Just when we thought we'd said goodbye to Mr Sporty...

Urgh. I don't even want to write about it in some ways. It feels like a cliche and I know even by sharing it with you and talking about it here in this space I'm in danger of exposing myself way too much and becoming one of those girls who was purely and simply an idiot when it came to handling a difficult man she should have just walked away from.

I should just walk away from him. I did walk away from him! And it was all going so well...but then he surprised me by following. I should have still told him where to go...I'm still thinking about doing just that...

I'm going to let it play out a bit...and then maybe I'll dare to tell you some more. xxx

Kinky Tikki: Sex Machine

Here, a gift: some porn. 

iris getting rocked on the sybian powered by YouPorn

 That, my friends, is a sybian in action. Apart from the magic wand and the rabbit (thanks Sex And The City), it’s probably the world’s most famous vibrator. I say vibrator because it vibrates, but really I suppose it’s more like a fucking machine.  It was designed by a guy who did some research into how women come best, and surprise surprise, found that the ol’ in-out that does it for guys often doesn’t get us girls to heaven in the same way. 

It’s basically about round-and-round g-spot action coupled with lots of clitoral stimulation, apparently. These things cost a hefty sum, so they’re rare to find outside of porn, but I happen to have been lucky enough to come by one (or a guy that has one), and being still alive to tell the tale, I thought I’d share it with you.

The guy is a lovely black American from the Navy, with some of the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and the most laid-back, solid nature of anyone I’ve met on the kink scene. We’d met once before, but when I turned up at his house I was in a foul mood for various reasons, so initially he just fed me amaretto and we chatted in front of endless episodes of The Walking Dead. 7 hours of this, plus coconut vodka and youtube videos, later, I finally had the guts and inclination to try it.

First, we discussed attachments. There were a few terrifying, 3 inch wide, 9 inch long monstrosities that I rejected immediately, eventually plumping for a small one with a ridged ball on it, for the g-spot stimulation. He handed me some lube and brought me a bottle of water ('Will I need this?' I asked. 'It depends how long you ride for.' He said. I thought he was being silly. Little did I know…) 

He showed me the controls and offered to leave the room, but I opted to have him control it, to add to the experience. There was no sexy vibe between us, so I just took off my pants under my skirt, lubed up and hopped on. It felt very weird, and quite tight/a teeny bit painful because I wasn’t aroused at all yet. 

And so he started it up.

The vibrations are very strong – at the lower levels it feels like a deep purr, and at higher levels you could imagine you’re sitting on top of a piece of industrial machinery. Which I suppose you are. And it’s bloody loud. At first, it all felt a bit funny. My sexuality is very mental and connective, so it felt alienating, mechanical – which again, it was. It felt good but I kept analysing it: 

'Ah, in this position, I get more clitoral stimulation, but in this position, more g-spot…but I don’t seem to be getting anywhere close to orgasm. Is this too intense? Should I change position? What if I fantasise a bit?' 

Again, this is very me; thwarting my own sexual pleasure by over-analysing or getting stuck in my own head is one of my least favourite traits, though I don’t think I’m alone in this. It went on for a long time. I decided it was all too clinical, so I took off my clothes. We stopped and added a little wedge that pushed the front up against my clit more, and added towels under my knees. By this stage sweat was dripping from my elbows, and I did need to drink quite a bit of water – it’s surprisingly physical.

All the while, sybian guy was calm, a smile on his face, reclining next to me on the sofa, playing with the controls, varying the intensity and the combination of sensations, never making me think that he was trying to steam towards the end point. I finally sat up, where the internal feelings were most intense, and just closed my eyes and relaxed. Didn’t think, didn’t try not to think, just went with it. And all those good-but-too-analysable sensations joined into one, and I started to get somewhere. 

I forgot myself, and started to make noises. Not those little communicative noises of encouragement (girls, maybe you know what I mean), but real involuntary noises. He didn’t rush it though. He teased me, took me to the edge a few times, thwarted me by turning it down just when I thought I was about to go over the top. Which made it better, of course, but left me cursing and swearing at him. 

Eventually, almost with a sense of disbelief, I came. It was a very strong orgasm, and it went on for a long time. It was great, but not the best ever. It lacked the…finesse? Depth? To make it into the top ten. But it was very good. And suddenly, I came down, and I realised again that I was sitting on a machine, and it all felt a bit solitary, so I went to clean myself up a bit and then threw myself into SG’s lap for a cuddle and to talk the experience over and watch some more youtube videos. 

