God, the delivery guy knows I bought myself a sex toy.
He hands it to me again, along with a form that I quickly sign and thrust back to him. I send him on his way and slam the door closed, leaning up against the door. I slide down it until I’m sitting on the floor, where I carefully examine the box. All I want to do is throw it out, but it’s here now, so I might as well take a look.
I carefully peel away the brown packaging and examine the box. With shaking hands, I open it and then reach inside. The size of the box is deceiving because the actual product is small enough to fit on the end of my finger. Which is the whole idea, I guess. I carefully pull it out. I’m both curious and suspicious that this is going to do anything for me. Even so, I am starting to wonder if I’m missing out on something—like Becca seems to think I am. Enough that I’m considering taking it for a test drive right now.
I wander into my room and sit down on my bed, carefully inserting the battery. I press the button, giggling like a twelve-year-old when it comes to life in my hands. I shake my head, because Becca would die if she knew what I was about to do. I’m sure she got the gift card, fully expecting me to never use it, but what else am I going to do with my Sunday afternoon? I take a deep breath and turn it on, then I slide it onto my finger and dive under the covers.
It’s not like I’m going to be broadcasting this on YouTube or anything.
Here goes nothing… Oh my.
I groan as it vibrates against me, surprised at how good it actually feels. I bring my knees up and spread my legs a little farther apart, massaging my clit with my new buzzy friend. I clamp down on my lip, stifling a moan as I tease my entrance, pushing my finger just a little farther inside. I gasp, clutching onto the sheet with my other hand as my body begins to react. This is happening faster than I thought it would. I’m ten seconds in and already close to coming. Maybe I have been missing out.
“Oh, holy fuck…”
I groan, my head snapping back as I thrust it back and forth inside me. I gasp as my hips buck forward and push my finger deeper inside me until I…
My eyes fly open in shock.
Oh no, no, no. Please not this.
I frantically shove my hands out in front of me, like I need confirmation that this is really happening. Because the hands-free buzzing in my vagina isn’t a dead giveaway.
Frantically, I try and dig it out, but it’s no use. If anything, I think I’ve made it worse. I groan and grab a handful of sheet as the toy rubs against my clit, driving me crazy.
“Oh lord, fuck, fuck fuck,” I hiss.
I bite down on my arm to muffle my cries as my heart pounds out of control in my chest. The last thing I need is for Iris to hobble in here to check that I’m okay. Damn me for giving her that key to water my plants while I was away last weekend for my cousin’s wedding.
“Oh God, make it stop.”
Struggling to catch my breath, I clench my thighs together, and groan, squeezing my eyes closed. I climax again, number five in as little as ten minutes. The worst thing is, they don’t seem to be letting up. If anything, they’re becoming more intense. Oh, my fucking lord.
I lower myself onto the floor and reach for the box, which has half rolled itself under the bed. My body aches, begging for relief, or at the very least, five minutes where I’m not climaxing. I fumble for the box, dropping it twice, before I get a firm enough grip on it to hold it up to my face. My hands shake as I struggle to read. Then I see those four little words that make me feel like I’m going to pass out.
For external use only.
Who the hell designs a vibrator for external use only? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose? Am I the only one who thought letting my finger do a little traveling wasn’t going to do any harm? Or am I just the only one unlucky enough to have their vagina decide to inhale it? Maybe I should’ve gone with the forearm sized one, because this tiny little thing is well and truly stuck inside me.
I should call an ambulance.
I laugh, dismissing that as an option. And say what? That’s out of the question anyway because of which hospital they would take me to. I’d rather die a slow and painful orgasmic death than be wheeled into the ER of the hospital I’m supposed to be starting work at next week.