G-Spot Misery

I think I may have hit something…

In my unrelenting quest for the G Spot, I may have hit … well, I don’t know what, but it’s something. With my vibe. About ten times. And now my stomach hurts like a motherbitch. I smell a hospital visit. Oh, wait, thinking about it, I have to go see the surgeon about my op tomorrow. Some pre operative stuff.

I’m serious, I think I might vomit now.

So, about that G Spot stuff. I’ve been obsessed with finding it since round New Year. I think I may have found something, because I do squirt. But I don’t orgasm. I don’t feel anything. And it gets very, very messy. If I sound like a total newbie, sex wise, it’s because I am. I only started masturbating about two years ago. I’m still discovering myself. And I’m beginning to think that the G Spot may be too advanced sex 101 for me. I don’t know, I’m such an idiot.

One thing that soothes the pain a bit is MasterChef Australia, currently playing on my telly. The dessert they made looks (like George said) sexy. Matt Preston’s pants are so brightly colored… The challenge for tomorrow is catering a children’s birthday party and the cupcakes they made look stunning. I have a thing for brightly colored desserts. Which I don’t find weird at all. My favorites are Macarons de Paris. Which, voila…

I’m frothing now. Have you ever seen a croquembouche? Now imagine one made from macarons de Paris. That is proper orgasm food. What is orgasm food, you ask? Well, simply, orgasm food is food that gives you a tiny tiny orgasm just thinking about it. Something that makes you seriously froth. I’d love to know what you consider orgasm food.

Signing off for the night, going to watch the poker game on the television.

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