When I got up, there was some blood there, which I guess was because of how suddenly I had sat down on it, and the intensity and unusual motion when I am (this feels uncomfortable to say, somehow) quite tight. SG had cleared it all up by the time I came back from the bathroom though, and I couldn’t find any damage, so we just glossed it over and carried on with the night.

So generally, it was very interesting, and it did help me learn quite a lot about myself. SG said that the women that don’t get on well with the sybian often have trouble because of over-analysing and being unable to let go. I think we could all stand to understand female orgasm a bit better. The next day the muscles in my bum and thighs were so sore it was painful sitting down, though. I worked really hard for that orgasm. Still, I think I’d do it again. Partly because, at the end, SG informed me that I’d only been to half speed so far…

Mr Sporty: the end to that story

So I never finished the Mr Sporty story…

I can summarise it for you quickly in the few bullet points below:

- Desire led to us being back in bed together just before Christmas

- Naïve hope made me think this might be a good sign and a turning point

-Fear of Commitment prevailed on his part however (or whatever other issues of which I know nothing)

- Farewells were finally said as I summoned, with some difficulty, the strength I needed to walk away (though not without having goodbye sex).

Now we are back at work after the Christmas break and this whole episode might as well never have happened. I refuse to make any special effort and him likewise, though we are friendly enough in social situations. I guess it makes life easier in a way...

It is rather weird...but I'm proud of myself for not showing my emotions or disappointment. I should have known from the start it was never going to amount to anything. I let the wicked sex taint my perception...it still clouds my vision when I'm feeling a little fragile from time to time. When I find the urge to text him coming on I write the message in a note book instead. Texts he'll never get like: 'I want to fuck you still...' etc - when I'm feeling drunk and horny and not thinking too straight.

A fellow colleague of mine (remember The Nowhere Man?) has just met a girl and he's a great inspiration to look to. He's so excited about this new girl, he's practically doing kart-wheels. The girl is in for a treat as he's got all sorts of nice plans lined up for when she comes to visit soon. I sit and listen to him and I look at the smile on his face and his general cheer - this is a guy who is keen. This is what was missing with me and Mr Sporty (well...except in the bedroom).

I hope I can take note of this so I don't make the same mistake again later down the line.

This last year has certainly been a year about doing my best to keep my chin up in situations where in the past I would have crumpled and given into blind emotion. Don't get me wrong, I still feel the emotion but I try not to wear my heart on my sleeves quite as much these days and I certainly avoid degrading or shaming myself at all costs.

Dare I say I've learnt from all that experience? Well...I hope so. Always one step closer I'd like to think...Guess only time will tell.

Kinky Tikki: Flying Lessons

SFF had jetted off back home, and I wasn’t allowed back in the clubs without some sort of “chaperone” to care for the non-Japanese-speaking, wide-eyed new girl. I asked him for names of people who might oblige… 

So there I was again, waiting on a street corner for a random French guy. Of course he was late. When he finally arrived he was tall, fairly handsome and obviously French. He bent, in courtly fashion, over my hand for one suspended minute of formality, then began talking ten to the dozen and haring off up the hill towards the club where he taught Kinbaku classes. 

Again, I was whisked in, signed up and taken upstairs in seconds flat, and soon found myself sitting in a quiet room with white silk walls and low, padded sofas, 50s music playing in the background, a small rope stage with tatami matting and crossbeams for suspension points, one corner of the room displaying various beautifully tied chest harnesses on plastic models, many of them signed by the greats of the rope world, piles of practice rope heaped at the edges. It was small and a little tatty, but the atmosphere was soothing and focused and some people were already seated cross-legged on the floor, learning basic knots from the other sensei.

The first part of the lesson was fairly uneventful. I was fully clothed, and several of the learner guys tried out chest harnesses on me. I loved the feel of the rope, but I didn’t slip into any kind of a state of bliss – they were too awkward and fumbling, bending almost concaved whilst tying me in order not to touch me unnecessarily. They hadn’t got over their Japanese discomfort with touching strangers yet. They reacted with wide-eyed “this is too good to be true” disbelief every time they were told they could practise on me, and only a few dared flirt a little through the rope.

At one point Chatty Frenchie used me to show them how a chest harness should be done. He was strong, tactile and dominant, holding me by the throat, pressing the rope against me and pushing me around, yet at the same time his movements were precise, almost mathematical. I let myself start to slip into that trancey state that rope takes me to so easily… and then I was interrupted by a loud round of applause, and came back to myself. “Sorry,” CF whispered in my ear “but it is a lesson.” Then they all came up to prod me and check the tension of the ropes that sensei had just done. I was a human package.

