FEEL THE VIBRATIONS

There was a period when it was challenging for me to sleep. I would lay in bed, tossing and turning for hours, then a few hours before the sun was to come up, would I finally go to sleep. This was my hell for many years until I found my battery-operated melatonin. VIBRATORS.

There’s nothing I love more than moisturizing my skin after a nice hot shower, getting under my covers, and riding an orgasm to Slumber Land. Who needs sheep when you have an outlet? Or, in the case, with many of my toys, a USB port? I love masturbating. It’s liberating and a much-needed release after a long week, day, or morning.

Over the summer, I finally purchased the vibrating necklace I had been eyeing for over a year. I was concerned that it wouldn’t do the trick, as I was so used to my Womanizer. But, I bit the bullet and left The Pleasure Chest with my Crave brand Vesper vibrating necklace. Feeling excited about my purchase, I decided to take it for a spin. The only issue was, it would be another few hours before I got home. Then I thought to myself, it’s a Vibrating Necklace that’s meant to be used on the fly. So, that’s precisely what I did.

I went into the bathroom of the restaurant I planned to dine at, I washed my hands and the vibrator, and I went into the stall to see if it was worth the money. It took me a minute, but once I found the perfect spot and the vibrator warmed up (literally), it wasn’t long before I was clutching at my breasts and had my orgasm. Money well spent!

The next day, I wore my necklace, and I got so many compliments. Seeing the look on people’s faces when I told them what it really was, was the icing on the cake. For those ‘in the know,” we shared a sexual bond on a higher level. But, to the outside world, it was a silver necklace.

I decided to wear my necklace to a sex party, and the response couldn’t have been better. As my lips wrapped around my partner’s length, I turned on my vibrator and let the metal rest on his balls. My head always made men squirm, pair that with the stimulation on his balls; it was an orgasm on another level. My necklace had become my secret weapon. But, I learned very early on that for some partners, it was too great a sensation. 

***

I have a partner that I’ve been fucking for over 15 years. He was in my life pre-herpes, and I continue to link up with him from time to time. He’s conveniently close and has a fantastic dick. The only problem is he often comes a little too quick for me. When I had a gang of dudes in and out of the box during my early years, I never noticed how bad it was. But as my options decreased, I realized the dilemma I was in. 

One early fall afternoon, he caught me walking by, and our conversation led to me going back to his place. It just so happened I originally had plans to see another partner when I left my house, but within a block, he had canceled. And since I was feeling frisky, I decided to take my old faithful up on his offer. 

With my mouth going in and my vibrator on his balls, it only took a few moments before he was at his peak. Not wanting to waste the moment, I immediately threw a condom on him so I could, in the very least, get some dick action. I whipped out my wand to aid in getting me there, but my battery died, then was done. It was then that I made the commitment to always keep my toys charged. 

The last time I saw him, it was in the middle of the night. A casual phone call led to, “come over,” so I went, with all my toys fully charged. 

When I got there, we chatted, watched a few movies, then we started kissing. For some reason, I was in the mood for anal. But as he’s not the ‘warm a girl up’ type, when he tried to stick it in my ass after I sucked his dick, my booty-hole clenched up tighter than Arthur’s fist meme. NOPE! Not today, Satan! So, he swapped out the condom then we fucked missionary. 

I always preferred him doggy-style. His dick was just the right amount of pained-pleasure I’d grown to love. But, he loved missionary. Knowing that it would be over before it started, I pulled out my wand and placed it on my clit. Only, it got him more aroused than me. By the time he finished telling me to take it off because it would make him come fast, he had already arrived. I was close, so I pulled him near to suck his dick as I reached my orgasm. When It finally happened, my night was complete. 

***

For Thanksgiving, my guy and I enjoyed a sex-fest weekend. And happily, for us, my wand was the star. During our 3rd or 4th round of sex, we were fucking missionary, and wanting extra sensation, I used my wand. As he was pounding into me, I could feel my lower muscles clenching up, my breathing quickened, and then I erupted. I squirted so hard that I pushed him out to ride the wave of my orgasm. When I was done, I dropped my wand, and he re-entered me until he was done. 

