toys, toys, toys

I’m turning 35 in about 24 hours – momentus stuff.  Birthday plug aside, a close friend has offered to take me out for dinner and to see the new movie Hysteria about the history of the first vibrator.  How fitting???

Thus, it’s got me thinking about toys, how they have evolved and what they mean to both men and women.  Historically, there have been implements and toys around for more than a thousand years with early records of the Greeks (horny pervs they were) depicting women using an ‘oblisbos’ whilst their men were absent at war.  Throughout millenia it seems human have wanted to incorporate objects to intensify longing and to satiate the senses.  We have penis extenders mentioned (and pictured below, no it’s not a wine stopper)  in the illustrious Karma Sutra and Cock rings used around 1200 AD during one of China’s dynastic eras. 

Image

Every age thinks they invent sex, that we add something more ethereal or raunchy to it.  I love the fact that despite malnourishment, war, disease and what we think of as far more conservative times humans can’t seem to stop the urge to make sex more interesting!!  Sure religions come and go and on the whole make sex an evil kinda ‘you shant masturbate, orgasm or even lust’ but it’s still there, that stagnant cesspool of desire.  Fun aint’ it?

Sure, the digital age has made things more visual and in some ways more disturbing and less of a spiritual experience.  I mean, you can have all kinds of sex on tap viewed on the screen without so much as interacting with another human being.  Whether this is detrimental or enhances more fluid sexual behaviours is debatable and further studies in psychology and societal norms will show the impact.  Hell, i’d suggest the advent of  lifelike sex dolls will only get more freaky over the years, what next??  Robot mouths that blow your appendage and serve you a cool beverage afterwards.     A dildo that makes chocolate fondue at the same time, hell i’d line up for that new invention.  Ahem.

My personal history with sex toys is evolving, the first major sexual interaction i ever had was with a toy and not a young man.  I was woeful at flirting and hormones kicked in at eighteen that i managed to get a very plain dildo that i fucked in bed, in the shower on the couch sneakily when nobody else was at home.  I had not even had my first kiss but i’d felt that longing to be filled for a looong time.  I was amazed it wasn’t painful and rather enjoyable to vary the strokes and depth, learning the curves of my own body.  By the time i had my first lover a few years later i can say i wasn’t overly nervous about sex or losing my virginity, i’d had enough toy experience that i was fine. 

Since early history of Gigi i’ve grown to love smaller clit vibes rather than dildos due to the sheer power and range of options they give.  My favourite is a We vibe Tango… god bless  you.  Best $150 ever spent, it looks like a small purple lipstick and is rechargeable by a little electrical recharge.  It looks small but packs a mean punch.  I’ve also been able to have orgasms whilst laying on my back (instead of face down) so yay for me.  I still enjoy the traditional dildo but find that works best with a man that loves to use it on you rather than solo.

Men have a love/hate thing going on with sexual aids do you  not??  I’ve had some absolutely relish amping them up and pushing me to my limit whilst others get hostile at the mere mention their penis isn’t the all conquering love god they think it should be.  I’ve always thought its an extension of your mind and creativity more than anything else.  A good lover will use what’s available to make things more spontaneous, to change it up and to add to the intimacy.  Nothing beats the touch of a lover’s hands caressing you, or the embrace after an orgasm to have that closeness.  It’s just that same hand can drive a toy into your nether regions over and over in ways your own probably can’t do… and that’s a awesome thing to share.

A few days ago i saw a new device for women that apparently sends electric shocks via an metal plate on one side, straight through to your g-spot for heightened orgasms.  The thing fucking hurt my fingers… let alone what it would do to my vagina!  Jury is out on that one for me.    And what’s up with all the animal shapes on toys, um toy makers please stop with the bears and rabbits and cute critters. 

So readers, what’s your favourite toy(s) and what would you like to try sometime ?  Rope, strap -ons, hitachi???  Perfect time to share xx

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The Journey

Not all journeys start a packed bag, or luggage or opening a book
 
what does your body tell you when you trace your fingers over the terrain called skin? 
 
My fingers may be plump and soft, they’re indicative of my nature, they explore the alabaster beauty i have and linger over all the destinations on my canvas of flesh.  I start with the tangles of hair, it’s passionate and fiery and messy.  I like to think i wake up looking well loved even if it only the morning light lashing out over my features.  The same hair flows down my shoulders and back, it covers my pink Lotus and rests only a few inches above my shapely ass… it’s like i’m a pagan wanton wench without even trying.
 
Down to my face which is both innocent and impish – the journey would say i’m a chameleon of sorts.  I light up at the sight of cupcakes, impish features at the fore.  The slight freckles across my cheek would indicate a girlishness and proclivity to burn, this goddess was made to be pale not sunkissed. 
 
I sometimes dislike the journey along my body, i oft wished for smoother skin, pert labia that all the pornstars have which is often surgically or digitally enhanced, i thought that if i was smaller i would somehow be wanted more, sexier – more passionate.  All of this was some kind of penance for not being who i really was – who i really am.  You should always walk in the light with a soft confidence that your body is  more than the inches and lines you think it is, it carries you, it tells a story of your life and all the memories it inhabits. 
 
