6 comments/ 81551 views/ 7 favorites The Doll House By: R_Peterson It was a week at the beach without the kids and we were enjoying ourselves. We had just finished a late dinner and we were driving back to the beach house when I slowed the car and turned into a parking lot. My wife gave me a quizzical look and asked, "Where are we going now?" The signs outside clearly shouted The Doll's House, but she had no idea what was inside. I turned to her and said, "I thought you might like a drink and some dance before we called it a night." She smiled and said, "Yes, that would be nice." I parked the car and we got out. The building was well lit. There were no windows; though I am not sure Molly noticed that. We walked up to the front door and went in. We were greeted by the sound of loud music as our eyes adjusted to the darkness inside. A young man walked up to me, I took him to be a bouncer, and he asked me to pay an admissions fee of $20 and said the lady could come in free. Molly still had not realized where she was until we made our way to the center bar. There were lights, music and mirrors everywhere and as I moved her to the center of the large open room, she could see that inside the bar was a stage and on the stage was a naked woman dancing. She turned to me, smiled, and said, "This looks to be something for you!" I smiled back and said, "You had always wanted to see the inside of one of these places and now you have your chance." She grabbed my hand as we made our way to the bar. We found two stools empty and sat down. It did not take long for a cute young woman dressed in short-shorts and next to nothing blouse to come over. She asked us what we wanted to drink. Molly ordered a screwdriver, I ordered a beer. We sat down and watched the dancer as she moved round the pole at one end of the stage. She had on 4 inch clear heels, a chain around her waist and nothing else. She was almost cleaning shaved, except for a small patch of hair just above her pussy lips. She was using the pole to her advantage as she swung her legs out, grabbing the pole with her hands and swinging herself around with legs spread. It did not take her long to see the two of us and she made her way over to where Molly and I sat. She started to dance first for me as I looked up and smiled. She smiled back. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a roll of dollar bills, reached up and she came over to me. She dropped down onto her knees and crawled over to where I sat. She threw her head from side-to-side letting her long blonde hair swing around her as she crawled over to me. She took the bill into her lips, snapping it from my fingers and then sat up. She spread her legs and her pussy on full view. I could clearly see the pink between her legs. She was wet. She took the bill from her mouth, slid it down over her breasts, and moved it further down, until it was between her legs. She wiped her pussy with the bill and then moved it slowly back up her naked body while she wiggled in place and made love to the money. The bill was now wet from her pussy. She moved it down her leg and tucked it into her garter. Then she moved back onto the stage, while keeping her eyes locked on me. Molly moved over to me and whispered into my ear, "She has got one hot body." I turned to Molly and said, "Do you want to see more of her?" Molly answered, "Yes." With that I pulled out another dollar, waved it in the air until she saw it and then handed it to Molly. Molly at first did not want it and tried to pass it back to me. I moved away from her and pointed at the dancer who was making her way over to Molly. Molly's attention turned from me to the naked woman that was walking on stage over to her. She reached out with one hand and with her finger motioned for Molly to come over to the edge of the stage. Molly moved over to the stage, with the bill still in her hand. The dancer met Molly at the edge, took the bill and placed it into Molly's blouse. She then moved back and started to dance seductively in front of Molly, while slowly moving towards Molly. Their eyes were locked on each other. The dancer moved towards Molly and then down onto her knees. She made a movement like she was going to take the dollar bill with her teeth from Molly and then moved back. She motioned for Molly to come closer, which Molly did. Molly was pushing the bill out by pushing her breasts out over the stage. The dancer moved back towards Molly and again made a motion to take the bill but moved up and planted a kiss on Molly's lips. This surprised Molly and she moved back. The dancer reached out and motioned for Molly to come back to the stage. Molly stood from a moment and then moved back to the stage. The dancers head moved down towards the bill and as she was taking the bill with her mouth, she reached around and wrapped both arms around Molly such that she could not move away. The dancer then wiggled her head into Molly's breasts, holding her there so Molly could not move away. After only a few seconds she let her go and moved away with the bill between her lips. Molly turned to me and mouthed the words, "Wow, that was HOT!" I smiled, walked over to Molly and handed her a large roll of bills and said, "not only was that HOT, but I would like to see more. Here, take this and let me watch." A devilish looked appeared in Molly's eyes. She smiled, reached up and took the money. I moved a few feet away and sat down. The dancer was making her way back to Molly. She had seen the money. I was now watching one of the most erotic shows I have ever witnessed. My wife Molly was being seduced by a naked dancer. Molly was taking out one bill at a time and letting the dancer work for it. The dancer enjoyed the money but she appeared to be enjoying Molly as well. She took one bill after unbuttoning Molly's blouse and sticking the bill down into Molly's lacey black bra. Other bill was taken while the dancer was sitting at the edge of the stage, with her legs spread. While she took the dollar with one hand the other hand had found its way into Molly's pants. Molly did not move away, she seemed to enjoy the fingers that were against her skin. This continued for quite some time. Not only was I enjoying the show but others around me were doing the same. Molly continued to peel the bills off the roll slowly, making the dancer work for each dollar. Molly was not drinking; she was enjoying making the dancer do what she wanted. I think Molly knew it was driving me crazy. Finally the dancer stopped, reached out with her hand. Molly reached up and the dancer grabbed Molly's hand firmly. She stood up and pulled Molly towards her. The next thing I knew Molly was climbing on to the stool and walking onto the stage. The dancer moved Molly away from me to the pole at the center of the stage. She took both of Molly's hands and placed them on the pole and whispered something into Molly's ear. Molly closed her eyes as the dancer let go and started to dance around Molly. Molly stood there; holding onto the pole with her eyes closed as the dancer moved around her and started to move her hands over Molly's body. She let her hands run up to Molly's face, letting her fingers run through Molly's hair. Molly let her head tilt slightly back as the dancer ran her fingers through the length of Molly's mane. She danced away and then danced back to Molly. She was behind Molly as she let her hands slide around Molly, stopping at the top of Molly's skirt. She undid the button and pulled the zipper down, moving the material away from Molly's skin, showing first her belly button and then a whisk of hair. She whispered into Molly's ear and let the skirt fall to the floor. The skirt floated down Molly's legs and landed in a heap around Molly's heels. The black g-string that Molly wore was now clearly visible. The dancer moved her hands back up Molly's body and grabbed an already open blouse. She pulled it back and away from Molly. Molly let go of the pole and let the dancer remove the blouse. The dancer threw the blouse off to the side while Molly stood on the stage, with eyes shut, a g-string, bra, and heels. The dancer moved back behind Molly and reach up from behind. The bra snapped open and draped in front of Molly. She reached around and moved her hands to Molly's breasts and as she squeezed Molly's nipples the bra dropped from Molly's body and to the floor. The dancer played with Molly's breasts and then slowly moved her hands down Molly's waist. Molly's breasts were clearly visible now and her nipples were erect. Clearly a sign that Molly was excited. The dancer's hands moved down Molly's body, stopping at the g-string. She took a string in each hand and moved the g-string down. Molly's bush was now in clear view. She pushed the g-string down to Molly's knees, let go, and then moved one hand back to Molly's pussy and the other to Molly's ass. Molly's hips were starting to move to her touch. The dancer played with Molly for a little while and then let go. She danced away from the pole and Molly. Molly opened her eyes, found me in the audience and then started to dance herself. She moved around the pole. She danced around the pole as if she had been doing it for years. I could see the wetness between her legs as she danced, so I knew she was enjoying this. The dancer moved back to Molly. Wrapped her arms around Molly's body and they moved together to the music, grinding, naked, and excited. The music stopped, and so did Molly and the dancer. The dancer walked in front of Molly. Planted a kiss on her lips. Took Molly's hand and walked her off the stage, to the back of the bar and disappeared inside a side door. I had lost track of the noise in the bar, when I heard the announcer shout, "Well that was an unexpected treat for us all. Let's give a round of applause for Tiffany and her newfound friend." There was a round of applause and I found myself alone for the first time with only my beer in hand. I figured that Molly knew how to take care of herself and if she needed me she would come back out. I sat there as three more dancers came and went. I was starting to get nervous when the announcer came back on and shouted, "Ladies and Gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure please give a warm welcome to Tiffany and her slave. Out came Tiffany with Molly in tow. Tiffany had on a long gown with a slit that ran up the side of her leg just under her hip with heels. Molly was in a g-string, vest, heels, a collar, and a leash that ran from Molly's collar to Tiffany's hand. Tiffany was followed by two other dancers, with long dresses on, similar to Tiffany's. Tiffany yelled out, "Slave, you have been a bad, bad girl and you now need to be punished." She led Molly over to the pole and placed her back against the pole, took the leash off her collar, moved Molly's arms over her head, and using the leash, tied her arms to the pole. The lust in Molly's eyes was unmistakable. She looked at the dancers and then looked at me and smiled. She blew a kiss and mouth, "I love this." The dancers started to circle Molly, dancing and touching Molly. As they moved their hands were working on the little bit of material that covered Molly. The vest was opened and out sprang Molly's breasts. Two of the three dancers were also peeling off their dresses. Shortly they were down to their g-strings. One naked dancer moved behind Molly and grabbed Molly's nipples from behind. The second dancer moved in front of Molly, kneeled between Molly's legs, reached up and pulled the g-string down. The pubic hair that Molly had earlier was now gone. Molly had been shaved and she was now bare as a little girl between her legs. Molly spread her legs and you could see the wetness again appear. The dancer in front of Molly moved her head over to kiss Molly's leg and slowly moved her head up Molly's leg, stopping at Molly's cunt. She reached behind Molly and grabbed her ass. Molly spread her legs more and pushed into the dancer's face. It was clear that the dancer had found Molly's clit because her body was starting to jerk to the licking she was getting from one dancer and the breasts massage from the other. The music had stopped. The only sound you could hear was the moans that were coming from Molly and the encouragement the ladies were giving her as they worked her body. Molly's eyes opened and she looked out into the audience. Her moans were getting louder and her body was moving with more intensity. I had seen this many times before, she was starting to cum. Molly's orgasms are long and intense. Her tummy muscles tighten up and she reacts to any touch to her pussy with