I set a record

The other day I woke up feeling a tiny bit turned on. Doesn’t sound like much, but it was a big deal to me because I don’t remember when that happened last; my libido has been largely non-existent for a year and a half. So I rummaged around to retrieve my vibe and set to it. I’m glad I did.

When I’m engaged in solo sex, I’ve found I have the most success if I’m mentally warmed up with some yummy fantasies. The manual approach doesn’t work well for me, so I generally use just my vibe, always on the “wave” setting.

I use as light a touch as I can get away with because my clitoris gets desensitised quickly and I don’t orgasm easily. If I use more intense stimulation to overcome insufficient arousal, I can usually force one not especially enjoyable orgasm, at the cost of becoming numb. If I’m more aroused, I can use a lighter touch and that allows me to continue to have orgasms until I do finally burn out, usually after 3 or 4. The first one usually takes something like 5-10 minutes. (I’m not really sure, since I’m definitely not paying attention to the time!)

This time, I had some physical arousal and no fantasising (unless you count the dream) and I came in less than 30 seconds! It was so much easier than usual that I was inspired to see how many I could achieve.

For one of them – I think it was number 3 or 4 – I held my breath from when I applied the vibe until I came. That was maybe 15 seconds?

I reached 6 orgasms before I finally felt burnt out. The number itself is meaningless, but the fact that I was feeling turned on at all tells me that my libido is showing signs of life. And the fact that I was able to have more orgasms than ever before demonstrates that I do have a good understanding of my body. My conclusions – that I have some difficulty reaching orgasm, I need everything going well both mentally and physically, I get desensitised easily, and I need to reduce stimulation to almost the bare minimum – all appear to be correct. And that, to my mind, is the big accomplishment.

review: Satisfyer Pro 2

I started writing this review not long after receiving the product, but then struggled for months to complete it, so I must extend my sincerest apologies to Satisfyer for taking so bloody long. In the interim I realised that in order to write a review I’d be satisfied with, I needed to think more analytically about my own pleasure — a worthy goal in itself.

The Satisfyer Pro 2 is a rechargeable vibrator with “pressure wave and touch-free clitoral stimulation”. (Note: Since I received this product, a newer version has been released — the Satisfyer Pro 2: Next Generation.)

The exterior of the Satisfyer Pro 2 is rose-gold ABS plastic and white silicone, so it’s non-porous and body safe, and the silicone head can be removed and cleaned, sterilised, or replaced. The USB charging cable attaches to the toy by means of a seriously strong magnet, so no worries about it coming disconnected. The indicator light on the toy shows whether it’s charging, fully charged, or on. The Satisfyer Pro 2 does not come with a storage bag (nor does the Next Gen version).

The Satisfyer Pro 2 has no patterns but has 11 levels of intensity, controlled with a single, large button that scrolls from low to high and back to low again. (This interface did not prove popular and has been replaced by + and – buttons on the Satisfyer Pro 2: Next Generation model.)

The Satisfyer Pro 2 is described as “touch-free”, which I’d found a little confusing until I saw how it works: the silicone head touches the vulva around the clitoris but does not contact the clitoris itself. There is a moving part (visible, but set well back from the business end) that creates pulses of air (or water if you’re in the bath) and it’s these pulses that create the sensation. Stimulation of the clitoris is thus indirect, in a manner of speaking.

I was optimistic that the Satisfyer Pro 2 would work well for me since it is a focused toy  and my preferred method of masturbation uses the tip of a bullet vibe.

I was wrong.

The mechanics of the Satisfyer Pro 2 create something like suction or pressure though it didn’t actually feel like either. At level 1, I could feel something but it seemed not quite enough; level 2 had potential in terms of intensity but wasn’t the right sensation; level 3 was too much. I found that I got worn out and felt uncomfortable easily.

Using it in water gives a more intense sensation because the water is denser than air. Counterintuitively, I used this fact to reduce sensation because the pulses were now strong enough to be felt without placing the head in contact with my body. But I only found the resulting sensations mildly pleasant at best.

Sadly, I was unable to get anywhere near orgasm with the Satisfyer Pro 2. Why didn’t it work for me when it seemed so promising? There were a few reasons.

First, it turns out I don’t enjoy direct stimulation as much as I thought I did. Although I like to pinpoint my clit with my bullet vibe, I’ve subsequently observed that I don’t do this all the time or even all that much. The resulting sensation is often too intense and will simply desensitise me. The Satisfyer Pro 2 stimulates the (glans of the) clitoris and nothing else, which is a definite drawback for me.

Related to this is the fact that I always use my vibe on the “wave” setting: sensation is variable throughout the cycle, and at times is super mild. I found that I also adjust manually by reducing the pressure of the vibe against my vulva frequently, often to the lightest possible touch. Although the Satisfyer Pro 2 has a variety of intensities, pulling it away ends sensation instead of subtly lessen it.

Finally, my sweet spot seems to migrate unpredictably. Things can be feeling fantastic and I’ll feel that I’m getting close, when suddenly it doesn’t feel like anything at all and I have to go looking for the goodness again. Since the Satisfyer Pro 2 can only be used in one location, I can’t use it to chase down my wandering sweet spot.

