The vibrator to end them all

You can take the girl out of Catholic school but you can’t take the Catholic school out of the girl.

Or something like that.

At unSCruz, there was one itty bitty contraption that mesmerized me.

A standing vibrator.

Yes, you heard me right – A STANDING VIBRATOR.

Just along the side of the walkway, as I live and breathe.

I went in to get a closer look.

There was a fully clothed woman on it, and she and an “operator” were fine-tuning the vibrations.

It was wild to see it.

Now, I’ve heard about this vibrator before.

It has something of a reputation you see.

Apparently, it massages EVERYTHING.

And, given enough time, will result in an extraordinary climax.

Half of me wanted to try it.

Simply so I could report back and let you know what I thought of it.

But truthfully, it was always being used, so I never got a chance to ride it.

It was quite popular!

The other half of me thought, “Shouldn’t this be in a tent or something?”

It’s the Catholic girl in me who was shy about having a screaming orgasm where everyone could see.

Nevertheless, if I find it on playa I will have to test it out. . . because I’m curious like that.

Despite my Catholic sensibilities.

Prince Albert

I am a sneaky person.

Yes I am.

I may not have a poker face, but I sure as hell can be sneaky about some stuff.

For instance, nudity.

I like to think that I’m all blasé about it but in reality, I am not.

I think, “OH! A naked person!” and then my eyes drink up the sight of them, regardless if they are male, female, or non-binary.

But I don’t look outright.

No, that would be rude!

I SNEAK A PEEK.

Because staring is rude but a sneak peek is A-OK.

The other night, I snuck in a peek at a naked man and I saw something surprising.

A piercing through his junk.

Are they called Prince Alberts?

I think they are.

Well, he had one and it was there, clear as day.

He is the third man I’ve met with one of these piercings.

The first one is a casual friend who I met at a “lingerie” party.

The second man actually stuck a lock through his piecing and then walked around with bolt cutters asking people to cut it off.

OMG.

Now, I’m not clear on whether or not it enhances HIS PLEASURE during sex, but I think it’s safe to say it probably adds some extra friction for HER PLEASURE.

I’m not adverse to Prince Alberts.

I actually find them very interesting (though my experience is limited to visual not physical explorations).

Truthfully, it seems like a very easy way to lead a man around by his penis.

And I’ve always loved the idea of taking one with me.

On a leash.

Through his piercing.

Fondle my bunny tail

It’s been a while since I role played.

Like years.

It’s not that I have anything against it.

It’s just that usually I’m in such a hurry to GET BUSY that I don’t have the time to make up a story and act it out.

Not at all.

I lack that feminine detail, I guess.

I’m always running to the fucking finish line, oblivious that there’s actual beauty to be observed and enjoyed on the path there.

Well, etsy is now trying to encourage me to role play by selecting favorites that are. . . ummm. . .how can I put this?

Out of this world?

Well, out of this SPECIES to say the least.

I’m pretty sure all this happened because I was looking for bunny ears for the Pagan Bunny Burn.

Or maybe because I bought latex pasties for a costume.

Either way, I now have animal-themed leather BDSM masks popping up in my favorites.

Bunny.

Mouse.

Cat.

To tell you the truth, I WAS tempted by the bunny, but not because I want someone to scratch my belly and feed me carrots.

No.

More like because it adds a certain ELEMENT to my bunny costume.

A sort of wicked, let-me-tempt-you, fondle my bunny tail kinda way.

Hairpulling

There I am hanging with a pal when the subject of snuggling comes up.

Do I want to snuggle?

Hells yes!

Of course, I’m trying to behave myself so I grab a suitably large pillow, plunk it down in his lap, and start snuggling on the couch.

Ah!

This is nice.

My friend starts to randomly touch me and it’s kinda nice.

I giggle when he touches my lower back.

It tickles!

It then becomes apparent that he’s trying to help with my problem by providing me with a PG level snuggle.

I instantly escalated it to PG-13.

I say to him, “If you really want to do me a favor, pull my hair.”

He grabs fistfuls and pulls.

Ah!

I can’t tell you how much I LOVE to have my hairpulled.

It’s definitely a THING for me.

My favorite hairpulling memory involved me, a Swede, and some concurrent deep kissing.

This rivaled it not because there was kissing but because there was SO MUCH HAIRPULLING I thought I’d lost my mind.

Imagine 15 minutes of hairpulling.

It was AWESOME!

I gotta say, I sure love it when a friend comes through for me.

Giving up sex

So here’s The Deal.

I’m giving up sex for 3 months.

That means three months of no sex, not even a teeny little bit.

Not even the kind that doesn’t “count.”

This means I have to be celibate until January 7, 2018.

Now, there is one exception to this rule:

The Swede.

IF The Swede comes to visit, then my vow of abstinence goes on hiatus.

I rationalize it like this – The Swede happens to be the one HEALTHY friendship I have and therefore shouldn’t be included in my vow of abstinence, which is supposed to weed out the dirty boys and rebels.

I told Tejas about my vow and he just laughed and laughed.

Then he thought about how much bitching he will have to listen to and he STOPPED LAUGHING.

Personally, I think the biggest challenge for me isn’t going to be giving up sex.

No.

It’s going to be giving up the sexting and flirting that goes with it.

Because for me, flirting leads to sexting leads to sex IRL.

So we’re gonna have none of that.

Do you think I will survive?

Lousy F*ck

This post is for all the guys out there.

There’s something you need to hear and I’m gonna be the one to say it:

Aftercare.

It’s a thing.

And it’s an important thing.

You don’t just slip your clothes back on and beat a hasty retreat out of the bedroom.

No.

Part of the commitment to sex involves a minimal commitment to AFTERCARE.

Meaning you and your partner make pillow talk for at least 10 or 15 minutes post coitus.

