|"How 'bout some strip Candy Land then?"|
Here's what I can tell you:
--Don't have it arrive near your daughter's birthday so that she runs inside carrying the package saying, "Is it my birthday present?" (Intercepted this time, thus avoiding a repeat of The Zestra Incident.)
--Note that it doesn't come with the required two AAA batteries, so if you get a sudden yen to try it one night, you might find yourself naked in the kitchen, sifting through the junk drawer, searching for some batteries that do not have corrosion on them.
|We're cousins, identical cousins|
--New batteries, next day: all good. Real good. V. quiet, inner knobby thing for G-spot gloriousness, outer butterfly-looking part for external butterfly love.
--Note, the final: I had a good look at the butterfly looking part as I was washing off the traces of our intimate love and, fuck, what's with the butterfly/sex toy trope? Who wants to have sex with a butterfly? (Just googled it and the answer is...no one. IBWMW Minister of Kooky Schemes: add to list of possible topics for untapped erotica ebook market.) This butterfly looks particularly reminiscent of its caterpillar past, with antennae, beady little eyes and icky ridge things on its thorax. Wouldn't an abstract design be way hotter, and by hotter I mean, completely non-bug-related?
|"Please fuck me, bzzzzz."|
2. Bedded Bliss: A Couple's Guide to Lust Ever After by Kristina Wright.
Even when I was a kid sneaking peeks at sex articles in women's magazines, there was something unbearably depressing about the articles on "reigniting the spark." And today, this kind of stuff still triggers that same existential angst. I mean, playing strip Candy Land to spice it up? Has it really come to this?
Alas, I too now must pee, but I suspect it will be less eventful, as there is no shaft available for me to fondle with increased vigor. However it ends up, I will keep it to myself. You don't get to know everything.