Prince Charming he’s not — he never speaks, and he won’t take out the garbage. But get him pumped up for some sex, his cock bloated to giant size, and he’ll please the most demanding gal.

My current lover has a thick eight-inch erection that fills me so completely, I barely have to move my bottom in order to come. Best of all, his erection maintains itself indefinitely. And when I say “indefinitely,” I mean just that — because, at the moment, my lover happens to be an inflatable latex doll.

Now, I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t enjoy sex with real live men, because I certainly do. But when I’m between relationships, as I am now, or when I’m simply feeling especially lewd, I’ve found that intercourse with a doll can be a wonderfully satisfying substitute for the real thing.

The first time I had sex with a mannequin occurred right after my divorce, about four years ago. I was thirty-one at the time, and although my marriage ended amicably, I still felt emotionally vulnerable, and I wasn’t quite ready to jump back into the dating scene.

At the same time, doing without intercourse wasn’t a viable option for me. During my eight-year marriage, my husband, Cal, and I shared an intensely torrid sex life. I’d become accustomed 10 getting laid on almost a daily basis; and once the marriage fell apart, I faced the daunting prospect of doing without love-making for the first time in years.

Purely by chance, a few weeks after my divorce, I was watching an x-rated movie on a cable-TV channel one night. During the course of the film, one of the actresses performed fellatio on an inflatable doll, then mounted the doll’s prick and began bouncing up and down.

As I watched the girl’s pear-shaped breasts jiggling on her chest, my own nipples stiffened in response. Each time she raised and lowered her ass, I could clearly see the doU’s pink erection plunging into her vagina. The sight was so irresistibly sexy that I lifted the hem of my nightie, then wiggled two fingers in my pussy until I convulsed in orgasm.

The very next day, I went to an erotic boutique in midtown Manhattan and bought myself an inflatable doll. When I got back to my apartment, I took the deflated doll out of its box and examined it closely for the first time. The face was hopelessly silly-a kind of cartoon face, with stringy blond hair and an open, red mouth. But dangling from the crotch there was a beautifully erect cock made of firm, flexible rubber.

After slipping off my heels and undoing my blouse and skirt, I hurried into the bedroom and arranged the doll on the bed. Even though I was alone, I felt shy and embarrassed, so much so that I could feel myself blushing. At the same time, I was breathlessly excited. I hadn’t been laid in over two months, and I was dying to straddle the doU’s big cock, then sink down onto it until I was completely filled.

When I finished undressing, I took my bicycle pump out of the closet and spent the next few minutes inflating the latex figure. As the limbs and torso sweUed and straightened out, I could hardly contain myself. My nipples had gone erect, and beads of honey glittered in my pubic hair. Bent over the pump, naked, with my heavy breasts bobbing each time I worked the lever, I became boner by the moment.

Once I had the doll inflated, its huge pink dick stood straight up. Mimicking the girl I’d seen in the porn film, I crouched on the bed and began mouthing the rubber prick. It was considerably larger than my ex-husband’s penis, and it took an effort of will to get most of it down my throat. Perhaps because I was focused so intently on what I was doing, the act of fellatio took on a curious reality; and by the time I finished blowing the doll. I’d begun to relate to it with real sexual desire.

When I finally took the doll’s prick out of my mouth, the shaft was glistening with saliva and lipstick. In the dimly lit room, the rubber penis looked very nearly real. Not wanting to destroy the illusion, I closed my eyes and straddled the big erection.

As I lowered my ass, the head parted my pussy lips and then burrowed deep inside me. I could feel the walls of my vagina stretching to accommodate the thick tool; and the sensation of being penetrated, all the way to the opening of my womb, was so wonderfully delicious that I let out a little whine of pleasure. Once I was firmly mounted, I grabbed my tits and then rotated my ass in lazy circles.

Within a few moments, I picked up speed and began riding the cock with abandon. I was working hard now, eagerly bouncing up and down, with my lips parted and sweat trickling between my breasts. When I released my tits, they immediately went into violent motion. The room was silent except for my heavy breathing and the insinuating squeak of the bedsprings. Those sounds and the rhythmic slapping of my flailing breasts were so evocative of past sexual scenes that my orgasm suddenly overpowered me. Groaning with lust, I impaled myself one last time, then toppled forward onto my plastic lover as my belly melted.

The next few weeks I had intercourse with the doll almost every night. I was working as a fashion consultant at the time, and when I got home from the office at night, I’d fix myself a drink and then wander into the bedroom and work off the day’s tensions with the doll.

