Thursday, November 30, 2006

Glowing with pleasure

I feel wonderful right now. I can't remember the last time I felt this good.

I've been trying and trying since we opened this marriage to find just the right lover, and it's been torture. Of course, it doesn't help that I'm terribly picky. I've rejected dozens of suitors for various reasons. Too short (an instant and frequent dealbreaker for a girl who stands 6’ in her favorite boots), too vulgar, too eager and lacking in finesse, too young, too old, a career in sales, nervous laughter after each sentence, bad grammar, jewelry, an appreciation for stand-up comedy – you get the picture.

Most don’t make it past my chat test. As folks do these days, I find many potential lovers online; I have a few different offers up in a few different places. I’m clear in all of them that if an admirer wants to approach me, he’d best do it eloquently. I’ll not stand for shoddy English unless the writer is speaking it as a foreign language.

This one passed the chat test handily as soon as I advised him not to write “lol” unless he was, in fact, laughing out loud. (That bit of chat speak is far overused to convey only the slightest amusement, and I resent the inaccuracy of it.) Then, he followed through with a date for the next day: drinks after work in a bar I like. The second date was more drinks and a dirty Scandinavian movie from the 60’s at a local museum. Right now I’m coming down with exquisite mellowness from the high of three orgasms in four hours.

I know, I know – there are plenty of girls who might have come a dozen times or more in the same amount of time. I envy them. When employing only my own well-practiced skills, three in an hour and a half or two isn’t unheard of, but oh, no, no… it’s not the same.

I expected the first. We’d chatted about wedding rings, and when I sent him a picture of my own I clipped the image out of a photo titled “Spread”. I cropped in haste, and didn’t see the tiny sliver of moist pink visible in the left hand side of the frame.

He did.



He hinted that he’d enjoy seeing the photo in its entirety, and as he’d previously described himself of being adept at cutting and pasting, I sent him the image – in thirteen pieces. To be quite honest he made a bit of a hash of me, but he enjoyed the puzzle so thoroughly and, ah, frequently… that by the time we met today, I anticipated accurately that he’d take the first opportunity to indulge his mouth in a satisfying exploration of the reality behind the photo.

He did.

I'll tell y'all more later.