Guest contributions I remember how I felt when I got my first ever sex toy. I own riding crops, handcuffs, velvet ropes, wooden paddles and blindfolds, but all of these toys are designed to use with or on a partner, or something for a partner to use on me. When I was younger, buying a sexy toy for myself seemed shameful, dirty even. During my teenage years in the 90s and early 00s female sexuality and sexual pleasure were still seen as vaguely mythical and rarely, if ever, shown in films or on TV.
Sex was something women did for men, and if the woman happened to enjoy it a bit too that was just a happy coincidence. But as I got older, matured and widened my social and sexual horizons, I realised what bullshit that was, and yet l never fully let go of the hang-up that toys designed solely for the pleasure of women were tacky and something to be embarrassed about owning.
Luckily, I have a very awesome, liberated and liberating group of close female friends, and chatting with them about the toys they own and the pleasure they get from them changed my mind. So come my most recent pay-day, I decided to treat myself. One friend recommended a particular website that promised discreet packaging and delivery, and she enthused about the quality of their products. I spent an evening browsing their website, scrolling through the dazzling array of toys on offer, thinking about what got me off and what I enjoyed from sex.
Just thinking about what kind of toy I wanted got me excited, got me wet and made my cunt tingle with anticipation. After much delightful decision making I settled on a classic Rabbit, with a curved tip designed for g-spot stimulation. Waiting for my toy to arrive was like waiting for my birthday.
When it finally came pun intended I ran upstairs with it in a fever of excitement. I thought it best to test the vibrations on myself first, to see how it felt and try the different strength and rotation settings before properly getting down to business.
Still in my knickers, I started the vibrator and touched it gently to my clit, over the fabric. I tried different angles, different vibration speeds and settings. I kept flipping myself around for deeper penetration — and when I did find my g-spot with that perfect curved tip, I came so hard I actually cried. Having complete and total control over some of the best orgasms of my life is incredible.
I feel evangelical about it; I want to run through the streets spreading the good word of great self-controlled orgasms.