My Sex Life Can Legally Vote

February 3rd, 2015

And marry. And it can drink in Japan.

That is, to say, I’ve been a consciously sexual being since I was around 8 years old. Give or take.

I don’t remember the first time I masturbated exactly. I remember simply grinding against balled up blankets — never pillows — until I became sweaty and hot and felt finished. In hindsight, that must have been an orgasm. But either I didn’t know the word or maybe it really wasn’t. Perhaps I felt some sort of other closure. And I would stop for the night.

Some twenty years later, I occasionally find myself getting off in the same way. I almost-but-not-quite wake up in the middle of the night, reach down for a corner of my blanket and grind against it for dear life. I’ve always been a fan of grinding.

Of course, it’s not the only routine in my repertoire now, but that’s how this all got started. I was still in the single digits, and I was humping blankets when I was supposed to be sleeping. I suppose I became bolder, sometimes doing it during the day time. I recall masturbating in my best friend’s bed one night while she talked in the other room. I couldn’t quite remember where her brother was. I was relieved to know he wasn’t in the room.

I remember, in high school, masturbating with the door to my room not quite closed. Could someone in the living room see the movement of my feet and legs and guess what was happening even though I wasn’t making a noise?

It wasn’t that I was a voyeur. I was just a horny teenager, and I couldn’t resist if the mood strike. And strike it did — hard and often.

During my teen years, I spent countless hours in chatrooms talking to boys, men, women. Cyber sex, they called it. Back then, it was simply erotic roleplaying. There were no photos and videos, not really. People would try to encourage them, but I wasn’t comfortable in my skin in any way shape or form. During those times, the blood would rush to my clit and my G-spot, making me feel like I had to pee. I read plenty of articles about G-spot stimulation, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t impending orgasm. I just mistook the equivalent of blue balls as a different sort of bodily fluid.

I experimented with technique during these times. I once read that you could use the handle of a Venus razor as an impromptu dildo. I tried. It wasn’t necessarily pleasurable and I freaked out when I realized I was bleeding. I was never entirely sure if it was a cut from vigorous thrusting of a first-time penetrator or if that was my hymen. It didn’t hurt, and neither did sex for the first time. I didn’t give it much thought. I was happy to be masturbating and having sex.

I guess there must have been other household objects, but nothing stuck. It was that blanket or nothing. At some point, I added in fingers to rub my clit, which afforded me the opportunity to jack off wherever the hell I wanted. Eventually, the feeling-like-I-needed-to-pee sensation would fade away, and I’d forget about it.

It wasn’t until 10 years after I started masturbating that I bought my first sex toy, a purple jelly beast. In hindsight, it might have been a bit large. But I used it for a couple years, and it worked for several years after that without the purple glitter jelly leaking. I was surprised. I enjoyed this toy internally and externally, but it wasn’t doing me any favors. I can now recognize that my body just wasn’t used to masturbating in different ways.

I decided that I need clitoral stimulation, too, and plopped down money on another purple beast: the Rabbit Habit. In less than a month’s time, I had broken it because my tendency was to pull the base upward, forcing the shaft to bend. I bought another, not realizing the dubious construction or materials were something that should prevent me from doing so. I hadn’t ever thought about silicone, even though the original Form 6 had already been added to my wishlist.

The second rabbit eventually broke, too, but because loose beads are simply a terrible idea. But between the two bunnies, I had managed to have a toy-induced orgasm. Except, I had no fucking idea what it was. The quick contractions of my vagina felt like an alien, and that’s literally how I described it to a Livejournal group I was part of. Some women replied with “Yes! That’s an orgasm.” Others thought I should see a doctor.

I spend a lot of time researching whether or not a person, especially a woman, could have an orgasm and not realize it. Weren’t they all supposed to be toe-curling and earth-shattering? Mine surely weren’t. In fact, to this day, I’d still describe them as somewhat perfunctory. There have certainly been some pleasurable orgasms, but they’re notable, not frequent.

