A boy and a girl fell in love when they were 14 years old. For seven years they grew together and their love remained true. At 21 they decided to elope, avoiding the disapproval of the young man's mother, a real thorny bitch.
The young man enlisted in the Army and was deployed to Iraq, joining the action along side of his brother. He was quickly promoted, transfered into a special unit and went off doing only the Army knows what and was able to finally come home on leave less than a month ago.
Now these two love birds are wonderful kids and their sexual satisfaction and adventures with one another are no secret, having become stuff of great legend in the small, rural community they are both from. For those in the know, the young groom's desire to take care of his wife includes a lustful appreciation and purchasing of toys designed for her pleasure. Before his deployment, he purchased his young bride a vibrator of the highest caliber and it quickly became one of her favorites, however, what ensued shortly after its purchase made it ridiculously impossible for her to ever use again.
After the young mans initial deployment, his young bride was left with the task of packing up their possessions from the base and moving them back to their hometown. Her new in-laws were able to help and the famous road trip began.
They packed and loaded the two vehicles as quickly as possible because the young bride was emotionally distraught with her new husbands deployment and just wanted to go home and had several things on her mind when packing.
She wasn't thinking straight when she failed to pack all of her sex toys away from prying eyes, including those of her in-laws. The young man's last purchase was tossed into a zip lock baggie and tossed into a laundry basket...a basket that made it to the back of the in-laws vehicle and not her own.
Halfway through the drive home, the bride, driving her own vehicle, remembered to her great embarrassment that her fabulous vibrator was then in the back seat of her husband's parents vehicle and was likely to be discovered. She vacillated back and forth between making the phone call to the vehicle behind her or to remain quiet and hope for the best. She chose to remain quiet and crossed her fingers.
They finished the drive home without incident. She was relieved and grateful that her secret possession remained undiscovered. Everyone was tired after arriving home and they each decided to stop at their respective homes before meeting up to unload the vehicles. The young bride reunited with her family and spent time getting caught up on all the local news and gossip. She then received the phone call. Yes, from the in-laws. Yes, for the very reason you are thinking now.
As the in-laws were nearing their own home, the grooms mother began to hear an obnoxious buzzing sound from the back of their SUV. Without knowing what it was, she insisted that they pull over and get to the bottom of whatever was going on. After pulling over, she got out and headed to the rear of the vehicle. She opened up the back of the SUV and noticed the buzzing noise was louder and very distinct. Still not realizing what she was hearing, she begins to rummage through boxes and baskets and discovered the vibrating ziplock bag containing a Cadillac of vibrators. As she lifted the bag up out of the laundry basket she came as close to a coronary as anyone can come to without actually having one. Of course, she stuttered, she choked, she held the bag as far away from herself as she could while yelling at her husband who was then standing next to her.
"It's one of those TOYS!"
He of course, immediately turned away from her to hide the laughter that was beginning to erupt while she frantically tried to figure out how to handle the wiggly bag in her hand that grossly displayed her new daughter-in-law's phallic pleasure toy, and eventually figured out how to turn it off through the plastic. Her son's gift to his bride was returned to its place and nothing more was said.
The bride received the phone call and heard that all of her stuff is safely unpacked and was informed by her mother-in-law that they never saw anything of a personal nature, which was as close to hearing the words 'your VIBRATOR started going off in the back of OUR car and I HAD TO TURN IT OFF!' as she was ever going to get.
Our young bride felt her cheeks burn, her palms begin to sweat and a slight trembling consumed her body. She was embarrassed beyond belief, but managed to keep enough control to calmly thank the both of them over the phone and hung up. Nothing else has ever been mentioned between them about this event since.
Imagine.
Now imagine the falling down laughter that came shortly thereafter. It was and still is considered worthy of the 'classic' status of all time embarrassing moments that those of us in the know have deemed it. Truly worthy.
The groom was highly amused and laughed his ass off as well when he heard about the incident from his sweetheart and during his next leave, saw to purchasing a replacement toy before his returning to Iraq. He always said that if he couldn't be there to take care of her needs himself, he would make sure that she had the best of the best when it came to toys. I am sure that this young brides toy chest rivals my own, in fact, I wouldn't doubt that it supersedes my collection by far. These two as I stated are notorious for their sexual activities, having made themselves legend at a local college for repeated sexual encounters within a very small broom closet to just name one of their feats.
