The fiction of Jacqueline Applebee
Summer 2008 Newsletter

Welcome to the fourth edition of my newsletter.   Now I've done with the soul-baring of issue three, I thought I'd let you all have a read of a very short piece about ... dildoes!!!  Yup, gone are the days of dodgy plastic willy-shaped nonsense -- now you can buy beautiful creations made of glass, wood or stone.  In the U.S, there's Babeland, who do some lovely dildoes, whilst in the U.K, we have the famous Sh! who sell great glass and steel goodies.

I was sitting in my fave kinky coffee shop one day just staring into space, when I realised that I was in fact staring at a pretty pink spotted glass dildo.  I started thinking about how vulnerable I'd feel with a rod of glass inside me.  Sure I knew that the dildoes were made of special toughened material, but they still made me a little nervous.  After handling one of these beauties however, all hesitation was lost as they felt incredible ... in my hands of course!  You didn't think I was using these for sex in the shop did you?  For shame! 

Just for that, I won't tell you about laying them on some ice-cubes to get them all frosty before having some spine-tingling fun.  I'll just take my leave, and will see you in the Autumn.  Good day.


By Jacqueline Applebee


You are resplendent.  Strands of swirling colour criss-cross in front of my eyes.  You are like the inside of a flex of electrical cable; blue, red, gold and black.  You were the most beautiful dildo in the sex shop, a sculpted work of glass, proudly displayed in the front window--the piece that attracted the curious and the downright brazen.


“What is that?”


“Can I have a feel?”


Once I held you in my grasp, I knew we were meant to be together.


Right now I roll you between my palms--your chill sucks the warmth from me.  I hold you up to the light once more, lick suddenly dry hesitant lips, and I insert you with a gulp.


God you are cold!  Your special glass surface slides like ice against my teeth, setting them on edge.  Your packaging said that you were impact grade glass, developed by NASA, and blimey, those astronauts must know how to have a good time.


I love sucking you in front of my bedroom mirror; glass reflecting glass, reflecting me, with my head tipped back as I push you in and out, in and …


My drenched cotton knickers twist around my knees in my rush, and you are suddenly there, right there between my thighs, solid, inanimate and so very cold, even with the warm swirling colours that twist never-endingly through your core.


You may be made of glass, yet I am the fragile one right now.  I will break long before you do.  You nudge my fleshy lips apart, and plunge in, knocking right up against my cervix on the second thrust.  I feel brittle with you inside me; my shaking breath shatters in my lungs, and my hands slip on your flawless length.  


There’s a flash of colour that I barely see reflected in the mirror before you disappear once more inside me, pulling my clit as you go--that’s not fair, but neither of us are virtuous.  In and out, you knock me aside and take over, stretching my clit, sucking me like I sucked you earlier.  You are relentless.


I feel the muscles in my thighs clench; feel you driving me off the edge of the bed, but before I launch into the unknown, I scrabble desperately, reaching out to your brother--the second most beautiful dildo in the sex shop.  I stuff him into my gasping mouth, and he swallows my animal-like sounds.


And now I lay crumpled on the bedroom floor, two lengths of shatterproof glass protrude from my mouth and my pussy.  I catch sight of myself in the mirror on the wall.  I look resplendent.  Just like you.


The end.