I was stirred from my slumber by the sonorous buzz of Lo’s vibrator, the rhythmic rattle of the bed, and the blue glow illuminating her face that was so contorted with a look of singular focus and intensity that I thought I was seeing a ghost. She was lying on her tum, both hands buried under the covers and under her body, the phone propped up on a pillow about six inches in front of her. From the sound of the Hitachi’s hum and the shaking of the bed, I deduced that she was working her clit with the Magic Wand and her puss with a dildo, leaving no hands free.

I opened one eye first and, upon seeing her apparition, I surprised myself with my ability to remain inconspicuous. I didn’t stir. I tried to give no hint that I was, in fact, awake — inconsiderately propelled out of my torpor. I saw her struggle to keep the pleasure points stimulated while simultaneously fumbling through her phone for images.

Acutely aware that no mortal would be able to withstand the auto-erotic stimuli that Lo was producing, I announced my awakening by asking Lo, “Can I help you?”

I was hoping she would be grateful if I would get behind her, replacing her dildo, freeing up one hand so she could scroll through the photos. But no.