This little daughter-in-law dildo story may have been predictable, but I felt it was necessary to share since the young groom is now in a coffin somewhere in Iraq and we are waiting for his body to be returned to us stateside. He was killed just a few short days ago and his young bride is now a widow. She is 22 years old.
May we all learn to live in Peace.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Where I have Been
Maybe it might be nice to explain my absence, if only to myself for the sake of posterity and all.
"changeover, conversion, metamorphosis, mutation, shift, transfiguration, translation, transmogrification, transmutation, transubstantiation, transformation" (Roget's II: The New Thesaurus)
The relocation effort was insane, mind blowing and FAST! It was basically like an atomic explosion and I was left with weeks of clean up and organization. Now I know that many people can multi task and blog through a world war, but this little kitty can not deal with disorganized home space or piles of boxes that are left unpacked. There are tons of you out there who can function within this type of scene, thrive in fact, but there is no possibility that I will ever be counted among your number. I am the dork who can not cook in a dirty kitchen. I have to make sure all the dishes are washed(not necessarily put away, just washed and in the dishdrain) and the counters, stovetop and table are clean of mess...
In addition the the physical challenge of moving, there was a consolidation of my family under one roof after many years of being in two different homes (No, I am not going to explain this statement) and a lot of time spent on learning how to live together again. This was no easy feat considering the amount of different personalities involved. I have the sensitive prince who is used to being waiting on hand and foot. I have the teenage boy who smells and streetboards along with a significant amount of other smelly teenage boys who streetboard as well and I am lucky enough to report that they have formed a small gang of smart, funny geeks, all borderlining on nerdhood. (Trust me here, geeky kids are great and I for one am relieved that they are not a group of rude sonsofbitches and mind their manners...we should foster more geeks.)
Then there is the man. It is simple. I love him, he loves me, and we are together again after a decade of being apart...I know, I know...the statistics say it will never work, but damn the torpedos, the Force is strong with us. (love Star Wars, what can I say?)
Then of course, there was the dog issue. He had a dog, I have dog. The two could not manage under the same roof without one of them getting hurt. Finding a placement took a lot of time, and the constant supervision required more effort on my part than caring for twin two year olds.....whew!
Then, landing the job very, very shortly after I got here. There is something to be said about being in the right place at the right time, and for the first time in my life, I landed the most cream puff, well paying, exotic job imaginable. (I will leave it to your imagination to guess what I might be doing now...or we can play 20 questions; I promise to give honest answers).
Once the dust settled, I had to leave the country for work for a month. Tough being in the West Indies I tell you. Especially when all of my expenses were paid for and I made money everyday I was down there as well. Tough....really, really tough especially since it was 'work related' and days of being on the beach can truly take a toll. If I was someone else, I would be jealous of me. It was impossible to feel bad about leaving the family so soon after moving in because believe this or not, I have NEVER, EVER had a vacation in my entire life. I was a parent by the age of 18, and have been raising children without a break all that time. I am now in my fourth decade, so I would say that it was some well deserved time for myself and I exploited it to the fullest. I enjoyed myself so much that I fought tears on the flight home and it took almost a full week and a half to feel like I was 'home' again.
But enough of the mundane...I just thought I should account for my whereabouts and absence for all this time for anyone who might think that I am a flake for leaving my baby blog to fend by its lonesome for so long without any attention. I have missed reading my favorites as well and found myself lost in cyberspace with all of you for hours yesterday, and am looking forward to continuing my re-acquaintance.
"changeover, conversion, metamorphosis, mutation, shift, transfiguration, translation, transmogrification, transmutation, transubstantiation, transformation" (Roget's II: The New Thesaurus)
The relocation effort was insane, mind blowing and FAST! It was basically like an atomic explosion and I was left with weeks of clean up and organization. Now I know that many people can multi task and blog through a world war, but this little kitty can not deal with disorganized home space or piles of boxes that are left unpacked. There are tons of you out there who can function within this type of scene, thrive in fact, but there is no possibility that I will ever be counted among your number. I am the dork who can not cook in a dirty kitchen. I have to make sure all the dishes are washed(not necessarily put away, just washed and in the dishdrain) and the counters, stovetop and table are clean of mess...
In addition the the physical challenge of moving, there was a consolidation of my family under one roof after many years of being in two different homes (No, I am not going to explain this statement) and a lot of time spent on learning how to live together again. This was no easy feat considering the amount of different personalities involved. I have the sensitive prince who is used to being waiting on hand and foot. I have the teenage boy who smells and streetboards along with a significant amount of other smelly teenage boys who streetboard as well and I am lucky enough to report that they have formed a small gang of smart, funny geeks, all borderlining on nerdhood. (Trust me here, geeky kids are great and I for one am relieved that they are not a group of rude sonsofbitches and mind their manners...we should foster more geeks.)
