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3/3/13

Experimenting with American Faucets

Either because Spring refuses to come, everything is gray, utterly gray and overly grayer here in New York City, or simply because I had enough of being serious, here is my March 8th gift to the women of the world.
An audio version shall be broadcast on Thursday, March 7th 3 p.m. on the http://www.blogtalkradio.com/ellaveresshow
Enjoy!

Experimenting with American Faucets
 
[Catinca Ralea, the Romanian Highlife TV show correspondent to NYC, broadcasts her latest. She is dressed in an elegant suit. Proper, yet tons of charm.]
 
Good evening dear viewers! I’m Catinca Ralea, the Romanian Highlife correspondent to Neeeew Yoooork Cityyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
Today being March 8th we’ll present a special edition on Women’s Day with an absolutely amazing novelty: Experimenting with American faucets! American faucets! American faucets!
Like many women of the digital age, I got myself a virtual gagic, a boy toy. We bumped into each other in cyberspace on the Saints Gabriel and Michael’s Day when we wanted to save the world together, but in a jiffy, we forgot about the world and around Christmas sled into erotic exchanges.
Between Christmas and New Year’s Eve my lover boy asks me if I want to have cyber sex, cyber sex, cyber sex! After I thought about it for a day or two, like it is suitable, becoming for a well-bred lady, isn’t it? I said, “Sure, the pleasure is mine. This weekend, on New Year’s Eve, I’m free! My twins are away on vacation, so I could sit in front of the computer clad in black lace lingerie, type with one hand and pursue erotic activities with the other.”
Unfortunately my friend şi-a luat coada la spinare! took off, tucked his tail between his legs saying he goes to the mountains with out-of-town guests for Revelion, the New Year’s Eve revelry.
In other words: to have groupen sex.
Groupen sex. Groupen sex. Groupen sex.
Of course, it hurt my feelings! L-am bălăcărit! I threw my plates at his head and hurled dirty, soiled dishwater on him, but after I got it off my chest, composed and cooled off, I deeply prayed to Saints Gabriel and Michael—the patrons of our love, aren’t they?—and they advised me to go on the internet to update my erotic info, for training. Alright. I could do that.
From one website to another I found an excellent one, written by women for women, where among others was recommended, the detailed recipe being provided, how to have an orgasm with the bathtub faucet! Bathtub faucet! Bathtub faucet!
I rushed and tested the recipe.
It’s absolutely imperative! absolutely imperative! I say, absolutely imperative! for the women of ex-communist Eastern European countries to find out about the customs of freed American women. Catch up! Catch up, dear ladies!
Here follow the details of my experiment:
 
