Tag: masturbation

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Books Reviews

Diy: The Wonderfully Weird History and Science of Masturbation

Diy: The Wonderfully Weird History and Science of Masturbation
https://amzn.to/40ebzIV from Amazon

I wasn’t planning to post another book review so soon, but I listened to Dr. Eric Sprankle’s book, Diy: The Wonderfully Weird History and Science of Masturbation, on a whim and I couldn’t not review it!

Dr. Sprankle hails from Minnesota, where he teaches, researches, and treats issues related to sexuality, making him more than qualified to write such a book. He’s been on my radar and follow lists for some time, so it’s wild that I think I missed the announcement of DIY last year. I wasn’t initially super thrilled because I’ve read a lot of books that cover similar ground to this book, including Buzz. And while Dr. Sprankle does discuss many things with which I’m familiar, such as the advent of Frosted Flakes or semen retention practices, he consistently does so in a way that prevents it from feeling redundant. I truly can’t say this about every book. Many books are a struggle to get through because of my familiarity with the subject.

Sprankle’s sense of humor, which he describes as “irreverent,” is certainly part of the reason this book was such a joy for me that I found myself binging nearly half of the audiobook, which he reads himself, during my first listen. That humor won’t be for everyone, but I get the feeling that the author knows this and leans into it because people like me, who do enjoy his wit, will enjoy the book all the more for it. The humor is consistent as Dr. Sprankle takes us through arguments and movements against masturbation, from protecting the children to porn addiction to sex toy bans to homophobia to the infantilization of older adults. The organization was so seamless, no doubt aided by the author’s narrative approach, that I almost didn’t notice the transition between chapters. With just nine chapters and the conclusion in addition to the humor, the book is a breeze. I finished it in just three sittings, and one was quite short.

Despite its relatively short length and many contents being familiar to me, I was surprised by how much Dr. Sprankle included that was new to me, including information about jack-off clubs. Yet despite knowing his shit, the author never comes off as condescending or pretentious. This is an incredibly accessible book that doesn’t require the reader to be overly familiar with research or medical terms. He wants readers to feel okay when exploring their solo sexuality because it’s natural and healthy, and so many people do so anyway. There’s just no reason to feel or pretend otherwise. I imagine many in the general public will like it.. as long as they don’t ardently disagree with the premise.

And people do disagree. The book addresses some of those people, including conservative, religious groups, and incels, directly. I especially appreciate the latter because most books of this nature don’t, perhaps because it’s a relatively new phenomenon. With that said, Dr. Sprankle’s nonchalance about the mythical risks of masturbation and the people who want to sell them to the public will likely ruffle some feathers. It’s why, I’m sure, I’ve seen a number of negative ratings online that weren’t accompanied by names or reviews. You can’t write something like this without making at least a little target of yourself.

I’m glad he did, however. If it helps at least one person feel better about masturbation, it’s worth it. If it can become a tool in the arsenal of professionals, even better! It’s the cherry on top that the read (listen) was so damned enjoyable!

When adding DIY to my completed list on Goodreads, I was glad to see that its rating is over 4 stars. This is the book that I’d love to give 4.5 stars to because I think books essentially need to be perfect to earn that rating. Yet, there’s no glaring omission to point out. Perhaps I just want there to be more to this book because I enjoyed it. That’s it. That’s the review.

P.S., I love the clever cover.

Categories
Articles

Celebrating #MasturbationMonth and Solo Sex

We’re less than halfway through Masturbation Month, and I am quick enough to write a post celebrating it! Inconceivable!

I can’t remember the first time I masturbated. I know that I was making my Barbies have sex and contemplated my own pleasure when I was in the single digits. I thought of my vagina as the place that was supposed to give me pleasure, but I enjoyed clitoral friction. Like so many girls, my young masturbating often involved humping a pillow or blanket to sate this desire.

Nor do I recall the first time I masturbated with a toy. I know that I was 18 and living on my own for the first time. I purchased a vibrator online and soon followed this with a Rabbit Habit and then a second when that one broke because of the way that I liked to bend the toy during use.

Sometime between these two firsts, I had masturbated for the first time in someone else’s house. In fact, I think I have masturbated in nearly every home I’ve ever had the opportunity to sleep in, not to mention several hotels.

