Oh, come on, people. You know I could never leave ya’ll! I love you guys! You’re my best friends. (Shhh… Please don’t tell Spaz.) I was just down. I hurt a friend’s feelings without meaning to, and then he hurt mine.
When I wrote about no one caring… Well, of course, I was just depressed. Not only did I lose a really good friend, but I lost the opportunity to ever be accepted by my escort website. So, I’ve stiffened my chin, smoothed my nightie, and just played those bad feelings away.
When in need of a brain washer, try squirting. It fucking works! All those negative thoughts and feelings just melt into one large OOOOOOOOOO. You can just scream yourself into a better mood. WHO KNEW??
Now squirting doesn’t always happen for me. Of course, I know how to make myself squirt. But it’s always refreshing to meet someone who knows how take control of it themself.
I almost freak out right before. You see, a man who has this knowledge usually just heads right to my g spot immediately. I almost want to stop him, because I know what’s to cum. Just giving that part of myself up after only just first meeting him is extremely difficult. I am relinquishing the power I hold so dearly to someone almost completely unknown to me. It’s just plain frightening.
But then, that orgasm begins to build within my gut. I can feel it pulsing between my g spot and clitoris. It shoves aside all worry and pain, then bursts from me like some unknown evil force. I always cry out. As good as it is, it also somewhat resembles throwing up. All of the bad has now been purged, and all is new again. (Yeah, if this pussy REALLY becomes new again, you’ll be the first to know!)
My new friend knew all the right chords to play to make me produce the sweetest (although, the loudest) song. He didn’t give up after one. No. He was intent to leave me violently convulsing and shriveled like a prune. After three orgasms, I grabbed his hand. It was way, way too much for the first time. I couldn’t allow him to have so much of me all at once. It would leave me unstable and confused, and I will never play that game again.
Are you familiar with a g spot dick? Shit. I may have just made that up. But it is a real thing. There’s is no shape or size that is g spot perfect. Well, not to the naked eye. No. It’s only something I can truly FEEL. Oh, you can feel it too… Dripping down your fucking thighs.
For me, it’s more than intense. It’s almost ennerving. A g spot dick hits that sacred of place upon each entry. Every stroke elicits a new cry from me.
You see, I’m going on 40, and over the years, my vagina has changed it’s shape. I know this to be true, because I’ve been masturbating in mirrors since I was five years old. My g spot has actually dropped into a different position over the past decade. That very sensitive place, I like to call my SWEET SPOT, is now very close to the opening of my body. That makes it so much easier for a (ahem) regular sized to man to hit it and cause me to squirt during sex.
A g spot dick is powerful enough to make me change my name! I tell ya that! That repeated stimulation reminds me of the milking of a cow (no pun). Orgasms are violently forced from my body like a purging of spirit. After, I feel refreshed, yet drained, in every way.
More embarrassing than these uncontrollable orgasms is the moaning. Yes. THE FUCKING MOANING. After I’ve squirted, I tend to moan very low and gravelly without any conscious awareness of it. It took me years to realize that the sound wasn’t only in my head. It’s an involuntary moan that lays proof to my akward convulsions. And it is also something that I cannot seem to stop on my own.
Damn! I love talking about orgasms with ya’ll! Ya’ll are so attentive and quiet. LOLOL. Unfortunately, my schedule is full. So… I must leave you for now. Thank you for enjoying your morning coffee (spiked with bourbon) with me and my incessant gabbing. Ya’ll are just too much. Thanks again, friends.