Christmas is coming but then you’ve probably heard that already.
This year much like last year and the year before, I won’t have to find or even think about a present for that special someone. I won’t have to rack my brains trying to figure out what is going to be the best thing that will bring joy to other half and yet represent me in such a way that would make me proud. I don’t have to think about getting jewelry or designer clothing or exclusive cologne made by nuns in hills of Spain. Although, when I did get those things for my partner, they were never really appreciated anyway. I think I’ve said this before; he would give me a list of things that he wanted and asked for a list from me. I always thought it took the spirit of gift giving for me but it was what he wanted so I went along with it. When I think back though, having a list from someone sometimes avoids you from getting the wrong gift.
I’m not sure it was around Christmas, but I remember one year when there wasn’t a list of things that I wanted he gave me a vibrating bullet. It wasn’t the one that pictured here, but one made out of that cheap white plastic that your mother’s Tupperware used to be made from and I thought to myself, “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” But I said nothing and took it home with me.
Later that week I sat naked on my bed and decided to try the bullet out. After turning the thing on and rubbing it up and down my penis and not really getting anything from it, I figured perhaps that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be used. So I put some lube on it and shoved it part way up my anus. I turned it on again and “schloop”, that thing went all the way up my ass like it had found a special home for itself.
So there I was sitting, holding onto an electrical cord coming out from between my cheeks with one hand and stroking my special friend with the other wondering how, if something happened, I would explain this to people and what was the point of it all? Feeling like a fool, I also wondered why didn’t any instructions come with the bullet and why didn’t it come in a box or a plastic bag? ...And then it came to me. I wasn’t the only ass this little bitch had been in but I knew then that unless someone was to go through the garbage, I would certainly be the last.
That was the wrong gift.