Wanton Wednesday: Rope Harness

So, I've seen people doing Wanton Wednesday for a while now. It sounds like fun. It sounds more... decadent and artsy than HNT tends to be. And it's done by a group of people I know and love. I can dig that.

And so, for this very Wanton Wednesday, I'll share my one of my first attempts at rope play. It was too hot out to wear clothing, so of course I figured it was a good time to experiment with some basic ties. On a whim, I rigged together a dildo harness.

It was actually quite sturdy, especially given the sheer weight of the dildo attached to it. (For those curious, that is the Tantus Captain. Marvelous toy, but as of this posting it had been discontinued because it's a niche toy that doesn't sell well. More's the pity.) While I haven't tried it with full on pegging, I was still surprised that it was so sturdy.

I have more rope coming in later this week to experiment with. Depending on how frequently my boyfriend reads my blog, I may have just blown a surprise, or he may not know until I've practiced enough that I'm ready to share my rope. We shall see. ;)

Returning to Dorm Life

This weekend, I move back into my college dorm. Unlike many years, this is a joyful occasion for me. I'm going back to what looks like it will be a really cool, fun semester of classes. I'm getting OUT of my family's house. I'm getting my privacy back. I'll be able to masturbate whenever I want, have sex whenever I can get my boyfriend there, have him sleep over, share showers again... all sorts of wonderful things. I get to see my friends again (those who didn't just graduate and scatter to the corners of the globe). I get to go have Indian food again! (there aren't any good places in my hometown) I get to swap stuff again, and ramp up my reviewing because I don't have to worry about my mail getting opened.

I? Am really excited about moving back to school. I'm just not looking forward to the whole packing and unpacking thing, and missing my dog. *sigh* I guess I can't have everything, now can I?

I am an Outlier

I am an outlier.

I do not fit the all of the statistical norms for a 22-year-old white American middle class female.

I have had exactly one sexual partner, and exactly one romantic relationship.

Though a college student, I do not "party," nor do I enjoy being drunk.

I enjoy reading technical material.

I am differently-abled due to medical issues.

I'm a woman getting a college degree in a hard science.

I have a transgendered parent.

I am kinky, as far as the statistical average is concerned.

I am a sex toy reviewer. I receive more sex toys in a month than most women in my statistical set get in their whole lives.

I always orgasm when I have sex.

I have natural G-cup boobs on an otherwise slightly built body.

I am very smart, and dedicated to learning as much as I possibly can.

I enjoy classical music. And broccoli. And brussel sprouts.

I don't mind the feeling of sex with condoms, as long as said condom is not textured and is well lubricated.

I go to great lengths to avoid getting a tan, even though I love lying in the sun. (glory be to SPF 60!)

Someday, I will probably be the major breadwinner in my marriage.

I feel no desire to have children of my own. I do not find children or babies inherently cute. Actually, most babies are pretty strange looking, if you ask me.

Though a Christian, I do not follow traditional, accepted "Christian beliefs."

I am not a devoted member of any political party, and I rarely vote along party lines.

I have a blog; while standard in this community, in my "set" at large it is uncommon.

I am an outlier. This does not make me better or worse than any other person. It does not mean I am defective, or maladjusted, or broken. It does not make me a strange, inhuman creature. Being different makes me human. Being different makes me normal, because no one is statistically average in every aspect of their lives and selves. It takes many values to make an average, and an average is representative of the group, not the individual. We all contribute to the average in some way, and like the quantum states of electrons around a nucleus, no two of us contribute the same set of values.

I am different. I am an outlier. I am proud. I am myself, and that is all.

Sluthood

There's been a heck of a lot bouncing around certain corners of the blog-o-sphere recently about sluthood. Some are talking about how wonderful it's been for them, while others are spouting fire and brimstone about how terrible it is, and how it's damaging a girl and ruining her for life. It's made me take a closer look at the way I look at the matter.

My views and feelings on sluthood are actually quite similar to my views and feelings about transgender. I understand them both at an intellectual level; I empathize with the struggles, and cheer on the successes and joys; I support those for whom this is their path (in the case of sluthood) or their identity (in the case of transgender); however, I know that I will never truly "get it" for either one on a deep level, because they are not experiences I have had. I may never know what it is like to be a person for whom sluthood is a joyful, healing, liberating state of mind, and I will never know what it is like to not be cis-gendered, just as "healthy" people don't really know what it is like to live with pain, every moment of every day.