About 4 hours later, I finally took a break and went downstairs for a coke. No alcohol, because under school rules, nobody who’s had alcohol is allowed near rope. I was tired, my right shoulder was aching from being forced behind me for several hours, and even the other sensei was impressed by how many times I’d been tied. Of course, this was when CF chose to suggest my first suspension. Of course, I accepted instantly.

It was a simple suspension, one that CF later said he uses whenever he suspends a new model for the first time, because the stress on the body is evenly placed and it’s straightforward to get in and out of. First a chest harness, then a harness around my hips, both tied into the suspension point, then he lifted up first one leg then the other, so I was fully suspended from the ceiling, face down, spinning and rocking in the air. He checked I was ok from time to time, but otherwise was as dominant and efficient as ever.

I had slipped into that relaxed rope state that comes to me so easily within the time it had taken to tie the chest harness, so I was mentally elsewhere, in flow, more connected to myself physically and yet at the same time better able to bear pain and discomfort. Still, I registered surprise at how much strain I felt at being lifted, and I had to get him to adjust the ropes around my hips so they didn’t pinch. Imagine a pinch with your entire body weight behind it. Yeah, ouch. But other than that I let myself drift, allowed it to hurt, felt that feeling of my own weight disconnected from the ground, let go and gave in to myself turning in the air. When it was over, I was exhausted but all glowy, and I still wanted more. I always do, it seems.

I’ve been back several times since, and I learn something each time, about how to stay safe, or comfortable, or the language for the things that I’m doing. I learn as much as the students do, and of course I get the feeling of that rope against my skin, no matter how nervous the student may be. I’d love to teach them a little about how to touch a woman. Maybe when I know more Japanese…

Kinky Tikki: On safety, safewords and self-awareness

 I thought I really should lay this out right from the start, before I start talking about all kinds of seemingly reckless shenanigans. Safety is very important to me and I do have quite a few ground rules in place to maintain it, even though, like everyone, I do slip up from time to time. Anyone who’s considering making forays into the kink scene or similar should have a think about it for themselves. It’s a personal thing, so I don’t expect the same thing to work for everyone. Nevertheless, here are my own golden rules.

1.     Always have the initial meeting with someone in a public place with an easy get-out clause. That’s just common sense of course, even just for dating. I like making first dates happen on weekday evenings, because it’s implicit that you both have to go home for your jobs.

2.     Have at least one Kink-angel. Like a trip-angel, for those who are familiar with the term; this is a trustworthy, down-to-earth friend who watches out for you and checks that you come back alive/sane from whatever you get into. Whenever I’m doing something new I always give details of where I’m going, who I’m meeting and when to expect to hear from me again to a good friend. Plus a “chain of command” for who to contact if things do seem to have gone wrong. I’m totally open about doing this with the person I’m meeting – it can only help the situation. If they’re sound and respectful themselves, they’ll only think better of you for being sensible. If they aren’t so trustworthy, you’ll find out sooner from their reaction and at the very least they’ll know you have backup should they not respect your boundaries.

3.     Take recommendations and advice from people you trust. I’ve been very lucky in that respect – good people have put me in touch with more good people, and the delightful domino effect continues.  Listen to them, what they say about people, places and activities, and you’ll probably find at some point that you’re glad you did.

4.     Pay attention to your instincts. By this, I don’t mean throw rationality to the wind if that dark alley with a bunch of crack dealers at the end of it “just feels safe”. But listen to how people make you feel, and if something feels off, or they annoy you or unnerve you for some reason you can’t put your finger on, pass them by. Your instincts are just your subconscious mind picking up on patterns and cues that you might not be able to consciously recognise. I often find myself having gut reactions to people and then seeing them borne out later on. Likewise, through paying attention to the vibes I get, I’ve managed to find a lot of really lovely people. Kink is about people when you come down to it – it’s not some wild solo escapade, so if you get the people right, the rest starts falling into place.

5.     Be clear about what you want and (more importantly) don’t want, when you go into a situation – first with yourself and also with others. This is so much more important than having a “safeword”, although that can play a part in it. As I said before, kink isn’t a solo exploit, it’s about people, and the only way to get the best out of people is to communicate with them. I’m still working on this. I should have been clearer about my boundaries before I was tied up onstage, for example, although I had at least been crystal clear about my boundaries as far as sexual contact went. I was ok because all of the other golden rules were in place, but still. I was swollen and bruised for three weeks, which I bore with humour but hadn’t really signed up for. 

Sometimes it’s hard to know what you want. If you aren’t sure, take the time to make a 'yes, maybe, probably not, never' list so you at least have something in mind to start from. The rest is about experimentation in safe hands, and communication as you go along.

