The Toy Shoppe

Joy's tongue appeared, to moisten her ruby lips with a flicker. "OK – face down."

Still uncertain what had come over me, I lay down as instructed. I heard a slight rustling, and then I felt the drizzle of warm oil on my back. It started at the nape of my neck, and spiralled down my shoulders in a fine thread, before crossing the small of my back and performing a loop on my bum. Then it traced a line along my butt crack and continued relentlessly down the back of my left thigh all the way to my heel, before finally breaking contact long enough to cross to my right foot and lay a path back up my other thigh.

It finished with a liquid exclamation point on my tailbone, and it was the most erotic thing I had ever felt in my life.

"Relax," murmured Joy, which was easy for her to say, maybe, because that's when I felt her bare bum as she straddled my thighs. Her skin was smooth and hot. Not only that she felt about twenty degrees warmer than me, but sexy/hot - the image of Joy sitting naked over my back flashed in my head. Not that it matters, I suppose (outside of Kansas), but for the record I'd never before thought of other girls in a sexual way. Now my own skin tingled all over; and my pussy, which was already buzzing thanks to her oiling my back, was beginning to seriously twitch.

And then she touched me – I mean, besides her bum cheeks on my legs - as she started to work the scented oil into my shoulders. It was strange – the first contact of her long, strong fingers was electric, but soothing too. Her touch constantly varied from the faintest of butterfly strokes to deep kneading, without any predictable pattern. It was delightful. I sighed, and really did relax, almost floating, although I wasn't remotely sleepy.

The massage continued down the same path as the oil had before. The sensations were so intense that my whole being seemed focused on my back. I thought I had a handle on it, but by the time she had reached my backside, I started to squirm. And, when Joy's hands traced the form of my left cheek along its junction with my thigh, I lost it. I began to come like I never had before.

It should have left me drained, but instead I felt energized. Joy carried on as though nothing had happened, skooching her bum down my legs as she continued the massage. Down one leg she went, and across, and I came again when she did my right foot. Go figure - maybe it was in anticipation of her trip back up that leg. In any case, I came yet again, big time, when she reached my right cheek.

Before I had quite returned to planet earth, she delivered a firm whack to said cheek, and hopped off my legs.

"Erk!" was my elegant response, and I squirmed around until I could see her.

She was standing close beside the couch, hands on her hips and now wearing only her red bustiere. The hand span space between her thighs was precisely at my eye level, and so I found myself looking squarely at the neatly trimmed patch of kinky black fur decorating the top of her mound.

Below which, I got my first proper look at another woman's 'treasure' (as my mother had referred to it on the one occasion that region was ever discussed). Joy reached down and spread those fleshy red lips, which exposed another cute little set of orchid petal lips inside the first ones. I caught a flash of silver in there, and saw she had a row of little rings along the edge. She began running two fingers beside the rings, then moved to the top of her notch, up to her pink nubbin, and tugged on that for a bit.

Oddly, I still wasn't the least bit embarrassed – but I decided I ought to be, so I redirected my gaze, first down. She was truly amazing. Her legs were long and perfect; on her left ankle, where most girls might display a rose, Joy sported a tiny skull and crossbones tattoo.Another Goth thing, I thought. Then I scanned up, past her pussy to her tight belly above. Yet another silver ring sparkled on the rim of her bellybutton. When she saw I was watching, she stretched and unhooked the bustiere, exposing her breasts at last. Proud and firm, they owed nothing by way of support to her costume - on the contrary it must have kept them squashed. She rubbed them together as though reviving the circulation after their confinement. Her nipples tightened with the attention.

"My turn," she announced.

She knelt down, right in front of me, and up-ended the little bottle on herself. I got a glimpse of the label: 'Jade's Good Tasting Massage Oils'. The stuff drizzled onto the front of her neck so that it flowed down her chest and cascaded off those luscious breasts. I was fascinated, and aroused in spite of myself. When she leaned forward and started rubbing me with them, spreading the scented oil around, I had to admit the feel of Joy's tits pressed into mine was rather pleasant. OK, actually it was exquisite, and I began to help her out. We had to wrestle some so we didn't miss anyplace, sliding and squashing ourselves together.