I may not "get" on a visceral level what is appealing about sluthood, because it doesn't appeal to me outside of the realm of fantasy. But you know what? That doesn't matter. What matters is that I respect these people for knowing themselves and finding the path that's right for them right now. What matters is the acceptance, the support that we give each other.

Ain't Fair

To my readers -


I went on this vacation full of enthusiasm and ideas for all the posts I would get written whilst lounging by the pool. I even worked on a review while flying down to Disney World. Then, when I arrived in our hotel, I discovered the awful, ugly truth:


Disney Hotels do not have free internet.


They do not even have cheap internet.


They do not even have slow, glitchy free wireless in the lobby.


They make you pay $10 per day for use of the internet. Per day! That adds up to $70 for a week's vacation if you want to be able to use the internet for the duration of your stay. When you've budgeted everything carefully, that's a bit of a shock. (and don't get me started on the $120 bill for a continental breakfast buffet for 4. Sheesh!)


It kills me, because every time I open my laptop, anywhere on the hotel grounds, I find at least 3 out of 5 bars of signal strength for their wireless. I could be surfing from the pool. From my room. From the waiting line at the restaurant. From the sport courts. From the jacuzzi. From the laundry room. From the roof. Anywhere!

For someone who is bona fide addicted to the internet, this has been tough. I go into withdrawal at least once a day. It's not bad enough to ruin my vacation (usually when we get back to the hotel I'm too tired to do anything but play solitaire and stare at the ceiling), but I keep thinking about all the ways we could enhance our vacation experience with a little internet access. Example: finding out which Disney World Park opens early which day takes almost half an hour of calling around or searching through pamphlets; google can tell me in under 30 seconds. Which restaurants do we really need reservations for? I can't Barista that, we have to hope the concierge will actually tell us the truth instead of the line they're supposed to give us about every restaurant having reasonable wait times before 6pm. Want something from a giftshop, but don't have the room in your bags to take it home? Check and see if you can order it from the website, and have it shipped home.

Et cetera.


Et cetera.


Et cetera.

(cue Broadway music)

Long story short, I haven't posted because I have been completely without internet. My MTF trans-parent has a tetherable Blackberry she can use to get internet on her netbook, but it's for her work only. I am surrounded by an aether of internet, but I cannot touch it.

Life just ain't fair, ya know?

Thank you sex bloggers

I have a confession to make.

Almost a year ago, I created a twitter account for my reviewer persona because I'd heard that that's where the "in crowd" hung out. That's where the "cool reviewers" chatted and such. I was desperate for a community where I could be honest about loving sex and sex toys, so I timidly dipped my toes into the vast ocean that is twitter.

I expected to see a large group of cliques I'd never break into, groups I could watch from the outside and learn from. There were a handful of bloggers I'd idolized since I entered the reviewing world; I've told some of you who you are, so I won't embarrass you by saying it here.

What I found was very different. Yes, there are groups of friends and acquaintances, but it was a very welcoming atmosphere. All sorts of people welcomed me, chatted with me, offered suggestions and advice and laughed at the craziness of life with me. Suddenly, I was able to call some of those idols... friends. They weren't just brilliant reviewers whose blogs I followed, they were people, with lives and personalities and crazy experiences to share. They were people who comforted me when shit went wrong in my life. They were people who laughed at my stupid jokes. They were people who cheered me on when I started to break into the bigger world of blogging and reviewing.

My idols became my friends. That's one of the most amazing feelings in the world, realizing that you have become someone good enough for your idols to respect. These people, and you, my readers, have done wonderful things for my self-image. For once, I'm good enough. I'm worth following, worth hanging out with, worth being called a friend and equal. And for that, I am grateful. Thank you, to the sex blogging community, for welcoming me and making me feel at home.

Review: Pink Unity

Once upon a time, I loved a hybrid lube called Liquid Silk. It was a wonderful lube, but our affair was short-lived, for I am hideously sensitive to the parabens it contains. Ever since, I've been trying to find a lube that had the same qualities: the staying power of silicone lube without my lady bits feeling coated for days. When Fascinations offered to let me review Pink's new hybrid lube Pink Unity, I was definitely interested.

Orgasmic Issues

Something is wrong.

Usually, it's quite easy for me to come. Getting turned on is hard, but once I'm going I can usually have a rip-raorin' clitoral orgasm without much trouble. Heck, I could orgasm on command if I had some modest clit stimulation going on. I'd perfected the art of the 2-minute shower orgasm.

