The Vibrator Indictment

Thursday January 17

I, Lexi Green, at age twenty-two, finally feel like an adult - a little. I've graduated from college with a degree in computer science, and I'm about to move to a distant city to begin my career.

On top of all that, I'm about to perform my civic duty by serving on a jury for the first time. Well, maybe. I've spent most of the day waiting in the jury selection room with a bunch of other people, but they finally got to my group and asked us the preliminary questions: Are you a U.S. citizen? Can you understand and follow directions in English? Would being selected as a juror present any sort of hardship for you? Now it's back to more waiting.

I know that I come from a more "traditional values" upbringing than a lot of people, but I still can't believe the way some of these people dressed for court. Yoga pants and no bra? Really? She's got the body for it and in the right setting I'd applaud her for her confidence, but how about a little respect for the institution? There's another woman who does NOT have the body to go braless. Then there's this guy with a "fuck the police" T-shirt. I'm guessing he's not as excited as I am to be participating.

The court let us go early, giving me a chance to go clean out my desk at my former part-time job at Lemming Sea Software. They had cupcakes and made a fuss over me. My boss, Chris, even made a little speech about "white hats" and "black hats" in the hacker community, and gave me a pretty white cowboy hat as a going away present - "in case you ever need a reminder about which side you're on".

"I love it! Thank you!" I told him.

I've never owned a cowboy hat. I've never even considered owning a cowboy hat. It means a lot that they gave it to me, but it doesn't go well with most of my wardrobe. I spent some time tonight trying to put together an outfit.

I don't know if you'd call them "Daisy Dukes", but I do have a pair of denim cutoff shorts, so that was an obvious pick. I've got the hips to make short-shorts work. Up top I tried a button-down flannel shirt. That looked stupid tucked into my shorts, so I consulted the Internet and then did the obvious thing: I tied a knot in the front, showing off my midsection. I had always thought that tying your shirt only worked for big-chested women, but I guess with a tight belly, plain old B-cups look good too.

For some reason I'd always thought that a ponytail was part of the cowgirl look, but when I tried it I decided that I liked it better down. I've been letting it grow lately: wavy and brown down about even with my armpits. My normal glasses have too modern of a style, but my spare pair complemented the outfit.

I've got a chat buddy and sometimes sexting partner named Enzo. He's a DJ and waiter in Germany. I never know when he'll be around - he works crazy hours. I sent him a pic and asked what he thought.

I did like he suggested and sent him a new picture. I positioned my arms to push up my breasts a little.

I couldn't get my boobs to "pop out" like he wanted until I unbuttoned everything and re-tied the knot. As for the panties: I was turned on, but not enough to actually soak my underwear. Still, it was Enzo's fantasy, so I splashed a little water from the faucet on my crotch before taking the next picture.

He sent me a dick pic. Not much to say about it - just an ordinary hard-on with a wet tip.

Okay, by this point, yeah, I was pretty wet. I put a towel on top of a stack of pillows, which conveniently gave it a sort of saddle look. For good measure I wrapped belt around the bedpost and held the end like reins. With the other hand I waved my white cowboy hat in the air, like my cyber lover described. That's the picture I took: naked from the waist down, hairless pussy grinding into a towel-topped pillow. Boobs looking perky and neatly framed by red flannel. With a leather strap in one hand and my hat in the other. I managed to time it so that I was licking my lips.

After I sent the picture I got back on the pillows and rubbed my clit, imagine fucking Enzo. I have no idea what he looks like or how old he is. I choose to imagine that he's got frosted hair, an angular face, and a slender but fit body. I choose to imagine that his cock is as hard as steel, and that he's got the stamina to hold out until I'm just on the cusp of coming, and then we climax together and he shoots gobs of messy white cream into my cunt. I kept believing it right up until I came for real.

Friday January 18

Okay, what the fuck? Today was more jury selection - "voir dire", they call it - but this time it was lawyers for a specific case asking us about potential biases. I'm not one to shout "sexism!" every time a leaf rustles in the wind, but I'm really surprised lawyers could get away with these questions.

The four men before me got the basic questions that you always hear about: Are you or any member of your immediate family involved in law enforcement? Have you been involved in a vehicle accident that resulted in anyone being seriously injured? For me, the questions went in a totally different direction.

"Do you have any strong feelings or convictions about the sexual practices of bondage, dominance, and submission?" Lawyer-1 asked, as if it were a perfectly normal thing to ask a stranger. I was the only one standing in the middle of fifty strangers, all eyes in the room on me.

"Ah, excuse me?" I said. I just didn't know how to deal. He repeated the question, as if replaying a recording. "I... I've been tied up a couple of times. I don't consider it part of my identity." People laughed, but the judge's glares quieted them down.

Both lawyers wrote notes before Lawyer-1 went on. "Have you ever engaged in acts of exhibitionism?"

Believe it or not, I actually had to think about the answer to that. The nudie-pics and sex tapes, for a moment, slipped my mind. So did making love on the deck of a sailboat. And being blindfolded, tied naked to a tree, and used in the best possible way on a second date. And then there was the girl-on-girl party show when I was undercover as a prostitute.

"Yes," I said simply.

"Please elaborate," the lawyer asked.

"Um..., do you want me to send you the URLs?" I asked, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

"Just a description is fine," he said.

I hesitated. I looked at the judge for guidance. "That won't be necessary," he said. "Move along counselor."

Lawyer-1 mumbled something, and then it was Lawyer-2's turn. "Do you believe that acts of sexual dominance necessarily indicate an unhealthy relationship?"

I answered, "No, of course not."

The judge chastised the lawyer, saying, "Save it for opening statements, counselor."

Every woman after me got the same kinds of questions. None of the men did.

Despite my offense, I'm glad I get to serve on the jury. I do want to help my community serve justice, and I am curious about the experience. Plus, I really want to know what sort of fucked up case justifies asking those questions.

Saturday January 19

I'm at my parent's house, a two hour drive from my college apartment. My parents have agreed to let me have a few pieces of furniture for my new apartment in Vegas. This weekend we're negotiating what I can take and measuring it. Next weekend I'll rent a truck and come pick it up.

Before coming to my parent's place, though, I dropped by Mr. Demarco's house. I needed some papers witnessed and he's a notary public, so it was convenient. He was my lawyer for some trouble long ago, and he's my dad's friend. He was also, briefly, my lover.

We hugged our hellos and then we went into his office. He put on reading glasses and looked over the papers. "So, a private investigator's license application for Nevada?"

"Yeah," I told him. "That's my new job. A friend of my mentor is starting up a new agency in Las Vegas and my mentor said he'd be a fool not to hire me."

"You could go to Silicon Valley and be making six figures within a couple of years," he challenged me.

I shrugged. "Officially I'm going to be a junior computer forensics technician. I'll be learning from an expert. But I'll also get a chance to do other stuff - research and field work. As for money, I've got a locked in option to buy in as a partner after a couple years, so if the firm does well, that could work out nicely."

I signed the papers. He signed as a witness and stamped them. "So when you're not reconstructing hard drives, you'll be putting on tight dresses and stiletto heels, flirting up marks to get information?"

"I already own the dresses!" I told him with a wink. "And you know I've got a wide range of skills."

He stood up and something changed. A moment before, I had been his friend's daughter asking for a favor. Then he touched my hair. "It's funny," he told me, "I always think of you as blonde." My heart went all fluttery and I'm sure I blushed. I half-expected my glasses to fog up.

Memories fought for control of my nervous system. My body flipped into fuck-me-now mode. I wanted nothing more than for him to take me on his desk. I was pretty sure that he was feeling it too: he swallowed nervously. I moved my body - my shoulders and hips: subtle enticement. I smiled and tilted my head, presenting my neck.

