Chapter 5

The next day the doorbell rang and I heard the thump of running feet, along with an “I’ll get it!” Then there was a squeal and more thumping footfalls as she rushed back into the house. I happened to be sitting in Paul’s recliner, doing some online research on my laptop, when she dashed into the living room and stood there, red-faced, her hair still moving as her head shook from turning it left and right as she looked for me. Her eyes settled on me and her pearly-whites were exposed in a wide smile.

“It’s here!” she panted.

“I’m so happy for you,” I said, dryly.

Actually, I was happy for her. At least a little bit. Now she had a tool to help her deal with whatever it was that made her so horny. That’s what I’d been researching. I’d done some searches for information on “I’m too horny” and “what causes nymphomania?” and “sex drive out of control” as well as a few others. I thought it was kind of interesting that there didn’t seem to be scads and volumes of information on the subject. I had found one site where a specific biological disorder was mentioned, but doctors couldn’t agree on whether that was real or not. Of course no clinical studies had been done. Its symptoms didn’t quite line up with hers, anyway, so I moved on. What I did find wasn’t helpful. There were several sites where the theory was: “Do you feel horny all the time? Well, you just need to get more sex!”

Then the kerfuffle of her toy arriving interrupted me and the urgency to find an answer to her recalcitrant libido seemed less. Now she had something that she could put the prevailing theory to. She could ‘have more sex’ and see if she wasn’t so horny anymore.

She didn’t leer and say something like, “Wanna go watch me unbox it and use it for the first time?” That wasn’t her style. Instead, she just turned and sprinted towards her bedroom.

I found myself with a boner, because it was super easy to imagine what she’d look like in about sixty seconds. She’d be flat on her back, stark naked, fucking herself with a plastic penis. I thought about jerking off but then distracted myself by readjusting my time line. She had to get the Amazon box open. If she didn’t have a knife handy she’d have to find something to cut the tape. Then she’d have to remove the inner box, with the toy actually in it. If they seal screwdrivers in a thick plastic case that it takes a band saw to cut through (to prevent opening the package to steal the screwdriver in the store) then who knew what kind of tool it would take to get her vibrator out of the package? Then there were batteries. Did they have any in the house? If so, did she know where they were? Oh, yeah. Never mind. It was rechargeable.

By the time I had my timeline refined to twelve minutes, my cock had softened halfway. I operated the lever that sat me up and put my laptop on the dining room table. I went into the kitchen where I found Beth using a pair of those Ginsu scissors they sell on TV late at night. I know they’re not Ginsu but that’s how I think of them. They brag that these scissors will cut anything and then prove it by cutting tin cans, rope as thick as your thumb, even that thin cable they use to make garage doors go up and down.

As usual, what they make look effortless on infomercials wasn’t happening. She was making sounds of frustration as she attacked the thick plastic container that displayed the sex toy. I was right. It was encased in a vacuum-formed pack made of plastic thick enough to sit on without crushing it. She was trying to cut across the top, where the hole was to hang it on a metal rod on the wall in a store.

“Don’t try to cut through the top like that,” I counseled. “It’s thicker there and the shape is all convoluted. Cut along the bottom and one side and you can pry it open.”

“You do it!” she thrust it towards me.

I had seen this thing online, when she ordered it, but the picture didn’t match my expectation. I had expected something relatively small. An erect penis isn’t huge, after all. Even mine, which seemed to be larger than normal, was only seven inches long and when I gripped it, my thumb almost touched my fingers. We’re not talking gargantuan, here. And sure, you need somewhere to put the batteries, but I did not expect it to be a full foot long. I mean the thing could be used as a club for self defense!

I took the scissors and applied them to the welded bead of plastic at the bottom of the package. Once I got through the welded part, the plastic along the bottom cut pretty easily. I turned the package and cut around the corner, going up the side of the container. I snipped through the edging there and proudly pulled at the edges I’d just cut to pry the thing open enough for her to reach in and grasp her new vibrator.

I got it maybe an inch open before things ground to a halt.

I decided the other side needed to be cut so I did that. Now it would open with the top part as a hinge of sorts.

I pulled, and got the same inch as before. I peered at the package and saw dots of welded plastic in a neat circle around the edge of the machine. They had taken “anti-tamper” to extreme lengths. Did women actually try to take things like this for a test drive in the store, to find out if it was the right one?