Still holding her tightly, I took the bottle and started to put some oil her back. I soon found myself marvelling at those magnificent wings. The tattoo flowed across her beautiful hard body like it was a part of her. Running my hands over it, I could feel her powerful muscles ripple under the soft skin.

Pretty soon we were slick with oil and gleaming all over, our four hands roving everywhere as the buzz began to build.

Then, abruptly, Joy disentangled herself and got me to sit in a big wicker chair. Lifting one leg up over each of the chair's big arms, she opened my legs wide apart, then leaned in and planted a big smooch onthose lips. This was definitely something new for me (I told you I hadn't got out much) and I wasn't near ready for what happened when she sort of tickled at my clit with her tongue. It was like an electric current had touched me. I blinked and gasped ... and clapped my hands down to press Joy's face against me.

After a deal of terrific nuzzling and licking, she tucked a finger into me, and wriggled it about. I could tell it was real juicy in there – by that time my cunnie was positively drooling down my legs. Suddenly the next orgasm hit me and I felt my pussy grip her finger tightly inside me. Then without my meaning to do it, I humped forward, and it was like my snapping pussy was eating her finger up to the knuckle.

After the rush passed, Joy looked up and gave me a wicked grin. She went back to munching my nethers, and this time every time I came close to bliss she backed off. I gotso close I could taste it – never mind I'd already come, a whole bunch of times – but it turned out she knew a thing or two about extending pleasure. She was able to sense my level of excitement, and before I approached the point of no return she would shift her focus or slow her motions until I was off the boil. Even as she licked and nibbled, she entered me again, first with one cunning finger, and then two, and always she seemed to know where best to stimulate me.

Each time she brought me to the brink, and then held back, I nearly screamed. It seemed to go on forever, and then –oh my god! - she began to push her fingers deeper. By this time my poor cunnie was fairly slavering for her touch. Before I knew it, she folded her fingers together and kept on pushing. Slowly, she was able to thrust her hand completely inside my virginal pussy. It was impossible, and I should have been shocked, but I was also well gone. I recall I pushed back to meet her, and I know I shrieked with relief as my body went on automatic (yet again), my cunt muscles clamping rhythmically on her pumping forearm.

I was just catching my breath between orgasmic peaks when the bell over the door tinkled, and I looked up to see a prim old lady who resembled my grandma. She was carrying a wicker basket. Busted!

Joy followed my glance and said, "Margaret, how are you?"

"Hello, my dear, I'm just fine, thank you." The old girl gave us a grandmotherly smile and added, "Don't get up – I just need to pick up a few things. I'll put them down on my account."

To me, Joy said, "Margaret runs a riding academy, upstairs. One of our best customers."

I managed to gasp, "Horses, upstairs?" I think I can be excused for not thinking all that clearly.

Joy gave Margaret a quizzical look, and simply said, "This is Jane."

Margaret nodded as if that explained everything. "Pleased to meet you, sweetie. Cyril has told me so much about you. Pop up and visit us, sometime." With that she wandered off with her basket to do some shopping.

Joy picked up where she had left off, leaning up to lick my tummy while pinching my clit with the crook of her elbow. I'll say that again – with her whole forearm inside me, she bent her bicep so as to catch my throbbing clit inside the fold of her elbow.And she wiggled her fingers deep in my belly. I came twice more, loudly, before she extracted her arm from inside me with a rude shlurp.

I slumped back against the cushions, while I came to my senses, and tried to take in what had just happened. Margaret had gone, unnoticed, sometime during our wrestling match. Joy, I saw, had lain back opposite me and had inserted her big toe between my pussy lips – which to my surprise were in no way stretched. I held her toe in a firm but friendly cunt-lock.

She grinned at me and asked, "Now are you relaxed?"

"God, yes! That was amazing!" I continued to let my mind wander, reviewing everything that had happened this afternoon. I still couldn't believe it, and yet here I was, undisturbed by it all. Finally something occurred to me. "Joy – where's uncle Cyril?"

"Oh, he's dead," she said dreamily.

"WHAT?!"

"His heart gave out, two weeks back, the randy old devil. Quite painless, he said. We had a long talk about it. He was an interesting old gaffer. Pity you missed him, really. He spoke highly of you."

'We had a long talk about it'?I gave my beautiful companion a hard look. She had her arms lightly crossed under those magnificent breasts, and the wings inked along them looked different than they had when I'd first seen them – like they were ruffled.