loud, pleasurable cries. She was crying, smiling, jerking, and having a very large orgasm. It seemed to last forever and then they stopped. Molly was breathing hard, exhausted, hanging from the pole, resting. The dancers moved away and then the third dancer came into view. She now was naked as the other two, but she wore a dildo between her legs. She danced up and around Molly, letting the dildo rub up against Molly as she moved about. Molly opened her eyes and watched. The dancer moved in front of Molly and started to rub the dildo up into Molly's pussy. Molly was still sensitive to the orgasm she had just had, and jumped to its touch. The dancer faced Molly, moved her hands down between Molly's legs, grabbed the dildo, positioned it against Molly's cunt and started to force it into Molly. It did not take long for the dildo to disappear into Molly. They both started to grind away at each other. After a little more fucking, the other two dancers came up behind Molly and started to play with her and try to get her excited again. They played with her breasts, hair, face, mouth and legs. Finally one untied Molly and the one with the dildo move away. The two other dancers took Molly by the hand, moved her away from the pole and then forced her down onto her hands and knees. They spread her legs, which the third moved behind Molly with the dildo in hand. She positioned the dildo between Molly's legs and pushed. The dildo slid into Molly's wet pussy. Molly remained on her hands and knees while the third dancer grabbed her ass and started to fuck her in earnest. This continued for a little while until the dancer stopped fucking her, moved her hand down between her legs, and pulled the dildo out. She stood up and positioned the dildo higher, against Molly's ass. She started to push the dildo back against Molly. Molly's eyes opened wide at first and then she pushed back. The dildo was starting to disappear again, slowly, and Molly was clearly enjoying what was happening to her. The dildo disappeared again, the dance moved back down, and they started to fuck again. Molly was staring to cum again. This time it did not take as long for it to build and when it came, she was noisier than ever. Bucking and crying out in pleasure as she shook on her hands and knees. Her orgasm ended in exhaustion. She fell to the floor and lay there for minutes while the dancer with the dildo slowly withdrew from Molly's ass. The announcer came back on. "Ladies and Gentlemen, let us give a fine round of applause for that show. Thank you Tiffany, Kelly, Sara, and their slave." The 3 dancers helped Molly to her feet. They all bowed and then started to move about to collect the money that now was being thrown at the stage. The four huddled to the side. They hugged and then three made their way backstage, while Molly made her way over to me with money in hand. Still naked and smiling. Molly climbed down from the stage, moved over to where I was sitting and sat down, still naked, on the stool next to me. She looked up and said, "Wow that was an incredible orgasm. I don't think I have ever had an orgasm as intense as that." She made no effort to cover up. Finally I handed her, her skirt and she put it on. She remained topless for the rest of the evening. A number of men came up and complemented her on her body and the show. Most wanted to know how long she was doing this. They could not believe this was her first act, ever. They continued to complement her and give her money. The three dancers came up later, now dressed and surrounded her. They wanted her to join their act. Molly stated that it was great, but she would not do it again. They appeared to be very disappointed. It ended with all four of them exchanging hugs, kissed and running their hands over each other's body. One dancer ran off to look for some clothing for Molly when I asked if any of them had seen Molly's blouse. One returned with a transparent blouse, sporting two buttons in front, and hiding very little. Given that Molly had nothing else to wear, she put it on. We stayed a little longer and then we left. On our way out of the bar the bouncer that we met on the way in asked if we could come back. Molly answered, "maybe." It was very late now, as we made our way back to our car. Molly slid down into the passenger chair as I started the engine. She looked up at me and said, "Did you enjoy my show?" I turned to her and said, "Yes, very much. Did you enjoy exposing yourself to everyone?" "Yes," was her only answer. I put the car into reverse, backed up, and then moved the car gear into drive. We moved out of the parking lot and to the main drive. There were still many cars on the strip. I waited and then moved into the traffic. Molly sat moaning in her seat. "I think I need some more tonight." I turned to her, moved my hand over to her skirt, down to her legs, up and under. I moved my hand up her leg and found her pussy and she spread her legs. She was still wet. She moved her hands down to her skirt, opened the button, pushed the zipper down, and pushed the skirt off her, down to the floor. She was sitting bottomless. Her hand moved between her legs and she started to play with her newly shaved pussy as my hands returned to the driving wheel. I said, "Your pocket rocket is in the glove compartment if you want it." She stopped, opened the compartment, pulled out the vibrator, turned it on and moved it to her pussy. As it found its mark, she moaned and spread her legs. It did not take long for the device to slip inside her. As it moved out of view she closed her legs, moving her hands up to her breasts. Her fingers found the two remaining buttons and they did not remain closed for long. The small material fell from her breast. She now sat naked next to me in the car. I came up to a red traffic light to find us stopping next to a small truck. I looked to my side and found the driver smiling down at my naked and excited wife. I hit the button to lower her window to our peeping-tom. "Molly, I think you have another audience if you look outside." She opened her eyes, found the man watching her and smiled back. She removed the blouse, moved over to me and lay down on her back letting her head rest in my lap. She spread her legs and started to give the driver next to us a show he would soon not forget. The light turned green and I started to move. The truck stayed with us, and Molly continued to play with herself. She was getting more and more excited with each new red light. Finally at the forth light she had her orgasm. As she came she raised her hips off the seat and pushed her cunt out towards the truck driver. I am sure he enjoyed the sight as she came because I could hear her yelling, "Go lady, go lady." Molly came and then lay down to enjoy her orgasm. The window was still down so I could hear the truck driver ask, "Can I fuck her, man?" I smiled, hit the gas and took off. The truck driver tried to keep up but was no match for us. We soon were way ahead of him. As we came around a corner, I turned into a side street, turned off the lights and shut the engine down. I saw the truck drive by in my rear mirror. We sat there for 10 minutes while I played with my naked wife in the car. The doll house This story was inspired by an episode of The Twilight Zone (titled, "Miniature"), as well as the Toy Store movies, although only in the sense that toys might in fact be alive. There is also a bit of first time quality to the story. All of the characters within this story are at least eighteen years old. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Milton Widdams was not a particularly happy man. He didn't have that much to be happy about. He was a lonely guy; actually, very lonely; and he really detested his job. He was an accountant for a software company, Natech. It paid well, or at least well enough. He really shouldn't complain. There were clearly hundreds, thousands, and likely millions of persons who had it far worse than him, at least with respect to finance and health. He was always reminded of that fact when he watched the news. So many persons died at a young age, or suffered major accidents, or illnesses, or injuries, or disasters. Yes, his life really wasn't that bad. He really shouldn't complain. But, he did really hate his job. It was just so fucking boring. Why had he decided to become an accountant? Actually, it really wasn't his decision. It had been largely his father's decision. His father had pretty much made all of his decisions in life. Milton had not been a particularly rebellious boy, to say the least. He was in fact rather agreeable, obedient, even compliant. He had never caused anybody any trouble, particularly his parents. When he was in the sixth grade he took this psychological test that was supposedly good at telling him what career he should pursue. He wasn't at all sure what he wanted to do. He had always been good at math. He didn't particularly like math, but he was pretty good at it, so he endorsed the questions that concerned math. He wasn't sure how to answer most of the other ones, so he answered in a manner that he figured his parents would like. Those were probably the correct answers, or at least the best ones. Anyway, its conclusion was that he wanted be an accountant. He had been right in one respect: his father was very pleased with the result. His father had also been an accountant. He felt that such skills would always be useful, if not necessary, even in times of recession, perhaps especially in such times. So, Milton majored in business and accounting while in college. It was not the happiest time of his life. College just seemed to be an extension of high school, going to classes he didn't like, watching those around him enjoying a life that was somehow out of his reach. And, now, Milton worked in this cheerless little cubicle, within this dismal big firm, with this really annoying, demanding, arrogant boss, Mr. Limbergh, who really didn't seem to appreciate his work. Whenever he failed to complete an assignment within the arbitrarily imposed deadline, he was reprimanded and berated. Whenever he completed an assignment on time, Mr. Limbergh piled on more tasks and demands. He would hint at bonuses, raises, and promotions, but for years nothing ever seemed to materialize, and it eventually became clear that nothing would. Mr. Limbergh recognized that Milton would not assert himself, would not demand anything, and would not leave, and so he remained stuck within this drab, dreary, corner cubicle. He didn't even have much of a social life, as Milton was not a particularly engaging or outgoing guy. On the contrary, he was rather reserved, even withdrawn, and certainly now alone. He had never had many friends when he was young, fewer still even now. He was not entirely sure why. It was perhaps because he had not had any brothers or sisters, no siblings with whom to learn useful, if not necessary, social skills. Or, it was perhaps because his parents, especially his father, had so isolated the family. His parents rarely visited others, and even more rarely had guests over to visit. They discouraged Milton from having friends over. His father felt they would be noisy and messy. On occasion a rare guest or relative of the family would arrive for a visit, their own child in tow, forced to play with Milton and clearly not relishing the prospect. Milton would himself get so excited that various "accidents" would occur, the details of which he found embarrassing to admit. They only affirmed for his parents that Milton was not really good with peers, was not ready for rough play, and was best kept to himself, where he would be safe. His parents were now deceased. He didn't know how to feel about that. He did, of course, miss them terribly. Well, maybe not his father. He did miss his mother though. He did feel that she had loved him, cared for him. And, without them he really didn't have anyone anymore to visit. Holidays were especially difficult, as Thanksgiving and Christmas had been typically spent with his parents. As problematic and difficult those visits had been, it was at least a family, his family. Milton was now pretty much, if not entirely, alone. There were colleagues at work, but none of them ever invited him to the Friday happy hours. It was even difficult for him to discover the scheduling of company picnics and outings. He would notice the postings but when he inquired he was invariably told that the posted note was outdated, that the office function had been cancelled. It was difficult for him not to take this personally, but it was also absurd to think that his colleagues