My mind flashed, unbidden, to a fantasy in which there was a counter with dildos and vibrators of various makes and models, attached to the counter by cables, like they do with display tools at Home Depot, or expensive cameras at a department store. There were bar stools in my fantasy, with stirrups on them, so the lady could lean back and relax as she tried out each fuck toy. The fantasy got spoiled when I had to think about who would clean the devices between uses and I concentrated on getting Beth’s vibrator out of its plastic prison.

“What are you doing?” she asked, impatiently.

“I’m trying to help,” I answered, just as grumpily. “They fastened it with all those dots around the outside.”

“I’ll get a knife,” she suggested.

“Whatever,” I grunted as I pulled the front and back of the package apart. I was straining mightily and felt like a wimp.

Two of the dots had popped apart by the time she got back. I was out of breath. She’d chosen a butcher knife, probably a foot long.

“We’ll cut off fingers trying to use that,” I said.

“Give it to me,” she snorted.

She was smarter than me. Instead of trying to cut it, she slid the knife point between two dots and twisted the handle. Another dot popped.

My timeline hadn’t accounted for having to break into Fort Knox. By the time she finally held the pink, purple and red plastic tube in her hand a full twenty two minutes had passed. She turned the device over, examining it, and found what she was looking for.

“USB charging port,” she said, to nobody in particular. “Thanks. I’ve got it from here.”

Then she was off, to plug it in and push that neon monstrosity up into the hot channel I’d fallen asleep with my penis plugged into the night before.

I don’t know what you’d have done in this situation, but I hadn’t thought about what to do while my niece happily got her vibrator going. I wasn’t interested in the research any longer. That had clearly been a dead end. I thought about fixing a snack, but I wasn’t hungry.

Then I heard it. A buzz came from the hallway that led to her room.

I couldn’t resist. I drifted toward her door, which she had thoughtlessly left wide open. By the time I got there her moans were as loud as the buzzing.

I peeked in and found that at least part of my earlier fantasy was true. She was on her bed, but only her bottom half was naked. She’d left on her shirt, whether intentionally or just because she was too impatient to get down to business. The penile part of the machine was firmly plugged into her young snatch and the little bulbous hook on one side was mashed against her clit. It was even louder up close.

“Ohhh, fuck,” she groaned, as she ground the thing against her body. She pulled it out and slammed it back in, repeating that motion several times before keeping it deep.

Her head turned towards me, as if she knew I’d be there. Her eyes were a bit glassy.

“Thank you!” she gasped.

“Any time,” I said, feeling foolish for standing there like a schoolboy looking at his first Playboy.

I turned to leave and found another magnificent boner in my pants.

With a sigh, I headed for Molly’s bedroom to wrestle with the one-eyed ogre.

It was easy to cum.

I could still hear the faint hum of Beth fucking herself with her new sex aid.

“It’s kind of loud,” I commented, later, when we had gathered for a meal. She’d used it for an hour and a half before the buzz finally went silent.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” she said.

“You look relaxed,” I said.

“I came six times,” she said, casually.

“So can I assume you’re happy now?”

“I guess so,” she said. “It’s fun, but it’s not you.”

“That’s the whole point,” I observed.

“I know. I’ll be fine. It helps.”

“I was kind of hoping you’d be elated and proudly announce there would be no more sex at parties,” I said. “Or on dates,” I added.

“Oh, there won’t,” she said, with a mouthful of salad. “But I had already decided that.”

“Well you’ve made progress, then,” I said. “I’m proud of you.” I said that because that’s what parents say, right? I was trying to get this parenting thing down.

“You know one reason I like you?” she said.

“You like me?” I only partly feigned surprise.

“Of course I like you,” she said. “And one reason is because I can talk to you. I already told you that.”

“You talk to lots of people,” I pointed out.

“Not about sex. I can’t think of anybody else in my life who would have helped me open my vibrator. And I can talk to you about feeling horny. You can’t just bring that up in casual conversation with people.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“I can’t even talk to my parents about it. They don’t understand.”

“I think your mom would,” I ventured. “With her background, she’d understand what you’re feeling.”

“I’m not supposed to know about her background, remember?”

“I know, but at some point doesn’t a girl get old enough that she can talk to her mother about sex?”

“Did your dad teach you to jerk off?” she asked, deadpan.

“Nope,” I admitted.

“Well, there you go. You’re the only adult I can talk to about that stuff and you’ve really helped me.”

“I’m glad.”

