The XB-900, My Happy Valentine Toy

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This is a Valentine’s Day contest story. Please vote.


Man invents the perfect Valentine masturbation toy.

Dave is my next door neighbor and he’s always busy doing something in his workshop. He thinks of himself as something of an inventor but, except for a few around the house, handy dandy gadgets that he created, I haven’t seen anything of significance that he’s invented, that is, until one day, Valentine’s Day, of all days. Thinking that he’s the next Benjamin Franklin or Leonardo da Vinci, he’s a harmless old coot. Finally finding his passion, after sixty-something-years, inventing things keeps him occupied and out of trouble.

“Hey, Dave, Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said calling over to him and as soon as I said it, I regretted saying that.

Sometimes I’m so insensitive. His wife, Margaret died not long ago. Yet, even though I don’t have a man in my life, I was in a festive mood because it was Valentine’s Day and I wasn’t thinking, when I wished him a Happy Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day was always one of my favorite holidays. Queen for a day, treated like a Princess, given flowers and candy, and taken out to dinner, that’s the only thing that I miss about kicking Richard out of my house, after he cheated on me. Okay, I miss his penis, too, when I’m horny, which has been all the time lately. It’s been a while since I’ve had an orgasm.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Susan,” he said with a sad smile.

Hoping to cover my faux pas by acting interested in what he was doing, I started a dialogue with him. I just hoped he didn’t get too technical. The last time I asked him about his invention, he talked for an hour, until my eyes glazed over. Luckily the UPS man came to my door with a package, my new vibrator, which I hate, by the way, and I told him I had to go. The thing is so uncomfortable to use that it doesn’t bring me to an orgasm. Instead, I get a cramp in my hand. They need to make ergonomic vibrators

“What are you doing?” His garage door was always open and I watched him tinkering with something from over my side yard fence. Since we live at the end of a cul-de-sac curve and his house is angled toward mine, his garage faces my house.

“Oh, nothing,” he said.

Oh, nothing my ass. I knew he was up to something because, eager to share whatever he was working on before, he was always secretive when he was working on something important. Having a little spare time, not needing to take my shower for a few more minutes, with coffee in hand, I scurried over in my nightgown, bathrobe, and slippers.

The worst thing about not having a man on Valentine’s Day is having to go to work on Valentine’s Day. It seems that every woman in the office, and even some men, get flowers and candy. By lunchtime, I feel so inconspicuously lonely and unloved.

“Oh, no you don’t. I know that look, Dave,” I said with a laugh. canlı bahis “You’ve finally hit upon something really big, haven’t you? Well, I want in,” I said with a laugh. “I can be your product demonstrator or your sexy secretary, when you make millions of dollars, from your infomercials.”

He was holding what looked like a bulbous tool with something that was heart shaped on the other end of it. It looked a little like one of those tiny screwdrivers, but a bit longer and more bulbous at the opposite end. Since Thanksgiving was a recent historical nightmare with me trying to cook my first turkey, it reminded me of a turkey baster, only not as long and again, even more bulbous at the opposite end.

“C’mon, tell me, what is it? I’m dying to know.”

“It’s the XB900,” he said proudly looking at me with a smile, while holding it up for my inspection.

“The XB900? Wow, no kidding. So that’s what the XB900 looks like,” I said with a laugh that made him laugh, too. “What the Hell is it?”

I stared at the contraption, before staring back at him.

“Well, as with all important discoveries,” he said. “I may have stumbled over one thing, when looking to create something else entirely.”

“What were you looking to create, a turkey baster?”

We both shared a laugh. Now that I verbalized it, it looked more like an upside down turkey baster more than anything that I imagined it could be.

“I don’t know, but now that you mention it, it does look a bit like a turkey baster. To be honest, it started out as a tool to reach in a tight place, where you couldn’t see that well, so I put a tiny camera on the end of it. Then I thought maybe a children’s toy. All I’d have to do is to add wheels and some plastic cladding. As I worked on it more, I thought, since it has a nice ergonomic feel to it, maybe it could be some sort of novelty, perhaps, or an executive gadget to be picked up and mindlessly played with, such as a worry stone, while on the telephone.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. So, what did you create? What is it?”

He held it up, while looking more closely at it, before holding it up for me to see and before handing it to me.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” he said with a laugh. “I think I know what it is, but I’d like your opinion. You tell me. What do you think it is?”

As soon as I saw it up close and as soon as I felt the weight of it in my hand, I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn’t dare. I’d be embarrassed. Dave is a died in the wool Baptist. I’d embarrass him for sure. Dave was an older man, in his sixties, older than me by more than thirty years and I knew he wouldn’t be inventing what I thought he had invented. It was just my horny hormones making me see something else entirely.”

For sure, it reminded me of my vibrator, but not as plastically feeling and better constructed. It was weighted more where I needed bahis siteleri it to be and it felt good in my hand in the way my gear shift does in my car. I wished I could take it for a test drive.