A few more shitty toys, including pocket rockets, would call my makeshift converted shoebox home before I would finally upgrade to something better, mostly thanks to this blog.  I still focus on clitoral stimulation, and I often use nothing more than my fingers despite my growing collection.

Rabbit after rabbit followed. An interesting night with k-balls and the Miracle Massager led to me squirting for the first time, awakening my G-spot. Or perhaps re-awakening it and reminding me of sensations I had experienced but learned to fight years before.

The years following would include more clitoral and G-spot vibrators, glass, wood, stainless steel and various ceramic toys. Several of those years were spent with my ex-husband.

5 years ago, my marriage started to crumble. Although masturbation was much the same, my sex life would change forever when the divroce was finalized a little over 4 years ago. For months, I would struggled to be aroused and masturbate without fantasizing about my ex, an issue I still face when dealing with heartbreak.

For three years, I would remain sexually celibate. It wasn’t necessarily on purpose, but I also didn’t want to deal with the hassle that came with romance and/or sex. I was sick of terrible first dates. And for nearly two of those years, the hot geek was unintentionally breaking my heart.

2 years ago, I finally left my celibacy behind. I was glad to have broken the fast, but it didn’t enhance my sex life. My drive might have been kicked alive once more, but the very act that was the catalyst for this change also opened my eyes to the fact that there would be no coming back for seconds with this person.

Just under 2 years ago, I would begin a haphazard romantic and sexual relationship with the bartender. There were as many highs as there were lows, but the sex was some of the best in my life. It brought out parts of me that I hadn’t understood or perhaps had even hidden from light for years. I felt whole and I finally understood that my sexuality can never be quite complete without a partner.

1 day, 1 week, 1 month from now, I don’t know how my sex life might look. I can imagine. I can hope that the next time I have sex, it will satiate me in every way. But if there’s anything that the past two decades have taught me, it’s that the life my sexuality takes on is bigger, bolder and better than I can imagine.

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Bruce Jenner Might Be Trans And It’s None Of Your Business

February 2nd, 2015

I first heard rumors about Bruce Jenner possibly being transgender a few weeks ago. I didn’t give it any thought for a couple reasons:

  1. It’s Bruce Jenner, who cares?
  2. Even if I cared about him personally, what does his gender identity have to do with me?

Now that there’s a so-called sourced out there confirming that Bruce is transitioning, a lot more people are bound to pay attention. After reading a few comments on the Internet, I can rest assured that ignorant, bigoted and sexist idiots are definitely among those people — even though my first two points stand pretty firm for them as well as me!

I’m going to assume, and I may be wrong, but I’ll assume anyway.. That this person has been considering this for a while. Perhaps for their entire life. They may have always felt some amount of gender dysphoria. It may have reared its ugly head in ways that strained relationships, hurt careers and otherwise made life a living hell for Bruce.

And I cannot imagine what I would do if I was so close to the limelight yet lived in a society that is, at best, ignorant about trans issues. At worst, they’re all bigots. The truth is somewhere in the middle, with some people being surprisingly open-minded while others are so closed-minded it makes me wonder how natural selection hasn’t wiped them out already!

Back to my point, which is all about how difficult it must be to be any sort of public figure and come out as trans. According to people, Bruce Jenner is being supported by family, but maybe that’s not true. Maybe their publicist just makes it seem that way because it’s better to provide a united front?

Perhaps there is no source and this is just the tabloids running among with speculation. Who knows? Maybe Bruce Jenner just likes the long hair. Maybe it’s not a trans thing after all. Ultimately, it won’t affect me either way. And it won’t affect anyone who’s not Bruce, truly. But I’m kind of sick of the media using it as a sensationalist story just to get clicks.

And I’m sick of the people who take the bait!

 

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No Pretenses

January 26th, 2015

The other day I read a post by the wonderful, articulate and talented Rachel Kramer Bussel on Thought Catalog. I’ve read her tweets, her stories and plenty of collections she’s edited. In fact, I will soon be published in one of those very collections! Her recent piece “Sorry, But I’m Not A Sexpert” was as well-written as any. But it was was than that.

