Looking for Mr. Goodbunny
Prologue
I live in a one-bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side. A quiet place, with off-white walls, a galley kitchen that doubles as storage for my reference books, and a view of the East River, which sounds more picturesque than it is. The water's not too murky, but the dismembered bodies that get fished out on a quarterly basis ruin the ambience.
Anyway, I like my place, because it's my castle. At night, it's just me, my television, and the pink pearl bunny that makes me smile. As I was growing up, I found various methods of pleasuring myself, some creative, some adventurous, and some not completely sanitary. But one fine spring day, via an anonymous mail-order site on the Web, I took back my orgasms from all the black-hearted cads who were determined to leave me either brokenhearted or celibate -- or both. It had taken the best part of my adult years to find the key to my own sensual nature, the solution being a motor-powered rocket launcher that didn't care if my hips were too wide. When the stress of my solitary existence got to me, I'd take out my frisky friend and let him have ... read full excerpt from: Looking for Mr. Goodbunny ebook