Best Laid Plans

Chapter 2: Are you an Innie or an Outtie?

Initially, I had been hesitant to buy one. It seemed like an awful big expense for something that should come second nature to someone. I mean, men can do it with just one hand. If they need help, they can run down to Walgreens and buy a bottle of Lubriderm, and no one would be the wiser. When I was twelve, I discovered by doing a unique sit up, I could get off. I did a whole lot of sit ups, and I had a six pack in 9th grade. I wanted something a little less physically demanding.

Thortan is in dead center of rural Illinois. It's surrounded by corn and soy bean farmers who go to church every Sunday to pay penance for going to the dirty adult theater and boutique off 1-57 the night before. Simple Pleasures had every gizmo and cock mold you could fathom. It's three miles north of a strip club, and two miles east of campus. I walked in and instantly the clerk could smell my fear.

"Can I see your I.D.?" she asked as I stepped through the doors. They had an alert system that ding donged when a person walks in. Just what you want when you visit a naughty novelties store. Her hot pink nails had glitter and rainbows on them.

I handed her my I.D. and her eyes squinted and glared back at mine. She was the kind of woman who made mince meat pies out of men's testicles. I could tell by the glitter she used as eye shadow. Her name tag said Twila. Just the kind of woman you want working at a naughty novelties store.

"You want anything in particular?" She asked. I stuttered that I was just looking.

Twila smirked and sashayed off. She came back ten seconds later with a dildo and a small silver egg. She handed both to me.

"Are you an innie or an outtie?" This was getting a little weird. I could only hope she was referring to my belly button. I lifted my shirt and showed her my innie.

"No, put your shirt down. I meant do you like to have it inside of you, or outside of you?" Twila had a hand on her hip and I was about to internally combust with embarrassment. I had no idea what kind of masturbation methods I preferred since I'd been doing sit ups to get me off for the past ten years. A dildo looked intimidating and I had no idea what to do with a silver egg.

"I've never. ." I trailed off. Twila had put her hand up to stop me.

"You a virgin?" This question didn't surprise me. By now I was used to the inappropriate butting into my sexual life.

"No. I've never had an orgasm and I want something that will do that." It just slid out of my mouth before my teeth could block it. Twila seemed to understand. She took back the dildo, which left me with the egg.

Twila smiled wide and said, "You are an outtie." Great, I always liked German cars.

Thirty dollars lighter and I had me my own personal vibrator. I named her Lucky on account that I got her on discount because Twila liked me. Lucky and I got to know each other really well, and after two years, Lucky passed away of old age and overuse. I'm not positive on the lifespan of vibrators, but it seemed like it was time to upgrade.

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!