Effictio (ef-fik’-ti-o): A verbal depiction of someone’s body, often from head to toe.
She was taller than me by a foot. She stood there naked in front of me spinning around and around on an old turntable set at 16RPM. She was fully inflated, made of the finest vinyl money could buy. Her pale blue eyes were open to small slits, gazing seductively at me as spun. Her bright red mouth was a gaping hole lined with flesh-like silicone, pink and soft to the touch. Her nose was was like a pink little bump poking from her face. Her hair was a printed-on blonde tangle of golden tresses. Her breasts were like swaying grapefruits, with pointed stem-like nipples awaiting my fevered kisses. Her belly-button was an inny, indented, shadowed, and perfectly round.
Her crotch was an invitation to a voyage to an exotic pleasure nest. Its pitch-black printed-on black curly public hair cried to be caressed. It’s tight pink slit, dripping lube, begged to be entered and filled with my jack-hammering member.
I lifted her off the turntable. It was time to fulfill my singular urges. I laid her gently on the floor. But alas, the fountain pen I had dropped on the floor earlier, and had forgotten to retrieve, poked a hole in her thin vinyl buttocks and she hissed as she was drained of air.
I immediately lost interest in her flattened body. As I rolled her up and stuffed her in my kitchen’s trashcan, I felt like a murderer disposing of the corpse of his victim. This reignited my lust. I pulled her from the trash. I got my patch-kit from the utility box by my swimming pool. I was well-versed repairing vinyl floaties. She wouldn’t be much different.
I patched her, let the patch set, reinflated her, and then, gently laid her down alongside the pool. I pulled off my shorts.
My cellphone rang. It was my boss. There was an emergency at work that only I could deal with. I looked down sadly at my waiting vinyl concubine. I had to go, but I knew she’d be there when I returned.
