Honey Does Read Free

container, and Honey dug through it, tossing the crumpled sheets aside as she hunted for the answer to all their problems in the bedroom. At the bottom of the box, she found a lavender and black patterned drawstring bag about the size of one of Mack’s socks and pulled it out. Loosening the tie, she reached inside and froze. Honey darted over the kitchen window and jerked the frilly curtains closed.
    Back at the counter, she opened the bag and spilled the contents into her hand. Biting her lip, she examined the clear cup with a mini-vibrator inside and plastic tubing. It connected to a small device with two batteries taped to the back. The whole thing terrified her.
    When ordering it, the fright had been fun, like a quick scare in a movie. She’d envisioned herself powdered and perfumed and laid out on the bed in a sexy negligee like a 1950s starlet, her hair cascading over her shoulders in soft shiny waves. She would smile and say, “You’re home, darling. Come see what I bought us.”
    If she had this much trouble even looking at a pussy pump, how on earth would she use it in front of Mack? What if she did it wrong? Sexy could go to awkward or worse fast—making her fix to their problem a disaster.
    Honey picked up the device and marched for the bedroom. She’d have to try it first, on her own. Worst-case scenario, it might not fit or wouldn’t have any effect. Since her purchase consisted of a small pump mechanism and a suction cup, an unpromising and unsexy gizmo, if it didn’t work, she’d prepare a candlelight dinner to set a romantic mood anyway. They would be alone, and if Mack didn’t fall asleep right after they ate, she could try to coax him into an early bedtime. No earthshaking changes, but at least a longer session and some uninterrupted time together.
    Dropping the pump on the dresser, she headed for the shower then changed her mind. A bath might relax her, and a bubble bath even more. With hours before Mack’s return, she sank up to her neck in a sea of milky foam, her tense neck muscles relaxing. Her handsome husband would appreciate the gesture and, in her fairytale imagination, be so wowed by her daring, they’d have a night like they used to. Making love in every position possible. She might even consider that way. Desperate times called for desperate actions.
    Rubbing the sponge over her breasts and down her stomach, she frowned at the faint white stretch marks. She wouldn’t trade her imps for anything, not even the smooth, flat belly she’d once been so proud of. Mack told her he treasured her body more since it gave birth to the three, and she believed him. She couldn’t have picked a kinder, more loving father if she’d had the whole world to choose from. When he sat next to his eldest going over her homework or lifted the baby in his strong arms to hug her, Honey’s heart thumped.
    What a package.
    The bubbles dissipated. Squeaky clean, she would have to approach the dragon on the dresser. She shouldn’t be frightened of the pussy pump. The device guaranteed to put the zip back in their relationship. Stepping out of the tub, she reached for a towel and wrapped it around her body, patting herself dry, distressed by the shake in her hand.
    C’mon, Honey. If it doesn’t work out, he’ll never even know. And if it does, it might be the answer.
    She hung the towel on a hook and picked up the pump on her way to the bed. Lying on her back, she held the suction cup over her naked, defenseless pussy. Could it be worse than waxing?
    “Okay, so what do we do here?” Instructions would have been helpful. Honey inserted the batteries in the black box and pressed the plastic cup to her skin, a little alarmed when it covered her entire slit, stopping short of her anus. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to make that swell—she’d never encouraged play in that area. If it looked too alluring, Mack might think she’d changed her mind, and she wasn’t sure yet she had.
    Holding the device