Now that I have been in regular contact with “GNR

It was small, ugly, and made a noise like a two-stroke engine. The finish was plastic wood-grain – like a nasty seventies table decoration.
The thing is, I have a certain standard of good-looking before I think about getting jiggy, and this little monster just didn’t cut it.

I’d been waiting for weeks for Marcel to bring one over from France for me. Just to explain – Marcel was a friend of a friend, and also happened to be the owner of an incredibly chic French sex-shop. Me and my girlfriends had been pestering him for free gifts since we found out. We’d learned the French for ‘vibrator’ – god-micher (forgive my spelling) – and made stilted phone calls to Paris, trying to sound blasé about the whole affair.
When he finally made the trip we all received our packages, beautifully wrapped, naturellement. And I tore off the ribbons and paper to find the bastard child of ET and a hand-held blender looking up at me.

Of course, these days a girl can choose a vibe so pretty you almost want to display it on the coffee table – those lovely glass vibrators, for example. Would make a nice paperweight, perhaps, or a wedding gift to beat the hell out of Tupperware.

But then, as a naïve vibe-virgin, I was stuck with the sex-toy equivalent of an out-of-work pornstar. If vibes had personalities, this one would have been a short fat guy with a tache. I wasted no time in ditching it, and swiftly moved on to better things…

Nikki Magennis

Until I met my current lover, I had never thought much about sex toys. I had always done well enough achieving orgasm with my fingers and the thought of putting something made of plastic in my vagina wasn’t something that appealed to me.

Then I met my lover. Actually, I should say he is my dominant. If you are unfamiliar with a Dominant/submissive or D/S relationship, you should know they come in many varieties. Ours is the type where we meet and play from time to time. While S gives me support and instruction in my real life from time to time, he really only dominates me in the bedroom. During our play times, his word is law. We do use a “safe word”, a word I can call if something he is doing to me is physically or emotionally too much. The objective is for both parties to enjoy the D/S, not for one person to harm or degrade the other, at least not in our relationship.

It was during our first play session that S introduced me to my first vibrator. He had asked me, E-mail, what sex toys I owned and I had told him none. He answered back, “We’ll take care of that.” He’s a man who means what he says.

I was nervous at the beginning. It’s the nature of the submissive to want to please the dominant, but it takes time and several play sessions to really know that dominant well enough to be sure of oneself. With S, I had no idea what to expect. We had talked many times, but had never spent any time alone together. To add to my anxiety, I had no idea what he meant by a sex toy. I knew what a sex toy was, but there were so many types I couldn’t imagine what he might choose. Thinking about this added a lovely edge of anticipation to my feelings as our session began.

First, he took me by the shoulders and placed me in the corner. I could hear him taking the implements out of the bag, the sound of him unzipping his pants. Then, suddenly from behind, his hands were on me, under my blouse, under my skirt. He gripped the waistband of my panties.

“These are just in the way,” he said, and pulled them off.

In the next few minutes, or perhaps it was longer, I ended up naked. I’ve never been quite sure exactly how it happened or how long it took. S spanked me over his lap first using his hand and then a hairbrush. This may sound brutal, but to us it’s erotic, sensual.
I never received more pain than I found arousing.

Eventually I found myself tied to the bed, my legs spread wide. S went to his bag and removed something. I heard a strange buzz that made me feel uneasy yet excited me.

“Close your eyes,” S said.

I felt the vibration first on my neck, set at a low speed. He drew it over my skin slowly, letting me get the feel of is. Even at that distance from any major erogenous zones, the pulsation reverberated over my skin and deep beneath the surface. I felt myself becoming even more sexually receptive.

S moved the vibrator over my breasts, admonishing me to keep my eyes closed. He made tighter and tighter circles around my left nipple which was so stiff it felt tight and puckered. Then he moved the vibrator lightly over the tip, making me moan.

“Oh, you like that,” he said, and proceeded to do the same with the other breast and nipple.

I was deeply aroused. I instinctively began to thrust my hips upward, subconsciously looking for release for the sexual tension building in my body, but S wasn’t about to let me find any satisfaction yet. He ran the toy over my abdomen and down to my thighs, running it up and down my inner thigh tortuously, while I sighed and groaned, half wishing he would let me come soon and half wishing he would keep this up for a long, long time.

By that time I was profoundly immersed in a mental zone known as “sub space”. This is a state of mind where a submissive feels a sort of “high” that cannot really be described to those who haven’t experienced it. Some say it is caused by endorphins, but it’s more than that. A large part of it is the giving up of all mental and emotional resistance. For some it is the most sexually receptive state that can be achieved.

When the vibrator entered my vagina for the first time, I was extremely ready. The sensations rocked my entire body, sending me sailing on waves of sensual pleasure. As S moved it in and out, it was like having the best intercourse I had ever had in my life. Then S withdrew the toy and placed it against the shaft of my clitoris. I am sure I screamed when I came, but my mind isn’t consciously aware of it. I had never orgasmed so hard or so long in my life. He kept the instrument against my clit for some time, allowing me to come again and again until the tide receded and fatigue wouldn’t allow me to climax again.

As I lay exhausted, he told me to open my eyes. He held up a black and brown striped vibrator, a standard rocket shape.

“This is Bob,” he said, then added when must have looked confused “B.O.B., battery operated boyfriend.”

After we cleaned Bob, S gave it to me as a present. Vibrators have been a big part of our play ever since, whether together or alone.

Katharine Tyler Brooks

Still kinda’ fresh back from a trip to Portugal; I’ve been giving a lot of thought to my life and what I learned while I was away. I came back with a clear understanding of where I wanted my career to go and the changes that needed to be made in order to get there, which led me to quitting my day job and finally relieving myself of what I considered to be one of the biggest stresses and problems of my life. I also knew that such a drastic move would mean some drastic changes to accommodate my new job: starving writer, which led me to moving out of my beautiful apartment in a trendy neighborhood and back to moms, which of course has its highs and lows. For instance I save on monthly expenses so I can focus more on my craft and less on trying to make ends meet which is definitely a plus, but; I am a writer of erotica and all things sexy, so living and working with mommy in the next room…not so sexy. This of course also makes it hard to get sex at all since as of late I only seem to attract men who live with their parents or ten roommates or ones who are married!

Since we are on the topic of men, let me share with you some of the lessons I learned about dating while I was in my grandparent’s remote village in the interior region of Portugal. I was surrounded by mostly older women (men don’t seem to live nearly as long as women in that village!) who had been living and loving for some seventy-plus years, so I figured that this advice would surely help me leave behind my sad spinster status or even worse my closeted ‘lesbica’ status (the latest village rumor that spread like wildfire from the chapel to the homes across the goat path is that I am not a tragic spinster but instead a ‘lesbica’!). Here are the tips:

~ Don’t wear gauchos or Capri pants as no man will marry a woman who looks as if she works at the fish market or digs clams for a living.

~ Avoid jeans as often as possible as men don’t want to date women who dress as they do. Jeans are for men. Skirts and dresses are for ladies.

~ Don’t laugh too loud out in public to avoid looking like a braying farm animal such as a “cabra