Pausing before going down to the basement, Jake returned to the bedroom to turn the radio up a little louder. Halting next to the bed briefly, he sniffed the air, getting a whiff of some remembered fragrance. He looked around and saw something strange on the top of a chest of drawers. He walked over and his jaw dropped. He picked the object up tentatively with two blunt fingers. His face twisted into a grimace before scrutinizing the thing a little longer. It sure looked and felt a hell of a lot like his helper when it grew to the proper size. Jesus! The damn thing almost felt warm to the touch. Who owned a giant, self-inducing fucker? Jake thought, when he finally realized what it was. Was Mrs. Diamond using a dildo?

He’d seen toys in sex catalogs, but he never held one in his hand. Why would he? He had one of his own to play with. He choked on a snicker and squeezed the thing, but it didn’t give. It felt so much like his own skin, he even rubbed an index finger up its length to the ridge around its smooth-as-velvet head. He noticed it even had a tiny slit. When he touched a button on the base, the thing began to vibrate. He dropped the dildo on the top of the chest like a hot potato. It had felt queer holding the damn thing in his hand. He almost felt as if his plumber’s helper, as he called it, had been cut off--like that guy’s--except there wasn’t any blood in sight. Jake pressed a hasty couple of fingertips along his fly to make sure everything belonging to him was still intact and where it should be.

 

Shit! That sure is some frightening feeling!