To me, the words my eyes were absorbing were like something I could have written. I wouldn’t dare to compare myself to Rachel, who has years of experience and has done more to make a career from her love of writing and sex than I ever might. But the thoughts in those paragraphs spoke to me nonetheless.

There are certainly some people who would call Ms. Bussel an expert in her own way, but she dispels the idea that her longevity and interest alone are enough to make her a sexpert. She goes on to explain how she feels more like a student than a teacher, and while people might learn something from her, she’s focusing on sharing her ideas, opinions and experiences with the world as a person who loves sex.

She will “play” with words to tell of her life and fantasies and to lend advice when appropriate, but it’s all based on her own experiences and nothing about it makes her an expert. And that’s okay.

I was particularly struck by this line:

There are plenty of amazing, smart, talented and dedicated sex educators out there who rightly deserve the title of sexpert.

What I hope to offer readers is something else: amateur honesty.

Rachel Kramer Bussel calls herself an amateur. Albeit an honest one, but an amateur nonetheless! And that’s still okay. If Rachel doesn’t need to be an expert, then I sure the hell don’t.

I think I really needed to read this post as my brokenhearted love life and nonexistent sex life — I’ve masturbated twice in approximately two months — had me wondering why I still have this blog. What could I offer to the world? What words can I type on the screen that haven’t already been said? And if I can’t say it better, should I even bother?

But here I am, overlooking the one difference that no one — not even I — can deny: I am me. There are no other mes in this world. So while I may not be able to write about Peachy escorts in London — at least, not yet — or sex rooms in Amsterdam, I can unapologetically stand up for a sex toy that I love. Or speak out against transphobia. Or offer a little advice based on my own experience as a human being who loves and fucks.

I toyed with calling this post “Rachel Kramer Bussel is who I want to be when I grow up.” And it’s not entirely untrue. But it also misses one of the points of her recent post: her value as an “amateur” extends directly from her individuality as a human being. To quote her again:

No, not everyone wants to share their sex lives, but for those who do, their stories are fascinating not because they know everything there is to know about a given sexual topic, but because they are individuals.

So I shouldn’t aim to be another person when I grow up. Rather, I should try to be me. Just, perhaps, a me who understands that it’s okay not to have all the answers. Like Rachel Kramer Bussel, I might help people find them, but I don’t have to pretend to have them all, even answers about my own life.

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Love, Yourself

November 19th, 2014

They say you have to love yourself before others can love you. Or maybe they say you need to love yourself first, before you can love another. And no doubt that a love shared between people who love and respect themselves with be a truer and more respectful love, but they don’t tell you how people will love you anyway. And you’ll love others, too. It will be messier because you’re so far from self-actualization, but this won’t make it any less powerful.

And you won’t be able to let people truly love you as long as you don’t believe you’re deserving of it. Sometimes, they’ll walk away. But some people, people like myself, with love you all the harder because of it, because of the potential we see in you, the light of hope in your eyes.

People will get hurt. It’s inevitable. Even people who know they’re hoping against hope in a reality that just can’t cater to them. Even when no one wants to get hurt. Even when, at the end of the day, there could be love between people. People get hurts.

I guess that’s life. I suppose it’s easier to sing along with that lesson as an Alanis song than to learn it yourself, especially when it takes so many times for that lesson to really sink it. i’m not entirely sure why that is. Perhaps it’s just hard to be a realistic when you have the heart of an optimist. Maybe I am doomed to always see the best in people even if, in reality, they’re more likely to hut me than to be their best.

How many more times do I ignore warning signs, I wonder, before I turn off this path?

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It’s That Time Again

September 14th, 2014

The last time I went through a big toy overhaul was before I moved into my current apartment. Last month, I signed the lease for the next year, meaning I’ve already been here two.

That’s two years to review a lot of toys, and not all of them suited my tastes or anatomy. I’ve got at least a drawer full of toys that I have no need for.