He thought about it for a moment: I know he did. Then he stepped away and said in obvious time-to-go tones, "This will be an exciting chapter in your life. I can't wait to hear about it. Say hi to your mom and dad for me." And then he led me out.

I've been squirming ever since, feeling the wet slipperiness he caused between my legs every time I moved my thighs. My parents said I was acting fidgety at dinner. They should be asleep by now. I think maybe I'll masturbate for a couple hours.

Sunday January 20

I didn't masturbate. I did something else instead.

Look, I'm about to cut my tether with my childhood and move far away. I'll be completely on my own for the first time in my life. All that's exciting as hell, but it's also scary. Before I said goodbye to the city I grew up in, I was going to take one last thing that I wanted, as a present to myself. That's assuming I could persuade Mr. Demarco, of course.

Our sexual relationship began a few years ago when I broke into his house. To keep him from calling the cops on me, I blew him. After that I'd show up whenever he called me, to satisfy his urges. It was a game to him - role play, not real blackmail. He thought I understood that. Maybe I partly did. Whatever. When I look back on it, I don't remember the anxiety - just the most amazing sex of my life.

I've gotten much better at breaking into houses since then, but this time I planned to get caught. I geared up in my usual kit - black jeans, hoodie, gloves, lock picks. I didn't bother with underwear. The locks were trivial to pick this time around. And the cameras? I could have avoided them. Instead I smiled at each one as I crept through the house.

Mr. Demarco's wife Carrie wasn't home. I think I knew that already. Even if she had been home I doubt she would have stopped me; she probably would have watched me getting it on with her husband, rubbing her clit with a scowl on her face.

Mr. Demarco was asleep shirtless, partly covered by a blanket. His position was less than ideal. I had sort of imagined he'd by lying on his back and I could suck him awake. Instead he was half-way between face-down and on his side. No sucking possible. I did have access to his balls though. After rubbing them for a while his cock was hard enough for me to stroke. For a while it seemed like he wouldn't wake up. I wondered if it was possible for him to come like that. That certainly would have been a disappointment. Then I noticed his eyes, just barely open, watching me.

I kept working his package, but with my free hand I unzipped my hoodie half way, giving him a peak at my chest.

He pounced on me like a panther. I was helpless beneath him as he wrestled me into the center of the bed. Somehow my arms ended up trapped in my hoodie over my head while he pawed at my boobs and trapped my legs beneath him. He had dexterity enough to pull my jeans down to my thighs, and work his cock free of his boxers. With the wrong guy, this would have been a terrifying situation. But Mr. Demarco was the right guy. My body was a baby-making inferno.

Face-up with my legs closed, I wouldn't have thought it was possible for him to penetrate me, but he did. It was a shallow penetration, at a weird angle, but I felt nice and full, and I think it was a tighter squeeze for him too. When he started thrusting, my clit was ground zero.

I cried out, "Oh my god!" But he slapped his hand to my mouth and silenced me. He pounded me, most of his weight pressing down on me, keeping just enough on his knees to power his thrusts. I came and screamed into his hand. My glasses fell half-way off my face.

Mr. Demarco kept fucking me, watching me with a wild confidence. I came again, and I moaned, "I love you," glad he couldn't understand me with my mouth covered.

My clit started to hurt, exposed to too much friction. My hips ached a little from the pressure, too. Still, I didn't want him to stop. It felt way too good. He was smiling at me and I was smiling right back. He couldn't see my mouth, but I know I was smiling with my eyes.

I came again. I screamed and struggled pointlessly again. Then I started feeling that wonderful cock-twitch, and his warm squirts inside me.

He was still coming while he rolled us over so that I was on top. How he managed to keep his dick inside my pussy during that maneuver is a mystery. He let go of my face and helped me out of my hoodie, still squirting warm liquid sex kisses into my vagina. How much come did he have? And then we kissed without saying a word and he went soft.

The need to pee soon overwhelmed me, and things were kinda messy down there. I stripped and waddled toward the bathroom, trying not to drip on the carpet. Mr. Demarco was asleep when I returned, but I managed to snuggle up into him before drifting off to sleep myself.

As I woke up this morning I was being carried from the bed to the bathroom. Mr. Demarco smelled clean and he had wet hair and no stubble, so I guessed that he had already taken a shower. The water was still running.

He set me down on the bench in the center of the shower where sprays from three nozzles converged, and then he bathed me. It wasn't sexual, but he sorta made love to me with his loofa. He even cleaned between my toes. I giggled a lot, but I've never felt so cherished.

Once all that was done, he stood me up and rubbed his hand between my legs to get me in the mood. That didn't take long at all. Then he moved behind me and started rubbing his hand between my butt cheeks. His hands were slippery: he was lubing me up. He pushed one finger into my ass, then two, then three, making sure I was coated and relaxed enough.

Finally, he pushed me up against the glass and he went to town on my ass. I felt so stuffed as he thrust his cock up my butt. His chest pressed against my back. His hands held my arms against the glass. His thrusts were slow but powerful.

I can only imagine what we looked like from the outside - what his wife would have seen if she'd walked in just then. Me, my face and my boobs flattened by the glass, fog ebbing and flowing near my mouth as I panted out of control. Him, nothing but a big strong shadow behind me, obscured by the mist, moving just enough to make me whimper. All the while she'd be hearing the thump-thump-thump of my hips against the glass.

I knew I was going to come. My climax was a slow quake that left me gurgling silly noises. His was silent: all there was was the twitching of his cock, just the warmth of his come in my ass, and the stillness while he held me.

I wanted to stay and fuck him: all day, all week, all year. I wanted to live in his house, no job and no school, and do nothing but see to his sexual needs. I'd even work things out with Carrie. We could share! Well, the thought crossed my mind, anyway. But instead I got dressed and rejoined the real world, starting with my parents house.

Mom politely reminded me that, having told her and Dad that I would be spending the night, I should have should have let them know that my plans had changed and I wouldn't be coming home. Dad didn't say anything, but there was something odd about the way he was looking at me. Was it possible he could have smelled Mr. Demarco's shampoo on me, or something, and figure out where I'd been? A part of me wanted to have that conversation, just to see what would happen.

I went through the house talking with Mom about what furniture I could have. We measured some pieces, tested the weight of others, and examined a few for whether they can be taken apart. I don't want the move to be too complicated. I assume I'll be able to bribe a neighbor into helping me with the heavy stuff with beer or cookies once I get there.

Tuesday January 22

Yesterday was Martin Luther King day, so the court building was closed. The trial started today. I was almost late: when I got to the security checkpoint I realized that I still had my lock picks in my purse. They're not illegal, and they're not weapons, so technically I probably could have taken them inside, but there's no point in making people suspicious. I had to run back out to my car to drop them off.

The lawyers gave their opening statements, so now we know what the case is about. Lina, they say, was a young Saudi Arabian woman visiting the US to work on a medical degree. She was a joyful pious smart young woman with the whole world ahead of her until she fell under the spell of American bad-boy Trent.

Apparently, a month ago, Lina crashed her car into a row of pumps at a gas station. The state claims that this was a direct result of her boyfriend Trent's "reckless endangerment". They claim that he forced her to wear a remote-control vibrator all day in public. He supposedly "tortured" her with it, even while she was driving, and that the distraction caused her to crash, nearly running over a couple kids and doing $100,000 of property damage. Talk about unsafe sex!

The defense lawyer says that we can't know what really happened in the moments leading up to the accident. Lina left the country a day or two after the accident so she can't tell us. Even her statements to the police and EMTs are unavailable. The defense lawyer said that the prosecution is trying to make a case using smoke and mirrors due to political pressures, but that we don't know anything about Trent and Lina's relationship, we don't know what happened at the time of the accident, and most importantly, we don't know what caused her to crash her car.