“I can tell by the pink blush on your face that you know exactly what it is, as much as I know what it is.”

I regained my composure, before handing it back to him.

“Yeah, but does it work?”

Horny enough, after holding it and handling it, I so wanted to try it. I just kept staring at it. I wanted to hold it again. I wanted to hold it against my clit and rub myself with it.

“I dunno. I haven’t tried it out,” he said with a chuckle. “Living alone, ever since Margaret died, I have no one to test it. Besides, even if she was still alive, God bless her soul,” he said making the sign of the cross, “she’d never try something like that on herself. If anything, she’d toss it in the trash, before dragging me to church to pray for my wicked soul,” he said with a laugh. “She’d think that I lost all my senses,” he said with another laugh.

“It sure looks like it would work to me,” I said. “Does it take a battery?”

“Double A.”

Oh, boy, I thought to myself. It takes a battery.

“Do you have a battery?”

He accepted it back, opened it, pulled a battery out of a drawer on his workbench, and inserted the battery in his invention.

“Here you go,” he said. “Just push the button there,” he said pointing to the button at the end of it.

It vibrated in my hand more than my electric razor. The sensation and the weight feel of it was making me horny.

“Oh, yeah, this would work,” I said holding it up with a big grin, while feeling the vibration and watching the motion of it.

“Well, you’re welcome to try it, if you want to take it home for a test run.”


“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he said. “Just rinse it off, after your done and tell me if it’s worth my while to get a patent.”

“Okay, sure.”

“Just let me know this morning, before you dash off to work. Okay?”

Already to my back door, I waved him my good-bye. Happy Valentine’s Day to me.

“Okay, Dave.”

I took the gadget home with me, removed my bathrobe and nightgown, and got comfortable on my bed. As soon as I placed it near my clitoris, the action of the heart shaped humps that oscillated back and forth tickled my fancy in opposite directions at the same times, while vibrating and giving me the gentle massage where I needed it the most. At first I thought it was a dud. It didn’t move quite fast enough and massage hard enough to do what I needed it to do, but Dave forgot to tell me that by hitting the on button again, it made it go faster, which is what I inadvertently did, when thinking that I was turning it off. Then, once I used a bit more pressure…

“Oh my God!

I hit the button again thinking bahis şirketleri I was turning it off, as I didn’t want my neighbor to think that I was masturbating, which I was. To my surprise it had another speed. Actually, it had four speeds like a blender.

“Oh, my God!”

Figuring I was turning it off finally, I hit the button again. Oh, no. I applied the pressure.

“Blast off!”

Reticent to hit the button again, I did.

“Fuck me! Are you kidding me? This thing is way better than a man. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

I exploded within just a few minutes. I couldn’t wait to tell Dave that his invention was an orgasmic success. Thinking of all the money he’d make and how he might hire me to demonstrate it at house parties, not actually demonstrate it, but to show it, display it, and discuss it. With a fantasy of him making millions of dollars and me being his product demonstration assistant, after rinsing it off under the sink and quickly drying it with a towel, I literally ran next door holding the toy to tell Dave that he created a monster of a masturbation toy masterpiece.

“Well, what did you think?” He said smiling ear to ear. “Actually, you don’t even have to answer me,” he said holding up his hand and laughing. “I already know that you love it,” he said with another laugh.

“What do you mean? How could you possibly know?”

Suddenly, I was so embarrassed. Did he hear my screams? Was I that loud? Oh, my God. I just wanted to die.

“I’d put something on, before old Mrs. Crabtree calls the police.”

“What. Oh, my God!”

I looked down and I was naked. So intent to tell Dave, I was so excited from my orgasm, that I forgot to put on my bathrobe.

“Nice tits, by the way,” he said with a chuckle. “Thank you for making an old man happy,” he said calling after me, as I ran across the yard hoping no one else saw me.

I raced home, threw on my bathrobe, and went back out to talk to Dave again. Only, when I walked up to his garage, there I was in living color and in full view on his small TV.

“Dave! What the Hell is that? How did you–“

“I told you the thing had a camera, Susan, but I guess in your excitement to try it, you didn’t hear me or it didn’t register. Sorry,” he said. “Since I was originally making it as a tool, then a child’s toy, and then possibly an executive toy, I installed a small camera inside of it. It only records for a few minutes, but it recorded enough information for me to see that you were really enjoying yourself,” he said with a laugh.

After putting my embarrassment and humiliation aside, I realized that with some more product development that Dave had a marketable and sellable product.

“Definitely, I’d apply for a patent, Dave. What do you call it?”

“I call it the XB900,” he said again.

“XB900? Nah, I wouldn’t call it the XB900, that’s for sure?”

“What would you call it?”

“My happy Valentine toy.”


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