Something has been different for the past few months. Sometimes, pressing a vibrator to my crotch has been like pressing it against my stomach: not at all sexually stimulating, but not a turn-off or relaxing massage, either. The vibrator was just... there. Same with the fingers. Ooh, yay, it's like I'm kneading my elbow. I could poke my clit directly, and while it wasn't numb, I could feel my finger, there wasn't a single twinge of pleasure.

I figured, maybe I need more stimulation than I used to. So, I reached for a more powerful toy. I pulled out my Wahl and FairyMini (on a very low setting, through fabric... that thing is strong!). They had been my go-to toys when I wanted a fast, effortless, no-fuss-no-frills orgasm. I could lightly hold them against my clit, and in less than five minutes I'd have blasted through at least one or two orgasms.

Imagine my shock when not only did it take me half an hour to come with my Wahl, but the orgasm was definitely unsatisfying. It was the kind of wimpy orgasms I usually have to coax out of cheap, weak, or poorly made vibrators I try to review.

The weeks progress. I essentially stop masturbating more than one attempt a week, for reviewing. It's not satisfying even if I manage to wring an orgasm out of it, and it's a hell of a lot of work either way for something that should be a de-stressing tool. I figure, if nothing else, a break from regular masturbating should bring back my sensitivity, right?

Last week, I convinced myself to try to get started again. I needed all the help relieving stress I could get.

I bruised my crotch pretty badly, applying pressure to try to get enough stimulation to orgasm. I almost broke one of my Wahl attachments, but I managed to orgasm. And the next day I could barely stand discomfort of my jeans seam rubbing against the bruise. I tried again a few days later, trying to be careful not to apply so much pressure. I ended up having to throw caution to the wind to get a single orgasm out of the mess. Getting desperate, I reached for the Pure Wand, the only toy that can make me orgasm without clitoral stimulation.

It hurt.

It found my g-spot, it cuddled up for some lovin, and it hurt.

As long as I'm careful (which I was), the Pure Wand never hurts, to me. This time, though, my vagina basically told it to fuck off.

Finally, in a bit of a Hail Mary pass, I turned the FairyMini all the way up, and applied atomic-missile-grade-vibration to clit. I orgasmed, but got no post-orgasmic bliss. Nothing aside for the usual panting from exertion.

I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like my sexuality is broken. I can get all hot and bothered by porn or erotica, but I can't do anything about it. I don't want to have sex, but if I manage to get going I can enjoy it... for a few minutes.

Something is wrong, and I don't know how to fix it.

A Dream

Have you ever had a dream so wonderful that it made your soul ache when you woke up? So real you would have sworn you were awake? Of a believable life with just as many flaws as the current life, but you didn't care because all the right things were wonderful? A dream that made you truly want to say "fuck the world, I really never want to wake up"? A dream that you can never have, but would seriously consider abandoning all other dreams for? A dream that flays your soul with longing every time you stir the memory?

This dream is going to haunt me for a long, long time.

Medical Issues Interfere With Sex Life

Breaking News: Medical Issues Interfere With Sex Life

Yet again, a problem of medical origin is standing between me and sex. Between me and hot, crazy, wild, possibly kinky, definitely life- and love-affirming sex. For once, my joints are under control. For once, my back has decided to shut the hell up for a while. My birthcontrol isn't mucking with my hormones. My pain meds aren't fucking with my brain. I don't even have bronchitis, which is a shock in and of itself. So what on earth is standing between me and HAWT SECKS?

Strep throat.

Seriously.

Think about that for a moment.

Somehow, in August, I've managed to find the one lonely strain of Strep Throat that's still wandering around this neck of the woods, and catch it.

It doesn't even seem to be very contagious. I was making out with my boyfriend hours before I started showing symptoms, and he hasn't caught it. I shared a waterbottle with my sister and mom that day, and they didn't catch it. I hugged half a dozen people at rehearsal that day, AND NONE OF THEM CAUGHT IT. Seriously, what the heck? Did I conjure this thing out of some alternate dimension into my throat? Did I somehow pick up a non-contagious version of this bug? (Then how did I catch it? Random superpower?)

Oh, and it gave me an ear infection. Perfect conditions for sexin' it up, right?

So for the next few days, it will just be me, some erotica and porn, and a pile of sterilizable sex toys. Get your sexy steel self over here, Pure Wand...