The prosecution called a few witnesses to testify. One was a fireman who spent an hour explaining to us that crashing through gas pumps is dangerous. The second was a medical professional who explained in clinical terms that sexual stimulation is distracting. If the body is receptive, with or without climax, it can cause a release of hormones that influence decision-making and measurably alter response time. If the body isn't receptive to it, it can be uncomfortable or painful, which likewise diminishes driving ability.

At first I thought it was stupid that they would waste all this time telling us that orgasms are distracting. Isn't that obvious? But then, you sometimes hear about adult women who've never had one, so maybe it was necessary. I was sitting in the back row of the jury box, so I was able to steal glances at how my fellow jurors were responding to the testimony. There was one girl - about my age, blonde with pink highlights - who was taking notes obsessively during that witness, so I wondered about her.

The final witness of the day was a forensic technician - a thirty year old woman with glasses and a ponytail - who explained how the particular vibrator worked. It was sort of U-shaped. The big end is meant to be inserted into the vagina. Its motor stimulates the G-spot. The smaller end has a separate motor for the clitoris. The two motors can be controlled independently with a phone app, either with pre-programmed vibration patterns, or with freestyle adjustments. If you give another user permission, they can control your vibrator with the app on their phone as well, through the Internet.

There were a lot of breaks during the day, with plenty of chances to chat with the other jurors, so we're all starting to get to know each other.

Wednesday January 23

At court today they walked through a bunch of details of the accident. They had diagrams of the intersection and the gas station. They showed pictures of swerve marks, and had police experts testify about how fast Lina was going. They showed security video of some kids who had just left the gas station, and how if the accident had happened ten seconds earlier she would have hit them.

On the morning in question, Trent, the defendant, made Lina wear the vibrator while they had breakfast together at a cafe near the university. He "tortured" her while they ate: she had to "endure" intense sexual stimulation in public, designed to embarrass her. Even after they went their separate ways, at several times during the day, he activated her vibrator.

At one point she left a school lab session to go to the bathroom. From there she texted a message to her friend:

Then, at 2:34 P.M., while Lina was driving, she unexpectedly crashed into a row of gas pumps, impacting at 30 miles per hour. She was disoriented when the EMTs arrived, and they discovered the vibrator while examining her.

The logs of Trent's remote-control activity, subpoenaed from the sex toy manufacturer, showed that he had activated Lina's vibrator no fewer than eight times that day, averaging ten minutes per session. The last session began at 2:27 P.M.

I got to know some of my fellow jurors more over the day. Courtney is the blonde girl I mentioned yesterday. I mean really blonde: as blonde as hair can get without being white. The pink in her hair really pops. Her left ankle has a tattoo all the way around: penguins sliding on ice after each other. She's a grocery store clerk by day, but she's supplementing her income with money from Patreon as a cartoonist. She hopes to be able to support herself that way some day.

The other person my age is a guy: Matt. He's got British Invasion hair, and he wears a suit, but his tie is always loose. If you put a cigarette in his hand, he'd look like a struggling stand-up comedian. He's actually an electrical engineer though, working for a company that makes agricultural equipment.

Plenty of the other jurors seem cool too, but I just haven't connected with them. I can't remember her name, but there's a woman who home-schools her five kids. She's really into politics.

Then there are a few that I already know I don't like: There's a semi-bald guy who keeps leering at me, making slightly suggestive comments. And there's the thirty year old woman who is ALWAYS late coming back from breaks. I don't know why the judge puts up with it.

Enzo sent me some video of a club he DJed at this evening. I don't understand the appeal of night clubs.

Thursday January 24

Court porn! Today at the trial, they cleared the courtroom of everyone non-essential, and actually showed us Trent and Lina's sex video. To me it looked like good clean rope play, but the prosecutor clearly wanted us to see it as sadistic and degrading.

Lina was tied up face-down on the edge of a bed. The camera was positioned to show her face, but also look down the length of her body. She had amazing long black shiny hair, and eyes that could stop a tidal wave. She had a rectangle of duct tape across her mouth. There were ropes crisscrossing her body in elaborate designs - far more than necessary to bind her legs together and fix her arms behind her back. In some places the ropes seemed to dig into her flesh. She was naked except for black panties. Her skin was flawless and, as best I could tell from the position she was in, she had a dancer's body.

We heard a door open, and a shirtless man entered. It was Trent of course. In court Trent has a short neatly-trimmed beard, but in the video he was clean-shaven. He wasn't muscle-bound but he was fit, with a stomach a girl could get lost sliding her hands up and down. His entire left shoulder was covered by a tattoo, although I couldn't make out what it depicted. There were smaller tattoos on his right arm, neck, and side.

He crawled on the bed next to her, pulled her hair to tilt her head up, and asked in a menacing tone, "So are you ready for a little alone time?"

Lina's eyes snapped to him and she mumbled inarticulate noises, but then her gaze returned to the camera.

Trent moved behind her and pulled a folding knife from his pants pocket. He made a show of opening the blade one-handed with a flick of his thumb, and then he cut her panties off of her. She squirmed and mumbled. He started playing with her ass - touching and slapping it - and then he fingered her pussy. At first Lina seemed to protest, but soon she began moaning and stretching. Sometimes her eyes would cross.

Trent abruptly stopped and dropped his pants. He wasn't wearing underwear. He slapped his dick on her butt. It was a pretty good dick: slightly fat but average in length. "So I'm thinking I'll fuck your pussy now, and then come back in a couple hours for your asshole.

Again, Lina mumbled as if she were begging. Trent sunk his dick into her and she went quiet. He began to thrust and her eyes changed from nervous to blissful. He fucked her, bouncing her body in front of the camera, sometimes laughing and slapping her ass. Sometimes her eyes would roll around in their sockets, looking like an anime girl, but the rest of the time, they were locked on the camera.

After a couple minutes Trent stopped fucking her. He dipped his fingers into her pussy and then crawled up next to her, waving his fingers under her nose. "Smell it! That's your cunt, slut!"

He moved back behind her and rammed her again. He seemed to be pacing himself while he wound her up more and more. After another couple minutes I think she came: the tension in her jaw and neck, the tightness of her eyes, and the long slow wailing sound.

After that he started pounding her harder, and she grunted with every thrust. He lay down on top of her, still thrusting. Her arms were trapped between their bodies in a way that couldn't have been comfortable. His face was in the camera frame next to hers. He pulled her head back by the hair and whispered in her ear, "You better come with me. You understand?" She nodded.

He kept pulling her hair while he fucked his way to the finish. Both of them were grunting and moaning urgently. Then he shouted, "Yeah! Fuck yeah. God. Damn. That's. Good." I couldn't tell if she came this time. He slapped her ass pretty hard as he got up from on top of her.

Trent picked up the camera and moved it around behind Lina, to show his spunk dripping from her pussy, and then he put the camera back in its place. "I'm gonna go have a beer," he declared. "I'll be back for you later, if I feel like it." He left the room, but then peeked back in seconds later. "Maybe I'll invite a couple friends over," He said. Lina shook her head vigorous and screamed into her duct tape gag. That's when the video ended.

After they let people back into the courtroom, they showed us pictures and social media posts of Lina. They showed her with her family back home, and with her brother here in the US, at the university. They showed her laughing with some girlfriends in a park. In many of the pictures her clothes were what a typical American girl would wear at college, but in every picture, she was wearing a hijab. They made it a point to tell us that, while women's rights have come a long way in Saudi Arabia in the last ten years, it's still a culture with a long history of expecting women to defer to men.

