Shocking Birthday ⚡
It was my 23th birthday, and I woke up alone in our king-sized bed, the faint smell of John’s cologne still clinging to his pillow. He’d left for work at dawn—or so he’d told me with that sly grin of his—but not before whispering “Happy birthday” in a way that made my skin tingle. What he didn’t mention, and what I couldn’t ignore, was that today lined up with my ovulation day. My body was practically buzzing with need, and with the kids at my mom’s for the night, I had the house to myself. Perfect timing, I thought.
By noon, the itch was unbearable. I locked the bedroom door out of habit, stripped down to nothing, and climbed onto the bed. The sheets felt cool against my flushed skin as I let my hands wander. I started slow, dragging my fingers down my stomach, then lower, finding myself already wet. I circled my clit with a steady rhythm, knowing exactly what worked after years of practice. My other hand squeezed my breast, rolling the nipple until it stiffened. I shut my eyes and pictured John—his rough hands, his warm breath on my neck—and my pace picked up. My breathing got shallow, my hips shifting as I chased that sweet edge of release.
Right when I was about to tip over, the damn doorbell rang. I froze, heart pounding, and let out a frustrated groan. “Seriously?” I muttered, grabbing my robe and tying it sloppily as I stomped to the door, cheeks still hot. There stood a delivery guy—tall, baseball cap pulled low, holding a plain brown box. I scribbled my signature on his clipboard, barely looking up, and handed it back. He turned to go, and that’s when I caught a whiff of something familiar—John’s cologne. I squinted at him, noticing the way he stood, that little smirk. “John?” I said, half-laughing. He whipped off the cap, grinning like a kid caught sneaking cookies. “Surprise, babe!” he said, stepping inside as I yanked him through the door. “You jerk! I thought you were stuck at the office!”
He laughed, setting the box on the coffee table. “Couldn’t miss your birthday. Open it.” I ripped the tape off, and inside was something I’d never seen before—an electric stimulation toy, all sleek and high-tech. The box showed a control unit with a glowing digital display, a few buttons, and a curved probe attached by a cable. There were also conductive gloves and some adjustable straps tucked in the side. “What’s this?” I asked, picking up the probe—it was smooth, almost clinical-looking. “It’s sextech,” he said, his voice dropping low. “Supposed to take sexual wellness to a whole new level. Uses shockwaves for pleasure. Figured we’d try it together.”
I raised an eyebrow, a little nervous. “Shockwaves? Like, it zaps me?” He chuckled, pulling me closer. “It’s safe, I promise. Just tiny pulses. We’ll go slow.” My curiosity won out over the jitters, and we headed to the bedroom, the air already thick with tension. He plugged it in, but when he hit the power button, nothing happened. “Uh… crap,” he muttered, and we both cracked up. “Hang on,” I said, grabbing the manual from the box. After flipping a switch he’d missed, the display lit up. “Amateur,” I teased, and he smirked, sliding on the gloves.
He started easy, running his hands over my arms. I felt it right away—a tingling buzz, like static but softer, rippling across my skin. “Whoa,” I breathed. “How’s that?” he asked, watching my face. “Weird… but good,” I admitted. “Keep going.” He moved to my chest, cupping my breasts, and the pulses kicked up a notch. My nipples perked instantly, and I let out a little gasp. “Okay, that’s really good,” I said, leaning into his touch. The sensation was new—ticklish but electric, waking up every nerve.
Then we grabbed the probe. It was lightweight, shaped to fit right where it mattered. He helped me settle it against my clit, still slick from earlier, and handed me the controller. “You’re in charge,” he said, eyes dark with want. I started on the lowest setting a gentle thrum that synced with my pulse. Nice, but I wanted more. I clicked it up, and the shockwaves hit—sharp little bursts that made my thighs twitch. “Holy shit,” I whispered, adjusting it again. The pulses got deeper, more insistent, and I found a rhythm that had me gripping the sheets.
John watched, his breathing heavy. “Tell me how it feels,” he urged. “Like… it’s alive,” I managed, “pushing right where I need it.” I turned it up one more notch, and my whole body tensed, the pleasure coiling tight. My gasps turned to moans, and then it hit an orgasm so hard I nearly dropped the controller, my legs shaking as wave after wave rolled through me. When I finally caught my breath, I looked at him, dazed. “That was insane,” I said, pulling him down for a messy, hungry kiss. “Your turn to play?” I teased, but he just grinned. “Later. This is your day.”
We didn’t stop there. For hours, we messed around with the toy, strapping the probe in place for a hands-free ride, using the gloves on each other’s hotspots. It was like a crash course in *sexual education*, figuring out what this thing could do to us. By dusk, I was sprawled across the bed, spent and grinning like an idiot. John traced circles on my back, still ungloved. “Good birthday?” he asked. “Best ever,” I said, snuggling into him. “Thanks for the self-pleasure upgrade.” He kissed my temple. “Anything for you. And trust me, we’re keeping this thing in rotation.” I smirked, already plotting our next round.
Shocking Toy
