Your Best Present Ever
By: Kiki Wellington
Tags: Sex Toys, Vibrators, Christmas, Masturbation, Sexuality

Dear Kiki,

Well, well, well. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Remember me? I’m the gift of pleasures past, a gift that you spent many hours with many moons ago. A gift that you used over and over again until you wore me out completely and wore yourself out in the process. We went through many packs of batteries together, you and I, and you could not have been happier. Or hornier.

Did I take your virginity? Absolutely not! But I also didn’t cheat on you and gaslight the shit out of you for being upset about my behavior. In fact, I was there for you, really there for you. I was there for one reason and one reason only — to give you unbelievable pleasure and really help you get to know what you liked, what you didn’t like, and how you should be touched.

Those few weeks felt like an eternity as you fumbled through the mediocre encounters with mediocre partners that were on your menu back then.

I came to you in the days long before the Internet, long before you could get me with the click of a mouse. In fact, you had to get catalogs in the mail to find out about me. And you had to wait until you were 21 to buy me — although truth be told, you probably could have gotten away with buying me much sooner. You selected me over countless friends, filled out the order form, wrote up a check and put everything in the mail when it was ready to go. Then you waited. And waited. Those few weeks felt like an eternity as you fumbled through the mediocre encounters with mediocre partners that were on your menu back then. But honestly, as I’m sure you know now, you would have been better off ditching them and just letting your fingers do the walking, crawling in and out of you with speed and determination that would set your whole body ablaze. But for some reason back then, you didn’t like to fidget with your digits, you wanted something more. Something bigger, thicker, harder, and with more power than you’d had before. Something pink. Something like…

Me.

Photo by yellow2j on DepositPhotos

When I arrived, you were over the moon and thankful that you were finally living alone and didn’t have to worry about roommates walking in on you. Remember that time two years before when in a pinch of horny desperation, you grabbed the toilet paper holder and one of your roommates later asked you why it was lying on your bed? Remember scanning the Rolodex of your mind trying to find a plausible excuse that didn’t reveal the lustful truth? As an English major and budding writer, you were never at a loss to turn a phrase and tell a story, but there was no story you could tell to explain that away, so you said nothing in the hopes she’d forget the whole thing.

But now you were living alone and you could enjoy me in my full, pretty pink glory. You couldn’t wait to get up the stairs, in the apartment, and out of your clothes. You anxiously fumbled with my packaging and admired me for the first time when I was released. You marveled at the two prongs of delight that I promised you, the hard pink main attraction that you couldn’t wait to plunge inside of you and the cute little bunny ears that would tickle your cute little bud as you adjusted the settings, going faster and slower, up and down and back again. And after putting the batteries inside of me, you put me to work inside of you.

Even though you felt a little sore the next day, you came back for more….

And I worked and worked and worked that night, pleasuring you more than those duds you had in your bed had ever dreamed of. We got acquainted with each other all night that night and even though you felt a little sore the next day, you came back for more before going to class and then to work. As soon as you walked through the door after your shift that night, we had another rendezvous. And another. And another.

We got to know each other very well in the ensuing months we spent together. Sometimes you used me more than others, but I was always there when you wanted me and I taught you about what you wanted for yourself. And look at you now! Years and years later, you have replaced me several times over, but you still remember where it all began: a catalog and a dream. I was glad to be of service in your quest for self-service. After all, that’s what I was made for.

Love,

Your real first, your best present ever

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