My Biscuit's Burning

So this story goes into some detail about my sex life. Probably more than I’d generally trust the internets with, but this is a public service announcement, kiddos. I have a lesson to share. One that should have been obvious to me, but sometimes, in the heat of the moment, I can be forgetful. Woe to she who pays no heed to my warnings. Hot woe.

So, I was, as the kids say, “in the red.” My delightful new pet and I, though, have a hard time keeping our hands off of one another. In this case, he had a hard time keeping his hands off of my bits. But knowing as I did that it would all only lead to frustration, I playfully pushed his hands away, kissed him again and bid him good night. Moments later, the tingle began. I shifted. It got worse. “What the?...” And worse. Soon enough, my lady parts were afire. “Oh, god, babe, no,” I said, “It burns!”

At the same moment, he and I flashed back to earlier in the evening. I was cooking one of my favorite Thai recipes, and he, being an expert knife handler, seeded six peppers for me. Hot, hot fucking peppers. When I looked down at his pile of hot seeds, I said, “Now don’t go sticking your finger in your eye later.” I’d forgotten at the time to also recommend that he keep his hands off my own sensitive, damp areas.

“Oh, no, the peppers!” said he.
“Shit, it really burns!” said I.
“Do you want some ice?”
“No, I’ll be fine. God! That’s really hot!”
“Well, should I get some vinegar?”
“Vinegar? I’m not putting vinegar on my snatch.”
“You know some women douche with vinegar.”
“OK, well, I don’t feel like doucheing right now.”
“Peanut butter?” he offered.
“Peanut butter?”
“I don’t know, all I can think of is kitchen items.”

Now, I'm not sure, but I think it may have been the food connection that led him to the proper solution to the problem. He’s a smart boy, he is.