I shivered, and then asked, "Who are you?"

Joy continued as though I had not spoken. "He said to say hi."

"Is he in heaven?"

"Nah!"

"Hell then?" – a whisper.

"'Why,this is hell, nor am I out of it.' Sorry! I love that line. No, there are just other planes than this one - some better, some worse. He's moved on, that's all. Had good karma, though. Probably came back as a house cat."

We both turned to look at the striped kitten, which was now preparing to pounce on an unsuspecting gnome.

"Not that one, though. Honest."

My mind boggled. "So you're, like, the angel of death?"

"Well, I guess you could say I wasyour Angel of Death – yeah." She gave me a little smile.

"I'm going to die, too?"

"Everybody's gonna die, lover. But, no - not exactly. You alreadyaredead. Don't ya remember that bus?"

I did – but only up to the squeal of breaks. If anything came after that, my brain had apparently refused to register the squishy bits. "But ... I feel fine." I held my very real hand in front of my face. This was ridiculous. We had just fucked. Technically – and here I looked down to where my pussy held tight to her caressing digit – we still were. "Give me a break".

"Whoa! Denialandbargaining. Anyway, you should be feeling way better than fine! Lucky thing that bus didn't stop, and there was no one else around." Joy (a. k. a. TAOD) gave a wink. "It's kind of hard to explain – the science of theology hasn't evolved much on this plane. The thing is, revivals aren't my department, but re-animation I can do. See - you're dead as a dodo, no question. But I've kept your body going to hold your spirit."

"You mean I'm un-dead?"

Nah – you're most sincerely dead. Ha! Sorry. More kind of like, oh, a zombie, I guess."

Joy saw my look of dazed horror and continued, "Bad analogy, maybe. Anyway, don't worry, you don't need to eat brains, or drink blood. You don'treally need to eat, at all. 'Course, water will keep your fluids up," – she smirked at this – "and no reason not to eat chocolate – you won't be gaining any weight, now. If you do eat, bran muffins would be a good idea." Raising an eyebrow, she added, "Keeps you regular." She paused to give time for this to sink in (which none of it did, as yet), and then said, "So – ya wanna go for a swim?"

I blinked at this complete switch over to a topic that seemed somewhat less important to my future, or possible lack of one.

"Only, there's a little pool up on the roof. Just a big hot tub, really, with a cedar deck all 'round it. Real private. See, Cyril owns the whole building - or rather you do, now. You were in his will, and nobody but you and me know that you're, um, vitally challenged. If you stay here, no one is likely to find out."

"What happens if I go somewhere else? Do I turn to dust, or something?"

"Nah – but in this neighbourhood, no one will care that you're body is at room temperature, and that you never, ever get any older."

"But – why? I mean, why was I recycled, or whatever?"

"It's Christmas?"

"It's November. So, why?"

"OK. The thing is, well, you probably heard about how I like to take the odd holiday. And it's nice to spend time playing with people I know. So, all over the world, I've made friends like you."

I was pretty sure this wasn't what they meant by 'making friends', but I just said, "So you can't havelivefriends?"

"Sure – I'll introduce you to one or two today. But those relationships don't ... last, if you follow me."

Well, I did follow her, mainly because she had unplugged her toe and set off down the back hall. At the end a stairwell led up to a large landing. This held another set of stairs down to the street, plus a large door painted in red lacquer.

"That's Margaret and her girls' knock shop," said Joy. She led me back into the stairwell, and this time we entered a normal hallway. She continued to name my tenants. "301's Carl, he's the tattoo shop guy, and 302's Marie. Pale lady – runs the occult shop. You might see her tonight. I've never seen her drink ... wine. Ha, Ha."

"Right - I think I saw her, um, sitting with Carl, down in the alley."

"Oh? She's an early riser today. Course there's no direct sun down there. What? Don't give me that look – I saidyou weren't a vampire. I didn't say there was no such thing. I wonder what she made of you?"

"Er - why?"

"She could tell you were dead. You've got no aura, see." Before I could ask whatthat meant, Joy breezed off down the hall and led me through the last door. "And this is your place."