The first time I tried anal masturbation was shortly after I got my first vibrator, a purple behemoth that was likely made from jelly. I wanted to try anal insertion in the shower, so snuck it in the bathroom without my roommate seeing. I don’t know if I even owned lube at the time, and I certainly didn’t realize that jelly toys shouldn’t be swapped between orifices like that. In hindsight, it’s embarrassing but also a testament to my willingness to experiment.

I used those toys when I masturbated vociferously over the phone with my fiance (a naturally leap from our previous cyber sex) with whom I had partnered sex for the first time. He was also the first person I masturbated in front of, both on purpose and accidentally.

I was living overseas when I masturbated in public for the first time. Although, it was a limited definition of “public.” I was in the very last row of an otherwise empty bus and quickly rubbed one out through my jeans. I would not do that again.

The first time I squirted was during masturbation. My then-husband was deployed once more, and I was alone. I had inserted Ophoria’s K-balls and pressed a vibrator (the Miracle Massager). against them. This created intense G-spot stimulated thanks to the size of the balls. And the inner balls bounced around as the K-balls vibrated.

I remember the first time that I cried during masturbation. Things had recently ended with The Bartender. Every time I masturbated, I missed him and our amazing sex. I wasn’t ready to be back to doing it solo. I would often come or ejaculate and sometimes cry. I also recall the first time that I cried during masturbation that didn’t make me feel distressed. I was using the Unicorn dildo, and it seemed to pull an emotional catharsis as well as ejaculate out of me.

More recently, I tried my hand at bringing myself to orgasm as many times as possible in a single session (I typically advise that the number of orgasms doesn’t count). I typically get off three or so times during any session but this time, I wasn’t going to call it quits until I actually couldn’t stand it anymore. I had ten or eleven orgasms before the muscles in my forearm were sore and stiff and needed relief.

It was only several months ago when I used my right hand to masturbate for the first time. It had taken me over thirty years to try it, mostly because I am so laterally-handed. Since then, I’ve tried right-handed masturbating a few more time, but I will never be an ambidextrous masturbator.

I am an avid fan of masturbating. Whether single or in a relationship. In fact, I might even jerk off more when I have someone to send sexy messages to or with whom to have phone sex.

At any given time, I’d prefer to masturbate over having sex if I am unsure of the quality of the sex. If I was positive that partner play would be satisfying, I would prefer it. I occasionally miss a sensual or erotic massage where my partner lightly tickles my upper back. But having sex for the sake of having sex? Doesn’t cut it. I am not so enthralled by novelty that it’s enough to make up for the quality of sex that most straight guys seem to bring to the table.

In fact, I am not really swayed by novelty much at all at this point in my life. Although people like Epiphora have discussed how sex toy reviewers must sometimes force ourselves to use subpar toys when we’ve rather be playing with anything than else, I mean something more than that. More often than not, I do not want to use any toy. I started an orgasm spreadsheet earlier this year, which is now collecting dust because I almost always rub on out manually through my underwear, usually getting off two or three times. It’s so routine. I certainly don’t want to use multiple toys. It all just sounds like so much work.

Of course, I do try new toys and partners. I do sometimes crave toys specifically — often only to realize they have dead batteries because it’s been so long since I last reached for them. I do wonder whether another person or another toy can do it better. I usually write about them on this blog. I wouldn’t be much of a sex toy reviewer if I didn’t!

But sometimes it’s nice to return to my old standby. To get off without needing to prepare or worry about a partner’s pleasure. And isn’t the one of the great joys of masturbating?

This is a sponsored post but all words are my own.

Psst, if you’re looking to pick up some new toys to celebrate Masturbation Month, check out my list of sex toy sales!

Categories
Books Reviews

Sex Yourself

Sex Yourself
$11.99 (Kindle) from Amazon

If I was going to pick a book that was friendly and welcoming to readers, especially those who are looking to expand or start their sex lives, Sex Yourself would be pretty far up there.

Sex Yourself, subtitle ” The Woman’s Guide to Mastering Masturbation and Achieving Powerful Orgasms,” is the product of author Carlyle Jansen. Jansen is actually the founder of Toronto sex toy store Good For Her. I feel like Jansen is a capable vessel to disseminate this information, and Sex Yourself lends credibility by not avoiding actual names for our anatomy or trying to cute things up. I appreciate this.