Then there is the man. It is simple. I love him, he loves me, and we are together again after a decade of being apart...I know, I know...the statistics say it will never work, but damn the torpedos, the Force is strong with us. (love Star Wars, what can I say?)
Then of course, there was the dog issue. He had a dog, I have dog. The two could not manage under the same roof without one of them getting hurt. Finding a placement took a lot of time, and the constant supervision required more effort on my part than caring for twin two year olds.....whew!
Then, landing the job very, very shortly after I got here. There is something to be said about being in the right place at the right time, and for the first time in my life, I landed the most cream puff, well paying, exotic job imaginable. (I will leave it to your imagination to guess what I might be doing now...or we can play 20 questions; I promise to give honest answers).
Once the dust settled, I had to leave the country for work for a month. Tough being in the West Indies I tell you. Especially when all of my expenses were paid for and I made money everyday I was down there as well. Tough....really, really tough especially since it was 'work related' and days of being on the beach can truly take a toll. If I was someone else, I would be jealous of me. It was impossible to feel bad about leaving the family so soon after moving in because believe this or not, I have NEVER, EVER had a vacation in my entire life. I was a parent by the age of 18, and have been raising children without a break all that time. I am now in my fourth decade, so I would say that it was some well deserved time for myself and I exploited it to the fullest. I enjoyed myself so much that I fought tears on the flight home and it took almost a full week and a half to feel like I was 'home' again.
But enough of the mundane...I just thought I should account for my whereabouts and absence for all this time for anyone who might think that I am a flake for leaving my baby blog to fend by its lonesome for so long without any attention. I have missed reading my favorites as well and found myself lost in cyberspace with all of you for hours yesterday, and am looking forward to continuing my re-acquaintance.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
I'm Back
I am back and I know that this is no big deal to anyone out there really, but tough shit, I'm here for me anyways. Isn't this the joy of blogging anonymously? The opportunity to write for completely narcissistic reasons. I haven't felt like writing for the last several months, but now I do, and to my relief, this blog space is still intact and mine; so hello to anyone else out there who may care enough to read....
In the last post, I shared that I was moving. Well, I did, and it was the best thing in the world for me although I find myself aching for some of the things that I had to let go of in order to re emerge into the city life again after so many years. Living in a bustling metro area after well over a decade of living in the country has been exciting, and I am now capable of leaving the house without getting lost going to the grocery store (trust me, a real challenge there for a few weeks), and becoming reacquainted with a more liberal environment of people has been like water to a person dying of thirst.
I landed an unbelievable job that is the envy of almost anyone I come across, and it even took me out of the country for the first time in my life. I experienced a tropical paradise for three weeks with all expenses paid and discovered more of myself than I could have ever dreamed possible.
My home life is stable and secure and unified at last. There is peace and a great deal of calmness that I did not think was possible, especially with a teenager in the house. Even the dog is content, what more could a person want in life?
On the outside, I am Beaver Cleaver's mom, and really, despite all the groans and protests, I enjoy it for the most part. I am in a position where I do not need to work if I don't want to, and the job that I do have is a very part time one and I have a lot of time at home with my kids and I am finding that I actually am enjoying all the down time, the relaxation, the ability to unwind myself and enjoy life again. Nice, huh? Yea, I think so, even if some days are full of demands on my time that leave me stretched out thinner than gossamer, but what the hell? This time that I am finding a sudden abundance of has been a gift and it is a gift without measure.
So with all that being said...it is time to blog again. I have been writing on a daily basis, but nothing that was for posting here...a few short stories and essays mainly accompanied with a lot of free writing and journaling. But here? Here, I can just throw what I want out there without a lot of the revising and critiquing I hope, at least from myself and still get out some of the thoughts that are always clamoring for attention wanting to be written.
So again, I am back. I hope that the few people that read me before will be back for a visit or two, but honestly, this is for me this time and no one else. I am not striving for anything else other than a simple little place to express some of my thoughts for my own mental health.
In the last post, I shared that I was moving. Well, I did, and it was the best thing in the world for me although I find myself aching for some of the things that I had to let go of in order to re emerge into the city life again after so many years. Living in a bustling metro area after well over a decade of living in the country has been exciting, and I am now capable of leaving the house without getting lost going to the grocery store (trust me, a real challenge there for a few weeks), and becoming reacquainted with a more liberal environment of people has been like water to a person dying of thirst.
