September 24, 2004

By the time I was in college, all of my friends were sexually active. At one point, my friend Colleen had broken up with her boyfriend, and our friend Ace bought her a vibrator as a joke. I had never seen one, so she showed it to me when she dropped me off one night, surreptitiously pulling it out of the paper bag in her trunk. It looked pretty much as I would have expected it to- what I've come to discover is larger than the average male and had a soft rubber "skin" over the hard plastic motor case, and it was purple. I took one look and knew I had to have one. So I swallowed my shyness and went to the only adult store I had ever seen... located on a main thouroughfare in the city where I went to college- anyone could have seen me go in. But I found it, paid for it, and walked out of the store, all without visibly freaking out. That's not to say I wasn't a wreck mentally and that my heart wasn't beating so fast I thought it would stop... But I had done it. Then I stuffed it into the very bottom of my backpack and went to work- answering phones at my church. The fall had begun...

I got the thing home, and was anxious to try it. The only problem was that at that point, not only was I a virgin, but I had never attempted to insert anything, so trying to insert something larger than the average male was literally a pain. I was quite disappointed, but the vibrations felt nice on my clit so it wasn't a total waste of $18. (and when you're a college student, wasting $18 is a big deal)

I tried a couple more times, with different toys, only to have the same end result- I seemed not cut out for insertion, and seemed doomed to a l ife of clitoral stimulation. Not that that was in any way bad, I just knew there was something I was missing. Mentally going back, I think there were 3 insertables that I wasted my money on before discovering toys designed for clitoral stimulation only, and I bought a couple of those, but they were too strong and that tends to desensitize and again, not fun.

Then I met Fox. There will be other posts about him and I've mentioned him before, so I'm not going to say much now. But he was the first person that ever touched me "that way". And it was good. Oh my God was it good. He is the one who taught me what an orgasm was. I had been having them for years but didn't know that those were orgasms. Don't ask me what I thought they were, but anyway... He would put his fingers inside me. I remember the first time he did that, almost like it was yesterday. I couldn't believe how easily it went in, or the second one, and oh dear god how the hell did he get that third one in there? He and I actually talked about that, and I talked about my toy size dilemmas with him, and he helped me find something that was of a size I could handle. I'm not sure what happened to that one, I think I lost it when I moved.

After he and I broke up, I moved far away for a while- which had nothing to do with him. Me moving was actually why we broke up. And while I lived in that far away place, I had a friend who was saying he'd always wanted to buy a vibrator for someone, but none of his friends would let him. I was like, hell, go ahead and buy me one. I'm broke and can't buy my own. So a couple of weeks later, he came over to my house and dropped a black plastic bag in my lap. I swear, what was in that bag weighed a pound. And I'm not exaggerating. I pulled it out of the bag, and I shit you not, this thing was a good 10 inches long and had a 2-2.5 inch diameter. Now, he knew I was a virgin. I held it up, looked him right in the eye and said "Are you trying to kill me?!" But it turned out the rubber sleeve was removable, and that made it a bit more manageable, though it was still too big to use unless I was *really* turned on (which was why Fox never had any trouble ;o)

After about 10 months, I moved back to the Bay Area from that far away place, and went back to church and went through a period where I decided I was addicted to masterbation and had to stop. I took my box of toys and erotica and porn and threw it in a dumpster. Which meant when I got over that phase, I had to start from scratch.

To Be Continued....

September 02, 2004

Have you ever really given any thought to the sounds you make during sex? I've thought about it a lot, mainly because my world contains lots of ears to potentially overhear my fun, so I have to actively think concentrate on (and control) the sounds I make. That got me thinking... They say that bands "discover their sound" over the course of their first few albums. I think maybe I've finally discovered my own, different sort of sound.

When I was 13 or 14 I discovered the shower head. Don't deny it, I know every woman out there knows what I'm talking about, and probably most of the men too. But I lived with my parents, and so obviously sounds of ecstasy coming from the bathroom while I was showering weren't a good idea. Honestly though, I don't really recall having to keep it quiet, I think I just was naturally quiet back then. Same goes for any of the times I touched myself in my bed at night as a teenager. Again, no sound, as I wouldn't want my mother coming in to see if I had a tummyache, as she used to do when my sister made the sounds I now know were pleasure and not pain... Looking back realize the complete and utter lack of finesse I had back then, which could have had something to do with it.

The first porn I saw that I remember more than the barest details of was a black and white movie watched on a betamax VCR when I was about 16. I was at my mom's best friend's house and I was house and dog-sitting for the weekend, and found some very interesting things in the very back of the video cabinet. I remember the screams and cries the women made, and remember being baffled by them, as it had never occured to me that pleasure of that sort would create sound. Sometime after that I saw "When Harry Met Sally" for the first time, and we're all familiar with that scene where Sally proves how easy it is to fake orgasm, in the middle of a cafe. Again, I was baffled. A couple of years later, watching porn at a bachelorette party, there was discussion of the fact that people don't actually sound like that when having sex. I was 19 or thereabouts, but still very deeply ensconced in the world of the GoodGirl- I'd never done anything but kiss a boy at that point (well thats not entirely true, but in all senses that truly mattered it is), so I had no idea if this was true or not.

Things continued on in their mostly silent manner until I was 22. That was when I met Fox. Fox rocked my world in so many ways, the most important of which was that he was the first person in my life to get past first base. That relationship found us quite solidly at third most of the time, and a few times, *very* close to home plate (though we never got there and for that I am thankful). He encouraged me to not to keep the sounds inside, and for a long time I didn't know what he meant. Not until the night he hit that spot. You know. That spot. And I made a sound I'd never heard before nor have I ever heard again. It was like every wall around every vocal cord was shattering, and the sound of that shattering was bursting forth. He shushed me, mainly because that was just too much noise for where we were at the time, but later told me that it was one of the hottest things he had heard in a long time. Very shortly after that night I moved really far away from him, and my experiences with phonesex began, and for the exposure to that I can't ever thank him enough, because while my relationship with him didn't last a whole lot longer, I discovered an incredible turn-on - one that has gotten me through many a dry spell between relationships.

With phonesex, you have to make noise, or the other person has no idea what you are feeling. I started to make sounds that came naturally to me. Nothing fake, nothing forced. And I've learned that I really don't sound like the women in porn. Nor do I sound like Meg Ryan (of which I am actually glad, because she was a little scary). I can be a screamer if things feel right for it, or it can be much quieter, with gentle moans and sighs and deep shuddering breaths. I've always contended that men sound like they're in pain when they come. There's one guy I talk to, whenever I get a chance, that roars when he comes, and I just have to smile every time. I've realized, when I'm having to choke back a scream because my housemates would hear, I sound like I'm in pain. But I have been told on more than one occasion, even when coming and choking back a scream and making more of a hoarse "ack" sound, that I sound beautiful. And somehow, even though you'd think the situation would make embarrassment pointless, it's still the sort of compliment that makes me blush and get all shy.