I so wanted to like the Satisfyer Pro 2 but it’s not the toy for me.

The Satisfyer Pro 2 was provided to me by Satisfyer in exchange for an honest review.

sex, surgery, celibacy

During the 30 days after my partner’s diagnosis and before his surgery, the frequency of our fucking declined, of necessity. He was told not to exercise or do any heavy lifting, and just to take it easy. Sex wasn’t mentioned explicitly, but we figured it would be included in the injunction – at least, the way we were likely to do it. Also, he had found that it felt unpleasant when his heart rate was up, and on top of that it was now also worrying. Our play still tended to end up with one of us getting off, one way or another, but through less vigorous means. Even so, we probably should have taken it easier than we did.

But both of us were concerned about the surgery in our different ways, and that was a buzzkill. He wanted it over and done with so he didn’t have to think about it anymore and he could just get on with his life. I couldn’t think about anything after the surgery until he made it through successfully; planning the future would have felt like wilful blindness to the fact that there might not be an “after” with him in it, even though the chances of things going wrong were very slim indeed. But we found we couldn’t lose ourselves in each other because we had to be so careful physically.

He went into surgery as a fit and healthy man with one issue: a defective valve in his heart that had recently begun to make him feel winded and worn out after only moderate exertions. So they opened him up, cooled him off, and stopped the flow of blood to his brain for over 10 minutes, and when they were done, they put him in ICU in critical condition. That’s the way it goes. Pretty much routine, and yet still scary as fuck. When I spoke to the surgeon afterwards, he told me that there was more damage than he had expected, and I was left with the impression that we’d had a nearer miss than we realized.

They let him out of hospital after a week. Since then his body has been working hard to heal the incision from the top of his ribcage right to the bottom, the punctures from the angiogram and IV and surgical drains, the plethora of needle pokes. And he is getting better. But he is tired and has lost weight and now looks ill in a way that he didn’t before.

Sex? No way. During the first two weeks, I got myself off a few times. I found it easier during that week when he was in hospital because I was home on my own and could listen to the quiet voice of my own desires. I managed to make myself cry once. That was a first. I tend to get good orgasms when using the right toys, but they’re not usually as intense or satisfying as the ones I get when playing with my partner. When I cried, it didn’t relate to any specific thoughts – there weren’t any thoughts, just a bubble of emotion that burst. Perhaps it was a formless, wordless sadness generated by what was going on. Or maybe it had no significance and I just did an excellent job of getting myself off that time. Who knows?

By the end of his first week home, my desire wasn’t exactly gone. More like it was being outcompeted by other needs. There were a couple of times when, having woken in the morning but still being too tired to get up, I laid in bed resting and trying to distract myself with sexy thoughts. Sometimes the thoughts were just fun, sometimes they were coated in a layer of guilt. By the time I was ready to get up, there might be a vague throbbing warmth between my thighs. Sure, I could sort myself out. The Hitachi was handy, though the Pure Wand wasn’t; I could just use the one that’s close enough to reach without getting out of bed. But it wouldn’t feel as good without the other and I didn’t want to get up. And then there’s the fact that he was there and I feel self-conscious about masturbating in front of him; maybe we’ll work on that someday but today is not that day. Ah, fuck it. Easier not to bother. The feeling of arousal was faint and if I tried to act on it, the orgasm would likely be disappointing. I had no way of getting myself any more wound up so that I could extract a satisfying orgasm. The arousal was faint enough that it would go away soon if I ignored it. So I ignored it. I was tired, needing to feel desired, needing to feel nurtured. I hit a wall.

A couple of days later, he was finding it easier to let me get close. He has virtually no upper body strength right now because they cut through his sternum. His whole ribcage is destabilized until it heals, which takes a good six weeks. Right now, he’s held together with stainless steel wire. I can cuddle up under his arm and lie on his shoulder. Before, I had taken to straddling his legs, with my breasts putting a pleasant amount of pressure on his cock. This doesn’t work anymore. I can get lower and put my head on his hip, but he has lost weight and it’s now a bit bony and I think it makes him self-conscious. His body no longer feels like his own; he says he feels like he’s inhabiting a reanimated corpse. Neither of us is into zombies. But despite all this, and despite the red seam down his center and the not very small dividing sign below it, he let me see him and touch him and suck him. After, he told me that he’d gotten himself off a few days before, mostly to make sure it still worked.

A couple of days after that, we gave it another try. I stroked him and he got hard fairly quickly. We had an interesting consent negotiation. I’m still not entirely at ease with blowjobs and he knows that and respects that. So he asked if he could tell me what to do. Maybe, I said. Could he tell me to suck his cock? Yes, I whispered. He managed to warm me up nicely by playing with the notion that he was ordering me to suck his cock, when really it was an elaborate request. Although we still had to be careful physically, we were both getting used to being careful with him all the time, so this wasn’t too intrusive. And he was glad to be a little distracted from his health worries for even a brief time.

