The Mustang

As I was looking at the demographics of this blog, who visits and what they read, I found it funny that the most widely read post was "Strap on, Strap off". I would assume most people that saw "strap on" took it for what it was. Does that mean we are a community of perverts? I hope so.

I vacationed in Hawaii this past summer. Naturally I packed the essentials everyone would need, clothes, toiletries, bathing suits and yes, my detachable appendage. When I buy things, I don't buy cheap. I am a perfectionist by nature and my cock was no different. It truly is an extension of me in that moment, so glass, steel, purple or polka dot isn't going to work. I want it to look right and feel right for my partner, and it needs to be a representation of what I feel and who I am inside. I don't use one to become a man, but I do use one to do what seems to come naturally to me. I am an insatiable female with the drive and talents of a teen aged boy in the height of puberty.

Unpacking when I got home from a fabulous seven days, I realized something was left behind. I would think most people in that position would start adding up the dollars lost. In that first few seconds I, however, felt like I lost my best friend. I suddenly felt incomplete. In an instant my mind ran through a slide show of pictures, memories lost, new ones unable to be made, the housekeepers touching it! I was truly depressed.

I could rationalize that it's just a "thing"; a tangible, replaceable item. It didn't feel that way. I don't bring it to bed with me every time I have an intimate moment, but the thought of being intimate without the possibility of having it if I needed it was devastating to me. "Its a rubber cock for Christ's sake". I tried to convince myself. I spent the next several days with my eyes searching the internet for a suitable replacement. Unfortunately they don't make the exact one anymore, nor do they make the harness I could never part with, despite its rusting snaps from the million washings.

With a lot of research, a heavy sigh, and a wife aiming to please, I chose a new "set". It arrived a few days later in the mail. Being the person I am, I immediately found things to dislike about it. I compare everything now to what was good in my life then, a terrible personality trait, I know. The harness seemed cheap, the cock small. Prepared to be disappointed I brought it to bed for the first time. I felt performance pressure for the first time in a long time. I felt self conscious. I was worried I wouldn't 'feel it' or that my wife wouldn't enjoy it. But I learned something that day. I realized that comfortable isnt always the best thing. That sometimes stepping outside of the comfort zone yeilds great results. After that night I no longer missed Magnum as I had loving dubbed it. I began a new relationship with Mustang,a much better representaion of who I am.

Now if I could just get the images of the housekeepers fucking each other out of my head.