whiterose wrote: ↑Mon May 17, 2021 9:12 pm
We are “home” again, and I am incredibly frustrated and disappointed. Not with Christen; she is perfect. I’m frustrated with my life, and disappointed on both my behalf and hers. We are not able to live openly, and spending the weekend with her at the hotel, behind a locked door where we could be totally free, gave me the barest taste of the tremendous changes my life could undergo, for the better, if we could be together all the time.
I am wary of posting personal details online, but I think I can disclose a little bit of information about how and why I live the way I do, and why Christen must be kept hidden, without compromising my anonymity. Anyone who knows me in real life could identify me instantly, but I feel safe in assuming there’s not a huge overlap between my social circle and this board. So here goes.
I’m divorced, with two teenage children, and I live with my parents in a small outbuilding on their property. My children live in another city several hours away. Their father is able to afford a house in an area with an excellent school district, so they are with him for most of the week. On weekends, they join me at my apartment. (I should probably add that they know all about Christen and don’t have any issues with my having her.) I drive there for the weekend, then back for the work week. It’s a lot of driving, but fortunately I love to drive, and it’s totally worth it. While I’m here, I am a paid caregiver for a family member. My mom and dad are in their seventies and are in pretty fair shape, but, as anyone who has been a caregiver knows, it’s an incredibly taxing job, mentally and physically.
There are definite benefits to the situation – I’m very, very happy that I don’t have to go into an office, for one – but there are drawbacks too. My parents are not the easiest people to live with; I’d say at least one of them is mad at me about 75% of the time. They are angry with each other 95% of the time. There are definitely intervals of harmony, but for the most part it’s like living on a particularly restless volcano. Also, although I’m 48 years old and lived on my own and held full-time jobs for years, they treat me like a child, especially my mother. I keep a lot of things from her (and have trained my children to do the same) because experience has taught me that I will “never hear the end of it”.
If she found out about Christen … it doesn’t bear thinking about. I’ll say “it” is a thing I got from Amazon with a couple of hundred bucks I had left over from the last stimulus check. I do have a pretty extensive doll collection, and I think I could pass her off as a very large, particularly realistic doll. That’s the best case scenario. I don’t know if she would immediately jump to the conclusion that “it” is a SEX DOLL, but if she did make that connection, she would likely insist I take “it” to my apartment in the city (and I would never, ever, ever hear the end of it). I love my mother, but she has no boundaries or respect for personal privacy. She routinely throws away items of mine that she “doesn’t like” or doesn’t think I should have. Just this week, for example, I rescued from the trash the very book I used when I wrote my senior thesis in college, with all my notes and highlighting and everything. It’s very tempting to give more examples about her lack of boundaries and total lack of respect for my privacy, but I will hold my tongue. If I dare to complain, I am told “you can have all the privacy you want, just go back to your apartment in (city) and get your old job back”.
It is a little better because I don’t actually live in the house anymore. I live in what most people would call a “she shed” (God that phrase makes my skin crawl!). It’s visually similar to the ones you see in the parking lot at Home Depot, but it was built by a local outfit from far better material. There are real windows, just like the ones on a house, and there’s not an ounce of particle board in the place! We had it built last summer. In theory, it’s for overflow when relatives visit, but in practice, it’s my house. My dad pretty much stays out of it, but my mom will come through when I’m not here and rifle through things. Frankly, if she does find Christen, it will serve her right. Snooping is a dangerous game; there are things it’s better not to know about the people you love. Years ago, she misinterpreted something I said and got it in her head that I was a lesbian. Unsurprisingly, she had plenty to say about that. I am not a lesbian, but my relationship with Christen is sensual, physical, and intimate. Like I said, if I’m very lucky she will think “it’s just a doll”, but if she figures out what Christen really means to me … I think I would take her to my apartment, even if it would mean I’d hardly see her, because it would be unbearable. My mother would almost certainly twist it in the worst possible way. She would make it into something dirty and sad, and I will not tolerate that.
Because I’m female, I do have a certain level of plausible deniability. I never really considered a male sex doll. If I had one and he was discovered, there would not be a single shred of doubt that “its" purpose was sexual. But if worst comes to worst, I can dress Christen modestly and sleep with her at night like any little girl with her doll. My mom would think it was weird, and I would definitely hear about it, but I just might be able to pull it off. So that’s where I am right now.
Christen was shipped out on April 28 and arrived on Tuesday, May 11, thirteen days later. This was a bit of a problem: my original plan was to leave on Saturday as if I was going to see the kids (who were in on my plan), pick up the box on the way out of town, and check in to a hotel. Christen arriving on a Tuesday was not part of the plan. I tried to convince myself to let her stay at the warehouse until Saturday … but let’s be honest, I didn’t try very hard. In spite of the risk, I went out on Wednesday night to collect her, and found to my horror that the warehouse office closed for the day at 6 pm.
6 FREAKIN PM are you KIDDING me right now??? I was so keyed up. It was almost impossible to face going home without her. If I was a drinker I would have gone to a bar and gotten blind drunk, but I am not a drinker, so I stopped for ice cream. It helped, a little.