This is good news for you. If there’s something that’s sterilizable — silicone, plastic, metal or glass — or can be safely transported — books and lube — that I didn’t love, it can be yours. Some stuff on this list may still be available. The general list is as follows:

I’ll pack it up for the cost of shipping via PayPal.  Generally, this will be between $5 and $10 per item.  If you’re interested, please take a look at my sex toy reviews. Anything that isn’t tagged as a 5-star item is likely up for grabs.

I am generally not interested in swaps; although, I may make exceptions for Vixen items. You can check out my wishlist here.

To inquire about a toy that might be available, please use the form below.

I’ll try to get back to you in as timely a manner as possible!

 

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And the law.. wins..?

August 16th, 2014

Last year, my city began cracking down on prostitution, child porn and other “related” offenses. In the mainstream media, these sort of things get lumped together. As a person who is capable of critical thinking, I have to wonder if this should be the case.

This focus on sex crimes meant a change of some laws, including newly-proposed fines for people caught providing sex for money or soliciting sex workers.  Public humiliation in the form of releasing names and photos has also been named as one of the police department’s strategies to fix sex “crimes.”

Intellectually, I understand why the police want to shame people into obeying laws, but I just cannot put my full support behind illegalization of sex work. And I don’t think a person’s name or reputation needs be thrown under the bus for soliciting a sex worker when there are far more serious crimes — crimes that actually hurt people — to be investigating and trying.

In a recent newspaper article, the author discussed a man recently arrested. He had been a school teacher. Before his name had even been made public, he resigned. His career was over, of course. But I can’t help but feel like this is an extreme that a person shouldn’t have to take. After all, he will be fined without having to serve any jail time. Either it’s serious enough for jail time or it’s not — and their names don’t need to be made public.

Perhaps I come at this from a personal point of view. When this effort began last year, the police conducted an online sting. They posed as sex workers and even children/teenagers online to lure people out. Several people did proposition minors and went to meet with them. I have nothing wrong with this sort of sting. One of the men who simply arranged to meet an of-age sex worker. Upon arriving, he was instead met by the police who ushered him to the police station where he stayed overnight because it was a late Friday.

This man was a good friend’s ex/on-again off-again/it’s complicated friends with benefits. Today, he’s been dead for almost a year. He took his life because no only did the police release his name, but a bang-up job by the local media splashed his name among those who solicited a minor for sex. This was not the case, but reports weren’t amended until after his passing.

Despite the fact that the media and police are immediately releasing names without fact checking, this is obviously still enough of  a problem that the police are performing major stings almost a year later. Humiliation isn’t a deterrent for people, even if they are otherwise upstanding citizens. According to the police, the type of people who are soliciting sex workers are from all walks of life. These are people who are willing to pay for sex. Nothing more or less.

As a woman, I can think of many worse ways to pay bills. I would rather live in a place where my rights as a human being are protected if I am a sex worker, rather than my name slandered and rights ignored simply because of my line of work. But I don’t live in a place like that because the world is still so far from that. =/

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Join Us Sunday for a Dildo Discussion!

June 30th, 2014

I am proud to announced that this Sunday at 7 PM CST I will be joining Sangsara and Lori for an episode of Sex Toy Nitty Gritty, a live podcast that those two have starts. Our subject will be dildos, and we’ll spend the first half of the episode telling you everything you need to know about them. During the second half of the show, you’ll be able to call in to ask questions, and one called will win the Pussy Willow dildo from Fucking Sculptures, the episode’s sponsor!

You can find more about Sex Toy Nitty Gritty on their blog. The podcast site is hosted on Blog Talk Radio, where you can also listen to their first two episodes. This is where you want to head to listen to the show on Sunday.

I’m excited. Nervous that you’ll guys hear my real voice for only the second time ever! Worried that we won’t be able to cover dildos in just 30 minutes! But mostly excited!

I’ll report back with the call-in number for you guys. You’re sure to hear plenty about it on Twitter. Maybe we should start a hashtag? #sextoynittygritty? Use it now to talk about the show! Whatever you want!

 

Sadly, SangSara and Lori have had to put this project on hold, so there was no discussion tonight. However, I will be excited to work with them in the future when it will be more awesome than you can shake a dildo at!

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