Trent is an air conditioning repairman. He had a misdemeanor fighting conviction when he was eighteen, and a DUI when he was twenty-three. And apparently once or twice he made some stupid hot-headed posts to social media. (Who the fuck hasn't?)

Every picture they showed of Trent was meant to make him look crass and mean. I've been watching him in the courtroom for a couple days now, and all I've seen is a young guy in a suit, properly deferential, looking scared as hell that his life is about to be over.

Anyway, apparently we're meant to believe that from the moment Lina met Trent, she lost all free will. She became his fuck-slave, with no control over her life.

We're not supposed to talk about the case yet, but it's impossible to miss how some of my fellow jurors feel about the case. A lot of them are buying the Trent-is-a-monster line. Semi-bald-pervy-guy looks like he wants to swing the axe himself. Always-late-lady acts like Trent is going to come after her when the trial is over.

I checked out Courtney's web comics. She's really funny! And sweet! Most of her comics are about the follies of love. Her main character is a young bisexual woman who always comes close to making a connection with a crush, but fails in a heartbreakingly amusing way.

I challenged Matt about his company's cybersecurity. Let's just say that if I ever need to penetrate an agricultural machine company, his will be the first on my list.

Friday January 25

Court began with closing arguments. I've already written what the prosecution claimed: Lina was in a sexually and emotionally abusive relationship with Trent - nothing but a puppet. While tormenting her, he caused an accident that caused a lot of property damage and could have really hurt someone.

The defense reminded us that Trent is presumed innocent until proven guilty, and claimed that the prosecutor hadn't actually proven anything. We don't know for sure what caused the accident, because Lina wasn't here to testify. Her politically influential family insisted she go home, and then put pressure on the state to blame someone else. Likewise, we don't know what Lina and Trent's relationship was like, because Lina wasn't here to testify.

After lunch, the judge gave us some instructions on what the law requires for these charges and how to make our decision. After that, we were sent to a room to deliberate.

I don't want to sound mean or snobbish, but I was truly stunned at how slow some of the other jurors were. So many things that were immediately obvious to me required laboriously connecting the dots for them over and over. I guess I should take it as a reminder to be grateful that I'm smart, and understanding with the people who aren't as much. Okay, God, you got me. Sorry.

A couple people were on the fence, but most of them wanted to hang Trent. "We all saw him essentially rape that girl in the video," one guy said.

"I don't think that was rape," I explained. "I think that was just two people's private fantasy play.And anyway, we're not here to decide charges of rape."

"The prosecutor wouldn't have shown it to us if it wasn't relevant," Courtney said.

"No woman would willingly let a man treat her like that," always-late-lady added.

I challenged her. "What are you talking about? People do that sort of thing all the time, for fun. It's all over the Internet!"

"Okay, wait," homeschool-mom said. "Maybe it was consensual, and maybe it wasn't."

Black-grandma interrupted her: "It couldn't be consensual. Even if she agreed before hand, she couldn't speak with that tape on her face. If she changed her mind, she had no way of telling him. That cancels her consent."

I shook my head. "She could have talked if she'd wanted to. She just didn't want to break character."

"You're sounding dangerously like a rape apologist," Matt told me.

"No, really! Guys!" I countered. "Duct tape isn't that strong. A five inch strip across your face can't keep you from opening your mouth. That's just a stupid Hollywood thing. She could have talked or screamed any time she wanted."

"What makes you think that?" Matt asked.

"I tried it!" I explained. "When I was fifteen. I kept seeing it in movies and thinking it was dumb, so I tested it. I'll show you - do you think the bailiff can give us some duct tape to test with?"

Apparently not. We're not supposed to be testing things, or doing any research of our own. We're supposed to make our decisions based on the facts presented by the lawyers. All the bailiffs could do was bring us the evidence that had been presented.

We went round and round on lots of aspects of the case and it seemed to me a lot of people were focusing on things that really didn't matter. Eventually we adjourned with no consensus, so we'll be back next week. Hopefully I'll have some new ideas by then on how to reach some of my fellow jurors.

Saturday January 26

I rented a truck and took it to my parents' house. We're going to load it up tomorrow, starting with the big stuff - the furniture they're giving me. Over the next few days I'll pack up the rest back at home, and then, as long as the trial doesn't go too long, I'll hit the road bound for Las Vegas.

I contacted Becca, asking if she wanted to get together one last time. She's a girl I used to babysit, and a dear friend. She's sixteen now, I think. She already had plans - a sleepover at a friend's house - but she insisted that I come over and hang with them for a little while.

Just a second ago she texted asking if I would bring beer. Heh.

I did bring beer, but I made the girls surrender their keys to me and promise that if they needed to go anywhere they'd let me drive. I guess I was still kinda the babysitter. It was fun though.

"So did you go to Saint Frances Prep too?" Marybeth asked.

"Yeah," I told her. "Well, for three years. I went to public school for my senior year."

Becca chimed in: "She got kicked out. Lexi is like the ultimate bad girl. She's the one who raped my brother."

"I did not rape him!" I exclaimed. She was just trying to get a rise out of me and I guess it worked.

Becca went on: "She shoved things up his ass and wouldn't let him take them out until he went down on her. I can show you the video...!"

"You just happen to have that on your phone?" I asked while she loaded my first ever sex tape, permanently enmeshed in the Internet for all time. The beer had started to loosen the girls up, and now the video was making them a little rowdy. They cheered like a home-team sports crowd when the younger me's jerking led to Ethan erupting sperm into my face.

"So you were sexually active in high school?" Olivia asked, once the video was done.

"Starting in junior year, yeah," I explained. "Not with him though - not all the way. Just a college guy that I met at the lake."

"Well! We are all remaining chaste, like Sister Jennifer tells us good little Catholic girls should!" Marybeth proclaimed half-jokingly.

"Until college!" Olivia added. "Then it's gonna be like Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Every night!" She grabbed Terri's hips from behind and gave her a couple good pelvic thrusts to make her point. It was kinda funny to see: tall, athletic Olivia dry-humping her very surprised petite curly-haired blonde friend.

It looked like the girls were serious about their virginity. Becca, I knew, was even further from being a virgin than I was. She used to have regular gang-bangs with older boys when she was in junior high. I guess she escaped her old reputation when she switched to a private high school. I wasn't going to call her out on that.

Olivia got a video call from some boy and separated from the group. They were flirting pretty hard, and she was flashing him a lot of skin - lifting her shirt, unbuttoning the front of her jeans, but nothing X-rated.

I told the other girls about jury duty and the weird trial I'm on while they continued to drink beer. There was talk about hitting the hot tub, but nobody did anything about it.

They all listened with fascination when I described vibrator. Terri seemed frozen and shivering like an animal caught in headlights at the thought. Finally she asked, "But why would a girl let a guy do that to her?"

I shrugged. "I guess it's a submissive thing. Shows that you trust your guy. And then there's the exhibitionism of knowing that at any time you could be forced to come in public - knowing that you could get caught. I mean, imagine you're in the library, pulling a book down from a shelf, when suddenly little bolts of electric bliss attack your pussy. You're blushing, people are staring. Don't you think that's kinda hot?"

Terri looked away. Becca said nothing. Olivia finished her call and joined us, just as Marybeth declared, "Any girl who has to use a vibrator must be a complete failure at sex."

I objected. "No - no way. Look, being with guys is great, and believe me, I am no failure, but being with yourself is great too. You shouldn't give up one for the other. They're different ways to enjoy your body. Honestly, if you girls are serious about staying virgins, you should get yourselves vibrators. I wish I'd bought one years earlier."