When you leap up and wash, get dressed, and leave, it feels like an abrupt and rude ending to what might have otherwise been a fun evening.

So, I’m curious. . . what will it take to make you give a shit about being respectful and connected post coitus?

I’ll give you a tip.

It doesn’t matter how good a lover you are, IF YOU DO THIS THEN THE LOVEMAKING SUCKS.

A smooth transition from the bed to the kiss goodbye ensures that the entire event will be viewed in a positive light.

If you tell us we have a lazy eye. . .

If you put on your clothes IMMEDIATELY. . .

If you fail to provide ADEQUATE AFTERCARE you will be remembered as a LOUSY FUCK and we will PURGE YOU FROM OUR PHONE AND OUR MEMORIES.

That is all.

What I hope men think about when they’re having sex with me

Sometimes I wonder if the inside of a man’s brain sounds like the lonely buzz of a fluorescent light bulb.

In reality I suspect their brain cells are working like pistons, constantly firing.

Given that I have my own internal dialogue during sex, I can’t help but wonder:

What would theirs be?

I’m sure it must be more sophisticated than just “boobs, Boobs, BOOBS!”

Sex is one of life’s simpler moments. In the presence of my naked body, I hope a man’s mind becomes pretty stimulated and his mind takes off. Here are the thoughts I HOPE a man could have when he’s in bed with me.

  1. Damn! I forgot to shower. Not that I mind a whiff of musky body odor during sex. I just like the idea of a man who wants to prep for me.
  2. My god, these are perfect! Hopefully the best breasts are the ones that have recently been exposed for his enjoyment.
  3. I should remember this for later. Taking a mental picture of me for later. For.. you know… solo activity.
  4. “Take me out to the ballgame, take me out to the crowd …” I was once told that men sing this song in their heads to hold off the Big O so that they can last longer for their partners. I like a man who wants to extend the play.
  5. Play it cool. I want a man to think he’s totally in charge, even when he’s not.
  6. I wonder if she’d be cool if I tried ______? Every guy has his own bag of tricks and I want to be shown his.
  7. Where did she learn THAT?! I have my own moves and would like to think that I manage to blow his mind once or twice.
  8. So, um, was that an orgasm? When men orgasm, you know it. It’s a show. So I can understand their confusion when, after I orgasm, I just keep going like I’m the Duracell bunny. He doesn’t know if he should keep going? Wrap things up? WHAT TO DO?!
  9. THAT. JUST. HAPPENED. Men may not show it afterward but they’re pretty excited. Nothing else matters at this time. He has me in his arms and his brain is stewing in a bath of feel-good hormones.

Perverted and inappropriate

I am once again taking off and going to RENO for a weekend.

No, it has nothing to do with Burning Man.

I’m going to visit my sister.

And she’s taking me to the Spa at the Peppermill for massages!

Woot!

However, she requested MALE massage therapists for us.

She says they give better deep tissue massages than a woman therapist.

This gives me pause.

First of all, I’m not too fond of DEEP TISSUE massages.

They tend to make me cry and BEG for mercy.

Second, I’m not too thrilled to have a man working on me.

It’s not that I object to a man massaging me.

It’s just that I do watch a lot of massage parlor porn.

Throwing a man into the mixture makes me tense up and think about sex.

A lot.

Because I’m perverted and inappropriate like that.

Can’t I just have a female therapist and enjoy a nice Swedish massage. . .

. . .then go to Sweden and give a nice sexy massage to The Swede.

I wouldn’t mind if he massaged me.

On the inside 😉

Sex toy purge

I have a ton of sex toys.

Most of it is pretty tame stuff.

Stuff I’m okay admitting to on my blog – vibrators, dildos, magic wands, condoms, lubrication, blindfolds, etc.

However, there are a few things in my collection – such as a harness and nipple clamps – that should anything happen to me, my sister is UNDER STRICT INSTUCTIONS TO GET TO MY ROOM AND REMOVE THEM.

They’re all in a black bag on the top shelf on my center bookcase.

Basically, my mom and dad don’t know what a pervert I am and I want to keep it that way, especially when I get to the greater beyond.

My sister is mentally strong and capable of looking at these things, realize that I did in fact use them on other people (or myself) and THROW THAT SHIT AWAY.

I suspect, given my sister’s constitution, that she would actually just toss the entire bag into the garbage, sight unseen.

Because she’s SMART LIKE THAT.

Who needs to look at an enema bulb anyway?

Or a lube shooter?

Or, God forbid, a riding crop?

Oh wow, did I just say that out loud?

There’s no such thing as surprise anal

Now.

I know what you’re thinking.

You’re thinking “tell me she is NOT going there.”

Why yes.

Yes, I am.

I once sat in on a cocksucking class.

It was called Blowjobs 102 and it was held in a pole dancing studio.

The instructor was telling us about anal sex.

She said two things that stick in my mind.

The first thing she said is that in anal sex (unlike in regular sex), the penetrator stays still while the penetratee does all the moving.

Imagine a visual to go with this.

Ok.

Then she said “There is no such thing as surprise anal!”

I know she’d like to think this.

Take it from a woman who has shoved her finger up a guy’s ass – it’s best to not surprise anyone this way.

But I have to say, much to her dismay, THERE IS.

It’s even got a name.

It’s called “WRONG HOLE!” and it’s usually shouted strenuously.

Now I can understand younger men having this problem.

I certainly bellowed WRONG HOLE! more than I care to admit when I was younger and playing with young men.

But it STILL happens even with men in their 40s and 50s.

I think they get excited, start poking around DOWN THERE, feel something give and just ASSUME it’s a pussy.

Well, I’m here to say NOT SO.

Take your time.

Find the right hole.

Because there IS such a thing as SURPRISE ANAL and it ain’t pretty.

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