I followed her inside and temporarily forgot my necrotic status. My new home was awesome - a huge open loft, with an upper gallery and a spiral staircase leading to the roof above. The place was full of comfortable (and expensive looking) furniture. The tall windows nearest me overlooked the garden terrace roof of the lower building right across the alley. On the other side of an eight-foot gap I could see an iron railing holding back a profusion of shrubs and flowers. This greenery surrounded a small cedar deck, and in the middle of the deck a good-looking naked couple were humping like dogs.

They were both facing me, and the girl, whose head was thrown back, actually waved. I waved back as Joy came up beside me and put her arm around my waist. Only then did it occur to me that we, too, were starkers – and glistening with oil. We'd left our clothes scattered downstairs (and the shop unlocked).

I was stimulated by the sight of our lusty neighbours, but also intrigued. "I didn't know people could do it that way."

"God! Didn't they teach youanything at school?"

Fat chance. I had a sudden image of a sex-ed class, something that, legend had it, was taught somewhere in America (probably California). I pictured the couple I was now watching going at it on top of Mister Hardrack's desk – him pumping, her squealing, and papers and pencil flying left and right - while old man Hardy's saying,"People, make a note of what Miss Juno says when she comes. I want you to write a haiku about it, later."I giggled out loud, as the image in my head played on:"And don't forget to get your permission slips back for next week's field trip to Miss Margaret's Leaping Academy."I ended my daydream with a loud snort, and then looked over at my new friend out of the corner of my eye.

Joy, who was waving with me, had turned and was giving me a raised-eyebrow look. When she saw my embarrassment (not at being buck-naked, you'll note) she abruptly leaned over and stuck her tongue in my ear. "They must have taken the afternoon off – usually they only fuck over their lunch hour. Which reminds me – I'm famished." She marched over to the kitchen.

I blinked. Was this more of Joy's twisted humour? "Death – famine – what's next, war and, watsizname, pestilence?"

"Chill out," came Joy's voice, her head in the refrigerator. "I work alone. Want some milk?"

"Um – yeah, milk sounds good." It did, too. I was near to drooling when I smelled the big, sticky cinnamon bun she extracted from a breadbox. Like she'd warned me, it wasn't stomach-growling hunger, just a craving for that sweet comforting taste.

She took a gooey bite, sugary crumbs tumbling down her lovely chest, and then tossed the thing across to me while she poured milk into some big wine glasses.

After the sticky buns and milk, well of course we had to lick the crumbs off each other. I came big-time when Joy chased a mote with her pointy tongue around and around my clit (that was her story, anyhow). And, afterthat we definitely needed a shower. This involved a lot of further groping accompanied by some loofa action. After a grand finale, in which we were skittering around on the tiles under a pounding stream of water, Joy suggested we go topside to dry off in the sunshine.

We proceeded up the spiral staircase to the pillow-strewn rooftop and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging naked in the sun. Joy's idea of privacy wasn't quite the same as mine – there was an old brick office building overlooking us, just as we overlooked the next building to the south. Now it was my turn to occasionally wave at the various folks leaning out above us, as we proceeded to more leisurely explore and stimulate one another's bodies.

Never mind coming to grips with the fact that I was dead, I couldn't even get over the idea that I was making out with a woman. Of course Joy was much more than a woman, but her plumbing seemed to be the same. I was definitely learning what it was to give pleasure, as well as receive it.

A leisurely warm-up developed into a long, satisfying romp, which took us pretty much a full lap around the cedar-decked rooftop – including in and out of the heated pool. The spectacle of our bodacious bodies writhing around - particularly Joy with her great black wings - must have provided some stimulation to the audience above. (I don't know what they made of all the time we spent at the bottom of the pool). I sure found it stimulating, anyway. This being dead thing might not suck, after all.

During the subsequent break, Joy said, "I've got something to pass the time until the boys come along." That we were expecting company was news to me. "It's one of the benefits of owning a toy store, " Leaning behind a planter, she lifted out a most remarkable toy indeed. "Behold the BFC 9000."

It was like one of the torpedoes in the shop window - a humongous, flesh-coloured model of an erect cock. Easily three feet long, it was longer and thicker than my arm. Using my first officially sighted example as my benchmark - that of Carl the tattooed man (from which I mentally removed the snake tattoo, and Marie's pale pussy) - I reckoned that the BFC was much larger than life but otherwise accurate.