modernsex

This post is a bit embarrassing to write, even for me.  As I’ve mentioned, masturbation was a subject that would instantly leave me beet red and mute.  This is because I was a dirty little addict.  I would love time home alone to continue my quest for satisfaction.  Sure, water pressure was great for the clitoris, but I wanted something more authentic.  I wanted to know what it was like to have someone IN me.

My quest has led me to some strange places.

The earliest thing I remember using was a curling iron.  (I pray my mother never reads this.)  It was generally the right shape, so I’d pump away eagerly in spite of the fact that the metal monster often left me bloody.  In many of the stories I’d read virgins always bled a little, so I made myself believe it was alright.  At some point I got creative and used a handful of sharpies all at once.  Caps facing out, of course.  I was able to control the thickness by how many I used, and in addition to the thrusting I could rotate them about in my hand for a nifty bonus.  That experience led me to stuff myself with a long large strand of Mardi Gras beads hoping to achieve orgasm by clenching my legs together and working my muscles about.  It was nice, but ineffective.  Many years later I’d see vibrators with the ‘rotating beads’ and wonder how many other people knew the technique.  Unfortunately, because the pens weren’t secure, it was hard to fully control the action.  The method was abandoned.  I was happy to end up with a uniquely shaped toy at one point that became a great standby.  I’d love to tell you exactly what it was so that you can fully appreciate how well suited it was, but I’m not sure yet if it is legal to mention a specific brand in relation to my orgasms.  Both ends were great in different ways, I assure you.  Only, because it was a plastic kid toy there was a seam all around it that tended to leave me a bit bloody.  Again.  It wasn’t as bad as the curling iron, but it was something I wanted to avoid. My quest continued.

I was wary of food for most my life.  I couldn’t quite bring myself to use something edible.  I think this may have something to do with the widespread expectation that all women do it.  There were always jokes about phallic foods and perhaps the very infamy of it made it akin to actual sex, in that if I participated I was just as bad as those dirty people.  Desperate times, however.  Cucumbers are by far the best, and yes, are still delicious after you’ve washed them.  I once used a hot dog from the freezer in a moment of extreme sex frenzy.  It grosses me out to think of it.  The cold kept it solid, but numbed me, and was ultimately thrown away.  I then ran to the shower and washed myself out over and over again wondering if I’d ever be clean again.  Candy canes make a sweet treat, but leave you *very* sticky, and end up only being worth it if you’ve got someone assisting you to lick it all up.

What I ended up learning was that tapered candles were the way to go.  Hard enough to satisfy but not enough to damage.   Inconspicuous by the bedside, especially in the room of a firebug.  I had loads of candles, including tapered ones I didn’t screw, so my special one was unnoticed.  There were no strange mental stigmas attached to the use, either.  Food, toys, and my mother’s hair curler all bothered me.  Candles I could get behind.  Or rather, they could get in me.

Eventually I made a friend that had a vibrator.  I admitted my unnatural fear of masturbation and toys related to the act.  She told me, “You’re not a real woman until you own one.”  That seemed sensible enough.  I finally mustered the courage to acquire one and I’ve never turned back.  I’m a huge fan of adult toys now!  My problem seems to be I like them too much.  The clit simulators on my rabbits keep ripping off.  I don’t suppose those are meant to be bounced on, only hand-pumped.  Le sigh.

I’ll leave my reviews of proper masturbatory utensils for a later post, however, and cover sex toys in general all at once.  I wanted to put this post out there just in case any of you were as embarrassed and ambitious as I was when growing up.  I didn’t think I’d ever admit these things to lovers, let alone the general public, which is how I knew it had to be done.  After all, we don’t know what’s normal unless everyone can be honest about what actually happens, right?

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