“You want to help me right now?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Finish eating,” she ordered.

I did and she pulled me up from my chair.

“I’ll get the dishes later,” she said. “Come with me.”

She took me to her bedroom. The bright pink, red and purple pussy-eater that had so recently been stuck in her pussy was lying on the bed, as if on display.

“I want you to put it in me so I can lay there relaxed,” she said. “My muscles got cramped from having to reach and pull.”

“You want me ... to fuck you ... with that,” I said.

“Uh huh. You said you’d help me.”

“I thought we were going to talk,” I groaned.

“We can talk while you use it,” she said.

“I’m not going to want to talk,” I growled. “I’m going to want to fuck you.”

“You can do that, too,” she said, casually. “I’m pretty sure I’d like both.”

“The whole point of getting that was so that my penis would go nowhere near your snatch again,” I said.

“I’m aware,” she said. “Harold feels really good, but he’s not warm and he doesn’t spurt warm stuff up in me.”

“Harold?”

“I named him after the hamster I had when I was eight,” she said.

“You named something you shove in your pussy after a rodent?” I felt both my eyebrows raise an inch.

“I loved Harold,” she said. “He died, but this won’t.” She picked up the vibrator. “Are you going to help me or not?” I heard something in her voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“I will help you once, under protest,” I said. “We’re supposed to be weaning you off of me ... men ... boys,” I said.

“Weaning is fine,” she said. “I just don’t want to go cold turkey.”

And that’s how I ended up in bed with my niece, naked, again.

“Harold” weighed about eighteen ounces, I’m guessing. The handle, or part you gripped, was about three inches long. The hook took up another two inches, and the shaft was six inches or so long. There was a little dial on the bottom of the handle that had two positions. One made it vibrate with the loud noise I’d heard while I coaxed a load of spunk from my balls with my hand. The second one added a twist to the shaft, kind of an off-center rotation that made the tip scribe a circle an inch in diameter. When I put my finger against the hook, it vibrated. I could imagine why women like something like this so much.

She wanted foreplay, so we made out for a while. I nuzzled her neck and kissed my way down to her nipples.

“I want you to suck them while you do me,” she panted.

I already had a boner, but her use of “do me” made it twitch.

She had arranged two pillows to support her head and neck so she could watch the proceedings. Her arms were lying at her sides, relaxed.

I’m ready,” she breathed.

I pushed Harold into her and then fumbled with the switch. It was too small and I couldn’t make it turn. I had to get down and look at the end of the shaft so I could see where to pinch it. The buzzing announced I’d gotten it on.

“Make it move inside me,” she gasped.

“Like this?” I asked, pulling it out and pushing it back in.

“No. Turn the switch all the way.”

I got back down and peered at the switch. I pinched it and twisted.

“Yes! Like that!” she blurted. “Now kiss me!”

I pushed the hook up to contact her clitty and held it there while I moved my head up. I stopped along the way to suck her nipples and she popped an orgasm, just like that.

I let that orgasm finish and kissed her. Her passion was electric and I tried to think of a way I could hold the toy in her and jerk off at the same time.

Then I remembered something.

“I thought this came with a remote control,” I said.

“It did!” she panted. “I didn’t have time to mess with it.”

“How much messing do you have to do with a remote control?” I asked.

“You have to sign it into your wifi and enable the Bluetooth and then assign a password,” she gurgled.

“You have to password a sex toy?” I exclaimed.

“I’ll program it later,” she said. “Twist it from side to side.”

“It’s already twisting,” I said.

“I mean the bulge part,” she moaned.

I figured out that what I was calling a hook, she was calling a bulge. Experimentally I turned it back and forth so it moved across her bump. She squealed and popped another orgasm.

Three orgasms later she gripped the skin on my chest and dug her fingernails into it.

“I want you, now,” she groaned.

“Sweetheart -”

“I want you, now, Uncle Bob. I want something warm and alive in me. Stop talking and fuck me!”

I was worked up, too. I had not figured out a way to use the toy on her and jerk off at the same time. Not without standing up beside the bed and leaning over to use my weak hand on the toy while my strong hand jerked me off. She wanted me beside her, kissing her or giving her nipple love, and I couldn’t do that standing up.

When I pulled Harold out of her it glistened. She was soaked with her own juices. I fumbled with the switch and the insistent buzzing finally stopped. When I moved over her she flung her legs wide and reached for my prick.

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