Marybeth seemed to be considering what I'd said. Olivia, though, said, "Okay, let's go."

"I didn't mean right now," I laughed.

"No, I'm serious!" Olivia persisted. "Let's go to one of those skeevy stores and go shopping! We'll buy a bunch of naughty stuff, then come back here and have an all-night lesbian dildo party, and blame it on Lexi when our parents find out!"

Becca and Marybeth started laughing. Terri joined in when she became convinced it was a joke. Except it wasn't. "So let's go!" Olivia pressed. "You're the only one who isn't drinking, Lexi, so I guess you're driving!"

We piled into my Dad's car and soon the sex toy store was filled with drunk giggling teenage girls. The cashier wasn't happy with us - he would have preferred a quiet calm atmosphere. Partly to make it up to him, and partly because I was really fucking curious, I bought a remote-controlled wearable vibrator: the same model they talked about at the trial. Marybeth bought a little discrete bullet vibrator. Olivia bought not only neon-green seven incher, but also a fleshlight and a bottle of lube. She claimed that she wanted the dildo to have company when she was away. Becca and Terri were tempted, I think, but both said they wouldn't be able to hide that sort of thing from their parents.

Back at the house, Olivia passed around new beers and declared it was hot tub time. Marybeth had a swimsuit since it was her house, but the other girls striped down to their underwear. I sat nearby reading the instructions to my new vibrator. Yes, I read instructions.

Olivia somehow instigated a wrestling war of sorts in the hot tub: the girls kept trying to force each other to sit on the water jets. When the doorbell wrang, Marybeth was surprised, but Olivia wasn't. She asked me to answer it. Three teenage boys were at the door, eager to come in.

I made them designate a driver before letting the other two drink. All three of them had bathing suits, and they joined the girls in the tub. I observed, taking note of who was making eyes at whom.

Becca was the first to leave, followed by the broad-shouldered Australian boy. He had a lot of chest hair for his age. They played pool, being watched jealously by the guy with the emo haircut. Becca's boobs are pretty impressive - not just size, but shape too. In a wet bra, leaning over the pool table, they were seriously eye-catching. Wet panties didn't leave much to the imagination down low, either.

Olivia began playing with her new vibrating dildo and fleshlight like they were dolls. Everyone in the tub seemed surprised to learn how useless water-based lube is in water.

Marybeth, Terri, and the emo-haired boy got out of the tub and started watching videos on Terri's phone. The boy with the nose ring got control of Olivia's seven-inch vibrator and began tickling her with it in various spots above her waist.

I don't know how good Becca is at pool, but she asked for the Australian boy's advice on how to line up nearly every shot. He would move behind her and lean forward, his hands on her, guiding her aim. Meanwhile, she would circle her hips, grinding her wet-panties into the front of his shorts. Each time, there was a little less aiming and a little more grinding.

He whispered to her: "If you keep teasing me like this, I'm gonna lose control and take you right here on this table."

"You are?" Becca asked innocently - while still expertly provoking his dick with her ass.

"Uh-huh," he answered. Then he groped her. Her bra was still on, but he was helping himself to big handfuls of her sweater meat. A finger or two made it under cup, nearing her nipple.

Becca closed her eyes and gasped. She looked around, trapped in indecision. She looked at her friends, obviously wondering what would happen to their opinion of her. She looked at the boy behind her, and the emo-haired boy, I guess wondering if she was making the right choice. She looked at me.

I've known Becca for a long time. I know she understood what I was asking with my eyes: Is this what you want, or do you want a way out? She thought for a moment, and then she smiled at me, answering me. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra.

For a moment all eyes were on the couple at the pool table. The Aussie aggressively felt her up from behind, grunting and pressing his trunks into her ass. At the same time, she was corralling balls on the pool table into the pockets with her cue. He pulled down her transparent-wet panties to her ankles. He yanked on his own trunks and stepped out of them, revealing his five inches of hard cock-flesh. He was just moving to penetrate her when she dodged out of the way, and rolled fluidly up onto the table. On her back in the center of the red felt, she offered him her hand, inviting him to join her.

He climbed on top of her, between her legs, and he penetrated her. He was obviously no novice. Soon Becca was chirping with every one of his thrusts. Both of their faces were covered with bliss, but while he was concentrating entirely on pounding her, she looked around the room at her friends, as much her position allowed. They all looked back with curiosity but not judgement.

Becca began moaning needfully - asking her lover a question only he could understand. He shifted position two or three times, and then he found her magic spot. She began gasping and softly wailing, not quite coming yet, but only a moment away.

Olivia and her guy were sitting on the edge of the hot tub now, wiping his hard dick with a towel and covering it with a ton of lube before slipping the fleshlight onto it. The nose-ring boy lost contact with reality while Olivia lovingly moved the toy up and down on his cock. He groaned with satisfaction.

Becca's legs were sticking straight up into the air. Her breasts were jiggling with each thrust. A few seconds later she cried softly: "Eeee! I'm coming! Oh my god I'm coming so hard!"

The nose-ring boy was watching Becca intently while Olivia jerked him off with the latex pussy. Just a moment later, he too made a declaration: "Oooh fuck, I'm coming. God damn."

The Australian boy, looking satisfied with himself, kissed Becca. He focused his fucks for a minute more. Becca's eyes went wide while he fucked her fast. Then he tensed up and gasped, gritting his teeth while emptied his balls into her. "What a come. Damn Becca. I really hope you're on the pill," he said while he pulled out.

Becca pranced off to the bathroom, naked. The Australian boy lay on the pool table panting with closed eyes.

When Becca had started her show, Emo-guy, Marybeth, and Terri were all gathered around the same phone. At some point, the two virgin girls had put some distance between him and them. I guess it was a signal that they weren't available. Now, Emo-guy had a pretty big bulge in his pants and a look of desperate frustration on his face.

He looked to Terri and Marybeth but they looked away. Olivia was lip-locked with nose-ring guy. That left Emo-guy only one longshot hope. He swaggered up to me. "So, what do you think? Maybe...?"

I tried to say it nicely - even apologetically: "Thanks, but... I'm done with high school guys."

He frowned as if I had broken some sort of deal. But then Becca walked up behind him. "I could maybe go again. If you want," she told him. She glanced at the Aussie, but he still too high on endorphins to care.

There wasn't any kissing or petting; no tender words. Emo-guy dropped his pants and lay on the floor, and then Becca knelt over him. She moved her hips in circles as she was sinking down on his rod, working it into her pussy. I thought to myself, that is what it really means to "screw".

Becca began a slow bounce on her new lover's cock. Her breasts moved like buoys floating on top of the waves. Emo-guy looked truly happy. He pulled up his shirt and started playing with his nipples, which I have never seen a guy do. There was electricity between their eyes.

Becca leaned back, her arms behind her, still rising and falling on her guy's cock. He wasn't as deep in her any more, but his cock was rubbing against her pussy's front wall. Becca adjusted positions a couple times, looking for just the right posture, just the right stroke to rub her G-spot. She found it and gasped.

Her thighs and ass were flexing. At the top of her stokes, her body was almost a straight diagonal line from her head to her knees - except of course for those magical boobs that, even in this position, stayed round. Every time her hips buckled and she plunged down on him, I expected to see a little bulge in her belly from his dick.

Emo-guy started groaning. Becca started humming her moans. They were both getting ready to explode.

Australian boy, still on the pool table, was lying on his side watching. His dick wanted to get hard again, but wouldn't. Marybeth was fascinated. Terri was too, but she clearly felt self-conscious about it. Every once in a while she squirmed. Her panties had largely dried out from the hot tub, but they were wet in the crotch. Olivia and her guy were standing, him behind her, giving her clit an over-the-undies rub. I don't know what sport Olivia plays, but she has fantastic abs, and chiselled arms and legs.

