Pam and the Drill Part 3

"Do you wanna eat me now?"

"What?" Pam said.

The doorbell rang. Debbie sat up quickly, closing her legs.

"Oh shit. Who the hell is that?"

Pam shrugged. Debbie jumped off the bed and grabbed an oversize football jersey from the dresser drawer.

"You wait here. I'll get rid of whoever it is," Debbie said. She stepped through the door and pulled it shut.

Pam held her breath, trying to hear through the door. She heard voices, but not clearly enough to understand what they were saying. They were quiet a long time, then the door opened and Debbie came back in. Her face was flushed. She leaned back against the door, looking around the room. She grabbed the math book and stuffed it in Pam's hands.

"I'm real sorry, Pam," Debbie said. She picked up Pam's clothes and shoved them at her. "It's Dale. I've been waiting to see him all week." She paused and giggled. "He wants to fuck me. You don't mind, do you? I'll call you later. Maybe we'll talk about guys again."

Pam dressed while she talked. She wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what to say. Debbie practically pushed Pam through the living room past Dale, who waved, and out the front door.

"Call you later. Bye," Debbie said, and slammed the door.

Pam stood on the front porch, holding her old panties and bra and the math book, trying to figure out what just happened. A couple of boys rode by on their bikes, looked at her once, and kept going.

Pam walked home, still in a daze. She stuffed her panties in her pocket, but folded the bra and carried it under the math book. Two or three times she looked back at Debbie's house, trying to imagine her doing it with Dale, until the house was out of sight.

Debbie's light blue panties and bra felt odd under her clothes. They weren't loose and bulky like the underwear mom made her wear, but were a bit snug, especially on her crotch, and the bra pushed her breasts up. When she walked, her jeans and her blouse seemed to glide over the smooth, delicate fabric. Her skin tingled. Her insides felt warm and moist. She couldn't wait to get home so she could take off her clothes and look at herself in the mirror.

The house was empty when she got home. She threw the math book on the kitchen table and ran upstairs. Mom had a full length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She looked at herself in it and smiled. Through her clothes, she could already see the difference. Her breasts stuck out more under the blouse, and she could make out the lines of the panties under her jeans. The thought that she walked all the way home and people, especially boys, might have seen her like that made her shiver.

She ran her hands down her body from her chest to her hips, feeling how her body curved. Her hands came together between her legs and pressed on her warm mound. She moaned. Her legs became weak and she fell back on Mom's bed. God, she wished a guy would come over to fuck her.

She touched the back of her hand to her forehead. She was very warm, burning up all over. The tingling between her legs wouldn't stop. She had to do something about it, right away. But with what?

She looked on Mom's dresser. Her brush had a round handle, but it was thin. That wouldn't do. Her own brush had a flat handle. She clenched her jaws and squeezed her legs together. Mrs. Thorn's rubber thingie would be perfect, but she couldn't just go over there and ask to use it. Mr. Thorn would be even better, but she couldn't ask to use him, either.

Pam went through the house, looking for something, anything, to fuck herself with, anything that looked like a boy's thing. In the kitchen, she went through all the cupboards and drawers. One of Mom's knives had a handle with a rounded end, but she didn't like the idea of putting a knife so close to her special place.

Next, she checked the pantry closet, where Mom kept all the cleaning stuff. Some of the brushes had long handles, but the mop caught her eye. She took it out of the closet, running her hand over the rounded end. It was thick enough, and definitely long enough. She sat on the stool and held it to her groin, rubbing her warm area through her jeans.

She put it back in the closet and flopped into the arm chair in the living room. Her pussy buzzed, and she was still warm all over. She wanted something hard inside her, something warm and hard, something with a body she could wrap her legs around. Debbie had that, why couldn't she?

Ethan had it, too, just what she needed, hanging between his legs. If he was there, she'd ask him, no she would tell him she needed him to do it to her.

She jumped up and ran out to the garage. If Ethan couldn't be there himself, she could use something else he might have. She opened each drawer of his tool chest. Maybe he had a hammer with a long handle or a ...

She stopped suddenly, staring into the bottom drawer. Her mouth fell open.

"Oh my God," she said. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was awesome. She lifted it out of the drawer, cradling it in her hands like a new baby.

It must have been an electric screwdriver or drill or something, because of the twisty mechanical thing at the end and the button. But it was the rest of the tool that excited her. The body was made of smooth, yellow plastic in a long, thick tube shape with a rounded end and a bend in the middle. Her mouth watered. It was enormous, just like Ethan's real thing, and it was thick and heavy, just like Ethan's.

She shoved the tool chest shut and rushed back into the house, holding the tool with both hands. She ran straight up to her room, dropped the tool on the bed, and stripped out of her clothes.

She was panting and her whole body trembled. Her pussy was still warm and wet, maybe wetter than before. She pushed the light blue panties down, sat on her bed and picked up the tool. It was incredibly huge in her hands. She couldn't believe she was really going to do this. She must have been crazy. The tool was far too big for her.

Pam propped her pillows against the headboard, lay back and spread her legs. She fondled the rounded end of the tool, licking her lips. She only wished Debbie was there to do this to her, like she did to Debbie. Maybe next time, if there was a next time.