Warning: I’m about to have a rant about safewords. This could be a whole separate blog post, but I’ll try to condense my opinion in order not to clog up Miss Frank’s blog with diatribes about kink politics. Just so we’re on the same page, a safeword is a completely out-of-context word or phrase like 'pineapple', which tells the other person to stop, so you can play in a way that allows you to be able to yell 'No, stop, ouch!' but not create concern. In principle, this is fine. In fact, it’s often great to have one. BUT:

-        It’s just a stopgap to save you in the face of poor communication, it doesn’t replace the communication and connection that should already be there.

-        Some people think that once they have a safeword, anything goes and it’s all fine. This isn’t a great way to look at it. You should always have an understanding of what everyone wants from the situation first. A safeword only saves you from extreme mistakes (maybe). It doesn’t save you from uncomfortable, unsatisfying or disconcerting play. There are plenty of types of play that need other kinds of communication much more than a safeword.

-        It can also lead people to think that because they have a safeword set up, they’re not allowed to say 'Errr… that’s not quite right for me.' – in other words they just have to shut up and take it, unless it’s utterly unbearable.

-        From the sub’s position, a way that safewords can 'malfunction' is the fact that when you’re deep 'in scene' (during intense play), it’s possible to freeze up and feel unable to use the safeword. This could be because you’re embarrassed, you don’t want to ruin the moment, it seems too 'dramatic', you’re afraid everything’ll stop abruptly if you do and you’re enjoying 95% of it, or you’re just too damn overwhelmed and swept up in the moment to think straight.

-        From the dom’s perspective, a dysfunctional possibility created by safewords is beginning to feel that because there is a safeword set up, there’s no need to check on their sub throughout play and ensure they’re ok – the responsibility is all with the sub, who must use the safeword if the dom(me) goes too far. For all the above reasons, this is not a good attitude. It’s the responsibility of everyone involved to care for each others’ wellbeing and enjoyment throughout, and keep communicating (not necessarily verbally, by any means) about how it’s feeling.

So by all means have a safeword, but don’t imagine it’s some cover-all magic formula for safe, satisfying play. It’s simply a fall-back position, a safety net, and a tool.

                  Enough ranting. If even one person reads this and realises that whatever “50 Shades of Wank” “taught” them is crap, well, I’m a happy lady. 

When a girl puts out too soon...

...it is like opening all your Christmas gifts at once...

Yes, this is what my friend related to me - the words of one of my previous suitors. The cheek! But then...I did think he was possibly gay and I didn't keep that quiet (well I did to his face...).

I never thought we were very well suited anyway and I'd kind of just seen it as a casual fling but it was interesting to hear this perspective. I promptly Googled the topic and the Internet of course has a whole array of opinions on the matter - some in favour, some not. I don't think there is a hard and fast rule.

I'd been thinking about it for a while anyway. Many would say it is a two way street and there are double standards at play here but maybe there is some truth or at least a pattern of behaviour to be noted and something to be learnt.

2012 has seen me being a bit reckless and as the year ended, despite beginning this blog, I began to see abstinence as an intriguing option. It didn't help that sex with Mr Sporty left me with a UTI which needed addressing right before the holiday season began...an extra festive slap in the face after we drew a line under the situation before I headed home. Let's just say Mr Sporty should be renamed Mr Commitment Phobe... 

It is disappointing but you can't change people and whilst there was a lot of lust (we still had fantastic farewell sex) I didn't want to delude myself or end up getting hurt as I really was beginning to like the guy.

So I was thinking about how I was so quick to jump into bed with guys. This is the problem - I often throw caution to the wind and go straight to the sex because, at that moment in time, desire takes a hold and pleasure is all I am seeking. I am not viewing the said male as a potential partner, I'm just looking for fun. The problem arises when the sex is superb, the chemistry is right and I then want more...I begin to see the potential and a relationship crosses my mind.

But if we go with my previous suitors attitude...then I've already blown my chances there. So what's a girl like me to do? I act a bit like a man in that sense -if you remember that quote I found that I mentioned in a previous post on the same topic:

Sex is used by women to CREATE bonding and intimacy.

Sex is used by men to DECIDE whether or not we will create bonding and intimacy.

I also find this situation with the previous suitor rather weird when I consider it from another angle too... The guy is now dating a girl who is far less attractive than me (not really my opinion but his, when he unfavourably described her to me, over a pint in the pub, using the words 'large nose' and then proceeding to complain about how annoying she was). 

I guess she didn't put out initially... but he's shagged her now so... surely, if you lined the two of us up and took out the social contexts...I (not meaning to sound arrogant) would be a better choice?!

Why does game playing have to be so important? Or is this guy just an idiot?! 

