“This is so cool!” Bob picked up the device from the coffee table. “With all the flashing lights and knobs it looks fun.” His fingers pushed a few numbers and letters on the tiny typewriter style qwerty keyboard.

The device whined and the screen flashed asking for attention.

“So what does it do?” Bob’s blue eyes were wide in curiosity.

Francine glared at him. “How would I know?”

“Where did you find it.”

They sat side by side in the over stuffed green fabric couch. The large television in front flashed white and colors as a hockey game, somewhere was being played.

“On the back lawn. No idea who left it there.”

Sweat gave Bob’s balding head the illusion if shine between his horseshoe of greying hair. The twinkle in his blue eyes was akin to a lightbulb appearing over his head. A mischievous grin creased his mustache, dyed in black and oddly opposing his current hair color. The sweat also stained the arm pits of his blue t-shirt that held the bulge of his beer belly at bay. “I have an idea.” One finger typing, he tapped a few keys that offered a happy clack with each push as though this were an old typewriter…and he was lucky to spell the two words he was trying for correctly.

A gasp escaped Francine’s lips. She leaned back in the couch and her hand went to her forehead. “Wow…that felt like when you…”

Bob’s finger tapped another word.

“OH MY GOD!” Her face went flush and she sighed deeply as breath released from her.

A deep guttural giggle slipped from him. “Holy shit.” Another word was slowly trapped out.

“YES! Right fucking there!” Francine spread her legs…odd as they were still covered in the pink dyed denim of her jeans. With her white turtle neck sweater, she seemed much too dressed to be enjoying such pleasures.

One more word…

“FUCK, I’M CUMMING!” The crotch of her pink jeans darkened as her orgasm squirted inside them. Leaning back, almost pushing into the couch cushioned back Francine heaved and worked to catch her breath.

Bob laughed.

Her hand was like lightning, grabbing the device from him. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he pleaded with a shrug.

Glancing at the small screen, Francine’s eyes lit up. “Lick her? …And you realize finger fuck is two words, right?”

The last word on the screen was ‘orgasm’.

“How does this thing work?”

Bob shrugged again.

Her eyes caught the mischievous bug. “You do realize that you have a problem now, right?”

Smugly folding his arms over his belly, he huffed. “What possible trouble could I be in?”

With hands out in front, Francine interlocked her fingers as foreplay to cracking of knuckles.

Something was coming, and Bob’s face turned from snug confidence almost to fear.

Francine leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “I type one-hundred words per minute.”

Bob whimpered.

wickedwed

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