The fact that I was getting laid again, albeit by a latex mannequin, renewed my sense of vitality. I felt naughty, wicked, even a bit depraved; but I also felt sexually alive and desirable, all of which made it much easier to begin dating again. And once I got back into the social swing, I relegated the doll to my closet and more or less forgot about it.

Before long I found myself involved with a young man named Jake. Dark-haired and scruffily handsome, he was nearly ten years younger than I, and his boyish enthusiasm was just the thing I needed at the time. Neither one of us was seriously in love, but our relationship was full of affection and fun-and sexually, we were perfectly in harmony.

Despite his bohemian pretensions, Jake was much less experienced than I was. His eagerness during lovemaking was both refreshing and flattering, and I loved playing the seductive woman of the world with him. I’d tease him with my mouth and hands, slowly licking his balls, his nipples, until he desperately mounted me and brought me off with the sheer urgency of his need.

Our affair continued at white-heat level for a few months, then gradually burned itself out. Though the sex we shared was wonderful, it wasn’t enough to sustain us long-term, and we both realized that it was time to move on. But rather than sit around waiting for Prince Charming to appear, I once again resumed my relationship with the inflatable doll. I know that that may sound like an odd way of putting it, but when I began fucking the doll again, the experience was so comfortable and familiar that it felt completely natural-very much as if I were returning to the arms of a former lover.

I’d long since lost any sense of self-consciousness about what I was doing. Not that I advertised my secret sex life, of course; but in the privacy of my bedroom, the fact that I was making love with a mannequin no longer seemed shocking or beyond the pale. And as would’ve been the case with any other partner, my lovemaking became more adept and skillful the more frequently I had relations.

In fact, after Jake and I drifted apart, I really began to explore the doll’s erotic potential. With a little practice, I was able to simulate mutual oral sex and bring myself off in a sixty-nine position. Curled on my side, I’d tuck the doll’s rubbery mouth against my vagina, then take hold of its penis and suck on the shaft. To come, all I had to do was tighten and relax my thighs and thus press the doll’s mouth against my sex until my pussy throbbed and contracted.

When I had intercourse, I usually mounted the mannequin in the woman-superior position; but now and then, just to spice things up, I got it on with the doll in other ways. One night, for instance, I came home from work in a bitchy, irritable mood. I knew I was about to get my period, and my premenstrual horniness had me so impatient that I took the doll standing up, without getting fully undressed.

After propping the latex figure up against the wall in a corner of the room, I slipped off my panties and hiked up my skirt. Standing on my tiptoes, I was able to work the head of the rubber prick into my slit. When I started grinding my pelvis, the doll’s erection gradually tunneled deep into my cunt.

Within moments, I was thrusting so forcefully that my tits were bouncing around inside my dress. One and then both of my breasts jiggled their way out of my brassiere, exciting me even further. When I glanced over at the mirror at the back of my dressing table, I could see the white globes of my ass clenching each time I humped the doll. Seeing myself in such a state of abandon immediately brought on my orgasm.

The other nights, THER NIGHTS, when I was in the mood to be “taken,” I’d lie on my back and place the mannequin between my wide-apart legs. With its cockhead resting in the pouch of my cunt, I’d reach and pull the doll’s ass against me, driving the thick penis into my vagina. Once I was completely filled up, I’d wrap my arms and legs around my lover and then thrust again and again until waves of pleasure scalded my belly.

And then there was the time I experienced the special thrill of anal sex. It was a sweltering summer night, and I’d just come home from a not-very-fun first date. I was feeling tipsy and vaguely annoyed with myself for having wasted the evening. After I got undressed, I ran a cool bath and then stretched out in the tub. My full breasts were floating in the soapy water, and as I squinted down through my cleavage at my pussy, I decided to masturbate.

Eyes closed, already half asleep, I reached down and stroked the shaft of my clitoris. As I became erect, a series of erotic memories drifted through my mind. After a while I found myself thinking about the first and only time I’ve ever been fucked in the ass.

This was years before I was married, back when I was still in college. My partner on that Jong-ago night was a bearded young graduate student I’d been sleeping with for about a month. He usually fucked me from behind, and on this particular night, when he took hold of my hips and mounted me, I impulsively grabbed his cock and placed his swollen glans against my anus. I was too shy to tell him what I wanted, but the picture was clear enough. As I lowered myself onto my elbows, he gently pushed forward. His shaft was already slick with my saliva, and I was so receptive to him that his hard penis slipped deep inside my rectum.

