" "I remember." "It's Ok Carole, I think I know what you have." Ok but if you laugh I will die." "You know i would never laugh" She stepped into the light and the picture was amazing. The panties fitted her like a second skin and the dildo sticking out looked absolutely real. She stopped and I swung my legs over to sit on the edge of the bed. She was watching for my reaction. "Wow" was all I could say."If you don't like it or think it is too much i'll take it off." "No it's great. come over here." she walked over to stand between my legs. I took her in my arms and burried my face between her breasts. She kissed the top of my head and asked "Is this too much?" "No I think it is exciting" I brought my face up and she brought hers down and we kissed. My hand came from her hip to touch the rubber cock. I gave it a little tug and could feel that it was secure, in the snaps, and in her. I started to run my fingers over it. Feeling the ridges and the head. I started to pump it like I. She was good about making sure I ‘had my fun’ in bed, but no way was I able to get her, in any way, ‘off’. I was patient with her, but she wasn’t as patient with herself, and cursed and screamed at her ‘Goddamn stupid body!’ every day. I was beginning to think that she didn’t see much of a future in our relationship. And that was sad, because every day I grew more and more in love with her. Her music was complicated, marvelously mathematical and precise, but edgy and unpredictable at the same time, much like she was. I wrote lyrics to many of her old pieces, and it was the best stuff I’d ever done. I was in awe of her talent as a composer, and as a performer. Her voice and stage persona were electrifying. And beyond all that, she was a smart conversationalist, and could give an opinion on any subject. She was brash and shy, smart about the world and dumb about herself, she was a concert of contradictions. Pure jazz. My Jazzy Girl. And for four vibrant (though passionless) days we.
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