I landed an unbelievable job that is the envy of almost anyone I come across, and it even took me out of the country for the first time in my life. I experienced a tropical paradise for three weeks with all expenses paid and discovered more of myself than I could have ever dreamed possible.
My home life is stable and secure and unified at last. There is peace and a great deal of calmness that I did not think was possible, especially with a teenager in the house. Even the dog is content, what more could a person want in life?
On the outside, I am Beaver Cleaver's mom, and really, despite all the groans and protests, I enjoy it for the most part. I am in a position where I do not need to work if I don't want to, and the job that I do have is a very part time one and I have a lot of time at home with my kids and I am finding that I actually am enjoying all the down time, the relaxation, the ability to unwind myself and enjoy life again. Nice, huh? Yea, I think so, even if some days are full of demands on my time that leave me stretched out thinner than gossamer, but what the hell? This time that I am finding a sudden abundance of has been a gift and it is a gift without measure.
So with all that being said...it is time to blog again. I have been writing on a daily basis, but nothing that was for posting here...a few short stories and essays mainly accompanied with a lot of free writing and journaling. But here? Here, I can just throw what I want out there without a lot of the revising and critiquing I hope, at least from myself and still get out some of the thoughts that are always clamoring for attention wanting to be written.
So again, I am back. I hope that the few people that read me before will be back for a visit or two, but honestly, this is for me this time and no one else. I am not striving for anything else other than a simple little place to express some of my thoughts for my own mental health.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
MOVING LIBIDO
I am moving and I hate moving. I love travel, but moving the home base, my nest, is a process of slow mental deterioration that leaves me sobbing in a dark corner somewhere bemoaning the loss of some self perceived notion of stability.
Life is not stable. It is in a constant state of flux and evolution that is based in chaos....kind of like my libido. There are certain elements of life that are predictable, again like my libido. There are cycles of life that come and go...again like my libido. So the conclusion is, my life is my libido and it is relocating itself to a large city after living in a quiet rural area for well over a decade. It is quivering in its own dark corner of denim right now, bemoaning the loss of a playground, but somewhere in the depths, it is eager to arrive into a new neighborhood and make new friends.
I have learned to be single again in the last year and established a sense of stability within myself. Now it is time to take myself into a bigger and deeper pool and learn to swim.....
Life is not stable. It is in a constant state of flux and evolution that is based in chaos....kind of like my libido. There are certain elements of life that are predictable, again like my libido. There are cycles of life that come and go...again like my libido. So the conclusion is, my life is my libido and it is relocating itself to a large city after living in a quiet rural area for well over a decade. It is quivering in its own dark corner of denim right now, bemoaning the loss of a playground, but somewhere in the depths, it is eager to arrive into a new neighborhood and make new friends.
I have learned to be single again in the last year and established a sense of stability within myself. Now it is time to take myself into a bigger and deeper pool and learn to swim.....
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
THE TRANSITION
There is always a point of transition between the point of ‘was’ and the next point of ‘am’; I am caught in between these two points and am riding some pretty tumultuous waves of the changing sea.
The sexual aspect of my nature is going through the most difficult birthing process I have ever known. Simple questions like what are some of my fantasies leave me standing mid stride, lost in thought. What are some of my fantasies? Such a simple question has thrown me into a confusing whirl of self discovery. Sexual exploration was never part of my menu…repressed? You bet. Unwilling? Hell no! But honestly, I am trying to figure out what it is that I like and dislike, and how would I know if I haven’t tried it yet? I am looking at the past and realize how little I have acted out on my sexual needs/wants/desires. Over time, an invisible wall of reluctance based on a lack of trust in my partner developed and became a hardened ball of intimidation and fear.
This fear has kept me from acting out on what I perceive as selfish fantasies, and has kept me disabled from exploration. Over the years, being a mother, caretaker, wife/partner taught me well enough to give, but not how to take and this has always been apparent in the bedroom. Don’t take this wrong, it isn’t like I haven’t known pleasure, but I do not know how to verbally express and take what I want sexually, despite my being incredibly assertive in the real world. No one who knows me would guess how timid I am to express myself in this venue when it comes right down to it; it goes against my visible temperament too much. The most ridiculous thing of it all is that all this time, I realize that I have been looking for a partner to read my mind, translate the warped shit that spins in there and act appropriately for my pleasure. Looking at it from this angle, I realize how selfish THAT is!
