Chelsea Handler Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang (epub

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."Now," she explained, "just keep rubbing the outside of your pants so that they rub against it.If you keep doing it, you'll get 'the feeling.' ""Can I have a bolster or something for my head?""I don't have any more," she told me.All the other girls had gotten there earlier.I took my Three's Company suitcase and placed it under my head for support.After that was drenched, I had no choice but to put my head facedown on the carpet.A lesson I wouldn't need to learn twice.Two hours and twenty minutes later, I was covered in sweat, with rug burns on my forehead and both cheeks.I was in a marathon with my coslopus, and I couldn't break for more than a minute at a time.Every time my eyes would start to roll to the back of my head and I'd feel the exhaustion, I'd get a little tingle and know there was another boom-boom right around the corner.I kept coming back for more.I couldn't get enough of myself.Who was this girl who had been hiding from me for so long? We were one and the same--soul mates, if you will.The carrot to my clitoris.Who knew that something I could barely look at could give me such pleasure? Who knew that the little albino pincushion I was carrying around all these years would end up turning into the equivalent of a watermelon Jolly Rancher? How many other women knew about this? And if they did, why did anyone ever get jobs?After I had completely sweated through my jeans and T-shirt like a rapist, I quickly changed into my Fantasy Island pajamas."Hold on, Tattoo," I said, looking at his face printed on the pocket of my pajama top."I'm about to show you what real paradise is all about."I tried every different position I could imagine.I lay on my back and got myself from the front.Then I'd make a backward bridge and get myself from the top.I got on all fours and then took myself from behind, then turned on my side with one leg in the air erect, like a boomerang.Every few minutes I would come up for a couple sips of cherry CapriSun and to wipe the drool off my cheek, and then it was back to business.I got out my sleeping bag and lay on that for more cushioning.I turned around on my back and kicked both legs out on either side in a split.I tried a scissor kick while simultaneously probing my two forefingers down the inseam of my pajamas and ended up kicking our friend Kim right in the face."Ow!"I looked over and realized I had woken Kim up."How could you sleep at a time like this?" I barked."What are you doing?" she asked groggily."Everyone's asleep."There was no time for sleep.This was go time, and I wasn't going to let another formative year pass right underneath my nose, or my coslopus.Not only did getting "the feeling" feel borderline amazing, I felt like I was really recruiting some unused muscle tissue.My little eight-year-old thighs were burning, and the arches of my feet were cramping.I'd have to throw my leg out like a kickstand to alleviate the pressure, but I was hesitant to take a break.What if I couldn't get the feeling back? What if this was a onetime deal, like a Saturday at the Chrysler-Plymouth Auto Sale?This is what my phys-ed teacher meant when she talked about "connecting with your body." This is a fucking connection, all right.Instead of doing pointless stretches and dumb fifty-yard-dash drills, we could've been doing a whole different kind of drill that would've achieved the same goals, fitness-wise.Climbing those ropes with the knots on them took on a whole new meaning.I would lodge my coslopus on top of one of those knots, stick my legs straight out, and start groaning.I hadn't felt eroticism like this since I first laid eyes on a Ms.Pac-Man machine, but even that didn't really compare, because at some point an arcade has to close.I was open twenty-four hours a day.So many thoughts were running through my head, from unicorns to high-speed car chases to why would a woman ever need a man if she could make herself feel so outrageous? Why did she even need to leave the house? Maybe this is what stay-at-home moms did all day.Maybe they just sat around and played with themselves while watching Days of Our Lives, and then Another World, and then General Hospital.Why would anyone go to college, when you could just meet a guy, send him to the factory, and spin your baby bean all day? The only warning my mother had given me about too much pleasure was with regard to chocolate."Life is like a box of chocolates," she told me."Eat too many and you'll end up with your father's tits."I didn't know at the time that what I was doing would be considered masturbating, but I definitely knew enough to know that I needed to be somewhat discreet when accommodating myself.My parents had never had the birds-and-the-bees conversation with me, and neither did any of my sisters or brothers.I once asked my father about where babies came from, and he told me that "sometimes Daddy parks his car in Mommy's garage." I had no idea what that could possibly mean, but I never went into the garage again.The only conversation about a penis I'd ever had was with my next-door neighbor Jason Rothstein [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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