The Naughty

Illicit Obsession

But looking at the box, it's clear there's absolutely no way of peeking in because it's sealed shut with plenty of sturdy packing tape. Of course it is. I would need a box cutter to open this thing, but then, I won't be able to reseal it and pretend like nothing happened.

But am I willing to risk it? A few days ago I would have said no. But that was a few days ago, and back then, I was a different woman. Now, I'm the new Chrissy, and I'm a sassy girl who's boldly substituted myself for a doll not once, but twice. Clearly, I'm discovering parts of myself that were previously buried in the sand. So yes, maybe I could do it. Maybe I should. Besides, what if I opened the box anddidn'thide my actions? What if I totally own the decision, and use it as a segue to start my conversation with Brad?

Suddenly deciding this is a good plan, I rush back into the kitchen and rifle through the drawers. Somewhere here, there has to be a box cutter. I could use a regular kitchen knife, of course, but if I want my plan to work, I need to open the box as precisely as possible. The third drawer I look in contains some random kitchen utensils like lighters, grilling skewers, and yes, box cutters. Bingo! I grab one before rushing into the hallway, excited to tear open the package and see what the doll looks like. Then I'll put my plan in motion.

I lay the box down lengthwise on the floor, cut carefully along the cardboard edges, and open the cardboard to find myself looking straight down into the life-like features of a blonde, blue-eyed sex doll. But my breath stops in my throat as my eyes travel down the doll's body because this doll is different from the others I've seen in Brad's closet. All the previous girls had bodies like Victoria's Angels, meaning curvy but still fit. They look like they go to the gym.

But this particular doll is different. She's plus-size with huge, pink-nippled breasts, wide hips, milky thighs, and a soft, silicone belly. Even her face is a little rounder, and her lips a bit more plush. Plus, judging from the express packing tape, Brad likely ordered this doll after our first time together.

I can't help but feel gratified because maybe my mom's ex liked my curves so much that he wants to fuck a doll that looks like me. Oooh, I might have inspired him. But if he likes my body so much, why wouldn't he just fuckme? I'm right here, a real-life woman who wants him so badly she's trying to pass herself off as a sex doll just to get his attention. Surely, that's a turn-on for a guy? Or is it too over the top? Has he since decided he's done playing this game and wants to go back to his playmate collection?

Wow, this is confusing, and I'm going in circles. Clearly, I need to speak to him about this. And I'm going to do it in a sexy, sassy, daring way. I appraise the curvy sex doll's body and note that she's wearing a skimpy little lingerie outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination. The bralette she has on is nothing but some purple spandex strips stretched over her breasts, with holes to leave the nipples exposed, and the bottom has identical purple spandex just covering the tiny, shaved pussy, with straps reaching up high onto her wide hips. Perfect. I've just ordered a bunch of things that look like this, and now they're about to come in handy.

I rush upstairs to my room and spread the various skanky lingerie items out on my bed. Looking over them, I choose a sky-blue number to match my eyes. It's an open cup lace teddy, with matching little blue stickers for my nipples, and a pair of blue fuck-me pumps. My hands shake slightly with excitement as I put the kinky outfit on, and then appraise my reflection in the full-length mirror behind my door. I look exactly like a sex doll, with my pouting pink lips and lush brown tresses. I'm ready.

Then, I go back downstairs, careful now because of the stiletto heels, and click-clack across the hallway's marble floor towards the box. I have to act quickly now because my plan will lose its effect if Brad comes in to find me in the middle of preparing my surprise. It won't be a sexy, sassy, daring reveal anymore, but rather an awkward apology, and that's no way to start off the conversation I want to have with him.

Lifting the sex doll out of the box, I stagger a bit. Dang, this girl is heavy! The manufacturers are certainly dedicated to authenticity. Struggling, I haul the doll out, drag her across the hallway, open the hallway cupboard, and push her inside. Next, slightly out of breath, I move the now empty box to a place in the hallway next to the door, and then climb into the box and lie down inside. It's a perfect fit. Reaching out, I'm able to pull the cover back over myself, and close the box, although it's hard to reseal from the inside. I have to pull the edge of the cardboard inside with my fingernails, then gently push it back up until the edges align. Obviously, it's imperfect and anyone can tell that the box was previously opened. But it's the best I can do, and I lie back to wait.

It's surprisingly comfortable inside, actually, and as I breathe in deeply, I'm grateful that I napped already today. Because if I hadn't, with how tired I've been lately, I would surely be falling asleep right now. And I don't want to because I need to be completely alert when Brad walks through the door, sees the box, and opens it to find me inside. What a shock he'll get! It's just like Cleopatra surprising Julius Caesar when she rolled out of a carpet.

But hopefully, Brad will find it hot too because this time, there will be no pretending that I'm a sex doll. My face will be visible, and I'll be fully awake and articulate, forcing us to address this unspoken game we've been playing.