were purposely trying to exclude him. But, Milton did still have his family; at least that was how he liked to think of them. This was one area of life with which Milton had a passion, and that was his dolls. Yes, that does sound strange. Perhaps it is unappealing, if not inappropriate, for a guy to enjoy playing with dolls. But, Milton had always enjoyed, as long as he could remember, playing with dolls. His father had bought him his first doll house when he was a boy. It was his birthday, and he had neglected to pick up the present as his mother had instructed (a chemistry set). Fortunately, there was a yard sale down the street and Mr. Widdams purchased a wonderfully equipped doll house, with a whole family. His mother was at first a bit upset, as a doll house didn't really seem to be the right present for a boy his age. His father promised her that he would get the chemistry set the next day, but he never did. However, Milton liked the doll house. He played with it for hours. He made his own perfect little family, and the boy, whom he named Mike (a very strong, masculine name), had many, many friends. His mother eventually grew to accept his interest, and in fact supported and encouraged it. Milton did eventually wonder if it was because she had always wanted a girl, and would have enjoyed playing make-believe with her daughter. His father attempted to wean him off his dolls. He felt that it just wasn't right, for a boy to be playing with dolls. It was one of the few times that Milton openly expressed his frustration, opposition, and even anger with his father. But, it didn't help. No way would his father accept having a son who played with dolls, and one day Milton came home to discover that his entire collection had been thrown away, even the original doll house from his father. Unbeknownst to his father he then scoured the neighborhood for more yard sales and garage sales, looking for dolls. They were not hard to find. Every little girl eventually discards her dolls, and Milton was quick to save them. He could not imagine what might have happened to his dolls, probably now rotting away at the city dump. The thought of that was just so depressing. He eventually accumulated a number of families, which he kept hidden in the attic, at least from his father. He eventually discovered that his mother had found the hidden stash and had left it alone. As an adult Milton discovered through the internet that it really wasn't that unusual for men to collect dolls and doll houses. It was rather reassuring that he was not alone, that he was not some weird crazy eccentric. Milton had by now even built his own little fantasy neighborhood within his basement den. Like some men might build elaborate toy railroad lines, Milton had built a whole neighborhood of families. It was though a rather strange neighborhood, not the kind one would ever see in real life, as it was a collection of incongruous, mismatched homes. There was a large Victorian house, a 1950's suburban bungalow, a mansion, a Barbie Dream House, a log cabin, a Louisiana shotgun, a trailer home, a country cottage, a southern plantation, a western ranch, a hillbilly shack, even a Japanese bungalow, and many others, each with its appropriate doll. One unique feature of this neighborhood was that it was without any walls on the front of the homes, each open to view so that you could see each room inside. What a strange neighborhood that would be in real life, but clearly a necessity for the owner, the master, to manage the doll houses. Milton though did wonder why companies didn't just put on a swinging wall, so that the house could at least be closed up at night, and would look more normal when not in play. Many a time Milton imagined living within, being within, one of those homes, having a family, being happy in the bosom of one's home sweet home. Which was why none of them currently had a family. Each house was occupied by just one person, a woman, apparently a woman waiting for a man, such as Milton, to someday arrive. Some of the women were in the kitchen, making dinner, some were in the living room, vacuuming, some were in the den, reading, or watching television, but all of them were notably alone. He could have provided each of them with a husband. The homes often came with a family, but Milton could not stomach the husband's presence. He only felt a sense of jealousy, even annoyance, at his presence, as if he had somehow inserted himself into his family, his marriage, taking away his wife, his only true love. Plus, well, frankly, he didn't care much for undressing and dressing male dolls. It just didn't feel right. So, the women were, like him, alone, waiting for their man to someday arrive. Well, they would apparently have to wait quite some time, about as much time as Milton would have to wait for his own bride to show up, as if a single woman would just walk up to his own house, knock on the door, and announce that she had arrived, to be his bride. Milton had at one point considered ordering a bride, a Russian bride. He even explored the possibility on the internet, but he knew the likelihood that she would turn out to be a pretty, cheerful, affectionate, amusing, and loyal wife, as advertised, was pretty darned low. He also read how the savings of some of the men were eventually cleared out, with the women subsequently taking off. Some of the men were even murdered by their mail-order brides. No, he thought, as he gazed upon his Victorian doll, dressed in all her finery sitting within her empty parlor, apparently having tea, he would also likely remain alone in his life, in his real life. Milton's heart suddenly stopped, or at least it seemed to. For a moment there it appeared like she had moved, and not just a shift in the doll's position that might occur if he bumped the table, the whole body moving as one. No, she seemed to have moved her head, just her head, turning her face toward him. He bent way over, taking a closer look. Was this the position of her head when he last positioned the doll? He didn't think so but, of course, the notion that the doll moved her head was absurd, and if she had it was probably because it was a little loose. He stood back up. He left the den to have a cup of tea in the kitchen. He was feeling a little unnerved. He really shouldn't. Optical illusions are not that unusual, but it had just seemed so real, and he felt so odd. He was perhaps taking his doll houses too seriously. Perhaps his father had been right. He put a teapot on the stove to boil some water. Once it was ready he poured the hot water into his cup, within which was a tea net, filled with an Ayahuasca tea he had just purchased. He did fancy rare and unusual teas, and he was quite pleased to have found this rather unique brand, and it wasn't even terribly expensive. He was disappointed to discover that it tasted a little bitter. But, he didn't really mind. It was certainly exotic and, he soon discovered, very relaxing. It wasn't too long before he began to feel a bit sleepy. Of course, that could have as well been simply because it had been a pretty long day, and he was now well into the night. Still, he had been feeling so agitated beforehand. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Would you like some more tea, Milton?" "What?" "Tea? Would you like some more tea? I'm so pleased that enjoyed your cup. It's a special family brew." "Excuse me?" Where the fuck was he?! He was sitting in the parlor of an old Victorian home, and there before him was perhaps the prettiest blonde girl he had ever seen, pouring him apparently another cup of tea. She was dressed in the finest of Victorian polonaise, with a tight fitting long-waisted bodice. The sleeves, widening slightly at the wrist, finished with a ruffle. The draped and poufed overskirt was trimmed with pleated flounces, gauged tucking and ribbon bands. It was a profusion of puffs, ruchings, fringes, ribbons, and flounces. It was a really very pretty, very feminine, dress. But, what was most appealing to Milton was how terribly low-cut was the bodice, revealing a very substantial cleavage. The young lady's breasts seem to bursting forth, like two large white balloons trying to squeeze and push themselves through at the same time, yet unable to do so, perhaps because neither would give room to the other. Of course, these balloons were quite alive, evidenced by their softly rising and falling with each of the young lady's breaths. Milton had read that the Victorian period was rather inhibited and repressed, sexually. It must have driven the men wild to have women so openly display their breasts like this, as if they were serving them up for desert. Woman today did not routinely dress so provocatively. Milton's eyes were simply mesmerized by the sight of the young lady's breasts spilling out from her dress just inches from his eyes as she leaned down in front of him, daintily refilling his cup. "Could I offer you any desert? Cake, perhaps? Crumpet?" "What?" Milton was noticing how with every little movement her breasts jiggled like jello. He finally tore his eyes away to fix them on the eyes of the woman. He suddenly recognized her. It was Nora, or at least that was the name he had given her. What the heck? "Nora?" She smiled sweetly at him. "Well, yes, of course, Milton, who else would it be?" She finished pouring him his tea and returned the teapot to the side table. "I do say, sir, that it's just wonderful to have you actually paying me a visit. As you might imagine, well, in fact, as you know, I don't get many gentleman callers." She demurely placed her fingers to her lips as she modestly smiled. It was indeed his doll, Nora, alive, and the same size as him. He glanced around the room. He suddenly recognized the room as well. It was the parlor within her Victorian home, albeit everything considerably more real. In fact, apparently quite real. He then realized that she was not the same size as him. He was the same size as her! He had apparently shrunk? "Nora, how did I...?" He couldn't finish the question. It was just so strange. "How did you arrive here? Gracious, how would I know of such things? Mine is not to reason why. I am here only to serve you, dear." She added, casting her eyes modestly to the floor, "in whatever manner that pleases you, sir." She sat down in the Eastlake loveseat. The carved solid walnut frame had burl inlays. The upholstery was burgundy paisley. Milton remembered when he purchased the piece. It was really quite remarkably authentic. What a very strange dream. It was, of course, a dream. There was no other explanation. In fact, why was he even considering any other possibility? Actually, now that he thought about it, it was not really a terribly strange dream. He had imagined being married to Nora one time or another, as he imagined being married to many of his dolls. He was not proud of that fact, but it was only natural to occasionally have such thoughts, such fantasies, as he set them up in their little make-believe homes, as he sat on his stool, gazing fondly at his lovely little brides. What was strange perhaps was that he knew he was dreaming. However, this had also happen on occasion, during some dreams. But, typically such an awareness occurred during a scary dream, a nightmare. He would suddenly become aware that it was just a dream, and then he would wake-up, the self-awareness perhaps being incompatible with dreaming, or perhaps the awareness was just a transition state prior to fully awakening. Of course, this time his awareness did not cause, or precede, an awakening. Now, that was new. How strange it was to continue to dream, yet know full well that it was but a dream. In fact, perhaps he could also somehow control the dream. Imagine that! So many times he had awaken from a dream and wished that he could go back, and do something, fix things, change things, or finish something. In what direction would he like this dream to go? "Would you like to see the house? Of course, you've seen it many times, but never like this." She got up from her seat, took his hand, and pulled him from his chair. He set the cup of tea down. Nora led him around the house, holding his hand with her soft feminine fingers, enclosed with her even softer white gloves. Milton though wasn't paying that much attention to the tour. He had seen and admired the rooms many times before. His eyes were fixed instead on Nora, seeing her in a much newer and even more appealing light. He was dumbstruck at how alluring and delightful she was. She had such smooth alabaster skin, a small perky nose, rosy cheeks, sparkling