My vagina's on fire

It's not what you think though. It was jalapeno peppers.

Last night, my special friend (the new guy) insisted on helping me prepare for tonight's little gumbo party. We spent at least two hours in my tiny kitchen together. We had a blast laughing, talking and tasting. He turned what was going to be steamed shrimp with a jar of cocktail sauce into an amazing shrimp cocktail. I'm tempted to grab a spoon and dig into that bowl before the guests arrive. Then he jazzed up the corn on the cob and red potatoes with a yummy Cajun sauce while I did some other cooking and set the table.

We loaded up with samples, a few beers and walked across the street to deliver the andouille sausage my friend used for the gumbo he's making. But before he had even put everything down there, he volunteered to slice and de-seed about two dozen fresh jalapenos that my other friend was going to stuff and wrap in bacon, of course. He did a fabulous job and even cleaned up the kitchen.

We declined the offer to play a game there and came home. We were tired. But not too tired to play on our own. I tasted a hint of hot on him. When he touched me it spread even further until it felt like flames were shooting out of my vagina. I had to stop.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I was almost in tears and laughing at the same time. "Uhm, you're going to laugh. Those jalapenos are all over me now. It burns so bad I can hardly stand it."

"You're right. I felt burning too," he said. "I didn't even think about that. I'm so sorry."

We raced downstairs to the bathroom to wash off, then we picked up right where we left off. Whether it was the jalapenos or that we're getting to know each other better, I know one thing.

It was hot.

Love to the single girls,
Addison