When some people see my boyfriend, Chris, they see an average white guy, a regular old Michigan grad whose Mom still gets him an Easter basket. But what they’re not seeing beneath his long sleeves, is a veritable water park of throbbing arm veins.
That’s right, I use his arm veins as water slides. They’re that big.
After setting me at the top of his giant summit of a shoulder, Chris flexes like a Hydroxycut model to further engorge his veins with blood and blows his lifeguard whistle. That’s when I know it’s time to take off! I scoot down his rotator cuff, getting an instant wedgie, which I love. It’s too late to pick it out because I’m already flying down that first drop, my stomach dropping.
Down I go, around the curve of his axillary vein, onto his basilic vein, and taking a sharp right on his median cubital vein. Honestly, these could be arteries too, but I don’t know the difference. Which ones are blue vs. red again? Are they blue because there’s water in them for water rides for girlfriends? Sorry! I was so bad at science but I do know I effing love riding these arm veins.
Faster and faster, I pick up speed, laughing and letting the stress of the workday slip off of me. Some couples relax with a true crime show and take out. Chris and I chill out as host and parasite, respectively. I’m like a hot little fish to a bored old shark. While I have the thrill of a lifetime, he pretty much just sits there on his phone.
When I arrive at the top of his forearm, the enchanting forest of hair slows me down a little. Riding along his lifeblood current through a tangle of hot, hot arm hair is…intoxicating, and I smirk knowing that even miss Anastasia Steele will never know this kind of rapture. Turns out helicopters aren’t the only sexy way to get around.
Chris’s knuckles act like bumpers and I end up coming to a smooth stop along the glassy half-moon of his index fingernail. I’m winded and satiated, thankful for Chris and his Equinox membership. When your boyfriend is a water park, every day is spring break, baby.
