The Third Party

From the half-lit corner of Hannah’s bedroom, I watch as the handsome young man cups her pert breasts, licking the coffee-colored peaks of her nipples. She moans his name- “Tony, oh Tony”- as his agile tongue flickers back and forth, his teeth nip, and his full lips draw her teats into his mouth to suckle.

I like to watch. I always just watch. I hang back and take my delight in the sight of their bodies writhing. It isn’t so easy for me to participate anymore, but it’s okay, because I can experience tremendous pleasure in my voyeurism, my eyes focused hungrily on Hannah’s bed while I play audience.

On special occasions, if Hannah is alone and feeling aroused, I can muster up the energy required to pleasure her. But I’m ancient now, and it takes such a lot out of me. I prefer it when she has a lover who can meet her on the same passionate level. Then, rather than sap my own strength, I can conserve my reserves. It helps me attain my own peak, absorbing the sensual view before me.

Tony’s trousers and underwear are down around his ankles now, and Hannah is completely nude. The full and pouty lips of her quim are glinting with the wet smears of her arousal. Her pussy is beautiful. I have spent years enjoying the sight of her cunt: under her own fingers, beneath the ravenous strokes of adoring tongues, closing slickly around the shafts of her lovers’ pricks.

She brought a woman home once, and it was so hot that I’d felt the air around me shimmering and shuddering as I watched the two of them penetrate each other with fingers and tongues, before rubbing their sopping cunts together. On that occasion, the powerful erotic energy of those glorious sapphic goddesses fed my own lust and desire to such an extent that I was able to harness my strength and arise from my static position, approach their bodies and caress their nipples, belly-buttons, bottoms. They were so distracted by each other, and my touches were so light and glancing, that I couldn’t be sure that they had even registered my participation. However, their moans of pleasure had grown louder as I’d stroked their bodies with my whispering fingers.

Hannah and the woman, Nina, grew very close over a short period, and Nina came to stay in Hannah’s bedroom on a regular basis. She didn’t really like me, and I overheard her once saying that I was creepy and ugly. From that moment, I’m afraid I took rather a dislike to Nina. When she died in a freak motorcycle accident a short time later, though, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for my poor Hannah. She was so upset. Thank goodness I was here to console her. We spent a couple of weeks lying together in her bed, and she held me so close to her while she cried. I took care of her, just like I always do. Like I always will. I will never leave her alone.

With Tony, the scene was sensual, and very arousing, but I felt no need to include myself in their play as I had with Nina. I am not a big fan of the male body; I mean, I can appreciate the aesthetic appeal of a man’s physique, but I don’t feel any desire to make love to one. On the other hand, I find Hannah’s sexual pleasure very arousing. I enjoy the way her mouth opens into a heart-shaped “o” of ecstasy as her body fills with blissful sensations and her skin erupts in goosepimples. I adore the way her eyes squeeze shut as two of Tony’s fingers slip inside her cunny and thrust in and out. I can tell from the crease of concentration on her brow that she is lost in the feeling of the pads of his fingers against the special spot on the front wall of her cunt. I watch the taut peaks of her dark nipples pucker and rise, getting harder as her climax builds.

Tony grips his erect member, now covered with a latex sheath, and maneuvers himself inside Hannah as I watch from prime position across the room. I observe the rhythmic bounce of his rump as he pokes her soaked pussy rapidly, his thrusts making obscene wet sounds. I swear I can smell the aroma of Hannah’s sex from over here, damp musk with a warm tangy fragrance. Her breasts bounce and jiggle with each thrust and, lost in my lustful voyeurism, I breathe out a long, sighing moan.

Tony turns his head towards me, looking at me intently as he continues to fuck Hannah. Our eyes meet. I silence my breathing, but return his intense gaze. His brow is furrowed, questioning. He stares for a moment longer, before returning his focus to Hannah, who has now slipped a hand down to her clitoris and is rubbing brisk circles over her engorged pearl. With a shout, she explodes, taking Tony with her into a raging climax full of sweat and cum and filthy words.

My beautiful Hannah, her orgasm is always a wondrous bliss to me. She becomes so alive, her aura radiates a swirling rainbow of colors; brilliant reds, light pinks and bright oranges. Her orgasmic energy fills the room, it nourishes me, and brings me such pleasure to watch her in her ecstatic throes. Unable to contain my own bliss, I let out another quiet moan. Neither of them hear me; they are too lost in their own pleasure to notice.

Tony’s hips still, and he pulls his slippery prick from Hannah’s cunt. I can see the contractions of her pussy from over here, her climax ebbing and rising again like an ocean tide. Her golden hair is spread out on the pillow. She looks like an angel, but her sweaty, naked form belies her saintly visage. As Tony removes the sheath, Hannah brings a finger down to collect some of the wetness from her pussy, then draws her hand up to her mouth, sucking and tasting her own juices. Oh, my beautiful slut….

I sigh.

Tony rises from the bed and approaches me. He is so close that I can smell the perspiration on his skin, see the crinkles around his eyes as he fixes me with another quizzical stare. He brings his hand up to my shoulder, and wraps his fingers around my arm.

“Hey, be careful with Abigail,” Hannah murmurs from the bed, where she lays grinning and sated, her rainbow colors dancing and sparkling around her.

“I feel like it’s been watching us this whole time,” Tony replies and, with his huge, meaty hands, he lifts me off my pedestal. “Creepy fucking thing.”

I don’t like Tony anymore.

“Aww, don’t be mean. She’s lovely.”

“It’s weird looking. Why does it look like that?”

“She is a Kewpie Doll. They were very big at the turn of the 20th century,” Hannah explains, rising from the bed and approaching us. Tony’s hand is tight on my body, and he’s practically glaring at me. I stare right back.

That’s right, Tony. It wasn’t your imagination.

Hannah picks me out of Tony’s grip and draws me safe into her arms.

“Abigail has been in my family for generations,” she continues and, planting a kiss on the top of my head, she coos “And she’s beautiful.”

“She’s fucking ugly,” Tony counters, and strides to the bathroom while Hannah places me back on my pedestal, pride of place on her dressing table.

Oh, Tony. I really don’t like you anymore. It was all so new and exciting, and you and Hannah could have had such fun for a while, but you had to go and ruin it.

Sadly, Tony died suddenly of an acute bowel obstruction during the night. It is a terrible shock for Hannah; another lover gone, and right beside her in the bed this time. Despite being a light sleeper, she hadn’t heard a thing. Strange, as the pain must have been awful, and he’d been wide awake when he died. The paramedics know this because his eyes were bulging open in shock, panic stricken. They don’t know what prevented him from waking Hannah and calling for help.

I do. I know.

After Tony’s body has been taken away and the police interviews concluded, Hannah takes me to her bed and cuddles me. Her auric energy is still swirling around her, and I drink it in as she cradles me in her arms, her wet tears kissing the top of my head.

My poor Hannah. Thank goodness I am here to take care of her, just like I always do. Like I always have, ever since she was a baby. Like I did for her mother and grandmother before her, and their mothers and grandmothers before them, all the way back to when I resided in the cloth dolly with the button eyes and stitched on mouth. I will always take care of my precious Hannah.

As long as I am here, she will never be alone.

©️ Jupiter Grant, 2019

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Jupiter Grant is a self-published author, blogger, narrator, and audiobook producer. Buy me a coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/jupitergrant

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