(I would first off just like to thank Deutlich for having a TMI post that made my jaw drop today and convinced me to get out of my blogger/winter funk and write a post.)
When I was twenty one I came to Kamloops to come to school for my second year college, a spritely young thing. No longer as innocent or as virginal as my first try at college, but certainly not a worldly sophisticated woman in any sense of the word. At that point I had seen peen, but the encounters were still minimal as I had only been with my first love.
Now that my appetite for peen had been discovered only to be crudely ripped away from me post break up, I was looking for something to sait without the chance of AIDS, PREGNANCY AND DEATH.
And so when during my first week of college, at my new school on my new campus I was invited by a very liberal feisty group of woman to go to a sex toys party, I jumped on it. While we licked edible body creams and sprinkled shimmer dust on ourselves while those with partners giggled about what they should buy for some bedroom sparks. As a single woman I didn't really care about the warming massage oils, I was there with for one thing and one thing only.
A vibrator, namely.
So the time came and they started twirling the room as battery fuelled batons of pleasure. Every light, shape, size and girth came my way to look at, turn on and estimate how much it would turn me on. They had fancy clitoral stimuli and were whisper quiet and had beads and bumps to hit the g-spot Just So. I still don't know the point of the ones that light up different colours as it's not like your cervix will know the difference.
The only problem is that most of them cost a lot of money, 110.00 and up! That was money to be spent on tuition. I mean beer. I mean cigarettes. So when one was held up and not turned on it but priced at only 40 buckaroos it made me think that it would be the best choice economically, so I shelled out my moolah and traipsed home with my anonmously suspicious blacked out bag.
The thing is at home it looked a lot bigger. And bigger is only better until your ovaries are getting punched in the face. At 5'2" and not even a buck, the sheer logic was that it almost reached belly button potential. Yikes. But with the right amount of bad lube and D volt batteries I was still going to go pioneer on this bad boy. Travis was his name.
Travis was one bad ass motherfucker alright with a bad ass engine to boot. From the moment I turned him on he had things to say in VERY LOUD VOICE. Travis sounded like a car backing up that happened to be powered with an old lawnmower engine. Travis was the reason that the first time I turned him on ALL THREE ROOMATES stepped away from whatever and whoever they were doing to see what the noise was in my bedroom that late in the pm.
Travis was never to go near my kitty again. But that is not to say that he didn't make a great margarita mixer and in tune a great conversation starter at parties.