Archive for category clit

Straddling the Saddle: My First Ride on the Sybian

[cross-posted here]

Staying with a friend this weekend, I noticed the saddle vibrator set up in the corner.

“I’ve never played with a Sybian before,” I said. “Would you mind if I took that one for a ride?”

My gracious host agreed, and I eagerly pulled a condom over the dildo attachment. Using nitrile gloves, I fashioned barriers for the places my vulva would rub against the vibrator. Without ceremony or prelude, I lubed the dildo and settled myself onto the erection sprouting from the black half-moon.

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From Cool and Heavy to Slick and Hot

[cross-posted here]

Upon entering a sex shop, I usually head right to the glass and metal dildo displays. After running a fingertip along the length, I like to pick one up to feel the weight in my hand, imagining how it would feel inside me.

Drawn to sleekness and heft, I bought Betty Dodson’s Vaginal Barbell. This particular instrument has played a significant role in my ever-widening sexual universe.

The ways I experience sex have grown from a specifically-administered regimen that guaranteed orgasm to an array of options. After homo and hetero encounters expanded my solosex reality, I added varied sensations, powerplay and pain, anal stim, group sex, shared and witnessed masturbation.

But the most symbolic development to date is the latest: learning to orgasm with my legs open.

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Giving Up Gluten for Backdoor Sex

[Cross-posted here.]

“There’s no way I would have fucked you in the ass before I was good and ready. Even though you were begging me for it.”

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The Summer of My Broken Pussy

[cross-posted here]

To say my pussy was broken this summer might be slightly overdramatic. It wasn’t actually broken. But it felt like it was.

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Operation Touch My Clit

(Cross-posted here.)

I like to make a lot of noise when I have orgasms. It turns me on, the sounds of sex, not only grunts and moans and bossy directives, but especially the wet sloppy sounds that come from my pussy when I’m hot and wet and bothered. When circumstances require that I bite the inside of my cheek and keep quiet instead of making my usual racket, I will. But I always prefer to be loud.

When I’m making noise, words are related to ordering someone around, whether in my fantasy when I’m masturbating or to a lover when I’m having sex with someone else. “Lick me, eat it, get your face down in there, fuck me, that’s right, fuck me, get your hand in there, stick your finger in my ass.” The string of orders spews out of me, as I clutch a face against my engorged pussy lips (or imagine myself doing so when I’m in solo-orgasm-land), or squeeze my vaginal muscles around a finger or a fist or a dildo penetrating me.

The other night, I found myself telling her to suck my little cock. “That’s right, pretend that clit is a little penis. Suck it, just like I know you can. Give me a blow job. Suck it. Suck it like you sucked off those boys in junior high. Make me come in your mouth.” I thrust my hips against her mouth, my fingers pulling my labia apart, my swollen little nub protruding towards her tongue and lips.

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