SCENE: bedroom of the house I’m watching over for a couple weeks.  This means I don’t have my full bag of tricks with me. Mr Right and I are going at it all hot and heavy but there comes a moment when I sense me riding him isn’t doing it for him anymore.

Me: “What would you like?”

Mr Right looking up at me all bleary eyed and adorable: “Your hand and mouth would be nice.”

I dismount and pull off the condom.  My mouth is dry from all the panting I’d been doing a couple minutes ago and not wanting to kill the mood by going to get water I grab my trusty Lelo lube and slick up his dick.  I joyfully give him a hand job for a while and then decide to add my mouth to the equation.

This is when I realize mistakes have been made in life.  Big mistakes!  Condoms don’t taste great but this is the taste of pure evil.  The lube is so grotesque I’m having a hard time not gagging, I mean in the unfun way.

Somehow I continue with enough enthusiasm for him to finish and I’m thrilled for the taste of him in my mouth.  Come has never tasted this good and I’m generally a pretty huge fan of getting a load of a regular lover.

Mr Right sensing something is off: “How are you?”

Me trying to wait a couple beats before declaring: “My mouth tastes like pine trees and sadness!”

Mr Right gapes at me wordlessly for good reason, this is weirder than even my standard post sex talk.

Me:  “The lube.  Not you, you’re delicious.”

Mr Right: “Oh good, I mean not good but…”

Me:  “The lube was a mistake.  It’s evil.  I…Oh god!”

Unable to speak anymore I jump up and go get a huge glass of water. It doesn’t help.  Mr Right beckons me back into bed and we try to cuddle.

Mr Right: “Anything I can do?”

Me licking his chest and arm and anything I can reach trying to get any other flavor in my mouth: “Apparently not.”   

Mr Right: “What is in that lube?  Is it really that bad?”

Me grabbing the lube to read the tiny print and a light bulb moment happens: “Well shit this explains so much. ‘…Gurana Extract, Ginseng Extract, Sativa Extract…Aspartame…’ It’s a god damn sugar free energy drink!  I’ve been juicing my cunt with Red Bull!” I toss the bottle and collapse on the bed defeated.

Mr Right looks for himself: “You aren’t kidding.”

Me: “I know I’m prone to hyperbole but I’m not joking about having been shoving an energy drink in my cootch!”

Mr Right: “It doesn’t even say ‘energizing’ or ‘stimulating’ anywhere on the bottle to warn you.”

How I feel about shady lube.

Me: “No it doesn’t!  Those damn dirty Swedes!  My whole life has been a lie!  But this explains so much about my masturbation habits. Me at night: jerks off frantically with the hopes of falling asleep like a normal person. Vagina: I’ve never been so awake in my life, lets stay up all night!” 

Mr Right laughs and strokes my head. “Can I get you anything?”

Me who has mostly given up on drinking: “A drink, a strong, heavily flavored one!”

We retreat to the hot tub with a big evil IPA which the damn lube is no match for.  I have that taste in my mouth through most of the next day.  The hot tub and man cuddles help though.  

My stress levels are enormous at the moment due to a heart breaking problem that could have been avoided if the other party would have communicated, like at all.  Like wrote an email simply saying yes or no.  People…sigh. (Yes I’m being terribly vague on purpose.)  I’m triggered and sad and feeling pretty lost about my chosen vocation.

So *cue sarcasm* this is a really great time to have recently weaned myself off of anti-depressants, caffeine, and alcohol.   

Being chemical free and taking in this level of frustration has been interesting, but not nearly as difficult as I would have imagined.  After the initial withdrawal (the coffee headaches, oh the coffee headaches!) and awkwardness of being unable to reach for my usual coping mechanisms, life has actually gotten easier. Without anything to tamp down or help me hide from my emotions, I’m being forced to process things in the moment.  Instead of grabbing a drink, I have to cope with the stress using nothing but puppy cuddles (oh noes!) and writing while clutching a sparkle water.

The best thing about being fully in control of my brain is being able to dream again. Oh nighttime hallucinations how I’ve missed you!  My head wasted no time in sending me the strangest and most delightful visions during my foray into napping on Saturday afternoon; my subconscious’ way of processing the current stress.

In the dream (stay with me, I know almost no one wants to hear someone else’s dreams) I had discovered some sort of abdominal exercise that allowed me to flex in such a way that I would grow a small but functional penis.  It was delightful!  Dream me would flex my abs and up would pop a very happy penis.  So I played pop goes the trouser weasel for a good long while, flexing and admiring my short and strangely circumcised penis.

It took quite a while for dream me to realize I should take advantage of this situation.  “Holy fuck I have a cock, I should stick it in some one/thing!”  But as dream logic goes I could summon a penis at will but not a person to enjoy it with so I reached for some lube to jerk it off. However being new to this apparatus between my legs, all it took was the rub of the sheets to make dream me explode.

Dream penis having me is not a talented lover…yet.  But that dream orgasm was so good that it startled me awake into a real orgasm.  There are few things as confusing and erotic as waking up to your body in the throws of the best climax you’ve had in months.  Oh the delight of being off anti depressants! Orgasms are every where!  They are plentiful and high in value!

I shook off the afterglow of accidental climax and my first waking thought was, “Wow I’ve got to tell my roommates about this.”  But as I stood up and reached between my legs I was disappointed to find I’d lost my penis on my way back to consciousness.  So I returned to dreamland hoping to drop back into the universe where I had a penis, but alas I couldn’t get find the dreamland full of spontaneous penis.

This is an ongoing dream for me when life sucks, I have subconscious longings of being male.  My mind seems to find comfort in being the gender that gets shit on slightly less often.  Especially in the position I currently find myself in that literally would have no chance of happening if I were male. A man wouldn’t be punished for standing up for himself and speaking his mind by asking to be treated with respect. So of course I found a way to take a vacation into a sexy male body in an imaginary world where my current stress doesn’t and couldn’t exist.