In 2007 thus far, I’ve enjoyed far more sex than in the past three years combined.
Yes, I know that fact merits congratulations. You may congratulate me at will.
You might think that since I’ve been having so much sex with other actual living human beings (as opposed to just my bad self) I’d end up masturbating less frequently.
You might think that, but you’d think wrong. I have been masturbating like it was going to made illegal tomorrow.
Because I’m now sleeping in my own bedroom, far far away from a night-owlish and disapproving stb-ex, I find myself getting off pretty much every night. And some mornings. And even most nights when I’ve been with another person. I’m going through a whole damn lot of batteries.
Not that that’s a bad thing.
I’ve also been able to dress to suit my whim. The stb-ex wasn’t keen on my coming to bed in skimpy attire; he felt uncomfortable with the idea a child in need of comforting seeing his or her mommy with exposed cleavage and only panties.
My idea of a good time is exposed cleavage and only panties, so that’s what I wear when I head to bed now in my own bedroom. Sometimes I put on that outfit before bed, when I’m working or writing or reading. Sometimes I don that outfit the very instant I finish putting little ones to bed for the night.
It’s wonderful.
Furthermore, I can tuck myself into bed at any hour I damn well see fit, instead of waiting for the stb-ex to collapse into sleep at 1 a.m. I’ve been going to bed early (early for me, anyhow) and luxuriating in my cracker-crumb-free, panty-clad, masturbatory freedom. God it’s wonderful.
Babeland recently sent me a vibe called the Blueberry Buzz to review for Jane’s Guide. It’s a teeth-rattlingly intense battery-powered blue plastic rocket that I’ve come to appreciate with almost the same degree of lust once reserved only for my njoy. It makes me come within seconds of touching my clit, especially when I crank it up right away to its highest setting.
Moderation, you say? What is that?
So some night, if your thoughts turn to me at 10 p.m. Central time, picture me in a green spaghetti-strap cami and black panties, heading off to my narrow bed gripping tightly a bottle of lube, a pretty blue vibrator and perhaps an enormous red silicone cock.
Picture me reading for a few minutes. Imagine me sneaking glances at my pile of sex-toys jumbled on the small table next to my bed. Think about me abandoning the book, clicking off the light, and diving with gusto into my cache of toys.
Because (you never know!) I just might be thinking of you too.
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