Death of a Sex Toy

Believe it or not I started purchasing sex toys for the first time perhaps four years ago. I say believe it or not, because to most people who know me this is a surprising revelation. For years, I'd been having orgasms, multiple orgasms - of the g-spot/vaginal or anal variety. I'd essentially given up all hope of ever having a clitoral orgasm. How do you ask did I reach this conclusion? How was I convinced that I would be part of a special segment of that shocking 10-15% of women who never orgasm at all? Well my clitoris is not one of those big, juicy, almost penis looking specimens. She doesn't protrude proudly from the inner folds of my labia or plump and squirt at the barest firm touch. She doesn't throb and whimper in response to a smooth stroke or a wet tongue. She doesn't pulsate at the height of a good fuck, sending rolling waves of heat and ecstasy to the base of my stomach, and tingles to the tips of my toes. My clitoris is in fact as nonchalant of an organ as I am a person. She isn't easily impressed. She doesn't care how big you are, how wet you are, how bold you are. She is stoic in her resistance to enticement by other sexual acts happening to the body of which she is a part.

Over a sex life of more than a decade, perhaps you can see why I might have given up hope. A friend suggested I just didn't get "DID" right, that my partners didn't handle their business. A less experienced person might have bought that argument, but I knew, that my partners, male and female, knew how to handle their "business" quite well. After all, I had orgasms, multiple orgasms, I just didn't have clitoral orgasms. When a wiser friend, upon hearing about this dilemma, encouraged me to take a trip to a local sex shop and stock up on some high powered battery operated machinery, I decided to follow her advice.

Prior to purchasing sex toys I wasn't a really into masturbating. It isn't that I thought I was too "good" for it, nor that I was philosophically opposed. I just thought reaching orgasm could be better accomplished in other ways. It was a fruitless unrewarding task. Why waste my time? It occurred to me that my purchase had the potential to open a brand new frontier of sexual exploration and I was anxious for the journey to begin. I'm hoping the last time anyone reading this entry visited a sex shop or attended a sex toy party was fairly recent. If it's been longer than six months, then you need an update. Not only are sex shops entertaining, but they also present unique educational opportunities. There is no better way to increase your awareness of the variety of fetishes and sexual interests than by taking a trip to a well stocked sex shop. I purchased my lime green butterfly at Pleasure Emporium on South Beach, and in the last four years, she has been very very good to me and my clit - very very good. How did it begin? Well my first clitoral orgasm was a toe curling experience.

After I peeled off all the plastic packaging and examined my prize, I discovered there was a bit of a learning curve involved with using this toy. I had a variety of options for which part of the butterfly I would use to stimulate myself. I could choose the the wings, the face, the back of the head or the antennae. I used the tip of my nose to test the strength of vibration from each angle (a trick the sex shop staff taught me) and decided to go with the face. I put a copy of the girl on girl porno I had picked up on my last trip to New York, drowned out the tragically contrived conversation with soft music, took a sip of from the glass of Chateau Du Grand Cavvete on my bedside table and got naked.

The cool feel of the sheets against my bare back and thighs combined with the sight of well endowed women fondling each other on the screen in front of me, was enough to make the skin of the inner folds of my labia moist. I pressed the tip of my finger at the entrance of my pussy and used the thumb of my alternate hand to turn on the vibrator. As much as I wanted to jump right in, anxious to determine if this would "work" I knew that my ability to relax and let things slowly build was a crucial component of success. I took the butterfly and slowly ran her up and down the outside of my pussy and used my other hand to open my lips so that I could tease the inner folds. My body responded with shivers and I could feel moisture begin to dribble down my inner thighs. I positioned the face of the butterfly near the hood of my clitoris and applied light pressure, moving it in a circular motion . I began to feel a rising tide of sensation. I felt flush, my face, shoulders and chest were hot and my body tensed with wanting. I applied more pressure, and as the butterfly circled the waves of sensation ebbed and flowed. My clit was plumped and throbbing. I began to feel the tell-tale tingle brushing the tips of my toes and fingers. I removed one finger from the grip of the butterfly and slowly inserted it into the entrance of my pussy, moving back and forth as the butterfly circled. I could feel the walls of my pussy clenching around my finger and trembling, as moisture trickle down my hand. I knew that I was very very close to what I had been seeking, and I had to force myself to relax by taking deep breaths and trying to pace my progress. I slowly turned over, placed a pillow under my waist and began to move my clit up and down against the butterfly as my finger moved in and out the first two inches of my pussy. My stomach was taut with anticipation, there were beads of sweat on my brow. When the first wave of sensation hit me I cried out. The intensity of the cum was so shocking, that my body collapsed against my hand, pressing my clit against the butterfly and bringing on another wave of orgasm more powerful than the last. Rather than feeling satiated I was ravenous and for the next hour, I came five more times, each a higher peak than the last, each leaving my wanting more. My green butterfly was very very good to me and my clit. Looking back I think it was at that moment I became a greedy bitch in bed.

As I laid the butterfly to rest this past week, after two new sets of batteries failed to elicit a response, I kissed her fondly, and wrapped her in a paper bag. As I dropped the bag in the trash can, I picked up the phone and called Pink. "Girl, when we can take a trip to Fetish Factory?"

What happens when you eat but are never full? Is it possible to always be hungry?