Becca announced, "Oh god! Mmm. MMM!" And then she came. We all knew that she came because jets of girl-ejaculate shot out from her pussy, covering Emo-guy's face and chest. I counted ten squirts while her hips continued to rise and fall on his dick.

Becca was spent. She sat upright and tried to keep bouncing, but her strength was gone. Emo-guy pulled her down to his chest and he took over, rapid-thrusting up into her and digging his fingers into her ass. Becca moaned, almost like a howl. The girl was insatiable.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Olivia come. She didn't make a sound, but her head rolled back and she grabbed her lover's head while he kissed her neck, his fingers still vibrating over her clit. I don't think she's going to keep her virginity until college.

Emo-guy roared and began his climax. Becca's eyes went wide and she said, "Yes! Yes, more, please!" Showering him with kisses while he flooded her uterus.

A few kisses later, Becca stood up, looking around at her friends and wondering what price she would pay for her excesses.

"You know, Becca," Olivia said contemplatively, "some people might think that you'd done this sort of thing before." She kept a straight face for a moment before laughing.

Emo-boy stood up and touched his wet face. He took off his shirt and sniffed it. He didn't say anything, but he was smiling.

The beer was all gone and everyone who wanted it was all fucked-out, so the boys said their goodbyes. I grabbed a trash bag and rounded up every last beer can. By the time I left, the girls were interviewing Becca about her squirting phenomenon, and Becca was happy at the center of their attention.

Sunday January 27

This morning I got out of bed, peed, showered, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair. And then I shoved a fairly expensive piece of electronics up my pussy before getting dressed and joining my parents for breakfast. I had messaged Enzo, telling him to download the app and giving him an authorization code. He hadn't replied by the time I started my day.

It was weird just casually sitting across the table from my folks with something noticeably larger than a tampon in my vagina. It wasn't doing anything, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. The plan for the day was load up the truck in the morning, then go out for a nice goodbye lunch. I was worried that with a bunch of physical activity the vibrator might fall out, so I dug through the Closet Of No Return and found a pair of vintage spandex shorts to wear under my jeans.

It was mid-morning and I was climbing the stairs when I felt the first jolt. I lurched and steadied myself with the hand rail. It was a shaking deep inside me that rattled my bones. It must have been full power; if this wasn't full power, I wasn't going to survive the experience. It wasn't painful. It wasn't pleasurable. But it sure was distracting. After being frozen there for twenty seconds, the vibrator motor inside my pussy stopped, but the over my clit began. That was full power, too, and it was uncomfortable. Worse, I could hear this one.

I took out my phone and typed a quick message.

For a while, the sex toy was dormant, and I went on with the job of loading the truck. When it started again, it was just quick light thumps, just to remind me that it was there. As the day wore on, Enzo's "touches" grew more complicated, and longer. The gentle irregular beat was doing it for me: I was becoming aroused. I passed my parents a dozen times wondering if I was blushing, wondering if they could tell. I stated to anticipate it - the moment when Enzo would make me come. I wanted it so bad for a long time.

When he really went for it, I was in the bed of the truck. I was glad we had the sofa loaded by then because I had to sit down. It started with more thumps inside me: quick and short at a steady pace. Then it changed a little, adding a touch of clit-buzz after every forth thump. Then it went back to the original beat. Enzo was spinning me like a turntable.

I braced myself, panting. He was touching me from an ocean away, unable to see how he was affecting me, but he was doing it just right. I had to sit down - I was too distracted. Enzo was going to make me come, and not a minute too soon.

My dad entered the truck, carrying a bunch of bookcase shelves. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

I'm sure I blushed harder than I ever had in my life. I clamped my legs together tightly to try to hide the intermittent buzzing sound. "Yeah I'm good," I gasped. "A little stomach ache, I guess."

Enzo was improvising around his melody now, composing a tune to get me off. My god, it was like his fingers were reaching up inside me and stroking my G-spot. Little flicks of his tongue teased my clit. I was in a cold sweat.

"If you need a break you can go up and lie down in our bedroom," my dad offered, and he put his hand on my shoulder. That's when I came. My whole body shook. I tried to control my breathing, to keep from gasping, but that only made it worse. Sexual happiness spread through me. I looked at my dad's face and for a moment I was really confused. I faked a cough to try to cover my body's betrayal.

I smiled at my dad. "I'm fine, Dad." He set down the shelves and went back into the house.

After my body calmed down, Enzo's masterfully composed vibration patterns didn't feel so great. I opened the app on my phone and turned off remote control. My pussy knew peace again. I wrote to Enzo:

It didn't occur to me at the time, but it sounded like Enzo didn't know that I had already turned his access off. I'm curious how the networking works between the apps.

Before I sat down to lunch I enabled remote control and messaged Enzo again:

All through lunch, Enzo sprinkled me with little tunes of sexual stimulation, ramping up and backing off, layering patterns in patterns in patterns. I doubt he went harder than 25%. I must have had four or five little micro-orgasms while we were there: sipping my drink, ordering my meal, talking, eating. Coming. When the server looked at me funny I told her I had hiccups.

My parents didn't think anything of it. My mom was too busy gushing: "You know you can come back and visit us any time you'd like. This will always be your home. And don't be afraid to call, okay? We want to hear everything that you're up to in your new life! Oh, it will be so exciting for you!" My dad kept giving me hopelessly outdated advice about the city of Las Vegas. (Honestly, Dad? Siegfried and Roy?)

I'm happy that they're happy for me.

I removed the toy before the two-hour drive in a UHaul truck back to my apartment. Apart from the obvious danger, I just didn't think I could enjoy it while concentrating on driving. I guess the lesson for the day was that you have to be in the right mood.

Tuesday January 29

At the security checkpoint at the courthouse yesterday, after examining my purse in the X-Ray machine, a round middle-aged female guard took it to a table for a manual inspection. She removed many of the contents, including the half-roll of duct tape I had brought. She didn't remove the vibrator; she just winked at me while she put everything back in and handed the purse back to me. I gave her a nod of appreciation.

Matt was the only one of my fellow jurors who had tried my duct tape challenge, and he confirmed my claim that it can't keep you from speaking. That was good enough for a couple of them, but others were still skeptical, claiming he probably didn't do it right.

Semi-bald-pervy-guy was the biggest doubter, so I invited him to cover my mouth with duct tape. He could press as hard as he wanted to. So with everyone watching, that's what he did. His big calloused hand pushed the tape pretty hard into my face, and I couldn't help wondering what kind of fantasies he was living out just then. When he was done, I simply opened my mouth. The tape stuck to my upper lip, while my lower lip and jaw moved free. To demonstrate my verbal agility, I sang the first measure of an old show tune: The Major-General's Song from The Pirates of Penzance.

That seemed to satisfy most of them, but then Jewish-granny mused, "I wonder if posture matters? The young woman was lying down, with her head pulled back," she explained, grabbing her own hair and pointing her chin toward the sky. "That might make it harder, yes?"

"Hmm," I said. I took off my blazer and lay on the edge of the table with my arms behind me. "She was like this, right?" Everyone agreed so I stood up and wrapped a strip of tape twice around my knees.

"Someone want to tie my hands?" I asked, and held my hands behind me.

Semi-bald-pervy-guy reached for the tape and looked at me like a wolf looks at a sheep. He stepped behind me, but Jewish-granny said authoritatively, "That won't be necessary - just the mouth."

Pervy-guy mashed another strip of tape onto my face, and then I took position on the table again, with my arms behind my back and my head tilted back as far as it would go. I don't know where everyone's eyes were, but in that position, with heels, my pencil skirt must have looked pretty tight on my ass. I waited a moment in case anyone wanted to say anything else, and then I opened my mouth again, and spoke, before getting up.

