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When we first made each other’s acquaintance, I was carrying with me a large-ish bottle of this lube, which I adore far more than any reasonable person should love her lube.
We used it. A lot.
Many a night I came home slippery from head to toe—and I’m not exaggerating when I say that, because quite frequently we indulge in massage and hair pulling (or at least he pulls my hair; his hair is too short to pull, alas), both of which let lube flow everywhere.
Eventually the bottle ran low. I stopped carrying it with me, reasoning that the few drops left would not be enough to quench our insatiable lusts for slippery fluids, and I didn’t want to overload my purse with multiple lube bottles just in case I got searched by the police.
So I started traveling with this, which is also really lovely. It made me taste like pie, so I was told. Cherry pie pussy. Yummy. But as is the way of the world, eventually it too ran low, but not low enough to throw out.
I left the nearly-empty bottle at home and this became my go-to lube. Sweet tangy green apple, how I loved to lick your flavor from the turgid flesh of my partner. In the fullness of time, we took our last (or almost last) nibbles of this forbidden fruit. I wanted to leave this bottle at home too.
However, I’m just too cheap frugal to throw out almost-empty bottles of lube, so for a while I brought with me both the cherry and the green apple lubes, risking the raised eyebrows of whichever police officer was unlucky enough to pull over my speeding mini.
The lover, being if anything even more frugal than yours truly, and over my somewhat perfunctory objections, decided to co-mingle the two lubes so that our mid-coitus fumblings would be limited to but one bottle.
Green apple-cherry lube? Who would have thought that it would taste so pleasant? Pleasantness notwithstanding, eventually it lubed its last fuck and had to be retired.
At this point we attended a pool party—a naked pool party. I resurrected the nearly empty bottle of my favorite waterproof lube, reasoning that we’d use the last of it during our watery dalliances.
Focused on other things, we got our bad naked selves into the pool without the necessary lube. We were forced to ask a bystander to reach the bottle from my bag of goodies. “Why do you need lube?” he asked. “You’re swimming in gallons of lube!”
And that comment right there shall serve as proof for why that particular bystander finished his evening sexless.
Because we are nothing if not friendly to other couples sexin’ it up nearby, we offered up the bottle of lube for the use of a pair of our friends. “Lube? We don’t need no stinkin’ lube!” they proclaimed. We left it on the ledge near them and floated away.
Some little time later, they called to us from across the ripply waves. “That lube is awesome! It makes all the difference!” We just smiled and kept on going.
When we left the pool, our friends were still going strong (don’t give me any grief; we started before them and continued on in another location), so we happily allowed them to kill off the bottle themselves.
Then this lube moved from in the hole to on deck to up—though a reversal of that order would seem more appropriate in this instance. I would have brought it into play sooner, but it’s packaged in a pretty glass bottle and I worried about its portability. Also, the pump dispenser is stingy.
What? These things are important! Don’t mock me.
Holy cow didn’t it last a long time. It was the loaves and the fishes of lube. It lasted through weeks upon weeks of play; after each drawn-out session of togetherness I’d peer into the bottle expecting to see the bottom, but it would seem as though we’d used none at all.
But eventually it too ran out. We fumbled around a bit with a mini-bottle of some KY foolishness, but after one last session where my pussy felt like it had been glued shut by the repulsive gumminess that is KY (ew), I flung the almost-full bottle into the trash with a curse.
And now, we’ve taken a huge step together. Huge. For people in our circumstances, there are few steps more huge.
We’ve pooled our resources to purchase a liter of our favorite lube. Yes, a liter. As a dear friend of mine Twittered, “Girl that’s an awful lot o’ass fucking!”
Why yes, I most sincerely hope that it is an awful lot of ass fucking! And fisting! And other fun stuff too!
Dear lube, I cannot sing your praises enough. If I could, I would have a 55 gallon drum of pure luscious silicone lube delivered to my garage. I would equip the top of the drum with a pump dispenser.
That way it would be but a matter of adding a few squirts of lube to a never-ending travel bottle on my way out the door to date, assignation or orgy. It would be heavenly.
Er…y’all do use lube, dontcha? You’re not just letting me rattle on and on about lube when you have dry sex, right?
Please tell me you use lube?
geoff on October 2nd, 2007 
Sulpicia
Madeline on October 2nd, 2007 
ronjazz
Rupert
Carrie on October 2nd, 2007 
Darkneuro
Randi
Omnipotent Poobah
Loving Annie
Selena Kitt
MammaLoves
Clipper on October 2nd, 2007 
A. Secret`
aag
24Crayons
Robin
Wendy
rosetta on October 2nd, 2007 
Miss Syl
Chaucer's Bitch
Slow Learner on October 2nd, 2007 
darkpixie
D on October 3rd, 2007 
kamo on October 3rd, 2007 
Bunny
borked dork on October 3rd, 2007 
redheadeditor
Calico
Essin' Em
