Sex Trek III: The Search for SpOOOOOOOOOOOOck

“Did you come?”

That’s never a good question, is it. He’s asking, bless his heart, because he is caring and generous and wants to make sure I had a good time. And also to confirm that he really is the fucking God of fucking, for Fuck’s sake. And this question drives fear into my heart because I cannot tell a lie, and I will answer truthfully. (If I ever get arrested for murder, this is a good way to test the polygraph.) I so don’t want to disappoint, I so don’t want to make you feel bad (A for effort!), I so want to testify to you being the fucking God of fucking-ness. But chances are, if you had to ask, I didn’t.

But it’s not your fault! I consider my O a two-man job. (That means u and me, btw, not a 3some.  We can discuss that l8r.)  I contribute my skills and manual dexterity to this noble cause, with the enthusiasm of  Takeru Kobayashi at a Dodger Dog stand.  But sometimes it just aint meant to be. My O is a shy little thing, and too much pressure or demands for her appearance from either party sends her running for cover. Sometimes it’s just too soon in the relationship – there needs to be a certain amount of trust and safety involved, like the certainty you won’t steal my Casio keyboard or my Pez dispenser collection, and that takes time. Or sometimes I’m tired or stressed or distracted by your wall art (a framed U2 poster? Really?) or that the sausage-pepper-and-onion bomb I had for dinner may stop by disguised as farts if you go down on me.

But here’s the thing: I really did have a good time. I’m discovering that my brain’s sensory map is similar to the Food Hall at Harrod’s. There are many areas in which I will sample the goods (or be sampled, I guess) that will create waves of pleasure. Like the buttery scone with clotted cream and raspberry preserves sensation of being finger-banged while you pinch my nipple. Or the King George Christmas pudding with Cognac sauce experience of being fucked against a wall while you bite my neck. It’s all really spectacular.

So fear not, fucking God of fucking. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a good time no matter what.

1 Comment

  1. Nikki B

    June 20, 2012 at 2:02 pm

    Oh, Miss Ariel. I hear this one.

    My O is a shy lil thing too. There was a time I would, actually, lie my face off. And by “lie my face off” I mean pretend Miss O had arrived by being pronouncing FUCK very loudly and perhaps with some “oh god!”s thrown in but… Then I grew the fuck up.

    Just because I don’t cum doesn’t mean I ain’t havin fun. Please, continue.

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