So here I sit with a challenge before me. A willing lover who wants me to communicate and express myself; wants me to tell or even write out what it is I want; a single fantasy to start with. I have been stumped. Not because I don’t have one or two, but silent about it until now and afraid to reveal my innermost sexual self.
THIS moment is my transition.
The sexual aspect of my nature is going through the most difficult birthing process I have ever known. Simple questions like what are some of my fantasies leave me standing mid stride, lost in thought. What are some of my fantasies? Such a simple question has thrown me into a confusing whirl of self discovery. Sexual exploration was never part of my menu…repressed? You bet. Unwilling? Hell no! But honestly, I am trying to figure out what it is that I like and dislike, and how would I know if I haven’t tried it yet? I am looking at the past and realize how little I have acted out on my sexual needs/wants/desires. Over time, an invisible wall of reluctance based on a lack of trust in my partner developed and became a hardened ball of intimidation and fear.
This fear has kept me from acting out on what I perceive as selfish fantasies, and has kept me disabled from exploration. Over the years, being a mother, caretaker, wife/partner taught me well enough to give, but not how to take and this has always been apparent in the bedroom. Don’t take this wrong, it isn’t like I haven’t known pleasure, but I do not know how to verbally express and take what I want sexually, despite my being incredibly assertive in the real world. No one who knows me would guess how timid I am to express myself in this venue when it comes right down to it; it goes against my visible temperament too much. The most ridiculous thing of it all is that all this time, I realize that I have been looking for a partner to read my mind, translate the warped shit that spins in there and act appropriately for my pleasure. Looking at it from this angle, I realize how selfish THAT is!
So here I sit with a challenge before me. A willing lover who wants me to communicate and express myself; wants me to tell or even write out what it is I want; a single fantasy to start with. I have been stumped. Not because I don’t have one or two, but silent about it until now and afraid to reveal my innermost sexual self.
THIS moment is my transition.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
BOOB JOBS
I love breasts. I really do. I don’t care what anyone wants to call them, there is a smörgåsbord of names to choose from…..and whatever name they go by does not change how I react to them. Love them! Of course, I am a little obsessed, but hell, I have always been obsessed about certain things…tits just happen to be one of many obsessions.
Now, don’t take this wrong…I love mine, even named them (yea, ok, whatever!), and they have served me well, and my children too. I nursed all of them and I wouldn’t change that simple pleasure for anything in the world. But my children were greedy little shits and managed to suck the perkiness right out of my tits slowly but surely. If that wasn’t enough, Mother Nature comes along, tries to take her pound of flesh, finds them lacking in even a half pound of weight and sends Gravity to wreck vengeance before my very eyes! So, sue me, but I have a resentment with the both of them, and am going to fight back.
I have never been a fan of boob jobs, but I have never been 40 years old either! So I started looking at augmentations. I have seen more tits in the last two weeks than I care to admit….and didn’t get to touch any of them…..sigh...but the belief that I held, until a few days ago, was that I would not have one. Simple, I thought, until I heard that it was possible to take the fat from your own body and recycle it into your own breasts! WOA buddy!!! THIS has me hopeful and giddy and hopeful and giddy, and did I mention hopeful? How 'bout giddy?
I pride myself on being environmentally aware and active. I have been recycling for years now, and the thought of having my own body recycled into something so positively awesome has me, yup, hopeful and giddy in addition to the pride that comes from being a responsible, environmentally aware soul.
But here is the deal…my insurance isn’t paying for this, so I have had to get creative with my thinking….so the ‘tips for tits’ jar has begun. You would be hard pressed to believe that servers make an average of $10,000 to $20,000 more a year for having larger, perkier breasts, but it is true, and working IS about the money honey. (I have my nails done to make that extra 11% as well). Soooooooo, with that said and knowing how I am all about improving my work performance, I will be diligently saving my money from here on in.
But knowing how the industry goes, I have this insane fear of being just shy of reaching my ‘prettier peaches’ campaign when they will discover a major medical danger concerning this procedure. So I have started another campaign, one of prayer and fasting to the goddess Venus herself. I pledge myself to morning and evening prayers and now fast once a week. I light incense and candles; I am even learning Greek in order to sing hymns of praise to her boobiness and blessed protection over this medical procedure, at least long enough for me to get mine! Selfish? Oh yes. Shameful? No way, remember, it’s the perfect recycling program I have ever heard of!