gay blue eyes, long fluttering eye lashes, perfect teeth, and long flowing blonde hair. Plus her breasts just kept rising and falling within the plunging cleavage of her tight open bodice. He had noticed these breasts before, of course, but never had they seemed more real, more alive, more luscious. It was though a very impressive home. There was the dining room and the kitchen on the first floor (along with the parlor); upstairs was the bathroom (Nor only briefly opened that door) and the sewing room. One odd aspect was that each room extended to the back of the house, and yet none were really that terribly deep, but Nora didn't seem to mind. She was clearly very proud of it, as she should be. She did though walk right past the door to the bedroom. "What's in there?" Milton inquired, as if he didn't know. "Well, sir, my goodness," she modestly replied, her cheeks reddening. She lowered her voice to explain, "that's my bedroom, sir. I shan't show you in there. That just wouldn't be right." Before he could object she led him back downstairs to the front parlor. When they were back in their seats she asked, "Is there anything else you would like to see, sir?" Yes, there was indeed. He did wonder, in his dreams, if the dolls were now anatomically correct. "Nora, if you would, please, lift up your skirt." It was a statement he had never made to a girl, and certainly wouldn't do so the first time he met her. Well, perhaps a prostitute, if he would ever get the nerve to visit one, but certainly not a Victorian girl, while having tea in her parlor. But, she was, after all, his doll and it was his dream. He was feeling a little emboldened. "Milton Widdams! Please, sir, you mustn't speak that way, to me, to a lady." Her face flushed with embarrassment. She opened up a white lace fan and waved it before her warming cheeks. "Oh my gracious, I mean, goodness, I must say, that was really quite rude. I would never have thought..." The doll house Well, apparently he couldn't actually control the dream, but he could at least control what he said. "Nora, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." "Milton, I mean, goodness, have you no manners? Really, such a thing to ask of a girl, and in her own parlor, no less. You may speak that way to some of the other girls. Perhaps that white trash that lives across the street, but goodness..." "Nora, please, I do apologize. It was really very rude of me." He tried another tact. "It's not what you think. I just wanted to check to see how well your undergarments fit." "Milton!" That was hardly any less rude. "I think perhaps you should go now. I am really just beside myself." Milton cursed himself. His one chance with a girl and he blew it, and it was in his own dream! Apparently even his dreams of girls did not work out. "Yes, well, of course," he softly replied. "I'll go. I'll go." He got up from his seat, and glanced to his right, to the hallway. Of course, he could just walk directly out of the room into the front yard. There was no need to use the front door. There wasn't even a front door to use, just the front hallway. But, well, that might be a bit rude. He would exit via the hall. "Sorry, Nora," he said quietly as he made his way out of the room. Nora could see the hurt, the rejection, in his eyes. Goodness, what had she done? This was Milton, her owner, her master. He makes one simple request and she brushes him away. And, it wasn't like he hadn't seen under her dress before. Gracious, he had dressed and undressed her many, many times. What harm would it be to let him see her crinolines? It wasn't like he was asking to see anything more than that, or to do anything more. Her face reddened at such a thought. "Milton, wait! Wait, please." Milton stopped and turned back. Goodness she was pretty. "Nora," he said, "You really are very pretty." It was a bold statement, at least for him. Nora's face flushed even further. She waved her fan, trying to cool off the heat. "Oh Milton, you probably say that to all your dolls." It was corny, but apparently she was indeed flattered. He smiled bashfully and added, "It's true. I do love my girls, all of them, but none as much as you, Nora." That might not have been entirely true, but she was indeed one of his favorites. "Oh, Milton, please." Her cheeks felt so warm. "You really are the prettiest of them all, Nora." He was now piling it on, but she did appear to like it. She averted her eyes. "My goodness, well..." She was thinking, considering. "I suppose I could let you have a little peek. I mean, it's not like you haven't seen me there before." Milton returned to his seat, hoping she wouldn't notice his erection. Now even her ears felt warm. She looked at him through the corner of her eye, wanting to look him in the eye but not directly. "I mean, well, it would be much more proper if you had a woman dress us. And don't you think I haven't seen the look in your eye when you've had my clothes off." She was right about that. It was his turn to feel a bit of embarrassed. "I do suppose you're right." He would have to be more careful in the future, but then laughed at himself for having such a thought. It wasn't like this was real or anything. Nora got up from the couch. She asked, quietly, "You won't think any less of me for doing this, will you, sir?" "Oh, no, no Nora, not at all." "This just feels so naughty, so wrong." But, she leaned forward, the flesh of her breasts pouring out from her cleavage as she reached down to grasp her skirt. It was quite a bit to pull up, so much crinoline and petticoat. This was really no easy task, in more ways than one, for Nora. Milton could feel his heart racing. He suppressed the impulse to grin like a boy at his birthday party, but his penis was not so restrained. It swelled with each of her struggles to gather her skirts. When Nora finally had enough of the multiple layers of cotton and silk corralled, she slowly raised up her skirts, first revealing her button up heeled shoes, then further up her long shapely legs. Milton had indeed seen under this skirt many, many times before, but somehow it was now so very, very different. Now it was for real, sort of. When she reached her knees, Nora stopped. "Is this far enough, sir?" "Just a bit higher," he suggested, "if you wouldn't mind." "Will that please you, sir?" "Oh yes, Nora, very much." She smiled at him. "Well, that does make me happy." How nice it would be, Milton thought, to have dolls like this, in real life. Dolls that were life-sized, that were beautiful, that could move and talk, and were so very considerate. There must be some company working on this. They would make so, so much money. Nora raised her skirt all the way to her waist, to show him her underwear, a pair of loose cotton pantalets. Milton said quietly, "They're really very lovely, Nora." His cock swelled within his pants. "They look very nice on you." "Thank you, sir," Nora replied, pleased that she was pleasing her man, but feeling so self-conscious, so exposed. Yes, he had seen beneath her skirt before, even beneath her pantalets, but this was really much different. This time she was intentionally showing herself off for him, exposing herself to him, in real life, and in a clearly very licentious manner. "Turn around," Milton nervously suggested. He had never felt so assertive with a woman before, so strong and authoritative, so much like a man, confident, self-assured, in charge. Well, perhaps not really. It had been only a suggestion, and his voice had clearly wavered. He wondered though if he could in fact be more like this in real life. "Oh sir," Nora whimpered, wondering what was on his mind, not liking the fact that she would be looking away, unaware of what he might be doing. But, she did as he instructed. She turned around so her back, and her bottom, were facing him. She had to shift her hands though to get all of the material in back pulled up. Milton took the opportunity to grasp hold of his stiffened dick, giving it a good squeeze. This was by far the best dream he had ever had. When the back of her pantaloons were exposed, Nora glanced over her shoulder at Milton, an apprehensive, even fearful, look on her face, wondering what Milton had in mind. Milton leaned forward, reached out with his hands, and pulled open the rear flap of Nora's pantalets, opening up to his eyes Nora's soft round pale bottom cheeks. "Mr. Widdams, please, sir," Nora pleaded, feeling the cool air of the parlor kissing her exposed bottom cheeks, "Don't you look at it, sir. That's really very embarrassing." Milton had never seen anything more wonderful, more delightful, at least in real life. He so hoped he would not wake up now. Her bottom was just so pure, so innocent, so pale and delicate, yet split by a crack that hid the most dirtiest, naughtiest part of a woman. Nora glanced back over his shoulder, her face looking even more fearful. "Sir, please, someone may see us." "What?" Milton looked behind him, over his shoulder. He had momentarily forgotten that his doll houses lacked any real privacy. "Oh, yes," he acknowledged, looking out of her parlor, through the nonexistent wall, to the house across the street, which also had no front wall. It wasn't actually a house, in the strict sense of the word. It was a Mobile Sportsman house trailer. There was a girl inside, apparently doing the dishes, her back to them. Why couldn't these houses, in his dream, now in fact have walls? Nora stepped away and let her skirts fall back down. She turned around to face him. "It would be real nice, sir, if you would put a front wall on the house. I mean, it really gets rather awkward at times, particularly when, you know, well, I need to go to..." She lowered her voice. "...the powder room." "Yes, well, I, um, hadn't thought of that," he acknowledged. "Or at least have a better class of neighbor across the street." That was perhaps a bit mean-spirited on her part, although her fine two-story Victorian home did probably deserve a better neighbor than an old, small, trailer home. The lack of any privacy would put a damper on his plan for this visit, if he actually had a plan. Although, it wasn't like having an audience would be a problem for him. It wasn't like this was really happening. Why would it matter to Nora? It was, after all, his dream. "Well, it's alright, Nora. She has her back to us." "You can't be serious, Milton! Goodness, gracious. What kind of a girl do you think I am? I couldn't imagine such a thing." Milton could. He was doing that right now. In fact, this whole thing was his imagination, so he assumed. "Sorry," was all he could muster. He had apparently, once again, insulted his doll. Nora though could see that she was again disappointing her owner, and that was not the right attitude for a doll to take. "There are many things we can do, sir," she suggested. "We could play Graces, or Jackstraws." Milton had no idea what those games were, but he sorely doubted that he would enjoy them. He looked out into the street. Maybe he could go for a walk? Perhaps visit another home? Actually, the woman who lived in the house trailer across the street, Claire, might be a bit more cooperative. Nora could see that she was losing his interest, his attention, and no doll likes to be set aside for another. She strode up to him. "May I sit on your lap, sir?" "What? Well, yeah, sure...of course." He parted his legs a bit, giving her room. Nora sat down on his lap or, actually, on his right leg, her legs in between his. She wrapped her left arm around his shoulder. "Now, this is very comfy cozy, isn't it, sir." She snuggled his chest with the fingers of her right hand. Milton smiled. He would have to agree. It wasn't sex, but it wasn't like pretty women liked to sit on his lap, or had done so terribly often. It was rather nice, and he enjoyed how her fingers flirted with his chest. He wrapped his arm around her so very thin waist. Dolls have such teeny waists. His erection was swelling hard within his pants. She felt his right bicep. "And, my goodness, Milton, you're so strong!" "Well...' Milton knew that wasn't true, but perhaps a doll wouldn't have that much experience with guys. Actually, given his isolation of them she may have no experience at all! But, he then realized that he was taking this experience too seriously, as if it wasn't a dream, as if it was for real. Well, that's alright. It's nice to lose oneself within a dream, particularly a dream as pleasant as this one. He suggested, "I do work out." He didn't. "Ooooooh, I can imagine. Goodness, Milton, perhaps next time you could work out by the table, in front of my house. It can get so boring by oneself all day long, and gracious, I would so enjoy watching you flex those big manly muscles." She was laying it on pretty thick herself, but she could see that he was enjoying it, and she was very happy to see that. Milton laughed to himself at such a thought. He supposed he could lay out all of the female dolls and work out for them, perhaps even naked, with an erection. However, that was a pretty odd thought. He asked, quietly, "Nora, could I at least, well, um..." He averted his eyes as he finished the sentence, "touch your breast?" Nora gave him a playful slap on his chest. "Milton, you're just incorrigible! Goodness, what is a good girl supposed to do?!" Milton began to wonder what he might do with this doll when he woke up. