Friday, December 23, 2011
Guest Blog by Carly.. What's in your Christmas stocking?
I asked a gorgeous friend of mine and fellow blogger, Carly, if she would like to do a guest blog for me and she accepted! She is fab, as is her writing. She is funny, witty, dirty and talented, just like me ;)
I hope you all enjoy her post.
To see more of her writing check out her blog.. http://heelzandhangovers.blogspot.com
It’s the most wonderful time of the year isn’t it? Putting the star on top of the tree, eating mince pies and hoping that Santa sees past enough of all the naughty things you’ve done this year to put you on his prezzie list. There are kisses under the mistletoe and on top of the kitchen table, lazy public holiday lay ins and of course catch up Martini nights where us girls get together to misbehave and swap bedroom secrets…
Alexi: “19 cm”
Carly: “Shut the fuck up.”
Alexi: “ I measured it!”
Lea: “Where from his belly button?”
Carly: “ Can you feel it poking your pancreas?”
Alexi: “What?! No!”
Lea: “Then you measured wrong!”
Carly: “ What about Rob?”
Lea: “You mean the Girthenator, check this out.”
Lea shows me a picture of Rob, her new boyfriend, in his favourite pair of blue underwear.
Carly: “Jesus, he really is the Girthenator”
Alexi: “What about…”
Carly: “My guy has the most perfect penis in the world. It fits me like a tailored Chanel suit, in fact if I could have a mold made into a dildo for when I’m away. That would suit me just fine…”
Lea: “Ahhh, over share!”
Alexi: “Yeah, TMI.”
Lea: “I once dated a guy with balls the size of apples!”
Carly: “No, I’m all about the penis. I like a good plum or litchi sized ball… and like is a strong word.”
Alexi: “Another round?”
Carly and Lea: “Yes please!”
As our glasses chink together and we down what’s left of our cosmopolitans I cant help but giggle to myself and wonder, does the bulge make the man?
When I was 15 my best friend and I found ourselves making out with two skateboarding super hotties we’d chatted up. I knew it was time to take the plunge… my hand fumbled past the awkward button/zipper roadblock and hesitantly gripped. My 1st penile experience… hard, slightly curved to the right and about the size of a large gherkin. Really? This is it? Gross. As I got older and with many more tree house esque experiences I came to understand this new found territory a little better. Of course back then I had no basis for comparison… now, slightly more.
For years I have had the pleasure of feeling exactly like a kid on Christmas morning, about to unwrap packages with no idea of what may lie under the tinsel and ribbon. I’ve had some good surprises, some not so good and some very unexpected treats. These do not always coincide with the overall result, as I’m sure all of us will agree that a big package does not necessarily a good Christmas make. In fact if I think back to my top 3 Man Muscles I cant remember any one of them making me Joyful and Triumphant.
The first belonged to a guy who wouldn’t stop talking dirty to me. I’m all for spicing it up but not on date 1(If you can even call it that) and most certainly not dead sober. I don’t know how I ended up sharing a bed with Russell and his ginormous love muscle, when you are 19 you tend to skip the preproduction for these things and I guess they just happen. All I could think was thank God the lights are off so he cant see the look on my face as he explains how he would like to “cum inside me and fuck me raw”. It was probably a similar face to one you would pull after taking a sip of milk 5 days after the sell by date. One eye closed, nose crinkled up slightly grimaced and 11 out of 10 on the uncomfortable scale. There’s no way this guy is getting inside me. I dodged the window of possible penetration thinking I could end it all with a quick BJ if only my mouth could accommodate his meat thermometer. Both of us went to sleep completely unsatisfied and a little embarrassed.
Then there was the owner of what I can only describe as the Giant Meatloaf who revealed himself to me as we began to make out in the street by my car. I can remember thinking, what is it with guys and their big dicks, do they think just because they are well endowed that they can whip it out at anytime and our panties will automatically drop and turn into a symbolic welcome matt saying “Please Enter Me Immediately”? What happened to romance, to chivalry, to base 2, 3 and 4? Insulted by his sense of entitlement I kissed him on the cheek and left him standing pants round him ankles in 4th avenue alone.
Even when you do everything right, not all Purple-Headed Soldiers make it into battle. I had a whirlwind romance with Gerd. Unlike the other 2 Bolony Pony owners, there were some feelings involved. We sparked. We had chemistry. We were out of town and away from all responsibility with a group of friends on a farm. Away from my boyfriend too. Nothing like a bit of nature and fresh air to make you sing: “Oh Come all Yeah UnFaithful!”. It was wrong in every way making our secret love affair even hotter. We were sharing a room with people and so had to keep everything super quiet… whispering to each other in the dark under the sheets after I’d quietly snuck into the bed with him. I felt him press up against me and suddenly realized what I was up against. A Monster. We tried for hours to get in sync but put plain and simply… he was just too big. I bit down on the pillow after attempt 12 and realized that my tight little tigress was never going to be able to play host to such a force of nature. It was as if I’d unwrapped a box with a beautiful pair of shoes inside… 2 sizes too small. Returns not accepted.
And then I think back to some of the best sex I’ve ever had… most of which happened with owners of probably very average Impalers. I can’t remember… It was so good, I guess I wasn’t focused on how big they were just on how good they felt and how well they were operated. In my opinion a man who knows how to take command of the Anaconda can very well trump a guy with a Savage Salami in bed. I’m not completely un-superficial… I’ve had my fair share of these moments:
Carly: “Ok, I’m ready… I want you inside me!”
Under average Joe: “Um… I am. I have been for the last 15 minutes. I thought you came already?”
Carly: “Oh. Um… yeah, I was just role playing you know… lets carry on.”
Cue Sour Milk face followed by a major Fake.
A situation probably easily forgiven had I been eaten out as if I were a festive dessert and sent into xmas ecstasy instead of being pummeled inconsiderately like a jack hammer with a tool that seemed to be Christmas cracker gift size. Just saying.
So… what do women want in their stockings this year? I’ll tell you.
We want time… everywhere. We want generous foreplay. We want long expeditions to the South Pole. We want excitement. We want to feel powerless and powerful all at the same time. We want to feel beautiful and be looked at like the goddesses we are. We want bragging rights so that at the next Martini party we can tell everyone how our boyfriend makes the Karma Sutra look like a children’s bedtime story. We want candles, mood music and rose petals sometimes and sometimes we want our hair pulled and our panties ripped off. Most importantly we want a man who knows who he is and knows who we are enough to confidently play on that thin line between almost bliss and endless rapture. A man who knows his Candy Cane is but one Christmas charm amongst a tree of trinkets and tricks. After all it’s not the gift, but the thought that counts.