Brown Bettie Gone Beautifully Bad
By Tina McDowelle
So I have a little secret that I guess isn’t going to be much of a secret anymore. But oh well, here it goes—Everyday my neighbors see me in my bathing suit around noon walking to the Jacuzzi. They say, “Wow, you really love that Jacuzzi, don’t you?” I give them a smile that covers up my inside smirk and say “oohhh yes I do.” And yes, I do love how the hot water soothes my muscles. And I just adore the hot sun opening up my pores and purging all my impurities. And I so appreciate how the bubbles tickle the sensitive skin of my underarms. But what I really adore, what I really, really appreciate---is the jet stream of water pressure as it slams against my clitoris and surges into my vagina! That is priceless! It makes every penny of my over priced rent worth it! I’m telling you in 30 seconds or less, I have the biggest, uncontrolled, explosive, spasmic orgasm! And I only have to wait 2 minutes and I can have another one. I’ve never tried for 3, I’ve always thought that would be excessive. But as I’m writing this, I’ve decided that I shouldn’t deprive myself. I must go for 3 or 4. Shoot, why not 5?! The world is abundant! There are infinite orgasms out there. Why should I limit myself to two?
In case you’re interested in how to have these orgasms in your neighborhood spa and be discreet, I will share my method that has been perfected over time. What you do is find the jet stream with the best water pressure. You then sit with your back all the way against the jet stream, Indian style, so it looks like you’re just chilling in the Jacuzzi. Then you raise your bum just enough so that you are riding the jet stream. It takes a little maneuvering to get your perfect angle. Stay patient, focused, yet open and relaxed and then Gush! The floodgates open!
One beautiful Sunday afternoon, when I thought the management office of my apartment was closed, I got a little carried away as I was riding my favorite jet stream (I have a preference for the stream on the southeast corner of the tub-great velocity.) Anyway, I let out some indescribable yelp, like a soul that has been freed from the shackles of the human body and has breathed life for the first time, or a hyena caught in a bear trap, whatever you can relate better to. Then, to my horror, the manager of the building, Mario, comes out! With concern and curiosity he yells, “You okay, I heard something weird?” To which I respond in a exasperated tone, “I’m …great…(gasp)…just enjoying this wonderful Jacuzzi.” There was an awkward pause. My heart is beating. I’m thinking--Does he know? Can he tell? Is it written all over my face? Tina, say something fast. I then make a reference to the wonderful weather, “It’s a beautiful Sunday… on this day of our Lord.” I can tell I’m in the clear. And just as I breathe a sigh of relief while Mario is now commenting on the glorious weather, my bright turquoise bikini bottoms rise to the surface of the Jacuzzi. I snatch them as quick as possible and without missing a beat continue our small talk of the beautiful California weather. To this day, I don’t know if Mario knew. He probably did. And who cares? I hope I added a little joy to his life. It’s rough when you have to work on Sundays.