Make those who walk in your garden precious
 
It takes time to love your features for how they hold you and shape you to meaning.  Lovers will trace the lines over you and relish in the suppleness, the shadows and light where you will see nothing.  Lovers gaze upon you like you are most lush visage they have encountered, for your dimpled skin; and crevices and unending curves.  Marvelling at texture and taste and lingering forlornly over monuments of lust. 
 
So as i sit naked in the light – i’m not covering myself up , there is no shame in the parchment of my skin.  I will linger on the features and enjoy the book and words written on me, the sharp edges, the marks of time and maybe one day believe i’m a work of art.
 
 
 
 
 

Orally fixated on mouths at the moment

Just a quick musing or poll to whomever stumbles upon my hapless writings – what is the appeal of a woman’s mouth???  Is it the way some of us bite our lips just slightly when aroused or perplexed, or the coy tracing of a tongue around the corners of our smoochers that sucker you in.

Do you perhaps have a long held fantasy (or reality) of red lipstick sucking along certain engorged parts of your skin – visual at first then softly alluring.

The advertising world is full of images pertaining to fellatio and plump womanly lips devouring bananas, hotdogs and lollipops – yet i’ve found just as many men like the fact when a woman smiles she can go from rather plain to apparently ‘stunning’ in mere seconds…   as erotic as cleavage is, nothing is as powerful as a good smile to many of us.

And is the way a woman uses her mouth to eat or sip at a hot drink just as inviting as more direct overtures – do tell what lingers in your mind with such imagery.  I’ve been told i have lips to rival Scarlett Johanssen – if i only knew what the hell that even meant i may just be flattered.

Back and still alabaster – but still erotic!

 

Mwah, mwah  – yes i feel like Miss Piggy lavishing kisses on you all but i have missed writing like Lindt Sea Salt chocolate – very very muchly.  I had a great time away, i did get sunlight sitting on the deck of my cruise reading Black Lace erotica and some of the Hunger Games trilogy (a very subversive read may i just say) yet i still look bloody pale.  Damn genes – everyone else in my family gets a sunkissed glow and i look like a vampire.  I feel healthier for it though, to have a solid week of reading time and no internet or phones or distractions was rather heavenly.

I find it exhilerating to look at water, the ocean and moonlight filtering across the surface – how waves lap at your feet and beckon you in.  When i was a youngling i had many a fantasy about being a mermaid, as much for their legendary erotic prowess as for the swimming ability.  Ironically the first movie i ever saw in a cinema was The Little Mermaid in 1990 – even if the Disney tale is far more joyous than the original in tone and sanitised endings.

More than once on the cruise stuck next to retirees i was asked what i do for a living, and i could feel my cheeks blush as i thought of ‘cam girl and erotic writer….’ and thought it best to quietly only tell them about my normal job.  One older gent did ask me if i had read Fifty Shades of Grey as he bought it for his wife, bless him!  Then the literary critic part of me couldn’t resist saying it was a bit of a waste of money as far as erotica went as it was highly advertised ramblings of a ‘girl’ not a woman.  I’ve read a few chapters in airport lounges and found myself getting irate that such a naively written trilogy of books is selling like hotcakes when other genuinely gifted writers can’t get a book deal.  I saw no less than 10 copies of that drivel during my holiday and i became increasingly annoyed that it’s called ‘erotica’ when it really isn’t a prime example of the genre or talent…. 

The whole scenario and cruise got me thinking that if i ever do get published that i have no desire to lose my privacy or self respect, that i like the fact i look quiet, bookish and mundane when the inner part is very much untethered.  Some of us like attention only on our own terms, to have the control of what is shown and what is kept hidden behind velvet curtains with one taut leg showing just enough skin to make you want to look behind. 

I have also recently found that it’s a blessing to be a writer and a curse in some ways for it to be in the erotica genre – as i find it hard to share with so many people what my passion and talent is derived from.  I made a very risky decision after 14 years to go from full time work to part time hours – to free up time for writing and volunteer work and study goals.  It’s a substantial loss in income and hard to explain to family that you’re putting your heart out there to follow a long held dream – but if you don’t change, if you never try something new then guess what – your life stays stagnant and nothing new can flourish or grow.

My hope during this new phase is that i don’t fall flat on my ass with no writing and happiness to show from it.  I have felt stifled by my ‘job’ for many years and as scared as i am i’m no longer willing to let my creativity wither for money.  I have lots of plans, some outlandish and big and others are just small triumphs, finding the copy of the magazine i first got paid for my poetry in my mother’s house i figured was  a sign i’m on the right journey.

Today i also apply for a new rental property overlooking the beach on an esplanade – so not only am i looking to change my working life i’m hoping to be inspired to write nude overlooking the ocean – fingers crossed it’s the start of better and bigger things and the odd voyeur looking up to a woman typing on her laptop nude.