In defense of fingers

I have a lot of sex toys. Some I use regularly, some are saved for special occasions, some were used once and are sitting at the back of the bottom drawer. I have vibrators that pulse to the beat on my iPod, vibes with sixteen types of vibratory variations, industrial strength vibes and mild mannered pocket sized vibes. I have dildos that look like dicks and some that look like works of art. Metal, glass, plastic, silicone, it's all been up there (I'm still waiting for those wood ones). I've gotten used to reaching for some sort of implement when rubbing one off, so I planned ahead and brought along a little travel sized bit of fun when I went home for the holidays.

I forgot the acoustics in my folks house are horribly unforgiving. It's also why I always pack earplugs. Since the guest room / mom's office had been taken over by file folders, I was annexed to the sofa bed in the living room where I could hear everything that happened above me. So, it's safe to assume my folks could hear everything below them.

I laid there on the sofa bed, staring at the darkened Christmas tree, not quite ready to fall asleep but too drowsy to read. My mind wandered. I replayed some particularly juicy bits from a date a few days before and felt that sudden, almost painful twinge in my clit. The vibe was packed away somewhere in the depth of my suitcase and even though it's quiet, I didn't think it would be quiet enough. My folks know enough to know what the sound of a muffled motor means and I've had enough awkward masturbatory near misses with those people. Besides, I was too lazy to move so I would just have to take care of this myself.

I love that feeling from going from a bit damp to flowing. It's so satisfying. I rubbed my clit in little circles the way I like it, every once in a while slipping in a couple of fingers inside, two then three. The light from the street illuminated the shape of my spread legs under the comforter. I could see the little lump of my hand moving faster and faster along with my breath.

In so many ways, visiting my parents turns me back into a 15 year old and this was no exception. I turned over on my stomach, my ass rising and falling. In my head, I went back and forth from being the fuckee to the fucker. I pressed my face into the pillow, breathing heavily through my nose trying to make the least amount of noise as possible. I closed my lips tight, fighting the urge to grunt as I rubbed harder and faster. I'd freeze for a moment thinking I heard the creak of stairs. My pussy gave a little spasm in protest, so I went back to work. I silently mouthed, "Take it, you fucking cunt" and other such things, the pillow getting damp with my spit. My fingers were damn near wrinkled from the wet as I pressed myself into the mattress. 

I remember those orgasms. They're tighter, tenser than the ones I have now. I'm forcing my body to be still when it wants to buck and grind. I'm holding my breath to keep from yelling out loud. I imagine that I'm bound tight, strapped down, and gagged. But I'm not. The restraints are all in my head. I allow myself one long, slow audible exhale and I bring my hands up to my nose like I always do and inhale my scent. All is quiet upstairs.

I'm not giving up my vibrators. I'm all for technological developments in the art of the orgasm, but I think I've fallen in love again with my right hand. 

R.I.P. Eartha

I'm pretty sure I've posted this before. Well, I'm posting it again!

Happy Holidays!

See y'all next year!

Wanderlust

I've been all out of sorts since I got back. Insane level jet lag, flu-ish cold. The bitter slap of reality that is my unemployment. But I thought I'd finally get some highlights from the trip out of my head and on to the internets because that is apparently what one does:

We arrived in Singapore greeted by a crowd of screaming teenage girls with signs and cell phone camera raised up high. Alas, it was not for us but for some swoony famous teen idol who arrived the same time we did with a much more impressive entourage. Within one hour of arriving we managed to find two gay bars around the corner from our small but very cute hotel and got just enough alcohol to help put me to sleep.

I was there for the wedding of a friend of a friend from college and they did a fantastic job of organizing activities for us out-of-towners including a food tour which I unfortunately missed. I was busy vomiting up whatever food was inside me already. I would make up for it the next day with chicken/rice at the hawker place Anthony Bourdain raved about. Who would have thought something so simple would be so incredibly tasty.

I managed to feel better in time to meet the gang at The Long Bar at Raffles for Singapore Slings. They taste like what I imagine Hello Kitty's sweat might be like, but the place was lovely. After was, BBQ at the parents of the bride house. In lieu of my earlier condition, I resisted the tasting of the stinkiest fruit in creation and caught up with folks I haven't seen in years, including a guy I went to high school with. He always thought I was "bad-assed" back then. That made me happy. 