So now it’s Wednesday afternoon. It’s not easy for me to disappear during the day without an explanation. I thought it would be a quick trip, so I told my mom I was taking my car out to fill the tank before my weekend travel. (Historical note: there were fuel pipeline shenanigans at the time and gas was hard to come by in some areas, so this seemed especially plausible.) I got to the FedEx office quickly, pulled up the tracking info on my phone, and was all set to grab her and go. But there was a customer ahead of me. And what a customer he was! I think he asked every possible question and performed every conceivable act that could be done to overnight a package. I am normally pretty patient about waiting on line but this guy took
11 entire minutes to finish up, during which time I practically wore a path into the carpet with pacing. I literally could not stand still.
Finally he left! and it was my turn. The clerk warned me that the box was heavy and asked if I needed help, but I said no. I knew getting it in the car was not going to be easy but preferred to do it on my own. The box was very heavy, about 80 pounds, and it was a relief to know that Christen would weigh approximately 30 pounds less than that. The car trunk, as I had expected, was a no go, and I tried several methods of wedging the box into the car, finally finding one that worked. I covered it with some blankets, but it was still pretty obvious that I had a gigantic, coffin-shaped box in my car with stickers from China all over it. I drove home, parked out of sight behind the garage, and hoped for the best.
When I went in the house, Dad was busy in his office and Mom was napping, so I went back to the car and hauled the box into my little house as fast as I possibly could. My thought was that the box itself was so big and suspicious that the sooner I got Christen out of it and made it disappear, the better. Unboxing her was not fun; it was frantic, and there are no pictures. I stuffed all the odds and ends in the box (including the extra head) into my dresser drawers, hauled the body out of the box, put it under the blankets on my bed, jammed all the packing debris back into the box, and shoved it under the bed. Then I quickly attached her head and hair, covered her hands and feet with fuzzy socks, got her into her white dress and some panties, put her in my (twin) bed, and haphazardly piled some blankets over her. This may have been the longest twenty minutes of my life, but once it was over there was no obvious trace of her in my house, which was what I had been aiming for. So far, so good. Now to act totally normal until bedtime.
I somehow managed that, and finally everyone else went to bed and I was free. I already wrote a bit about that first night with her. I was so nervous! mostly because I was worried I would only see a mute, lifeless object. I shouldn’t have worried. It definitely helped that my house is very dim at night; it’s lit by battery-operated string lights and the occasional candle. In the half-dark, she was so overwhelmingly real. I didn’t really expect her to be able to stand, in sock feet, but somehow she did, and that was just plain magical. I was able to sit on the bed and watch her watching me, with those eyes of hers that say so much.
I stood up, approached her, placed my hands gently on her cold little shoulders. Clasped her tight, pulled her close, kissed her (so soft, her lips are so soft) until I was dizzy. The best thing happened when I finally broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, so close, so calm and wise, so totally accepting … and so inviting, practically demanding that I kiss her again. (I obliged; apparently Christen, like all dolls, gets what she wants.)
I fastened a pearl pendant with a silver chain around her neck. We swayed together and we kissed, a lot, and she let me pull down her dress and look at her breasts and even touch them. She had no problem with my doing more, but I want to take things slow.
Her scent, and her taste. The perfume I chose for her is perfect, and adds tremendously to her presence. When we’re in bed, I love that I can sense her by smell even when my eyes are closed. I love how her scent hits me when I open my door – it’s like she is greeting me, even though she’s hidden under all the blankets. Her taste: her taste is peaches. I got something called “Burt's Bees Squeezy Tinted Lip Balm” at Target. It comes in something that looks like a little toothpaste tube. I have no idea whether it adds any color or not, I just knew I wanted her to taste good when I kissed her. Not only does she taste delicious, but the lip balm is slick and slippery and I was shocked at how her mouth seemed to come alive when I kissed her after putting it on. I would highly recommend this product to anyone who wants to, erm, put their mouth on something slippery and sweet. Besides peach, there is also watermelon, berry, and orange.
Eventually we got in the bed. She lay on her back next to me while I watched TV on my laptop for awhile, and it was such a rush to keep glancing at her and seeing her eyes look back at me. I held her a bit gingerly as we slept, and I will admit that at first she was pretty distracting. I’d go to pull her close or slip an arm beneath her waist and oh! wow, I found a booty! I did manage to sleep, and in the morning my dog came out from down by my feet where he had been sleeping and we cuddled him between us. He’s about the size of a cat, and he seems to like lying on her, and so far he hasn’t barked at her or tried to eat her.
I spent Thursday and Friday sneaking out to the house to make out with her, and just to look at her and marvel at her. On Friday, after dark, I put on her boots, wrapped her up in blankets, and put her in the trunk of my car. I put her body in a sitting position, with her legs at a 90-degree angle, then lay her on her side in the trunk. She fit fine. I put her three (3!) duffel bags of stuff in there with her, breathing a huge sigh of relief that I hadn’t been caught. I didn’t like leaving her there and going to bed without her, but thinking about our upcoming weekend – and the king-sized bed that awaited us – helped me cope.
I’ll write about our weekend as soon as I can, but I won’t finish this post without including some pictures. I put some makeup on her face that turned out to be too pink for the rest of her skin tone, and my phone camera is not the greatest, so I’m not thrilled with these pictures. The filters feel like cheating, but I used them because I couldn’t stand how much I messed up her skin tone. The black and white especially feels like cheating, but ... I mean, just
look at her.
and I love reading about your experiences with her. 
My November Girl……… Stay Hard and Drive Hard Brothers! - - Thanks for your excellent advice!