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." He looked away as he admitted. "It's just that, well, um, I, uh, you know..." His voice got very soft, "I don't actually have a wife." It was so embarrassing to admit his inadequacy to a woman, and one of his own dolls, no less. That wasn't really a surprise to Nora. Goodness, Milton had no wedding ring, and no woman ever visited the den. She knew that Milton was alone. Nora felt so sorry for him. Frankly, pleasing him, as a woman, was really her duty, her responsibility, as one of his dolls, and certainly one of his favored dolls. She was clearly letting him down. She looked over his shoulder at Claire, the woman across the street, verifying that she wouldn't be able to see him doing it, as her breast would be hidden by his body. "Well, alright, Milton. I guess that would be alright. Just be careful that nobody will see. I mean, well, I have a reputation to protect, you know." Milton smiled with unbridled delight as he reached up with his left hand to cup Nora's right breast. "Mmmmmmm," he sighed as his hand made contact with her soft bulging boob. He gave it a little squeeze, causing the exposed flesh to rise up even further within her so very deep cleavage. "Oh my goodness," Nora sighed, leaning into him, bringing her breast closer to him. She whispered into his ear, "That's so nice, Miltie," and she wasn't actually lying. It did feel nice to have a man's touch on her breast. It felt even better for him. He would not admit it to anyone, even to his dolls, but he was a virgin, and not just with respect to sexual intercourse. He had never even fondled a breast before, which shouldn't be too surprising given how isolated and introverted he had been as a child, and as a young man. Well, if absence makes the heart grow fonder, he was in love now with Nora's breast. He squeezed, caressed, and fondled to his heart's delight, as well as his dick's. Nora's breathing accelerated, the soft mound of pure white fleshing rising and falling with greater strength and pace. She held onto him more tightly with her left hand, squeezing her body against him, her right hand drifting down. She whispered, "Oh, I do like it when you play with me, Miltie." That statement had a number of meanings to Milton. He would admit that he had sort of played with her breasts before. He hadn't fondled a real breast, but he had felt the breasts on his dolls. A doll didn't provide much of a breast to squeeze and grope, but he would let his thumb slide over it as he took off or put on her clothes. He wondered if she actually enjoyed that. He decided it was best though not to ask. Nora probably would not have admitted to it if he had asked. She could hardly admit it to herself, but it had been true. She did so much enjoy how he studied, considered, admired, and caressed her body when he changed her outfits. It was, of course, only natural to enjoy the touch of your man, the only real man you know. She closed her eyes and gasped, "Squeeze it harder, Miltie, would you, please?" He obliged the lovely doll, his eyes fixed on her big round soft bulging boobs. He would like to pull them out, at least one of them. They did appear that they so much wanted, needed, to escape the tight confines of her bodice, but that would risk exposing her to the eyes of Claire across the street, or anyone else that might walk by, if anyone does in fact do that. He did though, quietly ask, "Nora, have you ever seen a man's penis before?" "Milton!" Her face again flushed. She looked across at Claire, who was now vacuuming her carpet, seemingly oblivious to what was going on across the street. She turned back to Milton. "Well, of course not, goodness." It was perhaps a stupid question. He had never given her the opportunity. But, it was also an important point. He asked further, as he gently caressed and squeezed her nipple through her dress, "Wouldn't you at least like to know what one looks like?" Nora's jaw dropped. "Well, I, um, I..." She didn't know how to answer that question. Frankly, clearly she would, at least at some point, and when would that opportunity ever arise again? Goodness, she might not even ever see Milton again. This could in fact be her only opportunity, and it would even be Milton's penis. She lowered her face toward his, and quietly acknowledged, "I guess so." "Nora, it's alright. You won't have to do anything. I'll just show it to you. No one will see, and I promise it will be our little secret." She asked for reassurance, "You really won't tell anyone?" He wondered who he could possibly tell that would matter to her. It's not like he would, or even could, tell the other dolls. "Nora, I promise." She again looked over his shoulder. The woman across the street was now looking at them, a scowl of jealousy on her face. Nora smiled. Claire being jealous of her special relationship with Milton pushed her over the edge. She reached down into Milton's pants to take hold of his zipper. She struggled a bit with it, yanking and pulling on the zipper to no appreciable effect. "Here, let me help you," Milton offered. He removed his hand from around her waist, as well as from her breast, to use both to get his zipper down. His own hands were a bit shaky themselves, being rather excited about the possibilities. When the zipper was down he reached inside the flap to extract his dick, which also wasn't that easy. The flap of his boxers was relatively small and tight. Plus, he probably should've undone the belt as well. He essentially had to wrench his cock out through his opened zipper, but in the end all that hard work and effort proved to be well worth it. "Oh my goodness, Miltie," Nora gasped. "It's so big!" And, she was not just flattering him. To her, living the life of a doll confined to a house with no male companion, it was indeed quite an impressive, even intimidating, sight. It actually was even a bit scary looking, like an angry snake straining to take a big bite of her, the head so swollen and inflamed. "Would you like to take hold of it?" Milton politely offered. "Oh! No, no....no...no," she repeatedly asserted, her eyes though remaining fixed on it, mesmerized by it. "Well...yes, okay," she eventually admitted. "Take your glove off first," Milton suggested. "Oh, yes, well, of course." She pulled the glove off her right hand, reached down, and tentatively, gingerly, wrapped her fingers around the shaft. She would have preferred to keep the glove on. That would have been more sanitary, and less personal, but as soon as her fingers made contact she was glad that she had removed the glove. "Oh my," she exclaimed, "it's so hard. It's like a steel rod, or something. How do you get it so hard? Do you exercise with it?" Milton smiled at her naiveté. It was a pretty silly remark, but perhaps understandable for a doll. It's not like dolls get any sort of sex education. They don't even have parents! Milton though realized that he was again taking this whole thing too seriously. After all, it was just a dream. Plus, frankly, the naiveté was rather adorable. "No, no, honey, it just gets that way when it's all excited." He added, "It happens when a very pretty girl is sitting on my lap." "Oh, Milton, don't be so impertinent," but she was clearly flattered. It's one thing to turn a boy's head. It's quite another to get this concretely evident and sincerely strong reaction. She would not admit it but she did feel rather proud. She looked over Milton's shoulder at the woman across the street, who was now trying to pretend that she wasn't at all interested, albeit continually stealing glances, wondering what was going on. Nora was a bit tempted to show it to her, just to show off, letting her neighbor know what she had visiting her home that Claire was unlikely to ever have. While Nora was pleased as punch, Milton was ecstatic. A woman was actually grasping hold of his naked erect cock!? Of course, it wasn't for real, but like any dream it sure as heck felt completely real. He so, so hoped that he would not wake up now. That would be so disappointing. He tried to keep his voice calm and relaxed as he suggested, "You could perhaps stroke it a bit. He likes that," she added, as if it was a puppy. The doll house "Oh golly," Nora replied, feeling rather distressed by such a thought, but actually really wanting to do it. She took a firm grip and slowly slid her fist up and down the shaft. She was now as amazed as Milton, as she was actually masturbating a man's cock, and it wasn't just any cock, it was the cock of her owner. Not too many dolls get that opportunity! She was feeling very special indeed. Maybe she would actually want all of the other dolls to know. They would be so jealous. Of course, that did assume one point. She tentatively, nervously asked, as her little feminine Victorian fingers continued to gently stroke his shaft. "Have any of the other dolls done this, for you?" "No, no, absolutely not," Milton reassured her, quite sincerely. "None of them." Nora didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Her big smile spoke a thousand words. She was feeling very special indeed. She stroked him with a bit more urgency and vigor. She figured he would like that. Milton considered suggesting that she put her mouth on it, but he felt that would be going much too far. It could in fact be so shocking that it might turn her off entirely. In any case, he was hardly complaining. He could feel himself getting pretty close to cumming. The first time for any guy being jerked off by a girl is going to be awfully intense, and that was an understatement in the case of Milton, as he was long, long overdue. "Yes, that's good," he gasped, "that's really, really good, Nora." Nora giggled as she accelerated the rate of her stroking to yet another level. If the woman across the street looked now she would readily identify what was going on, as the motions of Nora's shoulder and arm, and the direction of her eyes, were rather telling. Milton's breathing became a bit rushed, a bit labored. He was now extremely close, and he kept begging to not wake up. How cruel would it be for this dream to end now?! He had dreams like this when he was much younger, and the first few times he didn't wake up, or at least not too early. Well, maybe too late, depending upon one's perspective. He loved waking up still in the throes of his orgasm and his dream, his dick shooting off in real life while it was doing so in his dream state. It made the dream all the more real and so deeply satisfying. No orgasms he would subsequently experience were ever any better than his wet dreams. But, when he did fully awaken he would be stricken by the fact that his pajama bottoms and the sheets, were soaked with his thick sticky cum, and this proved, of course, to be very, very embarrassing. The first time it happened he thought he had wet his bed. It was so, so humiliating to have to tell his mother about that, and his heart sank even further when she came to his bedroom, with him, to see for herself, only to announce that it wasn't a case of enuresis. It was his cum, not only witnessed by his mother but she would have to clean it up. He was mortified. He began to wear underwear with a rag inside, beneath his pajama bottoms. He couldn't imagine having to explain this problem again to his mother. So, whenever he had another accident he would have to somehow wash and dry his underwear and pajama bottoms himself. Despite the potential mortification of having his mother discover his problem, Milton did though enjoy the dreams immensely. A dream can be so real, so engrossing. Where else can one really experience flying; where else can one experience having sex, at least for Milton. But, as he got older he would invariably wake up before he came, and then he longed for the problem of how to clean his underwear and pajamas to return. He would