Page 84 of Sextuplet and the City

Yeah. I think back on a few new techniques I seemed to have invented for Art the other night and include the most promising one in a write-up for my followers. I dub this blog entry “Live Long and Prosper.”

Damn. Writing this down makes me want to do it while sober. And why not?

I close my laptop. This will basically be a quality assurance exercise—a way to guarantee my readers enjoy saucing their tacos when they try it.

Yeah. I’ll take one for the team.

In a second.

First, I shower and change into comfier clothes. Then I get on the bed and take my panties off.

The key is to not think about that video with Art as I do this.

Yep.

I put my fingers in the V-shape of the Vulcan salute, which is the starting position of this particular technique: index and middle fingers together, then a gap, then ring finger and pinky together.

Still not thinking about the video.

I make sure my clit is in the groove between my middle and ring finger.

Hmm. This is nice. The snug feeling reminds of the Peace Technique I blogged about a few months back.

Not thinking about the video or Mr. Big.

I begin to slowly air the orchid.

Not thinking about chocolate eyes. Or firm lips. Or that shapely butt. Or those powerful dancer legs, or that toned back, or—

Who am I kidding? Putting my fake husband out of my mind is an exercise in futility. Either I won’t come, or I will with an image of him firmly in my mental eye.

So be it.

I take out Art’s thong—I mean, dance belt—from under my pillow and take a good whiff.

Oh, yeah.

I speed up and let all the images from my rub bank flow freely, the ones from the video and the banya.

And just like that, I come in ten seconds.

Suddenly feeling silly, I stuff the dance belt back under the pillow.

Woofer parks his butt in his charger.

It’s official. It’s only a matter of days before my human overlord is assimilated into the Borg. I will pray to iRobot Corporation that she’s a lot less messy in her cyborg form, but I’m not holding my fan-powered breath.

When I can move again, I open the laptop and post the “Live Long and Prosper” technique without hesitation. It is bound to improve some people’s lives, even if only in a tiny way.

As the first positive comment shows up, I grin. This blog really is my calling. I’m glad Art’s money will allow me to do it for a while longer. Of course, the ultimate dream would be to find a good sponsor that can keep me doing this forever—which brings me back to that text to Bella that I’ve been procrastinating on.

Fuck it. I read my reply one more time and click send.

No instant reply, but it is late. I watch some TV until I get sleepy, and then I go to bed, where I can’t help but do one more session of “Live Long and Prosper.”

* * *

I wake up to the ringing of my phone.

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