Every winter my closest friends and I spend three nights away in some unknown town in PA. We spend those nights drinking, eating, laughing, and getting high on each other’s company. This year would be my third year attending and I knew it was going to be an extra special trip. Why? Because this year we would be staying in a house that included something very, very, very special — an indoor pool.
This had me a bit concerned. Not because I can’t swim. Not because I’m scared of water. But because indoor pools are super, super sexy. They’re warm. They’re inviting. They’re always whispering for you to take your clothes off. All amazing things that, in the past, none of which would concern me. But this year was different. This year I was a full blown, sexually peaking woman.
What I had previously thought was sexually peaking turned out to be merely a preview before the three-hour feature that would most likely have a sequel and another sequel split up into two parts. I remember my first winter weekend experiencing sudden urges to dance and needing to let it out. Not the best time for your friend to introduce her new boyfriend: “And the one grinding on the living room floor, yeah, that’s Carolyn.”
We had an outdoor hot tub one year which, yeah, was pretty sexy once you got past all the intense lethargy, low blood pressure and shivers after each dip. One minute we were loving life in the bubbles, sipping champagne, the next we were trembling on the floor shouting “Afghans! More afghans!” It was a scene straight out of the fictional, straight to DVD movie Hot Tubs — The Untold Story.
Plus, I didn’t realize I was in the early stages of sexually peaking on those previous trips. I thought I was just another normal, horny, single girl who got out of a long-term, unhealthy relationship. “I’m free! I’m loose! Watch out!” But time made me wiser (hornier) and I had become familiar with all the triggers of peaking. I knew I had to be careful with the addition of an indoor pool. Grinding on the dance floor might easily turn into a full-blown orgy with whipped cream and lube, at least that’s what I imagine when I think of orgies. But even more concerning, not having someone to bang — how long would I survive?
To start, I made sure to pack extra accoutrements for this special, indoor pool, maximum peaking trip. I packed two bathing suits, a sparkly skirt, and a corset just in case we wanted to play Victorian Strip Poker (not an actual thing). Costume changes are crucial to peaking. A peaking woman uses any excuse to take off her clothes and admire herself in the mirror. I needed the clothes to back it up. I also packed a game of pin the tail on the donkey which I was going to suggest we play naked.*
I felt a lot of emotions when I first entered the house even with my arsenal of supplies. Not only was the house huge, it was entirely decorated in horse paraphernalia including actual horses outside! Were they trying to kill me?! I love horses! I even host a weekly comedy show called Side Ponytail (Like us on Facebook)! Horses are sexy-ass creatures with beautiful manes of hair. I mean, come on. That is me. I wanted more than ever to lasso in a lover with the whip of my pheromone-infused ponytail. I knew I was in for a trying weekend.
I continued touring the gigantic house taking in each horse statue and giant, comfy couch but where was this pool? Was it all a lie? Was it just a giant bathtub? Before I could freak out, my friend Lizz took my hand and led me to a room. “Are you ready?” she asked. I was. She opened the door and I stood there like a golden ticket winner at Wonka’s factory. Hold your breath, make a wish, count to three. Eyes open. No, It wasn’t a chocolate river but it was the most beautiful indoor pool I ever laid eyes on. I’m getting moist just thinking about it. There were noodles and mats and a bar and twinkle lights and it was heated and it was all for us. The sexy bass of poolside music was already pumping out of the speakers. It was Peak City and I was the mayor.
So how did I survive? Well, I relied heavily on food. I even volunteered to cook. Twice. I never get satisfaction from cooking but I knew it was vital to keep my hands and brain occupied. When I wasn’t cooking, I was putting everything (edible) in my mouth — eggs, homemade pizza, lasagna, cannolis, cookies, fajitas. We even had a chip bar that ranged from cheesy to salty to puffy to crunchy to sweet to baked. There was texture and taste for all levels of arousal — even dill-pickle flavored (if you’re into that sort of thing).
My weaker moments of the weekend were definitely the times spent lounging. Lounging, if done correctly, is a time to reflect on nasty thoughts in one’s head. If done incorrectly, lounging can be dangerous and lead to cuddle puddles which could then lead to Carolyn taking her shirt and/or pants off. I tried to stay focused. I was careful not to get too close to any crotches or butts or I would for sure need to excuse myself for um, intervention. I was grateful for the movie selection of the weekend. It was my first time seeing Speed and Keanu Reeves’ dialog and facial expressions did a great job of distracting. We also found a DVD of the movie Nerve. Why anyone would have a physical DVD copy of this movie, I’ll never know but, boy oh boy, was I grateful. There was so many plot holes to think about that for a whole 90 minutes I didn’t have to think of my own holes! Relief!
Of course, there were some close calls which brings me to my favorite peaking defense mechanism — gay men. I am blessed to be best friends with some of the best gay men this world has to offer. These men have been supportive of my peak from the start and allow me to lean (and grind) on them whenever I need. If you’re lucky enough to have such a friend then you know that gay men are always peaking. Whenever I felt an urge, I ran and found one of my friends to cuddle or kiss or practice a new sex move (fully clothed of course). We even invented a wonderfully erotic pool game where you blast water into someone’s face using a pool noodle while simultaneously making moaning noises. We’re still working out the official rules. These men saved me.
I’ll never forget the weekend I was horny AF with an indoor pool and no one to bang. It was one of the most erotic weekends of my life without so much as even a finger in.** Okay, I admittedly did a lot sexting but hey, I restrained from nude selfies and that’s very brave considering the amazing floor length-mirror we had in the den.
I’ve already started imagining what our trip will be like next year. How will I cope if the peaking progresses at the same rate of our rental houses? What if next year’s house not only has an indoor pool and horses, but also has an indoor jacuzzi? Or a slide? Or one of those beds that spins? Or a swing (sex or otherwise)? Hopefully next year’s trip I’ll be bringing a bed-buddy. But if not, I’m going to have to get very creative. Travel blow-up dolls are a thing, right?
*We never did.
**That’s a lie. I masturbated once.