groan with disappointment as he found himself awake, just prior to orgasm, entirely unsatisfied, his balls aching. It was like the women in his dreams were just purposely teasing him up to the final second, and then disappearing. He would sometimes try to fall back asleep quickly enough so that he could reenter the dream. That was really never successful. So, he would usually just masturbate to the dream, finishing the dream off with a truly happy ending. But, it just wasn't the same. So, he didn't really expect to stay asleep now, but he could hope, he could imagine, he could dream. "Oh gosh," he suddenly exclaimed, as he felt that sense of intense inevitability. "Nora," he gasped, in a sort of warning, as his cock twitched and a sudden rush of cum gushed forth from the tip, shooting straight up in the air, much to the surprise and shock of Nora. "Milton!" Nora loudly exclaimed, with worry and wonder. She considered letting go and quickly extricating herself from the line of fire, as that first blast went up so pretty darned high, seeming to head straight for her face. She momentarily backed her face away, but the gunk fell harmlessly back into his lap. Still, as he continued to gush, squirt, and spray globs and spurts of cum, some of it falling onto his shirt, a good deal of it was getting all over Nora's lovely, expensive, and truly fine Victorian dress. "Oh my goodness, Miltie," she again exclaimed, both out of concern with the mess he was making, as well being impressed at how much was exploding out of his hard twitching penis. Milton though could care less. He could always buy her another dress. Heck, he already had a number of replacement dresses for lots of his dolls. Plus, it was really part of the fun to be cumming all over a pure, shy, virginal Victorian girl. This was an experience he would never imagine ever having, and he felt so blessed to have such an intense and gratifying imagination. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Milton awoke to find himself lying in bed. He quickly felt down at his crotch. It was dry. He felt all around the sheet. It was all dry. He had cum in his dream but not in real life? How strange was that. But, still, it was a nice dream. Clearly the best dream he had in years, and at no cost. He didn't even feel like he needed to cum. He then realized that he had no memory of going to bed, or anything that had happened that evening. What was the last thing he remembered? He thought about it for a while, and then recalled having had the tea. How very strange. He thought of the dream quite a bit that day. It was certainly easy to think about it while at work, his cock swelling as he recalled each enjoyable little detail. It had been so vivid, so real, and so, so satisfying. Many a time that day he was interrupted by Mr. Limbergh, lost within a deep daydream, thinking back on his night dream, his dick swelling with each remembrance. Mr. Limbergh, however, was naturally very annoyed, to say the least, as he apparently really needed the TPS reports, like an hour ago. Milton clearly wasn't himself that day or, Mr. Limbergh felt that Milton's true self was once again evident. "Don't drop the ball on this, Widdams. You need to give 110% if you're going move up the food chain. This is mission critical, Widdams, don't you forget that." The TPS reports were mission critical? Milton shook his head as Mr. Limbergh departed. He did though eventually get them done, but did not, of course, receive any praise or thanks for doing so. Instead, Mr. Limbergh just took the opportunity to chastise him further. "We need team players here at Natech, Widdams, don't you forget that. You need to step up to the plate and hit one out of here. Don't drop the ball." "Yes sir, Mr. Limbergh. I'll work harder." How many times had he made that promise! As soon as Milton returned home early evening he visited his little doll town. As he promised to Nora, he did change the home in front of her house. He considered replacing the trailer home with the southern plantation. That would bring up the value of that section of the neighborhood, but he wondered if that might just incur some jealousy on Nora's part. However, he then chuckled over the fact that he was even considering such a concern, as if the dream had been real. Nevertheless, he opted for the country cottage. It was not an expensive home, but it was quaint, well kept, pleasant to the eye, and yet would not be at all threatening to Nora. And, well, he felt it looked pretty good; a much better fit aesthetically for the Victorian home than a house trailer. He convinced himself that this was the primary reason he made the switch. He also changed Nora's dress, putting her in a very expensive Victorian gown, complete with rather exotic panties. Yes, she wasn't real, but it was a nice sentimental gesture. Of course, he took the opportunity to consider her naked body. It was rather disappointing that toy companies did not make anatomically correct dolls (he did have one such Japanese doll, but it wasn't purchased from a toy company). He wondered whether Nora would have been anatomically correct if, in his dream, she had taken off her clothes. He felt if she had been anatomically correct that would have confirmed that he was dreaming, as if there was any doubt. Why he was even having such thoughts was unclear to him. Of course there was no doubt. Frankly, the fact that she had no Victorian dialect made it clear that he was dreaming. He was unfamiliar with Victorian English and therefore could not mimic it in his dream. That would not have been a deterrent to Nora, if she had been real. But, he then shook his head at the fact that he was continuing to debate the point. The next day, at work, he had such difficulty not drifting off to the world of his dolls. It was all he could think about. It had just been so real, so vivid. He had never before had such a dream, and he wasn't just speaking of the sex. It was the fact that he had full consciousness during the dream, fully aware of the fact that he was there, that he was dreaming, that he could direct his thoughts during the dream as he was doing now, in real life. His sense of consciousness now was essentially no different than it had been during the dream. It was just so strange. He tried talking to persons at work about it, but they never really listened to him. They had no interest in speaking to him. To them, he was just some sort of buffoon, some weirdly eccentric, inadequate, and absurd screwball, nobody to take seriously, to ever really care about or consider. They just gave him a funny look and carried on with their own conversations. His story just confirmed for them that he was indeed a freak. He drifted away, to the safety and security of his cubicle, and equally private thoughts. He was most definitely disappointed that he had not returned to Nora's home over the next few nights. Or course, it might have been because he masturbated each of the next few nights, thinking about it, recalling it, anticipating it. Perhaps the problem was that he was not going to sleep with sufficient sexual frustration. It was clear during adolescence that the likelihood of a sex dream increased substantially the more sexually frustrated he was. But, even denying himself an orgasm over a three day period did nothing. He did have dreams with fleeting sexual imagery, but it was just the usual stuff. He would dream that he had a girlfriend, and was struggling over whether to touch her breast. Or, he would dream that he was on a date and was wondering if he should kiss the girl. In every scenario, once he initiated contact he would wake up before anything really happened. His evenings became restless, having difficulty now falling asleep, much to the further annoyance of Mr. Limbergh the next day, as he would be nodding off within his cubicle, so tired from such a long and restless night, so much wanting to drift off into sleep, to leave this dreary job for the wondrous life of his doll house. He decided, finally, to have another cup of tea, mostly in an effort to help get a good night's sleep, but also wondering if the tea had something to do with his dream, beyond simply helping him sleep. He drank the tea in bed, as he was comfortably ensconced between the sheets, feeling all comfy and cozy, as Nora had said. - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Uerukamu sensei!" "What?" "So sorry, sir, my English, not so good. Would you care for bath?" Milton was inside a Japanese bungalow, more specifically the bath room of a Japanese home. Standing before him, or actually bowing before him, was a very pretty and petite Japanese woman, dressed in a traditional and very colorful kimono. It was bright red with rose, white, and pink cherry blossoms, gold trim, and a large gold sash. On her feet she wore white split-toe socks within wooden flip-flops. Milton still hadn't processed what she had said, being so distracted by suddenly finding himself in an entirely new and foreign location, albeit still dressed in the pajamas that he had worn to bed. The young lady smiled at his confusion and uncertainty, recognizing that he must be a bit shy, perhaps not experienced with Japanese customs. "Dono, nanitozo, please, make bath for you?" "What? Oh! Um, yes, yeah, um...sure." He finally recognized the room. He was in the bathroom of his little Japanese bungalow. He really liked that home, particularly the garden in front. That had been particularly difficult to build, and was one of only a few homes that in fact had anything in the front yard, other than a fake yard. He looked behind him to see if it was there. It was. It was really quite lovely looking, so peaceful, with Nikaki trees, a little pavilion, a stone lantern, and stepping stones across a koi pond. Someone had even turned it on, or perhaps he had left it on, as the fountain within the pond was running. He wondered if there might in fact be live koi within the pond. He had always imagined just sitting there, peacefully, enjoying the relaxing sights and sounds of running water. Japanese gardens are so nice. The girl began to undo his pajama top. He quickly looked back at her. "Oh, um, yes, well, I can do that." He reached for his pajama top. It seemed a bit odd for her to be undoing it for him. "No, no, sir," she cheerfully responded, "this my job. No problem." Milton now recognized her as well. It was his little geisha doll, Rio Hamisaki. Well, actually, she wasn't so little right now. She was certainly quite short, not even five feet, but still awfully big for a doll. And, she smelled so nice. His nostrils breathed in deeply the scent of her flowery perfume. She smiled adorably at him as she undid the buttons. "You work so hard. You need to relax in your garden, sir. I give you nice hot bath and then you relax in garden. I bring you tea." The tea, that's right! He had drank another cup, or actually mug, of tea. It must be the tea that's causing these dreams. It must have some sort of strange hallucinogenic powers. But, how could they in fact sell such tea legally? Well, actually, there are quite a few natural hallucinogenic herbs, flowers, fungi, and other natural products that slip through the FDA. He smiled at her, and asked, "Do you know who I am?" The young lady giggled shyly, "Well, of course, sensei. You are master of our houses, Master Widdams sensai." Milton chuckled modestly. He was hardly a master, or whatever that word sensei meant. He didn't really know for sure. He only knew a few words in Japanese and, he was embarrassed to admit, that was largely from watching Hollywood movies, television shows, and, well, he would never admit out loud, a bit of Japanese porn. He hadn't even ever eaten at a Japanese restaurant. But, he did have a soft spot for Japanese women, and she was also very, very pretty. He found Japanese women to seem, on average, so much more youthful, innocent, and pure than his perception of western women. They lacked the tough, assertive, and aggressive manner that he so often experienced with women at work, even the secretaries and assistants. He felt intimidated by the women at work. He found the mannerisms of Japanese women to be considerably more modest and deferential. Once the buttons were all undone Rio helped him get his arms through the sleeves, and then helped him pull off his white undershirt over his head. Milton quickly fixed his hair once his t-shirt was pulled off, and then stood there awkwardly as she slipped her fingers into the waistband of his pajama bottoms, sucking in his stomach as much as he could, even trying to clench his chest muscles. For