I don’t want to talk about it.
I am back.
I don’t want to talk about it.
Weird, though . . . having this time in which I was unable to access Pretty All True made me think about all that I have been missing. I spend a lot of time here on my computer. Being forced to step away made me realize how much I have been neglecting other areas of my life.
So my time away from you was not wasted.
A bit of space and quiet in which to gain some perspective.
Perspective is good.
Which brings me to a question I would like to pose to all of you.
Because I really want to know . . .
Why have none of you told me about the TV show Strange Sex?
I am annoyed with you.
Marathon, people. Strange Sex marathon.
Balloon fetishes? Birth orgasms? Weird painful sexual dysfunctions and sad-eyed spouses who promise to honor their wedding vows even though they will never be having sex again? Sexual anorexia? Porn addictions? A 74 year old cougar and the boyish gazelles she devours? A rock star who has fucked thousands of women but who is now going to be true to his new and incredibly gullible girlfriend?
My favorite, though?
There is this couple, and they are all kinds of regular and they are so fucking into each other. It’s adorable, really.
Also a little bit creepy, because they are just so not a couple who should be on my TV screen talking about the hot sex they are having. Not because I have any illusions that everybody who has sex is tan and fit and perfect. That’s not it. It’s just that I am cringing inside at the thought of this couple going back to their normal lives after this 15 minutes of “fame.”
ACK. I am all nervous for them.
Stop looking all glowy and lust-filled! Stop talking about doing that to her! Stop open-mouth kissing! You are on TV! People can see you!
They do not listen to me.
Also? No way someone from the show couldn’t have advised this woman about her fashion choices. She is all oddly and uncomfily squeezed!
Also? The woman appears to be wearing a wig.
A platinum-blond and cheap-looking wig.
Is this a disguise?
Oh, babe . . . Is that a disguise?
I keep watching.
Before my horrified and titillated eyes, the couple tells a story.
A story of having sex and then being surprised by some extra dampness just at the point of her orgasm. Not just a little extra dampness . . . the husband describes the arrival of the dampness as being like “a running faucet.” The woman describes her fear that she had urinated during sex.
They turn to the camera and smile happily . . . turns out it wasn’t urine at all! It was female ejaculate!
OK, a few things here.
First? She so peed.
Second? No way any man I have ever known would notice and stop to comment upon extra dampness during intercourse. Maybe later, he would be all, “What the fuck with the wet sheets, babe?” But in the moment? As he is trying to get to his moment?
This man notices a “running faucet?”
He was down there with his mouth to the spigot.
She totally peed in his face.
She totally did.
And that’s all good.
Seriously . . . I get to that place and I lose myself in the moment and release a little extra happy fluid?
I am riding that wave and I better not hear any complaints about the surfing required.
But I am not going on TV to brag about it!
This couple is all proud of themselves!
A scientist appears to explain that although the liquid originates from the bladder and comes out of the urethra, the fluid is not urine.
It is female ejaculate.
And then there is a graphic that tells me that among women who are able to achieve female ejaculation? The amount released can range from a teaspoon or so to two cups.
No shame in a little urine.
But own it!
If you get to orgasm and release two cups of liquid from your urethra in “running faucet” fashion?
You have so peed.
Glory in it!
Do like this pee-wetted couple did . . .
Buy some rubber sheets and go to town.
Make a note.
I am back, people!
I am so happy.
I am so happy I may have just ejaculated a little bit.