X S E X


Dildo-A-Thon by khemistry

My girlfriends swear by them. Even my mother has one–though I doubt my father is aware of this. They come in all sizes and colors and shapes. The Dildo.

My (straight) guy-friends roll their eyes and smirk, as if to say: “If you had a REAL man [presumably like him], you wouldn’t NEED one of those.” My gay guy-friends are 50/50. Meaning that 50% of them like them and use them as well. The other 50% have a similar reaction to the straight guys, except their reasoning doesn’t include plans to prove their manhood to the ladies. They figure: why use one when you’ve got the real thing standing up and saluting right in front of you? But for some reason, it seems a bit different than the heterosexual equivalent.

I’ve always been a bit adventurous in the boudoir, but that Lewis and Clark spirit never extended to toys. I’m not really sure why…maybe it’s just that most of them look a bit intimidating. I was in my mid-20’s before I worked up the nerve to buy my first “little friend”. I say “little” because I’ve read that the best way to introduce such toys into a relationship is to stick with the smaller sizes. Why? That should be obvious. But apparently most men are put off by the idea of competing with a “toy” that is larger than their own manhood. Since I was in a long-term relationship at the time, I decided to follow this advice and chose an appropriate “starter model” that was skinny and about 5 inches long.

Though I’d never measured my boyfriend, I knew from an episode of ‘Sex in the City’ that the average penis is about 5 to 5 1/2 inches. I figured a five-inch friend would be playing it safe. I also chose a model that was made of neon-pink plastic. It looked like a giant tube of lipstick much more than a penis, so I figured the boyfriend wasn’t going to freak out about me choosing a “replacement”. After all, the sex store where I purchased the thing had a thousand different models to choose from. Most of them looked a bit creepy hanging there on the brightly-lit shelves. They looked, for all the world, like they had just been chopped off some boy toy and wrapped in plastic. I figured an oddly-colored model that had no realistic veins (yuck) would be the safest for a trial run. And just in case my boyfriend freaked out anyway, I bought a cheap no-frills model and made sure to keep the receipt. (NOTE: I found out when I got to the counter that dildos and other such devices cannot be returned. I suppose I should feel good about that policy.)

I chickened-out that night. In fact, I was so worried about how to introduce the thing to my boyfriend that I actually worried myself into a sex-destroying migraine. Not tonight honey, I have a headache. Oh…nothing happened at work. No, I don’t think I’m getting sick. Its just that I bought a pink dildo today and I’m a bit stressed about how to let you know.

Later that night, I snuck into the bathroom and took a nice, long shower. I had to try out my new purchase. And who knows? I might HATE it.

I didn’t. Quite the contrary. It was like a whole, new universe had exploded all around me, showering me with warm golden sparks and a silver flood of angelic singing drowning out all the other noises around me. WOO-HOO!

The next night, I was ready when the boyfriend got home. I had already showered (several times, actually), slipped into the little negligee from Victoria’s Secret he bought me for Valentine’s Day, and put my favorite fuzzy bathrobe on over that. I fixed his favorite dinner (Beef Stroganoff…no I’m not trying to make a joke), uncorked a bottle of red wine, and lit a few candles. I could tell he was a little surprised…watched the thoughts cross his mind (“Did I forget her birthday?” and “Is it our anniversary?”), and then gave him a long, wet kiss with just a hint of tongue. That’s how we girls tell you that you’re getting some. After all, has your girlfriend EVER given you any tongue if she was developing a no-sex-tonight headache?

After the meal, we slip into the bedroom and I slip out of the bathrobe to reveal…well, ME. Well, the Victoria’s Secret version of me. We make out for a bit, and I’m putting everything into it, making sure he’s most definately in the mood. It’s in this “mood mode”, guys, that we can pretty much do with you as we will. When you guys get that excited, I honestly believe most girls could tell you they had been born guys and you’d just grin stupidly. It always reminds me of that cartoon with the little dog following the big bulldog with the spiked collar around excitedly: “Sure, sure, Spike! You were born a dude! Sure, sure!”

So I stop the sexual torture and reach under my pillow to get the pink dildo where I’d stashed it.

It’s not there.

That’s when I notice the boyfriend, holding out the dildo, smiling.

“Looking for this?” he asks.

“Uh…well, yeah. I know you said you felt kinda weird about these things, but…”

“Oh, not anymore,” he tells  me, sheepishly. “I watched you take a shower last night. It was really hot.”

So the moral of this story is: guys will pretty much accept anything sexually, no matter what they might say. It’s all in marketing, baby. Had I known he was watching, I would have been too intimidated and shy to masturbate. But since I didn’t know he was even awake, I really got into it…which of course got HIM into it.

Of course, I couldn’t get him to try many more toys, and when we broke up he actually asked me if it was because of my new-found “friends”. I didn’t tell him this, but it actually WAS because of sex toys. Sorta.  He just wasn’t adventuresome enough for me. I’ve always been a bit shy about toys, so I needed a lover that wasn’t shy at all, someone who wasn’t intimidated about encouraging a little sexual exploration.

I could say more about my adventures with the pink penis, but I’m a dirty girl and I need a shower. Or three.

By 3Jane

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2 Comments so far
Leave a comment

great post, only stumbled upon your blog today, will read again!

Comment by mrkillian

thanks so much! we’re trying to do a bit better about posting regularly, so i hope you keep reading!

3Jane

Comment by khemistry




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