Thrust action included

The other night I met an unusual companion. well not that unusual for me but unusual for the night which was planned. It started out innocent enough, a quiet drink in soho. I can feel the raised eyebrows at that comment but bear with me, it was the original intention.

So it was five drinks later on our way to salsa class I realised tonight might be a bit more interesting than I had planned. For one, instead of our Cuban salsa class being full of greasy middle aged men, it was full of talent. Bulging biceps and bulging trousers, fluid hips, chiseled jaws, deep set chocolate eyes and broad shoulders. And all that back and forth had got me into a bit of a bother. My steps started to falter as I swooned in the arms of the many salsa gods who kept thrusting me all over the dancefloor. I was concious my friend N was going home to a hot blooded male in her bed and sadly I was not.

That was of course until I met BOB. He didn't look like my type at all so it wasn't until I saw the 'thrust action included' that he caught my full attention. I had to have him. No woman would stand in my way. I went straight to the cashier and felt like a silly school girl picking out a puppy in a window. £40 later I left with an Anne Summers bag that seemed to flash neon lights at passerbys which rattled as the 9 batteries inside clattered around. I kept a firm grip on the bag, determined not to lose it like last time. (that's a story for another time)

Of course I've heard of the rampant rabbit, what woman hasn't? I used to own one myself but I found after I'd had it a few years it's vibrations increased a million times in decibles, getting louder and louder until it sounded like I was being attacked by a rather persistent vacum cleaner or on some occasions a rambunctious jet engine. The crunch came when my flatmate knocked on my door to check I was ok and that's the day my pink rampant rabbit went the way of the
trash.

I have been rabbit-less for 2 years now and after listening to me bemoan my lack of action N dragged me into Anne Summers. And introduced me to perhaps the greatest invention ever, the thrusting rampant rabbit. Otherwise known as BOB, the battery operated boyfriend. The vibrating game has clearly changed while I'd been away. My old rabbit used to have an annoying rotating option that wierdly made you feel like you were undergoing a cervical exam, hardly erotic or orgasm inducing. So I stuck to the vibrating option which did me
just fine.

Until BOB that is. It has a built in thrust action and unlike having a jelly like feel to it, is oddly quite humanlike. Like a man with fantabulous vibrating balls. So after some red hot salsa and many a cocktail I went home to something pbetter than a red blooded male in my bed and better still I didn't have to endure the chainsaw snoring that often follows. So to the rampant rabbit makers out there consider this one customer suitably satisfied.
Xx
jh