The fact that Lina was free to speak or scream swayed some people, but not everyone.

Homeschool-mom surprised us by suggesting, "Maybe we should watch the video again." She explained: "When I was watching it before, I was so sure she was being abused. It think it would help to see it with new eyes."

So the foreman asked the bailiff to show us the sex video again. This time I watched the jurors more than the video. There were a lot of hands in laps. A lot of shifting hips. A few people subconsciously licked their lips. I entertained myself by imagining various pairings of jurors reenacting the scene, dry-humping each other here on the table in pursuit of justice.

People stopped arguing about the video, and so we started talking about the accident itself.

"It doesn't matter if she was a willing participant," black-granny claimed. "He created a dangerous situation. He made choices that interfered with her ability to drive. He should have known that it was dangerous, but he did it anyway. That's what the judge said was needed to convict."

"But we don't know for sure that he did," I countered. "The server logs show that he tried to activate her vibrator at the time of the accident, but we don't know that it actually happened. She might have disabled remote access."

"It's probably not that easy," Matt said skeptically.

"It is," I explained. "Big green button on the home page of the app. He would have never known that his commands weren't going through."

"What makes you think that?" Matt challenged.

I smiled with a touch of guilt. "I bought one this weekend," I told them. "I experimented. It's actually pretty fun." I pulled the vibrator out of my purse and set it on table.

I wished I could have shown them the app, but the bailiffs had taken our phones at the start of the day. I explained the basics, sketching the UI on some note paper, and walking them through what I had learned about how the remote system passes messages to the vibrator.

The bailiff said we should break for lunch soon, so we all went down to the cafeteria, got our food, and sat down in the special jury lunch room. All of the guys, plus Courtney and homeschool-mom, wanted to sit with me.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Matt began, "but are you a porn star or something?" I laughed. "It's just that none of the girls I know would ever do these things that you do."

"How do you know?" I asked. That hit Matt like a hammer. "Who knows what hidden depths there are to your highschool sweetheart's sex life. Or your sister's. Or your mother's. I mean, have you ever asked?"

"I wish you were a porn star," semi-bald-pervy-guy said. "I would buy all your films." I rolled my eyes. I chose not to mention that there are actually a number of sex videos of me out there on the net, pretty easy to find.

Once the mundane nature of eating lunch drove people to sit at other tables, Courtney whispered to me, "Do those things work on virgins?"

I wasn't sure how to answer. "Well, er, if there's a hymen, I would think..."

"Not that kind of virgin. I just mean if a girl hasn't experienced, you know, one of them."

"Oh!" I whispered back. "Well, if the operator is gentle and attentive, then sure!"

She didn't say anything but sort of looked at me enviously.

Back in the deliberation room, we continued talking about the accident.

"It doesn't matter if their relationship was good or bad," black-granny stated again. "He distracted her by buzzing her vagina. He knew - or should have known - that that was dangerous. That's what the judge said was required to convict. I don't see how we have a choice!"

"But we don't know that he actually distracted her," I argued. "We don't know that his commands got through - only that he sent them. She might have disabled remote access, or the battery might have run out."

Matt challenged me. "If that were the case, why wouldn't she have taken it out? Why was she still wearing it?"

Homeschool-mom came up with the answer to that one. "Where would she put it?"

Matt looked at her dismissively. "In her purse, or backpack, or whatever!"

Homeschool-mom looked at him like an impatient parent. "Something like that, you're going to clean it before putting it in your purse. That means soap and water. I don't know many women who'd be comfortable washing one of those in the ladies' room. Her hoo-ha might have been the most convenient place to store it."

Semi-bald-pervy-guy spoke up: "Well something caused the accident."

Jewish-granny argued: "Maybe she had a seizure. Maybe she spilled her coffee? Who's to say?"

"If she spilled her coffee, don't you think the EMTs would have noticed?" Matt asked.

"Except we didn't hear any testimony from the EMTs," I told him. "Or the police who responded. We don't have any evidence at all about what caused the crash - only that the crash happened. It's all conjecture."

Semi-bald-pervy-guy was unimpressed. "She happened to have a seizure at the same moment that her boyfriend is trying to cyber-diddle her? Don't you think that's a pretty big coincidence???"

"Well, yeah," I admitted. "It's a stretch. But it's not unthinkable."

"Maybe it wasn't a seizure. I like the coffee idea," Courtney muttered.

"Maybe the vibrations are what caused her to spill the coffee," Jewish-granny mused.

"But then we're right back to him being culpable!" Black-granny said.

Courtney asserted herself. "Okay, say for sake of argument that it was turned on, had enough power, and that he did start playing with her. Lexi, you've used one of these things. Do you think that would be distracting enough to cause an accident?"

"Well, maybe," I answered. "When my friend turned it on for the first time he didn't know what he was doing and he jammed it at full power. That sucked. That could cause an accident. But pretty soon he learned to tease me, coax me. He built me up until, oh my god, I was just begging to come!" I paused and looked around the room. Eleven men and women were staring at me. "Sorry. In that case, it was gradual enough that I definitely would have pulled my car over and found a safe place to sit. By that point in the day I'm sure Trent would have known how to be gentle with her."

"Unless he really was a sadist...," biker-guy observed.

"Oh, now we're back to that again?" Homeschool-mom groaned. The whole room started talking at once.

Once things settled down, I made my final plea. "Guys, we will never know the whole truth of this matter, and that's infuriating. I doubt any jury ever does. What we have to decide is, based on what we do know, are we sure beyond a reasonable doubt that Trent caused the accident? It's possible he did - maybe even likely. But 'likely' is not 'beyond a reasonable doubt'."

It still took us a half hour to harmonize after that, but eventually we gave a not-guilty verdict to the judge.

It felt surreal leaving the court house. I felt like I had changed.

Courtney and Matt were standing in the parking lot, laughing and talking. When I approached, Matt nudged Courtney and said, "Show her!"

Courtney, looking embarrassed, showed me a piece of paper with a doodle. It was a cartoon of me, tied up and bent over the table in my business clothes. I was looking at the viewer with duct tape over my mouth, but there was a speech balloon that read, "If the tape does not stick, you must acquit!" Cartoon me looked pretty sexy.

"Can I post this online?" She asked.

"Go for it! It's your art!" I told her.

Courtney put the paper in her messenger bag. Then she looked like she had a sudden realization. "Oh my god, that song you sang! What was that?"

I smiled. "The Pirates of Penzance. It's kinda famous."

Matt teased me, "I want to hear the rest of the song."

Courtney chipped in, "Yeah, me too!"

I laughed. "To hear more, you'll either need YouTube, or a couple fingers of whiskey."

"We've got both at my place," Matt suggested.

At Matt's place - really his parent's place, for which he apologized several times - we kicked off our shoes, sipped on whiskey, and watched a clip of the song I had sung in the courthouse. We were all feeling silly and relieved and we were bonding. We paid Amazon $4 and started watching the full movie.

When Courtney went to the bathroom I waited outside. When she emerged, I held out the vibrator to her, wearing a temptress' smile. She looked at it and then my face, not knowing what to think. "Do you trust me?" I asked.

While she disappeared back into the bathroom, I texted Matt a link to download the app and an authorization code. I also sent the message, "Surprise me."

Courtney and I returned from the bathroom. She looked self-conscious and she was walking a little funny, but she sat down on the couch with me, and we began watching the movie again. Ten minutes later, Matt, on the other couch, reached for his phone, trying to act cool. An instant later, Courtney whimpered. She wiggled her butt but tried to keep it a secret. I picked up my phone to keep fooling Courtney, but I also wiggled around some to keep Matt in the dark.

