Disclaimer: this is not about Prince from Purple Rain.
Disclaimer: this is sexual in nature.
Disclaimer: there are no pictures.
So I was newly single and bemoaning the unpredictable future of my sex life. I also tend to have rambling conversations with my friends. Sex based conversations happen because I’m an adult.
I was chatting with The Chef. We check in occasionally. I send him Snaps of Sam and shock him with my impressive non-knowledge about roast. He sends me Snapchats of shots of SoCo and lime and tells me about work.
1.I’d like an orgasm that I don’t give myself occasionally unless of course I can give myself an orgasm that makes me forget what planet I’m on.
2.I seriously need a Sugardaddy because I’m tired.
3. My mouth writes checks my ass has no intention of cashing.
4.The Chef does not understand the brat that I can be.
So with this and that, and the current situation, he became my pseudo Sugardaddy. A deal was made.
If planet altering orgasms could happen with the simple purchase of a toy, he’d need proof of said orgasms.
He’s not dealt with me in this context so I went easy on him. I pointed out the loopholes I’d likely use. I’m helpful like that. He quickly restructured the deal. Purchases were made. Promises were kept.
Let me tell you about this toy. It’s like Freya, Venus, Min, and all the Erotes blessed this thing. I should have called it “Death” or “Ineedanap” or “Colin” but instead I named it Prince. Because it’s purple.
Occasionally I’ll text him and say “Best Purchase Ever” or “I love Prince”.
Vaginas are complicated. Every woman is different. But if I could hand every woman I know one of these toys, I surely would.
Because damn, Prince can really rock.