I woke this morning, exhausted, as has become the de rigueur state of my being upon waking from the boyfriend's bed. His mattress has an uncomfortable slant, after (or so we surmise), three years of regularly being slept in by only his person, and despite attempts at flipping (might we have just somehow put it back in its original position?), the slant persists. This slant may also be a manufacturing defect never detected by the boyfriend because he never slept on that side of the bed.
So, this morning, like every other morning, I awakened with sore back and achy, dry eyeballs (presumably not an effect of The Slant), only to stretch vigorously and hear the unmistakable sound of air being forced out of my vagina.
This is a phenomenon I've often tried to replicate intentionally, to little or no avail. I cannot be blamed, I don't think, for rather enjoying the way it feels. It offers less overall relief than a regular, from the ass fart, but it's a fart. from. my. vagina.
Which makes it inherently awesome.
Long-ish story short; waking sore and cranky only to queef is an excellent way to start my day off right.
4 years ago