I think he may just be an idiot...but I still am thoughtful about his festively-put point.

Maybe abstinence is a good idea. Well...not full blown abstinence but the 'three date rule' would be a good one to drag up again. It is stupid to shag a guy repeatedly, let those love endorphins multiply and then realise he's a dick as you're beginning to get attached. Maybe it is wiser to suss out the situation a bit more first...I guess it is good discipline to start getting into the practise of. 

My best friend and I discussed the topic and she also brought up the issue of confidence. We have a friend who is desperate for love and offers sex on a plate to anyone going...or, at least, it often seems that way and we can't count the times she's been used and then chucked.

We agreed that you should think you are a prize and act the part. You should have confidence that you can keep a man's interest and not have to sleep with him immediately to 'win' him. 

I think there is some truth to this definitely. Still, it doesn't account for my high sex drive...

Sooo....my new years resolution for 2013? To get a f$ckin' excellent vibrator to keep me satisfied and to be a 'little' more restrained with my bed hopping antics to see if it results in more fruitful and satisfactory outcomes...

It isn't going to be easy but maybe if I view it as a sort of year of experiment...maybe that will help keep me focused!

Masturbation at 30.

So I'm meant to be continuing on the Mr Sporty saga but seeing as very few people probably read this blog right now I don't think anyone will mind waiting. 

I should be marketing the bejesus out of this thing but I'm still kind of slowly plodding along and I'm finding it hard to get everything done in the day even when I have oodles of time to spare.

So I fancied talking about masturbation today instead.

Masturbation...what a mouthful - what other words can we find for it and with regards to a woman?

Google will provide you with many such as:

flickin' the bean

a night in with the girls

clam bake for one

tickling the taco

petting the pussy

flit your clit

And trust me there are many more I just enjoyed these ones in particular.

Unlike some girls who discovered the joys of this fun activity by accident (shower head anyone?!) I read about it in detail at the age of fourteen when I stole one of my father's sex books How to Drive Your Man Wild in Bed by Graham Masterton and Liz Coldwell. 

I remember locking my door and lying on my cabin bed to read the whole book - and boy was it insightful. It suggested ideas to me that I had never before imagined and provided me with lessons on what definitely NOT to do (science test tubes and champagne bottles are a bad idea ladies...think about it).

I felt rather guilty exploring myself afterwards. I vaguely recall using a makeup mirror to see down there and the first time half-way through I just felt too shameful and stopped. What if someone knocked on the door?!

Slowly I came round to the idea and I'll admit even took advantage of my nearby flute stand to aid me in the process! I remember asking my girlfriends about whether they did it one New Year and everyone just looked at me blankly, some mortified and all were quick to say 'no.'

Only when more booze had been drunk did a few approach me secretly and begrudgingly admit their secrets. Why were we all so ashamed?

Compared to boys who will happily declare it and boast, girls tend to be more shy and coy about it. Why is this? (some research needs to be done here I think...)

So anyway, throughout my life masturbation has been okay and at times it has served a purpose when I've been feeling frustrated but I have shied away from it somewhat. The only time I ever bought a vibrator was when I was in a serious relationship and we wanted to spice things up. Now the thing lies dormant and decaying in an old suitcase under heaps of clothes. It was one of those rampant bunny ones except now the rotary mechanism has given up the ghost. I should seriously consider investing in a new one.

But it is funny...vibrators. I remember my friend who had TONS of them taking to hiding them in the boot of her car for fear her parents would find them, only to one day absent minded-ly give her father the keys to go fetch something out of it.

Did he see ALL of them? She panicked 

Good God, I hope not! Who knows what he would think!

And I remember my mother stumbling across my sister's vibrator in the garage as we sorted things out for a car boot sale.

'Could we sell this?' she asked.

I looked at her wide-eyed in disbelief.

'No.'

'Yes but ----- said she's never used it.'

'Mum,'

'Yes?'

'She was lying.'

'Oh.'

'No, we cannot sell it at the car boot fair.'

You have to laugh. But these days I'm more happy to talk about the topic and maybe it is because I am single, maybe it is because I'm in my sexual prime or maybe it is because I'm more relaxed and content with my body but I'm definitely doing it more.

The blog Sexual Feelings provides great material for the job too and so handy with smart phones. When I have a spare ten minutes or so and I have nothing better to do - why not? I might not be getting all the sex I desire but I can certainly still have the orgasms I want.

So at 30, I'd say I've had a new lease of life when it comes to flickin' the clit. I wonder if I am alone in this process or if there are other women out there experiencing similar things? Hey, I might go away and find out for you and come back with a follow up....

(Though feel free to leave comments and help me out too!)