So there I was staring back at my new best friend. I didn't know what to name it this time. The egg had purple silicone around it. There was a remote that increased the vibrations attached by a cord. The remote was also purple. Barney came to mind as a good name.
I took off the stretchy top. My breasts were even getting excited. I removed my pants. I had to work harder at that since I'd been sweating out applications all day and I needed to bat them off with a stick. My bed lured me in, I loved pillows when I slept. But for my extracurricular activities I preferred to go bare.
There is a sort of romance to masturbating. Ancient drawings depict mostly males masturbating because I guess it was harder to draw a vagina. Just ask Georgia O'Keefe. Somewhere between ancient gods teaching humans to touch themselves and the rise of Christianity, masturbation had picked up a bad rep. Falsely accused of causing mental hysteria and even blurred visions or blindness, masturbation became everyone's favorite whipping boy. Girls weren't allowed to ride horseback or bicycles because the sensation was to similar to masturbation. Boys wore restraining belts to keep their hands away from their doodles. Fast forward to a millennium where you can get a rabbit with the click of a mouse, masturbation has a whole new following.
I saw myself as following in the line of many woman before me. I don't mean my mother or grandmother because that's just nasty to think about them pleasuring themselves or grandpa. Since the ex-roommate had moved out, I was in total touch-myself heaven. Chase and I could screw each other until the cows came home, but I would never feel a smidgen of an "Oh god!" feeling. Mostly I felt like a catalyst to his own "Oh god!" moment. Chase had a very lovely body and he would hate me for calling it lovely. He could become aroused at the drop of a bra and liked his dick licked for at least eleven minutes before it went anywhere near my "area."He never went down on me, which was not unlike many other boyfriends I've had. They're like scared of it or something. I've douched, shaved, waxed, and considered laser hair removal to no avail. My last refuge was to lure him there with the promise of meat lovers pizza and a beer.
Panties off, I gazed downward at my body. Laying on my back it looked gorgeous and stunning. Girls are so hotter than guys are naked. My fingers found the drawer pull and slipped deep inside, pushing aside lube, condoms, and a dog-eared Betty Crocker Halloween baking pamphlet. What, I like to be festive. I found Barney in the back making conversation with a pair of edible undies which do not taste so edible. The cord was tangled up in the thong strings. No worries, I have all night.
The pleasure egg found its way downstairs after I ripped the eddie undies to shreds. My back arched in anticipation. I liked it fast. I rubbed Barney over the top. My legs were already quivering from excitement. It had been at least a full twenty-four hours since last time. The heat rushed through my veins, I was on fire. I skimmed a finger between my breasts down to my navel. My stomach jumped with delight. It liked to be touched and loved, unless I'd just eaten Thanksgiving dinner. I tortured my skin, just grazing it with my fingers, or clawing into the sheets, as the bed seemed to lift me up and over several 'almost there' seconds. I repositioned Barney so he was on and off of my favorite button which caused me to knock my knees together.
Tonight I could go slow, I reminded myself. It didn't need to be rushed. But I was already sweating, getting steamed up under the sheets and ready to combust. My thoughts turned to the romance novel I'd just read, lingering on a certain phrase and pictures that came to my mind. My hips shot straight off the sheets when I recalled a hot scene out of the book. I was so close.
Until. . . . . .CRASH!
