The second night, we turned all the lights off and laid a sheet down over our usual sheets. Feed each other ice cream [in the dark]. Pop his socks in the microwave for twenty seconds, then slip them on him. If that is the case, that sounds like a really fun job and where do I sign up? What does it feel like to be pepper-sprayed, my stupid teenage self wondered, and before my two remaining brain cells had time to wave their tiny red flag, I had pressed the trigger.
Not being able to see means more spilling, which means more licking up the mess. The crying, dear god, the crying. Despite the help, my girlfriend still spilled ice cream on the sheets, causing me to glare at her, but remain otherwise unaroused. Even if you are into freaky stuff, this would be super awkward. To ease the non-sexy tension, we did what any couple would: I breathed hotly on it and then stuck it between my thighs to make it warmer. I quite liked pinching the cheeks. Heat up some massage oil, and put it into a turkey baster. Other than that, the tips were fairly genderless or easy to simulate. Once I regained feeling in my face, I told my girlfriend I was ready for her to bring me to orgasm so I could pepper-spray myself yet again, this time in the interest of sexy science. But Cosmo actually printed it for people to read and do at home. You sneeze, you lose. Then use the baster to draw shapes, spell out naughty words, or create trails on his body — from his neck, over his arms, then down his back, butt, and legs. Do you know what chocolate glaze looks like when smeared over the head of a penis? Just because baseball is the most popular sport to make sex metaphors out of does not mean you need to literally have a baseball present during your nighttime activities. The sight of the brown goo oozing over a dick that was wearing the pastry equivalent of a pool floaty nearly made me abort the entire mission. Sprinkle a little pepper under his nose right before he climaxes. It took a long time to get anywhere near close to climax. Foregoing the warmth factor, I took to pressing the fork into various fleshy parts of her body—her tits, thighs, butt, and so on. When fondling his manhood, slip a hair scrunchy around the base of it. Ice cream, it turns out, is something not even Cosmo can ruin. When I removed it, the chocolate glaze half melted off, creating even more of a mess than I would have otherwise expected from the act of blowing a donut. It looks like shit. Readers, this was a mistake in many of the same ways snorting pepper to simulate an orgasm was a mistake for the following reasons. Each time I began to relax and be in my body, one glance at the pepper shaker brought all pleasure to a, well, grinding halt. It was beyond comical and gross.
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