I don't mind the sticky stuff that gets everywhere, or the awkward positions I am forcing my body to assume, up and down contraptions and across the floor.
Nor do I mind the concentration required to run my hands on the areas demanding attention, smoothing and soothing, patting and rolling.
The toys I use tease and pull, stretch and spread; before long I'm wet, and dripping more inside my zipped-down outfit. I huff and puff and hold my breath as I make sure everything goes in the right place, and fits perfectly. The edges meet, the ends kiss. Between my open legs, the job at hand stretches beyond my reach, and I dip in once more, and daub tenderly for as far as it will go.
It is all a new experience for me, and I enjoy the smell and touch of it.
I pant a little. The sun window-crashes into the room, and floods the stained sheets.
The only thing I cannot get right is how to measure the wallpaper properly. I even lie on it to roll it flat. It flaps back onto my face as soon as I let go.
I need help.