the last five years he has been vowing to develop a regular, healthy exercise program, building up his chest and abdomen muscles, decreasing that extra tire around his waist, but one thing or another always came up. He had started dieting and exercising a number of times. He even owned a rowing machine. But, his effort never lasted more than a few weeks. Well, he certainly regretted that right now. He hoped Rio would not notice how much fat he had around his stomach. Rio squatted down in front of him and yanked his pajama bottoms down to his ankles.. Milton looked down at her and from this angle he could see how her kimono jutted out so far from her chest. Yes, Rio Hamisaki was a pretty doll with very, very big breasts. Milton had at times wondered what it would be like to have a girl provide him, in real life, a massage. He considered going to a massage parlor and having a professional massage, but he feared getting an erection. How can a guy get a massage from a pretty girl, with jutting boobs, and not get an erection as she rubbed his chest and thighs with warm slick oil? He wondered how they dealt with this at a massage parlor. Milton seriously doubted that he would be successful in controlling himself while a pretty big boobed geisha girl like Rio gave him a bath. But, she wasn't really going to do that, was she? She was apparently just helping him get ready for a bath. She would leave once he was undressed. Although, he was struck by the fact that she did feel the need to undress him. Does this really happen at Japanese bath houses? How weird is that! Of course, more to the point Milton thought, was why he should feel embarrassed being in naked in front of one of his own dolls, dream or no dream. These were his dolls. He was in charge, and they weren't really real. Still, it was good news that his nervous embarrassment was quickly dissipating his budding erection. Rio removed his feet from his pajama bottoms, and then carefully folded and laid it atop his equally well folded pajama top and t-shirt. She reached up for the waistband of his briefs and pulled them all the way down to his ankles. He stepped out of them, feeling a little foolish to be undressed by a woman, like a boy being undressed by his mother. He was terribly glad that his briefs were reasonably clean. Rio folded his briefs three times and laid them respectfully upon his pajamas. Of course, whatever Milton should feel, either because this was a dream or because she was his doll, didn't really matter, as what he did in fact feel was indeed embarrassment as he stood there, entirely naked, while Rio remained clothed within her kimono. There is little more that can make a guy feel self-conscious, particularly a guy like Milton Widdams, is to be entirely naked in front of a pretty clothed girl. He was clearly at a very awkward disadvantage. Never before had he felt more uncertain, more uncomfortable, within his own skin, within his own body. He vowed to start his exercise and diet program the next day, dream or no dream. Rio reached for the shower hose, turned on the water, and tested it, waiting until it was a comfortable temperature. Well, apparently she wasn't going to leave the room? Do women really bathe men at a Japanese bathhouse? Rio thoroughly wetted him down with a strong spray of relaxing, hot water. "Temperature okay, sensai?" "Yes, yes, that's nice," he replied. This really was a little weird. The last time he was bathed by someone else it had been by his mother, and that was many, many years ago. In fact, he couldn't even really remember it being done, but clearly it had to have been true. Somehow he felt this was going to be considerably different. The doll house She made sure that every part of his body, from his head down, was thoroughly drenched with the hot water, including even spreading open the crack of his ass to let the jet spray tickle his anus, much to Milton's surprise, and chagrin. Now, that was most definitely unusual, but he did have to admit that it felt rather nice. Once she was finished she pulled out a bucket of thick soapy water, rich with a foamy, scented cleansing gel that Rio generously applied to his shoulders, chest, and arms, thoroughly washing every nook and cranny of his upper body. It was really quite pleasant and soothing. Milton did now feel a bit like the young child, so lovingly cared for by his mother. Is there anything more intimate that a mother does for her child than to bath him? Well, perhaps there is, but this was really very nice. Rio had Milton stretch out each arm so that she could make sure that his underarms were thoroughly cleansed. That part was a bit ticklish, and they both had a little giggle over that. She then got behind him and rubbed hard on his back, as men often neglected their backs when they showered. Milton was really enjoying this, no longer even self-conscious about being naked. Perhaps this does really happen within Japanese bathhouses. He also wondered if this was a service that Japanese wives performed for their husbands. He was again reminded of how nice it would be to be married. Of course, actual wives would probably not be nearly so accommodating. Nevertheless, it was nice to think that women within other cultures were so considerate, so caring. Of course, that was a little selfish on his part. Would men be as caring in return? Still, it wasn't like Milton had been given a fair shake in his own life, blessed not with the most desirable body, or appealing personality. It wasn't like he didn't deserve at least one nice evening, ministered by a woman who appeared to care for him deeply, just as his mother had done, many years ago. Milton was enjoying the bath so much that he was no longer worried about his appearance, his inadequacies, his flaws. Rio certainly did not seem to notice or care, which would make sense for a professional. A masseuse must deal with bodies far more unattractive than his own. He had no reason really to feel self-conscious. She treated every part of him as if it was worthy of her attention, her consideration, which was so evident through her loving touch. Rio shifted around to the front of his body, and his lower half. Even then Milton was not troubled by his nudity as she washed each foot, each toe, each ankle, each knee, and then each thigh. But, when she got to his thigh Milton again became self-consciously aware of how naked he really was. Rio was now so close to his genitals, the back of her hands, the back of her fingers, occasionally brushed by a testicle, or even his penis. And then she concentrated her attention, her bath, directly on his testicles and penis, covering them both with the slippery slick gel, gently washing, caressing, and massaging them with continually flowing, squirming, wriggling fingers. Milton had never been particularly creative in his masturbation. He never used any artificial devices, never even any lotions or oils. He just felt it would be too sloppy and messy. It was sometimes bad enough to clean up the cum afterward without the additional mess of used lubrication. What guy wants to wash his penis in the bathroom sink? Well, he now realized what a fantastic sensation he had been missing. Rio's hand felt like what a cunt must feel like, gripping him so fucking tightly yet still intensely slippery, slimy, and slick. She was purportedly washing him but it really felt more like ten slippery, wiggly, squirming fingers all trying to excite him every place at once. He had never imagined his balls and dick being stimulated so continuously, so thoroughly, so all consuming. He most definitely did indeed develop an erection, and it was one that never before seemed so stiff and strong. Milton wondered how this could possibly be a dream, for if it was he would have had no basis for knowing how wonderful this would feel, and he surely didn't. He never felt anything remotely like it before. Rio was not offended by his excited state. In fact, she appeared to be pleased, even proud. She stepped back to briefly admire her handiwork and his response thereto. "Master Widdams, you very, very big man. Very strong. Very manly." She bowed respectfully toward him, and it. Milton smiled, relieved by her reaction. He even thrust his hips out a bit to display his stiff dick more clearly. He was rather proud of himself. He had admired it at times in the mirror, finding it to be quite impressive, if he said so himself. But, of course, he sorely doubted any woman would ever be equally impressed, yet Rio appeared to be very pleased. His dick swelled with pride. Nora and Rio were not real but the fact that it was now two women in a row had to account for something! And, well, who really cares if it's real when one's cock is feeling so fucking good. Rio resumed tickling his balls with the slippery slick fingers of one hand while she stroked and caressed his shaft with the fingers of the other. It was agonizingly insufferably wondrous torture. He would at the moment agree to anything, confess to any crime. She literally had him in the fingers of her hands. "Oh my goodness, Rio," he gasped. She removed her hands, and stepped back, to slowly remove her kimono, her alluring Asian eyes fixed on his; her adoration, her love, all so very evident as she undid the sash, pulled it loose, and then opened wide the colorful silk. She was simply beautiful. Milton was again struck by how the bodies of dolls were invariably so extraordinary: no blemish in sight, the skin so pure and smooth and flawless, and the hour glass figure so exaggerated, so perfect, the waist so very narrow and in this case in such stark contrast with inordinately large and amazingly round boobs. No real boobs could really look like that, could they? They were just so large yet still so round, hanging from or perhaps more accurately perched on her chest, as two large soft round basketballs of luscious breast flesh. He wondered if girls really knew how much guys like their boobs. Simply the sight of these deeply churned his balls. Girls were so lucky to have them. Milton had, of course, seen these breasts many times before, but never like this, never in real life size. He wondered if they were fake, and then chuckled over the fact that of course they were, at least in the respect that they were as real as this whole experience. He had purchased Rio from a website that specialized in hot anime dolls, most of whom had really large boobs. These dolls even had two very perky stiff pointy nipples. Milton instinctively licked his lips. His eyes quickly shifted downward, where they were greeted by Rio's smoothly shaved cunt. He had been shocked when the doll arrived. He had not expected that and, if he was honest, he would have to admit that he felt a stirring within his penis as he gazed upon the bare girlish slit on the anime doll. Well, a live one, a real one, an actually fully shaved slit was even more stirring. It just looked so fucking innocent and pure, yet still so terribly hot and provocative. His eyes shifted to hers, realizing that he had been staring. But, she was not offended. She just smiled knowingly, as if she was actually enjoying the fact that he was so clearly enjoying the sight of her. Nevertheless, he sheepishly looked away, feeling self-conscious over the fact that he had indeed been caught ogling the doll's naked body. He wondered if he could look upon her in the future, or at least could do so without some feeling of shame. Rio carefully draped her robe over the back of a chair, her globular jugs wriggling with just about every movement of her body. She returned to her bucket of thick soapy water, picked it up, and poured creamy luscious soapiness down upon her equally lusciously full breasts, giving them a wet slippery sheen. Her nipples poked out like two pointy bullets. She set down the bucket and stepped up to Milton, pressing her slick soft breasts against his chest, and began rubbing them around and around, using them as fleshy soapy sponges to thoroughly scrub his chest, all the while keeping her pretty brown gaily sparkling eyes focused on his. "I make you very clean, yes?" "Yes," he gasped, his voice breathless with his rising excitement. Now, this was a bath he was sure his mother never provided, although it was clearly a very affectionate, womanly way to wash a young man. Rio moved around behind him, and applied her glistening soapy slick boobs to his back, pressing their soft squishiness and stiff nipples deep into his muscles; muscles so tired, worn, and stiff from a long day sitting in front of a computer, completing TPS reports. Milton sighed with a deep calming comfort. There really