The wedding was really lovely: simple, short and sweet and I found myself dabbing my eyes more than I thought I would. We were then shuttled to Sentosa for the reception. We had a few hours to spare before the festivities, so after a dip in the pool, a few of us headed to the spa for the "fish dip" (yes, that's what they called it) foot treatment which is a lot more disturbing than effective. Eight courses at the banquet. ABBA and New Order cross all cultural boundaries. Danced with the one single guy I could find, then stumbled up to our room around 1am to attempt sleep before getting up at 4:30am to catch our flight to Cambodia.

First stop was Siam Reap. Spent an hour in line for our visas. It's all malaria pills and DEET from now on.

Started out with a boat ride to the Floating Forest which was surreal and the Floating Village which was humbling. We hired a driver to take us around Angkor Wat and spent two days wandering around the ruins which were truly awesome. For real, as in evoking awe. It annoyed me that I didn't know more about this place before. Apparently parts of Tomb Raider were filmed there. I felt a little Angelina Jolie coming on with the swarms of kids selling beaded bracelets and postcard books at every site. It broke my heart, but I got pretty good at saying no with a smile. I think their first words must be "Three for $1.00." I rode an elephant, saw a lot of monkeys and fell in love with Fanta all over again.

The days were all about the temples and the nights were all about tuk tuks and night markets for souvenir shopping. Our last night there, we treated ourselves to massages since we had a five hour bus ride to Phenom Phen the next morning.

Our first stop was a reminder of more recent Cambodian history, The Tuol Sleng Musuem. I was considering taking a day trip out to see the Killing Fields, but I just couldn't do it.

The rest of our stay consisted of mostly lounging by the pool, drinking, getting $4 manicures that were worth every penny, shopping for Buddhas and bargains, dinner by the river at the Foreign Correspondents Club of Cambodia and playing "Spot the Sex Tourist." 

On our way back to NYC, we made a stop in Hong Kong for a night and a day. We had dinner at a Mexican place around the corner from our hotel. The mariachi band sang an acoustic version of the theme to Titanic which we would later hear again from the lounge singer at the Intercontinental Hotel. We drank Manhattans and watched the lights of the skyline. Very Lost in Translation.

Now I have the bug. I want to keep going. I'm thinking Copenhagen or Reykjavík. Peru might be an option. All I need is a regular paycheck and a traveling companion I can fuck.

R.I.P. Bettie Page

You will live forever on the tattooed arms and raven bangs of young women everywhere. I think it's time I pulled those silk stockings and my garters out of retirement.

Toy Review: Fukuoku 9000

I've been out of commission for the past two weeks. I've been traveling out of the country with a friend and for the past 14 days we were rarely out of each others sight. Out of the 5 hotel rooms we shared, only 2 had separate beds, and like in so many contemporary bathroom designs, style has replaced privacy. So, I had not had an orgasm (self-inflicted or otherwise) for 2 weeks. And before you ask, no, we are not that kind of friends. Wasn't gonna happen. No way.

So you can imagine the first thing I did after the 14 hour flight home (well honestly, I fell into a coma for five hours, but after that) was reach into the top drawer and grab whatever battery operated object happened to be closest. This time is was the Fukuoku 9000 finger vibe. I slid it on to my finger, turned it on and went to town.

I had tried it out before I left and, revisiting it again, I have to say I'm not crazy about it. The speed is nice and strong enough and I like the idea of the vibe being an extension of my finger, but one very simple, but rather big and obvious thing kept getting in the way for me. It vibrates your finger. My finger was getting as much stimulation as what I was rubbing it against and it felt really weird. And not a good weird, either. It was distracting to the point of being uncomfortable. 

I really wished I'd liked it. As someone who has limited space and an ever growing collection of toys, I appreciate something small. I even thought about bringing it on my trip, since it would be the perfect size for travel.

For other people this may not be an issue. I might be the only one who feels this way, but I think if I want a big orgasm from a small package, I'll stick with my Pocket Rocket.

For the record, I came almost instantly.

But it had been 2 weeks.