In the deep silence of my apartment, I head towards the bathroom.
Some ladies, says the website, prefer relaxing music and aromatic candles, but I skip this step. [Shrugs her shoulders.] I don’t know if my virtual guy has allergy to scents or if he likes relaxing music at all. I personally detest syrupy elevator music, but still it wouldn’t be de bon ton, in good taste, to pump up punk or hard rock music to match my present funky mood.
Anyway, we are in my bathroom. I bundle my clothing and place it on the toilet seat, not scatter it about the floor like I usually do. Godly luck I’ve secured it, you’ll see why later on.
I also haven’t dressed like it is recommended in a silk bathrobe and ostrich plume slippers, not that I don’t have some, but as I said I’m pissed off at my lover and I won’t dress sclifosit, I won’t fancy myself up for such a măgar, donkey who, I’m certain! spies on me! leans over my shoulder while he has groupen sex at mountain cabins!
Porcu’ dracului! Rotten pig!
Therefore, I’ve dressed working class, with sweat pants and plastic flip-flops, and a dowdy beige T-shirt. As I said, I undress quickly, though it is recommended to unveil your beauty slowly in front of a mirror, without comparing our body with its previous versions, or with photo models’ skimpy frames. [Cooes, whispers.] Just do an alluring striptease! Why not? Strip naked! Find delight in the breast curve and darling budding nipples, caress the swelling of your round belly, and touch your nape at length. [Vibrato.] Aaaa! Aaaa! Aaaa!
I skip this step, eager to see what’s up with the faucet!
I turn the hot water on. Well, we, here at the apartment building in Manhattan have hot water nonstop. I don’t know what’s the situation there? Still, like under communism, only Mondays and Wednesdays, from 6 to 8 p.m.? Anyhow, if there is a will, there is a way. Warm water is recommended, even hot. Be careful! Not to scald it! Though, who knows, maybe it works with freezing cold water too, especially if you’re masochistic. Anyway: after the bathtub is warm from the hot water, float on your back, and carefully, and tenderly, stretch your elegant legs up on the wall so that the warm, strong jet cascades like a waterfall—Urlătoarea, the Yeller’s Waterfall, our modest version of Niagara Falls, comes to my mind with great affection from my childhood’s Carpathian Mountains resort family vacations,—and so the water falls on your beloved vulva, preferably on your bewildered clitoris.
Don’t giggle! thinking you look ridiculous! On the contrary, admire your splendid legs and trendy pedicure, and hold strongly onto the faucet with your hands, steadfast! otherwise, the water will push you în aval, upstream!
Anyway, ropotul apei, the murmur, pitter-patter, drumming of the water, the warmth of the jet, the floating in the bathtub will summon you other lovely, lovely sensations and memories.
Savor them!
I’m myself transported to Poiana Braşov, where my virtual lover lives, in the swimming pool, he, kissing me drunk with mireasma, the scent of my hair, me, penetrated by the pleasure of his penis. Certainly, at any step laughter can ruin your mood. The mere memory of the chlorine stink and the freezing cold water and the urine stench in the pool, mi-a tăiat pofta, cut my appetite, libido, but don’t despair, dream on!
Dream you are on the kitchen table at breakfast and your lover pours milk or coffee, or tea or orange juice, according to your preference, in your little pussy and then licks the comforting liquid, like in a commercial, from your delicate pitulice, little bird, as the pitter-patter-clip-clop cascading water turns into his delicious and patient, patient tongue!
Or, if that’s too bourgeois, imagine that he makes pipi, takes a leak, after he drank ten beers and was glued to the computer for hours on end like măgaru’ meu, my donkey, and now he is relieving, lovingly moving it above the clitoris, delighted by his impish-urchin joke. [Plowing hand gesture above the crotch.] Then he presses his velvety tool on your open vulva and moves groaning with delight.
Continue your erotic film, go on, indulge in your erotic fantasy forever! Gradually, you’ll be immensely excited and you’ll strike gold! Reeeeach Heeeeaveeeen! Arriiiiiive in Paradiiiiiise!
In my case, I have to wade off various bruiaje, mental annoyances, swarming me like gnats. I’m imagining my neighbors pricking their ears, hearing me for the first time uttering encouraging groanings and caressing words in a foreign language, “Iubiţicule! Honey-pie! Look how curly is my bush, do you like it? Oh, and my breasts, how are they sauntering, jiggling my breasts, and my little belly! I love its baby fat! You be the skinny one! I’m your bodacious mattress. [Gears up like a motorbike engine.] Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm!” louder and louder, until my neighbors, stunned that for a year since we moved here they never heard my voice and now, not only that I’m cooing orgasmically, but also my man groans in foreign languages!
Terrooooriiiists!
They get scared my neighbors.
Suddenly an INS officer appears, chastising my lover at the JFK airport, my scared lover with his cardboard suitcase and beige trench coat—he is a bit provincial he is!
I should tell him that here men shave more than once a week, like his habit is, they shave every day and they take a shower every day. Well, natural male odor combining stale beer, mahoarcă, tobacco and stressed sweat, is not favored here.
But he doesn’t like me to talk like that. Well, when I asked him if he uses condoms when he sticks it in at parties, he got mad yelling that the country that I betrayed and didn’t stay around to eat Soy Salami with the People, was a Civilized One! My Countrymen, I shamelessly left behind, didn’t just get off the tree yesterday!
Ya-da-ya-da-ya-da! Well, now!
Our INS officer questions him belligerently: What is the purpose of his New York visit? My friend loses his cool, gets flustered and doesn’t know what to say, gasping for air. I then shout over the officer’s shoulder, “Officer Sir! He comes to see my bathroom and moan with pleasure together, that is all, Officer Sir. It is my sexual right! It is a freedom gained by the Women’s Liberation Movement! A tradition set by the very John Fitzgerald Kennedy President of the United States of America you named this airport after! We are on sacred ground! Give him his passport back, immediately! We’re in a hurry, Officer Sir!”
It is difficult to achieve an orgasm while battling INS officers, so I pitch in, put my fingers to work and the pleasure is immense. The water level rises, I’m floating, it’s delicious! I recommend it from the bottom of my heart! My lover is happy and sticks it in baban, grandly! copiously! grandiosely! and oh, I thrash my arms about slapping the water to the skies! We flip and flounder like fish out of water, like the trout of my childhood that father brought from Vîrşolţ River and put them in the bathtub until Anuţa, our maid, prepared them, scrapping off the silver scales with a knife, splattering about the room!
It was wonderful! The ecstasy lasted a long, long while...
Wiped out, I lathered with shower gels and shampoos, and happy-clean I stood up to get out of the bathtub.
Take extra caution to avoid sliding and end up in the emergency room! I was about to faint! Such intense pleasures with the faucet and the hot water, lower your blood pressure and make you dizzy! My legs are buckling up from the orgasm!
Colac peste pupăză, to top it all, the small carpet by the bathtub is drenched! Oh, I’m so glad I don’t need to wring my clothing I’ve safeguarded earlier on the toilet seat! Dear me! A water puddle sprawls in the corridor by the closets! I fumble for some towels and soak the water before it gets inside and ruins my wardrobe! Then I wobble to the kitchen, holding onto the walls, collapse on a chair, and drain three large glasses of water!
An unforgettable experience.
Initially, I planned to achieve ten orgasms in two days, induced thru the recipes recommended on the internet, but after the faucet love making, I’m exhausted!
Hey, tomorrow is another day full of new surprises!
Catinca Ralea, Romanian Highlife correspondent, from Neeeew Yoooork Cityyyyyyyyy! [Delicate rippling hand gestures. Sing-songy.] Spread the Quivers of Pleasure! Spread! Spread! Spread the Quivers! Quivers! Quivers of Pleasure! Pleasure! Pleasure!
 
[Blackout]
 
If you’d like to throw a bit of money my way to keep my endeavors going, and also enable me to spread the money to my various causes, the pursuit of happiness being one of them, I’d be ever so grateful.


March 28, 2013
  New York

1 comment:

  1. :)))))))))))), she's crazy! :))))))))

    ReplyDelete