The Little Rose That Could

I Didn’t Expect the Rose

I had been putting it off. Not because I thought there was anything wrong with it, exactly. I just wasn’t sure it was me. I like things simple. I like knowing what I’m getting into. And yes, I’ll admit it—I worried a little about keeping something like that clean. That was enough to keep it in the drawer longer than it needed to stay there.

When I finally tried the suction rose, I held it between my legs and waited.

It found me faster than I thought it would.

There is a pull to it that is hard to describe without sounding dramatic, so I will just say this: it is focused. It stays. I didn’t have to work at it. I just held it there and my body took over. My eyes rolled back. I heard myself moan. I heaved like I had been holding my breath without knowing it. The orgasm came hard—harder than I was ready for. When it broke, I soaked the sheets. There was even a little extra, a sudden rush I hadn’t planned on.

I lay still for a minute after, surprised at myself.

I am not a woman who writes about this sort of thing. I am a wife with a quiet house in the afternoon and a little time to put words down when the mood strikes. That is all this is. I tried something I had been circling around for too long, and it was better than I expected. Sweeter than the little flower shape suggested. Stronger, too.

If you have been curious and a little cautious, I understand. I was both. You do not have to become someone else to enjoy it. You can still be yourself and still let your body have that kind of release.

I did. Several times.