As I replayed this memory in my mind, I turned slightly in the tub and began teasing my anus with one of my nails. By degrees, my fingertip and then my entire finger slipped into my asshole and stroked in and out. I was suddenly in a fever of lust-and, just as suddenly, it occurred to me that I might be able to satisfy myself anally with my latex lover. The idea excited me so much that my asshole tightened around my finger and I nearly came right then and there.

Instead of giving myself an immediate orgasm, I stepped out of the tub and quickly dried myself, then hurried into the bedroom. After placing the mannequin on the bed, I took a condom out of my purse and tore open the foil wrapper. My heart was hammering with anticipation, and I had to force myself to calm down in order to unroll the slippery condom onto the doll’s pink shaft.

Once the huge cock was covered with a lubricated sheath, it looked even more real, and more imposing. I felt a twinge of anxiety when I looked at the size of the tool. For all intents and purposes, my ass was still virgin, and I wasn’t remotely sure I’d be able to accommodate the doll’s penis anally. As an added precaution, I greased up the mannequin’s hard-on with Vaseline, then fingered my anus to open myself up.

When I mounted the doll, I positioned its big cockhead directly against my asshole. I was so much in heat that at first I thought all I’d have to do would be to lower my hips, and I’d be impaled. But the moment the doll’s prick began pushing against my anus, I tensed up and my sphincter puckered closed.

I felt sweat break out on my forehead. I bit my lip in impatience and then took a deep breath and tried to make myself relax. Once again I lowered my hips, and then again, then still another time. Finally I had the knob of the rubber tool firmly inside my anus. My asshole tightened one last time, and then refusal turned to acceptance, and with wonderful ease I settled slowly onto my haunches and let the big prick run between my asscheeks and into my body.

Balanced on my toes, with my anus stretched wide and the muscles of my thighs trembling, I slowly moved up and down on the greasy tool. With each in-stroke, I could feel the doll’s cock going deeper. The pressure of the dildo in my ass translated itself through the walls of my empty vagina. I was almost but not quite in pain, with a kind of sweet ache pulsating in my behind, and my pussy glowing in sympathy.

A huge climax gathered force inside me. The stuffed sensation in my rump made me breathy with panic, and then little tremors of pre-orgasm rippled across my belly. As I started coming, my anus contracted powerfully around the doll’s cock, magnifying my orgasm and bringing on another climax before I could catch my breath. This second shock of pleasure made me topple forward, and the slippery rubber prick slid out of my rectum and left me ravished and spent.

Why pretend that the doll fulfilled all my sexual and emotional needs? That would be ridiculous. Strictly speaking, when I had sex with the doll, I was simply masturbating. True, it was an especially compelling kind of masturbation; but, like anyone else, I still wanted a warm, loving relationship with another person.

At the same time, I couldn’t help but appreciate the doll’s never-failing erection. And I was also deeply gratified by the sheer size of its penis. Most men, of course, are about six inches when erect, and almost all the men I’ve had sex with have had more or less average-size cocks. But the doll’s big prick allowed me to enjoy the luxury of getting laid by an extremely well-hung partner whenever I felt like it.

Both these factors-the mannequin’s permanent hard-on and the size of its penis-proved to be especially important when I had my next serious affair. The man I became involved with was a lawyer named Allen. In his late forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a trim, elegant figure, he was as worldly and sophisticated as Jake had been boyish and naive. We’d known each other for years and had flirted shamelessly whenever we met. One evening, at a posh dinner party, the flirtation caught fire.

I’d worn a slinky black dress that showed off my bosom, and all night long, Allen was more than usually attentive. I was in an expansive mood myself, feeling sexy and pretty, and I responded to his warmth and charm. After the dinner party, we went out dancing and then took a room in a hotel near Central Park.

Allen went down on me with practiced skill, and just when I was about to come, he mounted me and brought me off with a few well-timed thrusts. It was all very civilized and graceful, and my climax was nothing to complain about. But something was missing; to be honest, I could’ve used more passion and less polish. The same virtues that made Allen such good company — his cynical wit, his good manners and poise — also made his lovemaking a bit too gentle and refined, at least for my taste.

Still, he was a delightful companion and a superb cunnilinguist, and our affair continued for most of the past year. But even though I have nothing but fond memories of the time we spent together, I doubt we would’ve lasted as long as we did if not for my inflatable doll.

The truth is, there were some nights when Allen’s erection wasn’t reliable; and since he has a small, thin penis, I sometimes felt the need to be filled up more completely. On occasions like that, it was a great relief to know that I had another lover standing in reserve.

In a sense, I was engaged in a kind of menage a trois, though of course Allen didn’t know that there was a third party in our relationship. That third party is still part of my life and continues to give me enormous pleasure. I’m so happy.