Matt was looking down at his phone, but keeping one eye on me. Courtney was facing the TV, but probably not seeing it. Matt figured out my ruse when Courtney gasped and jumped. I smiled at him wickedly at him, but gave a slight hand gesture telling him to slow it down.

Matt was figuring her out, learning the rhythms that her body craved. Soon she gave up any hopes of pretense. She was panting. Her body was moving: rolling hips and rippling core. Her jeans were tight enough that I could see every muscle twitch. I made a point of setting down my phone and doing nothing but watching the two of them. Her eyes went wide at the realization that Matt was the one plucking her strings.

"Oh god!" She moaned. She fell onto her side, taking up most of the room on the couch we were sharing. She curled up and rocked, moaning with growing intensity. I put my hand on her shoulder, rubbing and squeezing just a bit to give her an element of human contact.

"Mmm! Oh. Please?" She whined.

"You want more?" Matt asked attentively. Courtney nodded.

"Ugh! Nnng! I think...," she gasped. "Ugh! Ugh! Yes! Uhhhhh!" She cried. Her body collapsed and expanded in waves while she moved through what I understood to be her first orgasm. Matt had an astonished look on his face, and of course, a tent in his pants.

Finally she was done. "No more!" She instructed. Matt dutifully shut the vibrator.

Nobody said a word for probably three minutes, but their eyes were locked on each other. I grabbed the remote and starting rewinding the parts of the film we'd all ignored.

All of the sudden, Courtney lunged, straddling Matt on his couch, kissing him urgently. Courtney's sweater and shirt disappeared quickly; so did Matt's shirt and tie. Surprisingly, her bra stayed on. Their hands made the most of each others' bare skin. Their lips seemed to grind together as much at their hips.

I thought about leaving - giving them some privacy - but I wasn't sober enough to drive. We hadn't been given any sort of tour of the house, and I wasn't sure if anyone else was home, so I was uneasy about looking for another room. So I watched.

Matt stood up, with ninety pound Courtney clinging to him, and then gently set her down on the floor. He parted from her grip just long enough to strip, and then he worked on her pants, and then panties. The only thing left still in his way was the silicone and plastic occupant of her pussy. He pulled that out and set it on the coffee table, and then he banged her missionary style.

Courtney was in heaven, looking hungry and love-struck up into his face. Matt was conflicted - trying to stay on this side of ecstasy. Four minutes of fucking and he was clearly at his end, but then he pulled out, shifted position, and licked her pussy. I got the impression that was a first for her too. He went down on her for ten minutes, and she was obviously grateful.

He stopped, knelt, and took her hand. "Up on your knees, okay?" She nodded, and pretty soon they were going at it doggy-style.

"So fucking deep!" Courtney said. Her pale skinny ass was held firm while he plunged his cock into her.

"You've got a tight little pussy," Matt commented.

"I do?"

"Yeah. You're amazing."

"You're amazing."

Slapping skin, assorted grunts and moans. They did it like that for about five minutes.

"I think it's gonna...," Courtney gasped. "Yup! Coming! Ugh! Uuuuuugh! Ugh!".

Matt was on the edge, trying to hold back. "Can I come in you???" He asked hurriedly.

"Yes!" She cried.

Matt abandoned his restraint. He held her tightly, sunk in balls deep. His hips kept thrusting, but he wouldn't let her body separate from his even a tiny bit, so she rocked back and forth with him while he filled her up with his spunk.

I fixed new drinks for us all. Courtney went to the bathroom and then came back and snuggled together with Matt on the couch opposite mine. Now her bra came off. Cute pale boobs. We watched the rest of the movie.

Once the important credits were done, I stopped the video. "Well? What did you think?" I asked.

"I want to see Lexi come," was Courtney's answer. She picked up Matt's phone. "How do you work this thing?"

Matt picked up the vibrator, crawled between my legs, pushed up my skirt, moved my panties aside, and then rubbed the toy up and down between my lips until it was slick. He kissed my thighs while he slowly screwed my vibrator into me.

Matt sat back down with Courtney and played with her boobs while she played with his phone, and thus, my cunt. She did not have a gentle touch, but I forgave her lack of experience. I let her know with grunts and moans what was good and what was bad, and she slowly caught on.

I pulled a couple pillows from the couch and lay on my side on the floor: one pillow for my head, one between my legs, and one clutched to my chest. I set my expectations: I probably wasn't going to come, but it felt nice. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift, aloft on the lovely sex feelings.

After four minutes of serene pussy-rumbling, I gave voice to the dirty thoughts in my head. "Hey Matt? There's some lube in my purse," I said suggestively.

I kept my eyes shut, so I have no idea what looks or gestures passed between Matt and Courtney, but Matt rose to my challenge. He unzipped my skirt and pulled it down off my legs, and then the same with my panties. His fingers gripped my butt cheeks and spread them, and his slimy dick moved into position. Pretty soon, Matt was butt-fucking me.

I was still on my side. He was upright behind me. He gave me a steady hard thumping. "Damn that's tight," he muttered. Then, "I can feel the vibrations. Feels good. Damn that's good!"

I think I could feel him feeling the vibrations. Having my pussy and ass simultaneously filled always makes me feel pleasantly stuffed, but the vibrations made things feel even bigger. It felt to me like Matt's dick was vibrating too, so it was no surprise that he could feel it. Of course, the steady in-out was affecting me in ways that the vibrator alone couldn't.

Matt ran his hands across my hip, and under my shirt up my side. "Hey, can you crank it up a little?" He asked. "This is so fucking wild."

Courtney answered, "Sure," and set the throttle to ramming speed. The clit motor was still, mercifully, doing low-power pulses in groups of three, but the vagquakenator felt like it would shake me apart. It felt good but overwhelming. I kinda wish they'd asked my opinion. I decided to go with it, though, curious how it would affect Matt.

"Oh god! Nnnng!" Matt cried out, and I felt a little liquid warmth in my butt. But he kept fucking me.

"Did you just come?" I asked.

"I don't know. Kinda?" He answered.

"But you're not finished?"

"I guess not," he said, as surprised as I was. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, man! Give me all you've got!"

Matt rolled me face-down and straddled my legs, fucking me with more power. Courtney made some sort of change to the clit-motor too. I felt like my insides were liquefying, but something amazing was coming. I clutched my pillow and shrieked and came with my eyes closed.

I don't like to admit this, but for some reason, I pictured my dad's face just then. I snapped my eyes open to see Courtney staring at me, studying me. I wondered if she would be drawing this, too.

Matt groaned, desperate to come but not quite able to get there. Courtney tapped on the phone controls and made me come again, making me clench and wiggle and feel hot and cold and who knows what else. Matt came decisively this time - I could feel it.

"Turn it off please," I whispered. Courtney complied and my body felt a forgotten peace.

Matt cautiously pulled out. "Fuck. I should have asked," he said.

"It's cool. I wanted you to come inside me," I answered softly.

I fell asleep like that. Maybe an hour? When I woke up I was covered in blankets. Courtney and Matt were gone - presumably to his bed. Normally I would have gone back to sleep, but I wanted to spend my final night in town in my own apartment.

I washed the vibrator and left it on the coffee table with a note about how to pair it with a new phone. I also thanked them for the fun.

I'm writing this from a karaoke bar and grill called Stuart's in a small town on the freeway. I've still got plenty of driving to do. All sorts of fantasies are running through my head about what I'll do first once I'm settled in my new apartment. Maybe I'll bake cookies. Or maybe I'll put on my little red dress and hit the Strip.