Bea again

Here's another snippet of the story of BEA (I hopefully will have it finished by the end of the month).
I hope you like it.



“Let’s see what we have here—”
Bea was on all fours on the edge of the bed, her beautiful bum up in the air as she rummaged in my mother’s bed stand drawer. I lifted myself up on one elbow and leaned closer to kiss her muscular ass. “What are you doing?”
She turned to me, smiling, and holding a pack of Marlboro Lights and a lighter.
“Let’s have one of your mom’s,” she said. She took a cigarette between  her lips and lit it. She took a drag, nodded appreciatively and handed the cigarette to me. As I dragged in a lungful, she turned to place the cigarettes back, and oncer again she looked in the drawer.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked.
She wriggled her butt at me, and laughed.
“Oh my, oh my!”

She sat on the cushion and showed me what she had found.
In her right hand she held a silver bullet-shaped vibrator, the sort of which I had seen in movies and magazines. I blushed, and leaned closer. I gently placed the cigarette between her lips.
In her left hand, Bea was holding a book, with a pair of pink shoes on the cover. Tipping the Velvet.
Bea handed me the dildo and started browsing the pages of the book. “Didn’t they make a TV series of this?”
I turned the vibrator in  my hands.
“Looks like your mom’s got some interesting hobbies,” she said, looking at me from under heavy eyelids. She smiled wickedly. “But this explains a lot of things—”
“What do you mean?”
She pouted. “Well, looks like you and your mom, you know—”
She chuckle, and rolled on the mattress, scissoring her legs in the air.

“I’ve got an idea!” she said.
“What?”
She took the vibrator from my hand and passed me the book. I recovered the cigarette and gave it another drag.
“I’ll lay me here,” she said, flapping her long lashes, “and entertain myself with your mom’s handy toy, while you read me some passages from her favorite book.”
“How do you know it’s her favorite?” I asked, feeling silly. I coughed a cloud of smoke.
“Well, she keeps it in her drawer, by the bed, together with her—” she sighed, “joystick.”
I squashed the cigarette and looked at the paperback I was holding. “What shall I read you?”
Bea had started the vibrator, and was gently massaging her mound. “Read me her favorite part.”
“How am I supposed—?”
She snorted in exasperation and took the book from my hands. The vibrator buzzing gently on the sheet by her side, she sat up, ran  her fingers on the spine of the book, caressing the creases, and then she let the book fall in her lap. It opened at a point a little past the middle.
“Here!” she said, giving me back the book. “Your mother’s clearly spent a lot on these passages, considering how cracked is the spine.”
She started again playing with the silver bullet.
I sat cross-legged on the mattress, and started reading.
“It was a kind of harness,” I read aloud, “made of leather: belt-like, and yet not quite a belt, for though it had one wide strap with buckles on it, two narrower, shorter bands were fastened to this and they, too, were buckled. For one alarming moment I thought it might be a horse's bridle; then I saw what the straps and the buckles supported.”
Bea laughed out loud. “Oh, I guess I know where this is going!”
I took a deep breath and continued. “It was a cylinder of leather, rather longer than the length of my hand and about as fat, in width, as I could grip. One end was rounded and slightly enlarged, the other fixed firm to a flattened base; to this, by hoops of brass, the belt and the narrower bands were all also fastened. It was, in short, a dildo.”
Bea started laughing and clapping, the vibrator rolling on the bed, and after a moment I too started giggling.
“Go on,” Bea said, recovering the toy. “And put some passion in it.”
She looked at me, and turned the vibrator’s control to the maximum.
“Then we trade places,” she breathed.
“Don’t drain the batteries,” I grinned, and moved on the next page.