Besides the money aspect of the peaches campaign, there is the practical aspect of nipple sensitivity to consider. My nipples are a large part of foreplay; trust me, a large part. Mmmmmmmmm, just thinking of having my nipples played with makes me want to arch my back in response and enjoy that special shiver of pleasure that runs down my back. I am sooooo not willing to give that up. So do I choose saggy boobs that bring me intense sexual pleasure or perfect peaches with the loss of sensitivity? I am a hedonist so it shouldn’t take too long to figure out which one I would choose, so it is no surprise that I swooned and nearly fainted with relief to learn that my tits can still remain sensitive as well as beautiful again…whew!
So with all this goofiness aside and out of my system, I am seriously researching breast augmentations, focusing primarily on the above mentioned procedure. But before anyone walks away thinking that I am going for something that I am not, let me state for the record…a nice, solid, perky, happy pair of B’s will do me just fine because those C’s look like they could hurt me and/or others. Nothing against those gals with large breasts, I am sure that you manage just fine. I know myself though, and I would be giving myself and others black eyes just trying to simply clear a dirty dish and that would affect my tip, and again, it is about the money honey………………
Now, don’t take this wrong…I love mine, even named them (yea, ok, whatever!), and they have served me well, and my children too. I nursed all of them and I wouldn’t change that simple pleasure for anything in the world. But my children were greedy little shits and managed to suck the perkiness right out of my tits slowly but surely. If that wasn’t enough, Mother Nature comes along, tries to take her pound of flesh, finds them lacking in even a half pound of weight and sends Gravity to wreck vengeance before my very eyes! So, sue me, but I have a resentment with the both of them, and am going to fight back.
I have never been a fan of boob jobs, but I have never been 40 years old either! So I started looking at augmentations. I have seen more tits in the last two weeks than I care to admit….and didn’t get to touch any of them…..sigh...but the belief that I held, until a few days ago, was that I would not have one. Simple, I thought, until I heard that it was possible to take the fat from your own body and recycle it into your own breasts! WOA buddy!!! THIS has me hopeful and giddy and hopeful and giddy, and did I mention hopeful? How 'bout giddy?
I pride myself on being environmentally aware and active. I have been recycling for years now, and the thought of having my own body recycled into something so positively awesome has me, yup, hopeful and giddy in addition to the pride that comes from being a responsible, environmentally aware soul.
But here is the deal…my insurance isn’t paying for this, so I have had to get creative with my thinking….so the ‘tips for tits’ jar has begun. You would be hard pressed to believe that servers make an average of $10,000 to $20,000 more a year for having larger, perkier breasts, but it is true, and working IS about the money honey. (I have my nails done to make that extra 11% as well). Soooooooo, with that said and knowing how I am all about improving my work performance, I will be diligently saving my money from here on in.
But knowing how the industry goes, I have this insane fear of being just shy of reaching my ‘prettier peaches’ campaign when they will discover a major medical danger concerning this procedure. So I have started another campaign, one of prayer and fasting to the goddess Venus herself. I pledge myself to morning and evening prayers and now fast once a week. I light incense and candles; I am even learning Greek in order to sing hymns of praise to her boobiness and blessed protection over this medical procedure, at least long enough for me to get mine! Selfish? Oh yes. Shameful? No way, remember, it’s the perfect recycling program I have ever heard of!
Besides the money aspect of the peaches campaign, there is the practical aspect of nipple sensitivity to consider. My nipples are a large part of foreplay; trust me, a large part. Mmmmmmmmm, just thinking of having my nipples played with makes me want to arch my back in response and enjoy that special shiver of pleasure that runs down my back. I am sooooo not willing to give that up. So do I choose saggy boobs that bring me intense sexual pleasure or perfect peaches with the loss of sensitivity? I am a hedonist so it shouldn’t take too long to figure out which one I would choose, so it is no surprise that I swooned and nearly fainted with relief to learn that my tits can still remain sensitive as well as beautiful again…whew!
So with all this goofiness aside and out of my system, I am seriously researching breast augmentations, focusing primarily on the above mentioned procedure. But before anyone walks away thinking that I am going for something that I am not, let me state for the record…a nice, solid, perky, happy pair of B’s will do me just fine because those C’s look like they could hurt me and/or others. Nothing against those gals with large breasts, I am sure that you manage just fine. I know myself though, and I would be giving myself and others black eyes just trying to simply clear a dirty dish and that would affect my tip, and again, it is about the money honey………………
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