Radley's Home for Horny Monsters by Annabelle Hawthorne (best novels for teenagers .TXT) 📗

Finishing her business, she came back out to see that the doll was facing toward the bathroom. Had she set it down that way? Shivering, she walked into her kitchen to prepare herself some tea, then pulled the loose-leaf mint from its tin and stuffed it in her tea ball. She added a liberal amount of honey, then stirred it gently with a silver spoon as it steeped.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked the doll.

The doll answered her with a blank stare. Beth picked it up and walked over to her bed. Above it were cute little box shelves to place books and other collectibles in. She made space for the doll by tilting a signed copy of The Hobbit to one side, then slid it onto the shelf. When she fiddled with the doll to get it positioned in a way that looked nice, she realized that something was written on the bottom of its left foot.

“Jenny,” she said aloud. The y had been written backwards, a testament to that long-ago child who had loved such a thing. “Ok, Jenny. I guess you’re my new roommate for the time being.”

She picked up her tea from the counter and walked over to the large bay window that overlooked the city. She opened the curtains to the waning light of afternoon, and turned the crank on the window, letting in some fresh air. The evenings were hard on the building’s aging HVAC system.

Beth sipped her tea, staring out the window of her apartment. The park across from her building was hosting multiple soccer games, kids of all ages storming the field, swarms of flesh and colors running back and forth on a green canvas.

Beth’s phone dinged, announcing a new email. Beth opened the MacBook on her nightstand and saw that the Historical Society had sent her an email.

Beth sighed. Elizabeth was super persistent. She opened the email to discover that Elizabeth had left some paperwork at the office for Mike to look over. In an odd way, she hoped that Mike would keep the house. There was something cute about his awkwardness, and maybe even a little sweet. He had been nice enough, and he at least looked in her eyes rather than at her breasts when she spoke to him.

Not that she would have minded if he had looked. Maybe just a little. She undid a couple of buttons on her blouse and let her left hand run gently across the newly exposed skin of her breast, a hungry sensation forming in her stomach. Cupping her hand along the outside of her blouse, she could feel the lace of her bra through the thin fabric. She shivered, picturing Mike’s eyes on her body, imagining that monster in his pants swelling up. She had noticed that the bulge in his jeans was clearly tucked down one leg. It had been easiest to see when he had laid in the tub, his arms spread wide as he remarked on the largeness of the tub.

“Hop in. Plenty of room,” he had said, that vulnerability about him momentarily gone. He had blushed, suddenly shy once more. It was everything Beth could do not to crawl in with him and pounce.

Beth shivered, the gnawing sensation in her gut growing larger. How long had it been? So many long hours lately, not enough time to enjoy the simpler things. Suddenly, her tea was too warm for her, the flavor too bland. She needed something stronger, something to help her loosen up. She meticulously washed the teacup out by hand in her kitchenette, staring at the foot of her bed, across from her mirror.

Not yet. She opened her fridge and pulled out the bottle of merlot. She smiled as she poured it, feeling her pussy getting moist already. It was a ritual, a familiar one, her Pavlovian response kicking in. Merlot was her weakness, a single glass shattering her inhibitions, the drink responsible for most of her sexual conquests. Drinking merlot almost always meant getting fucked, taken roughly, trying something new.

She put on some music, the Bluetooth speaker above her bed singing to her from her playlist. She sipped her wine, swaying her hips to the music, delighting in the sensation of her thighs squeezing together and catching just the tip of her lips through her panties, tugging gently down on her clitoral hood.

One hand held the glass, the other squeezed her breast. She was her own lover for tonight, the one who would pay attention to all her needs, the one who would help her toward that sweet release. The wine was half gone, and she set it down on the kitchen counter before approaching the door to her closet. She opened it, then kneeled to take off and put her dress heels in the empty spot of her shoe rack where they belonged.

Tucked to the side of the rack was a hard-shelled briefcase that had once belonged to her father. It was black, with a pair of combination locks on the latches. She picked it up and carried  to her bed, then laid it on its side before putting in both combinations. While she wasn’t worried about somebody stumbling on the case, she couldn’t afford to have it accidentally open when guests were over.

She opened the case and the afternoon light from her window illuminated the contents. Swinging by the kitchen counter for her glass, she sipped at her wine, contemplating the collection of erotic dildos inside the case. They weren’t just ordinary dildos-each one was drastically different, meticulously crafted into odd-shaped cocks that could only be found in the kinds of fantasy novels hidden away from the public. There were six of them, organized left to right by overall size.

Beth trailed her fingers across each one, shivering in anticipation. She needed something special tonight, needed to be paralyzed with pleasure, to shake until she collapsed. She pulled out the Delightful Dragon, nine inches of solid rubber, its head half the