Just as I thought, this bloggamy business had me up ’til 4:30 am. I’m already hooked (we’ll see if I feel this way in a couple of weeks though; it could be just infatuation).
Then I decided I ought to practice what I preach and have some of that hot holiday sex. Not a pagan-style orgy like I refer to in my article. I had plenty of that at the XXXmas Saturnalia show last Saturday. This was good old fashioned marital sex. Woke up H with the charming sound of my hair dryer. Not exactly a sweet seductive mating call. But after he grumbled a bit, he was happy to take a shower with the promise of “nookie” or as we often call it “nookles” (nookels?)
While he was showering, I thought I’d test my new Crystal Wand Honeydipper Deluxe G-Spot Stimulator. I’ve had Nectar’s regular Crystal Wand for years, but never tried the Honeydipper. We’re giving a few of these to (adult) friends for XXXmas, so I snatched one before it went under the tree. Like the regular Wand, it has a graceful S curve that makes it very easy to manipulate. It’s really like an extension of your finger. But as Deborah Sundahl shows and tells in our Squirt Salon(s), sometimes a little finger is all you need.
The Wand is actually more of a big finger; not too thick, but that long S-curve really reaches back and up into the tail of the G-spot which feels really good. Mmmm, I was feeling it. Waves of pleasure flowed through my bloggamized body. The Wand also helps prevent sexual carpal tunnel syndrome (ie., cramps from fingering yourself), so you can go and go until you’re totally gone.
Since I had a free hand, I picked up my trusty Hitachi Magic Wand (why are all these completely different sex toys called “wands”? it’s confusing) and applied it lightly to my clitoris. Mmmm…I was floating in my own Flotation Tank of wetness.
H slipped into bed, fresh from his shower but still half asleep. I gave him a little XXXmas Head to wake up his libido, if not the rest of his consciousness. Then I went back to my Honeydipper. “If I keep this up, I’ll squirt,” I announced. “Go ahead,” he murmured, slipping his fingers in with the Honeydipper. “But I don’t want to sleep on wet sheets!” I whined in the midst of my ecstasy. H hopped up out of bed and produced a nice big fluffy towel, which we put under my butt. All husbands should be so gallant when they’re half asleep.
We settled back into position with H’s third fingers inside me and the Honeydipper acting like a third, curved, long, kind of alien finger, working my G-spot. The honeycomb-like ridges are nice to squeeze with the PC muscle. So I squeezed, relaxed, breathed deep and stopped working my clit for a little while so I wouldn’t climax before squirting. It seemed to take forever, but H wasn’t in a hurry. I tend to be much more impatient than he is. He loved fingering the oozing wetness and kept talking about how hot it was to watch me playing with everyone at the XXXmas Saturnalia quasi-orgy last Saturday. Finally, after I-don’t-know-how-long-because-I-wasn’t-timing-it, I squirted all over his fingers and the towel. I also had a nice little orgasm with the ejaculation, but I wanted more. I climbed ontop of H and rode him into a huge climax with both of us squirting (yes, Virginia, men squirt too!) and coming and coming and probably waking up the rest of the Speakeasy. Hallelujah, brothers & sisters, lovers & sinners, Merry XXXmas & Squirt in the New Year! Ah, the champagne of sex. I was so into the horny holiday spirit, I had to have a third, this time with both my wands and H’s fingers, then finally let him return to the peaceful slumbers I had so rudely disturbed.
Ummm….Does all this sound like a commercial? I’m sure it does, especially since we sell these wands in Shopping Heaven, and I’ve got the links to prove it. Well, my apologies to all you non-commercial purists. But this is my bloggamy, and I’m telling you the truth! And sometimes the truth of my life, including my sex life, promotes something or other — a product, a show, a philosophy. Again, ‘scuse me, but it’s real, it’s Information Age, and if you don’t like it, you know, with all due respect, you can always get off my bloggamy and go camping (though you’ll probably need to buy a nice tent for that). Or watch my public access show; no commercials there. My bloggamy has to earn a living. So get with the spirit and get a Squirt for Peace T-shirt.
Besides, what’s XXXmas without commercialism? Isn’t buying and selling, giving and receiving, the real “Spirit” of Christmas? Oh, don’t get me started on that. I’ll be blogging off into a diatribe soon, going on about God and Walmart, and I don’t have time. We have people coming over for Christnukkah/Hannumas Dinner, and everybody here at the Speakeasy is bustling around getting ready, except me, the bloggamist. Blogged down in my bloggamy. Help!
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