Squirt?

Rowdy and I had been fucking for a good (oh, a good) while. We'd actually gotten to my can't-talk-can't-think point and come out the other side still playing. In an insatiable mood, but figuring Rowdy was starting to get worn out, I started using the Hitachi Magic Wand on myself. Silly me. Rowdy grabbed it and started fucking me again while grinding the wand into the intersection of our bodies.

In the middle of the rapid-fire, blinding mess of orgasms that came (and came and came and oh God came) after that, I felt something... different. Good but not exactly better, not some amazing explosion, and not some gigantic spurting tidal-wave gush of fluid. Just different. I reached down and the wetness there was thinner and much more copious than usual. "Did I just...?" I asked, and neither of us was sure. Afterwards, there was a little puddle on the bed where I'd been.

Did I squirt, or just get wetter than usual, or, um, pee a little bit? I don't know, and honestly, I don't really care. (I kinda hope it wasn't pee.) Whether I hit some arbitrary milestone or not, I had some fantastic orgasms and that matters a hell of a lot more to me. I know some guys are into squirting because "it's the female orgasm you can see!", but seriously now, nobody's at risk of not noticing my orgasms. (I mean, nobody in Middlesex County, seriously.) If it doesn't feel different than, eh, nice party trick I guess.

But it's cool to see what my body's capable of. And a little brain-breaking to have some of it be things that serious grownups will seriously argue don't exist. It's like having the goddamn Loch Ness Monster in my vagina.