The book does a good job at talking to the inexperienced reader without being overwhelming them while avoiding those all-too-common mistakes of treating sex as something to hem and/or hehe about. Jansen proves you can be gentle without being infantilizing or condescending (although, she does swap “masturbation” with “self-pleasure” and “solo sex”). Why don’t more people do this?

Right from the start, Sex Yourself aims to encourage masturbation and to mitigate feelings of guilt about masturbation. Jansen reassures the reader with stats about women and masturbation. She also touches on how solo sex is still sex, even if it’s with yourself, but it’s not cheating. The first chapter wraps up with benefits of masturbation, both for yourself and your partnered sex.

A bit of the formatting is lost in the digital edition

From here, Jansen teaches the reader about erogenous zones such as the clitoris. She also specifies between the vulva and vagina. Yasss! The second chapter is the comprehensive anatomy lesson that most of us never got with addition info on discharge, pregnancy, and menopause.

I don’t want to go through every chapter in detail, but  Sex Yourself is worth reading for many people, even if I found most of the information a little basic. It’s the type of book that a parent might give to their daughter or that a young woman might seek out to get in touch with her sexual side.

This book is body positive, and the encouragement for self-love extends beyond masturbation. Jansen’s words somehow make it a little more easy to be in a woman with so many expectations put upon us before providing actionable techniques for masturbation. Every topic that Jansen tackles to techniques to toys to masturbating in front of your partner is in-depth and accessible while encouraging natural sexual exploration.

I was consistently impressed with Jansen’s advice, the type that I and my fellow sex bloggers have been providing for years. Sex Yourself suggests lube time and again (yay) while providing all the information you need to choose a one (you can learn a bit more about the science of lube in this post). Issues such as ass-to-vag toy usage and anal toy safety aren’t glossed over. I love this.

Sex Yourself also dispels some myths such as one type of orgasm being superior to the other or that there’s a difference between G-spot and clitoral orgasms, to begin with. The book also doesn’t spread falsehoods like squirting is just pee, either.

Perhaps it’s because Jansen wrote Sex Yourself like so many of my peers have been writing posts (you’ll find recommendations for some of our favorite toys!) and books that it struck gold. It’s real, it’s useful, and its presence was much needed in the world of sex ed.

It’s also a quick read, and you can page through to the content you need without reading it all. In fact, I would recommend a physical copy because it looks like the formatting works just a bit better/is more polished than the digital version.

Categories
A Toy A Day

A Toy A Day #1: Laya Spot

I recently took a look at my nightstand and realized that there were dozens of toys that I neglect. Not only should I use them more, but I should use them at all. Even my favorites have been collecting dust as of late. More often than not, I use toys only to review them and stick to manual stimulation when I want to get off because it’s quicker and more convenient.

There’s nothing wrong with this per se, but I do feel as though my sexuality isn’t completely integrated with the rest of my life lately. And it’s not just because I am perpetually single.

Regardless, I can change the situation with my sex toys. So as summer winds down, batteries will be recharged, and I will work my way through the draw. I expect to remember how much I loved some toys, be disappointed with those that I have grown apart from and be surprised by toys that has finally won me over.

I plan to detail this attempt in a little project called A Toy A Day.

Layaspot, Desire clitoral vibe and Siri 2
Layaspot, Desire clitoral vibe and Siri 2

There have been a number of toys that I liked or even loved while my fellow bloggers were lukewarm or even less satisfied with them. Fun Factory’s Laya Spot was perhaps the first. I enjoyed it so much that I powered past a disgusting BO-like smell right out of the packaging. And when my first one died after years of steady use, I replaced it.

Some months ago, the batteries in my Laya Spot died. It’s one of the few toys that I keep around that doesn’t have an internal battery and one of select few that runs on AAA batteries. Laya Spot’s strengths were never the vibrations. They’re lackluster and toward the buzzy end of the spectrum, which I don’t necessarily love.

No, it’s always been the shape of the Laya Spot that does it for me, so it’s no surprise that after switching to fresh batteries, I was able to get off within 60 seconds. Using the Laya Spot feels good, not utilitarian. And it’s all due to the shape. That drastic angled with the rounded tip has always nestled between my labia like it belongs that.