should be bath houses like this in the United States. Perhaps he should in fact move to Japan. It wasn't like anyone in this country would really miss him. Maybe Natech could use an ancillary branch. He could get a fresh start, with new colleagues, with new women, perhaps women like Rio. Rio stepped back to press a hand gently but firmly against his back. "Lean over, sensei," she instructed. Milton did as she instructed, feeling a bit dubious, unclear as to the purpose in doing so. But his confusion was quickly resolved. Rio stepped up to him and pressed her breasts against his butt. "Fuck," Milton gasped, not expecting that, albeit perhaps he should have, as she had been using her breasts everywhere else. Still, it was just so weird to feel a girl massaging his naked butt with her boobs. Well, weird was just one way to describe it. It also felt really, really nice. Any guy would really enjoy feeling and fondling a girl's breasts, and any guy would enjoy the fact that a girl liked to feel and fondle him, just about anywhere. To have a girl who felt and fondled him with her breasts, feeling and fondling his butt with her boobs, was really very intensely wondrous. It was just so naughty, perhaps even perverse. This was not normal sex, but what was abnormal could in fact be pretty good fun, and given that it was a bath it was really good clean fun. Rio asked, politely, "Open bottom, please, sensai." "What?" Rio pulled back. Smack! "Yikes!" Milton squealed, quickly standing back up straight, grabbing his butt with his hands. "Rio," he complained, "that hurt!" It didn't hurt that much. It only just stung a bit, but it was such a shocking surprise. One does not expect one of one's dolls to give you a smack on the butt. "Sorry, sir, yes, but, please, open cheeks." He guessed he better should. He bent over again, reached back, and feeling more than a little silly and uneasy, opened up his butt. The only times he had done this before was during an occasional prostate exam. This was not the position one expected to be with a girl. What girl would want you to spread open your cheeks for her? "Fuck!" he again exclaimed, as he felt Rio press one of her breasts into the crack of his opened ass, sliding the pointy fleshy boob sponge up and down the interior of his crack. All guys clean themselves there when they shower. It was only natural that the girl should do likewise. There was no point in neglecting a part of the body known for being especially less than clean, and Rio was apparently not the least bit reluctant to cleanse him there as well. For a moment she even appeared to be using her nipple to tickle and probe his anus. He squeezed his sphincter, not so much to deny entrance, it was just an instinctual response to a ticklish situation. Frankly, he wouldn't mind if she did in fact poke it right up inside. Not too many guys have a girl stick her nipple into his butt! Now, that would be something to brag about, although he doubted that anyone would really believe it actually happened. Well, it was their loss, as it just felt so terribly wrong, yet also tingly ticklishly right. Rio though stepped away. "Please, sir, Mr. Widdams sir, sit there, sit." She gestured for him to take a seat on a stool. Milton glanced over at the stool to which she was gesturing. This Japanese bathroom was rather different from those within the American homes. For one thing, there was no bathtub, or even shower. It was just an open area with a tiled floor and a drain in the middle, besides which was a stool, a stool that wasn't quite like the normal stool one would find. First, it was relatively low to the ground with legs spread out rather wide and, most unusual of all, was the presence of a big hole in the middle. He once sat on a round balloon that was like that, or perhaps it was more like a very small, miniature inner tube. It was apparently good for a certain condition he had at the time, which he would rather not discuss. Rest assured, he was now entirely recovered. Milton stepped over to the stool, his feet unsteady, as the tile was slippery with water but perhaps as well from a dizzy head and rushing heart. He carefully sat down, feeling his butt falling a bit down into the hole. What was the purpose of this stool? Rio stepped up to him and took his left leg. She stretched it out to rest his foot on another stool and then stepped over his leg to straddle it with her own. She squatted down on it, pressing the soft warm flesh of her cunt against his leg. She squeezed tightly onto his leg with her thighs and slid her slit up and down his leg, effectively using her soft, squishy, warm, wet, soapy cunt as another feminine sponge. Milton could not help but think of a bitch in heat, clutching and humping his leg in a frenzied lust, but this was considerably more sensual than that. It was neither frenzied nor lustful, albeit still quite lewdly licentious. It was like she was slowly, calmly, gently, masturbating herself on his leg. He so much wanted to jerk off while she was doing it, feeling his soapy fist sliding up and down his dick while feeling her soapy cunt sliding up and down his leg. It was a manner of cleaning that any man, young or old, would enjoy, as would perhaps any woman. Rio certainly appeared to do so, for not only was she pleasing her man but also herself. At one point she even concentrated her attention, her cunt, on his knee, rubbing and grinding her soapy cunt lips and stiff clit against his hard jutting knobby knee cap. This did seem more for her benefit than to any necessity to thoroughly polish his knee, but Milton didn't mind. He in fact encouraged her, squirming his knee around and around on her cunt, complementing her own obscenely writhing gyrations with his thrusting knee, his eyes all the while fixed on the wobbling of her big round jiggly boobs. When she felt his knee had been sufficiently well buffed Rio shifted off, sliding up his thigh for a softer, squishier rub. It was so oddly sensual for Milton, feeling a girl's squishy cunt lips pressed hard against his thigh, massaging deep into his skin her warm, wet, feminine nectar. Rio's breathing was accelerating. She wondered if she could last much longer. She had not felt a man's touch there for such a long time. In fact, she really couldn't ever remember when she was touched there, other than when she was being dressed or undressed by Milton. She did enjoy how he would carefully inspect the lips of her pussy, apparently mesmerized by the fact that she was apparently the only doll with a feminine slit. She slid off his leg before she got too carried away. She got down onto her knees, in between his, and brought her breasts to his most dirty part. Well, it wasn't really the most dirtiest part. It was just the part that was the source of all that was dirty and naughty about a horny man: his hard, stiff cock. She didn't use her hands on it though, at least not yet. She just pressed her boobs against it, rubbing her soft squishy pliant breasts around and around; her big soft round squishiness contrasting so very nicely with his long pointy hard stiffness. Milton was himself wondering how much longer he could last. There was little that was better than a slippery soapy boob job. He pressed back, pushing his hardness against and into her soft pliant fleshy pillows, imagining how nice it would be to actually cum on them. A man needs to cum on big round boobs at least once in his life. Rio took hold of his dick with her right hand, slipping and sliding her fist up and down the shaft. Nor did Rio keep her other hand inactive. She reached down beneath the stool to bring the index finger of her left hand up through the stool's big hole to find the really dirty part of a guy: his anus. "Geez Louise!" Milton squealed as he felt the tip of Rio's wet lubricated fingertip make contact with his tight puckered hole. "Must have master clean all over body. No spot neglected," she explained, as her silky slick finger explored, caressed, and tickled his anus. It was a really amazing sensation, one that he had never in fact experienced before, and one that he vowed to try to repeat himself, when he took his own bath. But, of course, it probably would not feel quite the same. It's difficult to tickle oneself, a truth he did not understand. Nevertheless, the nerves were so clearly very sensitive there that he had little doubt that he would enjoy it at least half as much, and that would still be pretty darned good. He squirmed his butt, his asshole, against her finger as she continued to stroke his dick in between her big soft boobs. Rio suddenly shoved her finger right up into his ass. Milton's eyes opened wide with shock at the sudden invasive intrusion. He quickly glanced around, wondering if this indelicate probe was being observed by anyone, feeling that it would be rather embarrassing to be caught with a girl's finger up his butt. And, indeed, he did have a witness. He was horrified to see that Claire was once again watching him. Claire's trailer had originally been across the street from Nora's, but after his visit with Nora he had switched its position with the country cottage that had been across the street from the Japanese bungalow. He had forgotten that when he first arrived at Rio's, his attention apparently fixed on the koi garden, and Rio. Claire was scowling at him, her arms folded beneath her breasts, a look of disgust and derision on her face. Milton smiled sheepishly back at her, all the while feeling Rio's finger wriggling around inside his rectum. He wasn't about to stop Rio, but he knew that he would have to do something to make it up to Claire. He didn't want one of his dolls to be upset with him, but what was a guy to do? He could perhaps buy her some new clothes, or perhaps move her into a new and better home. She would like that, wouldn't she? He turned his attention back to Rio, squirming his butt on her finger as she wormed it around within his butt while she masturbated his hardened, swollen, inflamed cock deep within the soft cushions of her deliciously soft slick breasts. "Fuck, Rio, please," he gasped, not really knowing what he was asking for, perhaps for mercy, perhaps for fruition, perhaps for both. Rio, though, suddenly stopped. She stood up, reached for the shower hose, and began to rinse him off, spraying every spot of his body below the head with the hot hard spray, thoroughly rinsing him off, raising his arm to be sure she got underneath there, and even poking it up at him from beneath the stool, making sure she got him there as well. She giggled as she was rinsing his butt hole, noticing the queer expression on his face. Milton felt very, very clean, but also very, very frustrated. He had never been so thoroughly, lovingly washed, yet also never so much wanting just a bit more, just a bit longer. 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. The Doll House I started the engine and we drove back to the beach house, with my very naked wife beside me. We arrived at the house about 30 minutes later. I parked the car up in front and got out. So did Molly, still very naked. It was late and most people were asleep. She moved towards me and said, "Would you like some now?" I said, "Yes." She dropped to her knees, opened my belt and pulled my pants and boxers down. Out sprang my erect cock. She grabbed the cock and started to slide it down her neck. I let her work on me for awhile, stood her up, moved her over to the car and bent her over the hood. She spread her legs and pushed her ass back towards me. I moved behind her, positioned my cock at the opening of her pussy and pushed in. I moved inside her easily, she was still wet. I could feel her pussy muscles clamp down on my cock as I slid in and out. I pulled my shirt up over my head and now stood behind her naked, as she, with my pants down at my ankles. The cool of the summer night, being out under the stars made it that more exciting. I could feel the excitement build in me and then I knew I was ready to cum. I pushed against her hard, thrusting against her ass, trying to force her into the metal of the car, as she pushed back. I came, and I came hard. I stood behind her, still inside of her, enjoying my orgasm, holding her so that she could not move. Finally I moved back and let my cock spring free of her pussy. I stepped out of my pants. Gathered them up. We walked up the stairs to the beach house, arm in arm, naked under the stars. We made our way to our bedroom and fell into the bed. I pulled her into my arms and held her tight. We fell asleep in each others arms, naked, on top of the covers. Exhausted and satisfied.