Betty Dodson with Carlin Ross

Better Orgasms. Better World.

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Hmmm…it’s taking me longer to have an orgasm. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just that I’ve been hornier during the day and I can’t lie around for too long.

And my mind is buzzing rapidly during the late afternoons; one orgasm and I’m out like a light!  So, to quicken my playtime, I begin to penetrate those darker perversions, ones that I would never tell anyone about…until now.

Using my fingers doesn’t help. I reserve those digits for drunken nights, when I just want touch. But, mid-afternoon masturbation is strictly for the 2 minute euphoria, the orgasm. It’s my heroin. It’s my mental recess.

When I masturbate, it’s almost all brain for me. The touch is crucial, sure. But since I use a vibrator, most of the work is done in my head. That’s why you might discover I’m normally quiet and very still, since it’s more meditative for me than anything else. And why I might mutually masturbate with others but not really feel the same way… only because touch is far more appealing in those situations.

Anyway, the other day I had this same rut where I had gotten about 15 minutes or so into my rub and nothing happened. And my imagination was beginning to reach. Months ago, I would have fantasized about cartoon creatures who gangbanged hot damsels in the forest. But, that wasn’t enough for me. So I returned to something darker, something that would wake me up from the monotony of masturbation. So I dug deep.

I remembered the scene from Gummo. Chloe Sevigny’s white trash bleach blonde character and her younger sisters get a ride from a white-haired fatherly type in his 50s. They take a drive. He stops. Before the girls get out of the car, the driver gently grabs Sevigny’s arm and asks her for a kiss. In the movie they tell him to fuck off as they storm away. But in my movie, Chloe tells her sisters to get out of the car and go play behind it. Then, she tells him to shut off the engine. All excited because he’s going to get some jailbait, he scurries to take the keys out of the ignition and places them on the dashboard in front of him. And then he quickly fumbles with his beaming gold belt buckle.

And maybe Sevigny does something particularly slutty. She begins to gently kiss him on the lips, leaving some of her sparkle lipgloss on his dry tight mouth. Then, she slips her tongue in and swims around, blowing away the hot deathly grip that was his breath. He finally whips it out and she goes to town, either with her hand or her mouth. He gets all overheated and picks up her limber body.

He slides into her so easily and, since he’s not that strong, presses her down hard against him and thrusts as deep as he could. He lifts up her white ripped shirt and tries to wrap his tongue around her peachy pink nipple. The old man grunts and spits. And since Sevigny’s voice is naturally low, her moans borderline between boredom and excitement, with no real difference actually.

Who will come first? Will I? Will the driver? In retrospect, I’m normally the one who begins to feel the oncoming orgasm. Then he will. And on the precipice of the big O, the entire scene is usually washed out of my mind. And I try to get it back but my brain is way too shot to care, let alone think.