To think, there was a time in my life when the only thing I bought into the bedroom was lube and condoms. It’s such a far picture when I look at the growth of my sexuality and how comfortable I am with everything I do. When I finally move, I hope to have a chest full of sex toys to continue my sexual journey. Until then, I’ll continue to feel the vibrations.

I MAKE MY BAD DECISIONS SOBER

For as long as I can remember, I never loved the feeling of being drunk. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good margarita with my Mexican, or bottomless mimosas during brunch. But when it comes to getting drunk, it’s just not my thing; I prefer to get nice. Because I don’t get drunk, I can never use the excuse, ‘I was so drunk, I can’t remember’ line. This means I have the unfortunate responsibility of having to playback, in excruciating detail, all the events of a drunken night with friends, or a day of drinking that ended up in a fight.  

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no goody-two-shoes. I’ve thrown up across tables, fell asleep in bathroom stalls, and in many clubs. But, like an elephant, I remember everything that happened leading up to the moment I fall asleep. I can recall the exact sip that put me over the edge. On a drunken birthday, I remember picking up dollars from the floor and handing them to the strippers on stage. I remember waiting on line to use the bathroom, then falling asleep on the toilet. I remember the bathroom attendant looking over the top of the stall to make sure I was alive. And I remember my friends escorting me back to my section and letting me go to sleep. I woke up when the ship docked.  

I used to envy those people that blacked out, for the sole reason of zero accountability. I always saw the ‘too drunk to remember line’ as a cop-out or an excuse to do fucked up shit and get away with it. –” I’m sorry I slept with you best friend; I was drunk.” — I wished that I could fuck up majorly and, like Jamie Foxx, blame it on the alcohol, but I couldn’t. For a while, I envied those people; Then, when I started attending sex parties, I learned to love my ability to remember.   

If you’ve never been to a sex-club or swinger party, they’re always BYOB. To my very first party, I brought a bottle of Bacardi Coconut Rum. I had the bar-lady mix it with pineapple juice, took a few sips, and then scoped out the room. The liquid massage the rum offered my body, was just the right amount of relaxation I wanted and needed. I engaged in some great conversations, ate some pussy, sucked some dick, was in a threesome, and rode a man’s face. And the only reason I remember every detail of that night was because I was sober.   

When I started attending LS (Lifestyle) parties regularly, less and less alcohol was needed. For starters, attending parties with a guaranteed partner removed a lot of pressure. And since I screened my partners before the party, I had an assortment of dicks ready to please me. Secondly, with the right amount of people, the party jumped off rather quickly, and with everyone having a good time, a drink to loosen up wasn’t necessary. That high school dance feeling of, waiting for other couples to dance, did not exist. I was extremely comfortable being one of the first couples to start things off. Lastly, I wanted to be in total control of whatever happened throughout the night. I need to know what titty I’m licking, dick I’m sucking, pussy I’m eating, and whose dick is fucking me. In a room full of bodies and chaos, I need to have control; and I couldn’t have that if I was too far gone. Would I recognize the person a few days later, while walking down the street? –Of course not! But, at that moment, I knew that every decision I made was mine, and that was all that mattered.   

In addition to wanting to have that control, I wanted to be able to remember how it all felt. I wanted to remember the kiss on my partner’s lips when he sees the outfit I changed into. I wanted to remember the feeling of my lingerie against my skin. I wanted to remember the feeling of eyes on me. I wanted to remember my partner kissing me, then laying me down on the mattress, and removing my panties to devour my pussy. I wanted to remember the weight of other bodies on the bed. I wanted to remember the feeling of tangled limbs and hands caressing my legs in the air. I wanted to remember the feeling of my toes and nipples being sucked and licked. I wanted to remember the feeling of a veiny dick in my mouth as my partner devoured my pussy into a screaming orgasm. I wanted to remember the moment he turned me over to fuck me. I wanted to remember the smell of the pussy I bend over to eat and the feeling of her breasts in my hands. I wanted to remember his hands around my throat, restricting my airway as he rammed my pussy and found his orgasm. And, in the end, I wanted to remember him pulling me back to kiss my lips once he reached his orgasm.  

I make all of my bad decisions sober because I want to be in control, and I want to be able to recall the memories of each encounter. I want to remember the feelings of inhibitions lost and lust that enveloped the room. I may forget the names and faces, but that intoxicating feeling will stay with me forever, all because I make my decision sober.