Forenote: This post contains a picture at the bottom which may not be safe for work, unless of course you work at a sex toy shop, Victoria’s Secret, Frederick’s of Hollywood or do Slumber Parties for a living . . .
So remember how last week I blessed you all with a guest blogger? CJ at CarissaJaded rewarded you all with a very loving post about her love for, uh, her “Billy Boy”. Well, first and foremost I will get it right off my chest that I am also prone to . . . how did she put it last week? Oh yes,
“mm mm mmmassst mmmasturrr masturbation”.
Listen, you do it, too, so don’t judge. And if you’re sitting there in shock, shaking your head and saying you don’t and you’re under the age of, say, fifty, I’m calling you out. You LIAR!!!!!!
You may struggle with it, but I certainly do not. You see (Mom, do you remember this?), when I was put a wee child of the age of five and living in Norfolk, Virginia, I was caught “in the action” by my father. Yep, at the age of five. I know you’re sitting there wondering how in the hell a child of give years of age would even know what she was doing. Truth be told, I didn’t know what I was doing. I just knew whatever I was doing felt damn good. Even at five (hey, I see that face you’re making. Don’t JUDGE ME!!!!).
Anyway, out of his own awkward embarrassment, he told me to go upstairs and talk to my mother. I had no clue what I was going to be talking to her about other than the fact that I was touching my “cookie” as it was referenced to at my young age.
Herein leads to a great life of self-satisfaction . . .
SHUT UP.
I know lots of women out there are a little insecure to talk about things such as dildos and sex toys and masturbation, but I, my friends, am one of the most blunt, straight-forward people you will meet. Ask me any question. I’m guaranteed to answer it with little or no hesitation.
Fast forward fifteen years to my date of engagement. I was nineteen years old and up until this point, I was a virgin. You got it!!!! See, with all that self-satisfation I didn’t need someone else to satisfy me because I was doing quite well on my own, thank you. My mother and I were in conversation one day when all of a sudden she brought up this point:
“You really should go out and get yourself a vibrator so you won’t hurt as much the first time you have sex.”
Cue scratching record noises.
Whaaaaattt??? Were those words really just uttered out of my own mother’s mouth?
*clears throat* *ahem* “Reeeeaaallllyyyyy?” I replied. And her take on it was not some little tiny bullet they sell that is strictly for satisfaction. No. In my mother’s mind, I should have the jumbo-tron of dildos to help “stretch me out”. Okay, those weren’t really her words, but I’m pretty sure those were her intentions. So what did my fiance get me as a gift? A dildo. And folks, I still have it to this day. Picture-in-point:
That would be my friend, and yes, it’s sitting on my toilet just to give you all a glimpse of exactly how large this thing is. It’s pretty and pink, perfect for the ladies. It has the exact gelled shape of a man’s penis (right down to the foreskin and all). It’s waterproof. And, you can change the speed on the thing. However, unlike CJ, I did not name mine because it seemed a little inappropriate at the time . . .
Regardless, what more could we ask for girls?
