I realize I haven’t told you much about the prince, otherwise known as the boyfriend. I’m saving details for later, but I will share this. He’s younger, by almost 20 years, 19 to be exact.
That’s significant because it explains why, when he went running out of the house for a solution to my vaginal dryness/personal lubrication problem, the following went through my mind: I hope he does not bring back, a) hot fudge topping, b) whipped cream, c) ice cream, and d) bananas. I know what that boy will do for a hot fudge sundae.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen and crossed my fingers, hopeful that he’d at least of the presence of mind to ask a fellow shopper for a recommendation. I had my doubts.
A few minutes later, the front door opened with a bang, and the prince came bounding in, startling me. He handed me a plastic grocery bag. I stared at it, frozen in place. It dawned on me that this wasn’t exactly a good sign: going to the grocery store for a personal lubricant was kind of like picking up a bottle of wine at the Circle K en route to a fancy dinner party. Or so it seemed at the time.
“Open it,” he said waving the bag excitedly in front of me.
Cautiously, I looked inside. There was a long rectangular blue and white box, the grocery receipt tangled around it. I stared at him. “You got deodorant?” I said confused.
“Deodorant?” blurted the prince. “What are you talking about?” He reached in for the box and pulled out an elliptical-shaped bottle with a bright blue cap.
“Carra-Gee-Nie?” I said trying to pronounce the name on the label as he held it up to my face.
“No, it’s carra-gee-nan,” the prince sounded out. “It’s from ocean plants. Here, give me your hand.” He flicked off the cap with his thumb and squirted a thick clear liquid into my palm.
“Ohhhh, silky smooth!” I purred rubbing it around. “It feels just like, well, me.”
Suddenly a suspicion exploded in my head. “How do you know about this stuff?” I glared at him.
The prince started laughing. “Relax,” he said. “I was in the can and saw a funny ad for it in one of your women’s magazines.”
“Really?” I said. “What’d it say?”
“May require use of a younger man,” said the prince breaking up again. “Spoke to me.”
Can’t argue with that, I thought to myself. I took the bottle from him and read the label. “Hmmm,” I said, “It says here, ‘love with care’.”
“That’s because it’s all natural,” explained the prince. “I know how green you are.”
“No, baby,” I teased, “I know green you are. Personally, I’m more into love with dare.” I pumped some lube in his hand and massaged it around seductively with my index finger.
The prince gave me a naughty smile.
[Note to reader: I will say that half a bottle of Carraggeenan™ was sacrificed in the course of the evening and it is highly probably that it will happen again.]
Have you tried a personal lubricant recently? What did you think? Did it open up new possibilities? Do you have a personal favorite when it comes to a lubricant? Please, send your thoughts to The Pink Wrangler through the ASK section at www.empowher.com/ask.
© 2008 ZANTIUM LLC
About Pamela Tames
Everyone knows you only talk about sex in secret. Everyone but me that is. I’m Pamela Tames and you can hear more about my take on sex and the older woman at www.ridethepinkelephant.com. Who’s doing it, how they’re doing it, and what keeps them doing it. Now, for those all thinking, ‘that’s got to be one short website,’ let me respectfully say, ‘oh, so wrong.’
See for yourself at www.ridethepinkelephant.com. But please, don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.