‘I’m pickin’ up good vibrations

She’s giving me excitations’

– Beach Boys

I’ve written this as a sort of retraction, an update as my curiosity driven explorations have altered my opinions – I have previously posted about how I didn’t think vibrators were worth the effort because wanking with just my hands felt good enough that I didn’t think I needed anything else. I was wrong…just so wrong…

Well, I wasn’t completely wrong. In the name of science, I have undertaken extensive research and have come to the conclusion that my reluctance to use sex toys stems from the fact that I am just a lazy wanker! I have got pretty good at it over the years and I hadn’t thought there was a reason to change. Having read Girl on the Net’s just so eloquent review, however, I decided that I must be missing out and that, if I was going to change my mind, I needed power and the Doxy Massager seemed the right tool for my experiment. And, damn, she doesn’t undersell it. It is freaking amazing…but I still come faster without it.

Most of the time that I masturbate, I just want to come. Oh God, I need to come. I’m so wound up that I couldn’t possibly contemplate doing anything else until I’ve satisfied my desire. This hot, urgent need may strike me randomly because I’ve had a devastatingly vivid flashback that has taken my breath away, or something has left me so turned on that I have to shove my hand into my knickers as soon as it’s socially appropriate. Other times, I’m just on the cusp of falling asleep and want to come before sleeping, but without actually fully waking up again. On neither occasions would I reach for toys.

*Clearing my throat to introduce an analogy that I will push well beyond its acceptable life* When thinking about sex and masturbation, I like to think of it as comparing the difference between eating for sustenance and eating for pleasure. I’m a relatively good but essentially quite lazy chef and most meals are made of whatever I have to hand because I’m so damned hungry that I can’t possibly wait any longer for anything refined or complicated. That’s most masturbation – the goal is the orgasm, the release, the satiety. I am satisfied, but not nourished.

The Doxy fits nicely into a category of its own in between – it’s like the best ready meal money can buy. It’s M+S fish pie or Waitrose macaroni cheese. It’s so delicious and so good, but it’s taken no effort. Yes, it’s more nourishing than my regular low effort meals of, say, pasta and pesto or a frozen pizza, but it’s nowhere near as enjoyable as cooking a proper meal or eating out in a great restaurant with good company.

I do really fucking enjoy it though. It’s so good that I don’t care that it makes so much noise. It’s so good that it is now permanently plugged in next to my bed so that it’s easily to hand. The vibrations excite (and, without adequate lube, kind of burn) whatever they touch, and I can feel it everywhere. I can tease myself with delicate, slight touches that spread out through my entire lower body. The waves propagate from my clit to my cunt, through my pelvis, down my legs and under my skin. Harder pressure dampens the finer vibrations and, instead, sends shockwaves deeper inside me that build and build. Honestly, sometimes all I need to do is grip the Doxy tightly between my thighs and just wait. I can be thinking of something else completely when I am ambushed by a strange and powerful orgasm that tears through me. It really is something else…

But my favourite way to use the Doxy is when I’m not alone. You’ll have to forgive me for returning to my food analogy but eating really is the second most pleasurable activity possible and is extraordinarily descriptive. When having sex, the hunger is just as real, but the orgasm is just the icing on the cake. Every mouthful is delicious, every taste is a sensation. Even the preparation is exciting. When using the Doxy when we’re fucking, I still get everything about being with him that makes me melt just thinking about it – the warmth and weight of his body, how his cock feels inside me, how fucking hot his smile looks when I’m pressed so close to him that it’s all I can see… I get all that AND the deep seated, eruptingly powerful vibration that literally rips the orgasm out of me over and over. It’s a Michelin starred meal. It feeds my body and my mind. I am devastated by sensation. I am lost in it…

So yes, I am converted. The Doxy is freaking awesome, as advertised. It’s powerful and so much fun. It forces orgasms from hidden places deep within me, but I’m afraid that it hasn’t changed my general lazy attitude to wanking. A good image or a hot fantasy is usually all I need. But when I do want more, I now know exactly where to turn…

UPDATE 16/12/15: I recycled this post for the Wicked Wednesday prompt on favourite sex toys. Click on the button below to see what other toys are written about…



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