Laya Spot is also one of the few clitoral toys I have that’s rigid, and I cannot help but think this has something to do with why the shape works well for me. Not only is it pronounced, but I can easily achieve pressure thanks to the material. Fun Factory described it as Elastomed, but it feels like a slick-ish plastic to me, so movement is easy.

Throughout my years of using Laya Spot, I’ve used it over my underwear and directly against my skin. If I’m lazy and perhaps haven’t had time to clean it, I’ll use my underwear as a totally not effective barrier. But because it’s the shape and not the vibrations that I love, I rarely use it directly against my skin.

Now that there are fresh batteries in my Laya Spot, I’m sure I’ll find myself reaching for it in the dark of night when I half wake up, aroused and delirious.

Categories
Everything Else

I Don’t Want to Have Sex with Myself

Well, no, that’s not exactly right. I am a sexual being. I generally enjoy masturbating, even if my orgasms are more perfunctory than anything else, and even if the most I get out of squirting is bragging rights (it doesn’t accompany orgasm).

But it’s not something I’ve ever been good at planning per se. Because I don’t I want to. Unlike with sex, masturbation is almost always something I do at the spur of the moment, and that’s how I like it. If the mood strikes after watching a particularly sexy movie scene or browsing Tumblr, I’ll pause for somewhere between 1 and 10 orgasms, weak wrists and fatigued arm muscles allowing.

I can’t really entice it to happen, however. Sometimes erotica helps, but it doesn’t always. And I don’t necessarily care that much. It’s like I simply can’t be bothered to stop playing Ingress or watching another episode of The Munsters (because it’s almost Halloween!) or playing some random Facebook game that’s not just a time suck but a boring one at that.

It’s disconcerting to care so little for something that defines me so much, but right now it’s something I can “get away with” because of my lack of sexual partner. And even if you argued I am my own partner in this, it’s not something I’m chasing myself down to do. I’ve no doubt this will change eventually, but it’s a weird place to be in right now.

 

Categories
Everything Else

My Sex Life Can Legally Vote

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.

Categories
Dating The Bartender

Heartbreak is Hell on the Sex Drive

Whenever one of my sexual relationships ends, I go through an awkward stage of adjustment. When I am sexually active with one person, I tend to include them in my fantasies when when I’m by myself. My masturbation sessions focus around that one person, a real live person. I recall things we’ve done or conversation we’ve had, and I think about the things we have yet to do.Obviously, this became the case with the bartender.

Now that we’re no longer having sex, I’ve rarely masturbated. I don’t want to fantasize about him because it will segue into those heartbroken thoughts, and I’m not sure what do to. I’m not good with vague erotic thoughts. I need something more specific to consider. Without that something — or someone — specific, I become too focused on the mechanics, which is a terrible way to orgasm.

I get off most easily when I distracted myself from what a hand or toy is doing and focus on what’s going on in my head. It’s when I’m really swept up that I seem to have the best orgasms, and this is complete with all sorts of sounds and movements that are well beyond my control or controlled in such a way to add to the moment.

I’m working on getting over this, however. In multiple ways. As time passes, I’ll be less upset and heartbroken. In the meantime, I shouldn’t have to suffer without release, should I? To this end, I’ve been focusing on ideas outside of myself: erotica anthologies, plenty of visits to Tumblr, random flirting with strangers and the occasional visit to sites like SpicyWebcams.

It’ll take time, of course. Sometimes auto-drive kicks in and I find myself thinking about the bartender or even moaning his name. When I realize this, I am momentarily confused. Do I go with it because it feels good or catch myself and stop, which will usually take me out of the moment?

I was discussing this with Juliettia because it’s something of an identity crisis, for me to not be sexual in any way. It’s bad enough that I can’t have sex with the person I love, but it’s worse that it’s affecting my desire to masturbate. I feel as though I’ve lost part of who I am, and that only adds to the sea of emotions in which I’m struggling to stay afloat. It’s good to have a place where I can express that, too. Obviously sex is one of the more important aspects of my life and relationships.

Things are looking up, however, thanks in part to two items I have to review: the Ora 2 and The Big Book of Submission! After nearly two weeks without an orgasm, I quickly caught up with some multiple-orgasm sessions.

I’m not entirely sure if other people have experienced this, and I know I don’t always feel this way. But when I am losing someone I want, I also lose part of myself.