Last weekend, we had our first post-surgery fuck. From behind, so there was no issue about supporting his weight with his arms, or my weight on his chest. I couldn’t see any of the healing scars, or his thinness. Though the IV jabs on the backs of his hands are still healing, all I was aware of was his hand grabbing my hair and controlling my head, neither gently nor roughly. He was tentative and slow.

He came hard, taking brief pleasure in the one physical signal that still says “Yes! Good!” Then, as the endorphins were already subsiding, he savored those few moments when he still held the fading feeling of pleasure (so quickly turning to memory), while the feeling of ill health rushed back in to replace it.

running cold and hot

My partner and I have been apart for going on two months, and although I felt very warm when he first left, last week I felt like I’d cooled a little since he’s been gone. Masturbating, while very useful to get to know my body better, is just not as fun. Although my weekdays aren’t filled to the brim, they just don’t work as well as weekends, so I’d gotten into a bit of a routine of solo play on Saturdays.

Except that last Saturday I had a dance performance, so I was busy much of the time with preparations. And when I wasn’t actively busy with it, it was still on my mind. On top of that, the performance (in addition to all the mental preparations leading up to it) is physically tiring. My piece was near the beginning of the show, but I stuck it out and watched to the bitter end rather than going home immediately, as my gut had suggested. My sleep debt wasn’t exactly delighted.

At the end of the evening, my sporty friend (who is sort of known in our group for having a dirty mind) was whispering something in another friend’s ear, and I asked about it. Sporty has been dating a guy for a couple of months, her first action in a few years. So she turned to me and whispered in my ear, with a wicked grin, that he… was good in bed. Oh. OK. Is that it? No bondage or forced orgasms or spankings that you’d like to confess? OK. Never mind.

I was still tired on the Sunday, but there was still a dance workshop to go to. It was much more of a low-key day, but even though I had some time I just wasn’t interested. I started to wonder whether I was experiencing something beyond a mood, some longer term cooling ­­— minor still, but something that could require a bit of time and effort to rekindle.

And then last Monday happened. In retrospect, I think my brain had just put a damper on things on the lead-up to and during that busy, somewhat stressful weekend, because things turned on a dime when it was over. I spent most of that Monday in a state of dampness. I looked at some hot stuff in the morning, which isn’t unusual, but I seemed to react more strongly. I ended up being pretty distracted much of the afternoon. In the early evening, I needed to eat and get out the door for my dance class. I also had some baking that I wanted to get done before I left. So I had about an hour and a half to eat, get the cake into and out of the oven, and get myself off:

I edge a few times using the Hitachi, and it’s strong enough that I don’t need to get undressed. I put my leftovers in the microwave to reheat and then set about edging again, with the intention of stopping when I hear the beeps. Well, the music is fairly loud and there’s a bit of other ambient noise and I don’t hear the beeps so I go overtime a bit, but at least I get quite far in just a couple of minutes. Then I eat, then some more edging.

All the while, I have to keep an eye on the cake because the recipe is new and the baking time seems way off. Timer goes, check the cake, not done yet so back in for 5. More edging. Phone rings. It’s a friend of my partner’s. He’s a good guy, but I didn’t know whether to expect him to talk for 30 seconds or 30 minutes — both are equally likely. He has a quick question and then sounds like he’s up for a chat, so I tell him I have to leave the house in about 5 minutes and manage to extricate myself quickly. Timer goes, check the cake, still not done so put it back in for 10.

Time to sort myself out. Grab the Hitachi from the couch, the Pure Wand from the bathroom and head into the bedroom. Fuck! I washed the sheets and the bed is still bare. Put the new sheet on the mattress, pillowcase on the pillow, plug in the Hitachi, strip. Discover that the front crotch seam of my panties (which I noticed was wearing thin) has been blown out, apparently from the ministrations of the Hitachi. Oops.

Hitachi. Wand. Hitachi. Wand. Hitachi and Wand. Oh, ungh, yes! Hitachi (don’t stop at one!). More Hitachi. Timer goes off. Oh, fuck it. Hitachi and Wand. Fuck, yeah! Breathe. Rescue cake (only a wee bit overdone). Get dressed and out the door to dance.

I wasn’t even late.

sexy solo Saturday

First thing in the morning last Saturday, I put on my thigh-high socks, took some poor quality (but still hot) photos, then sent one off to my partner before our daily Skype. Afterwards, I took some better photos that didn’t feature my ass. Three of these appear in last week’s Sinful Sunday post.

To avoid creating bra- and panty-lines, I lounged about in a state of dishabille until the early afternoon, alternating between pottering around on the internet looking for hot stuff to read, and taking more photos from time to time as the mood struck. The light was good.

When I’d had enough of photos and was ready to get dressed, I decided to give my new butt plug a go. I’ve done very little anal play so far and this is my first wearable plug, so the whole experience is quite new for me. As the plug is also a little bigger than the toy I’d been playing with, it took patience and relaxation (and lube, of course!) to insert.

At first it just felt a little odd. I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I just sat (gingerly) on the couch and hung out for a while. As I shifted positions, the different angle and pressure changed the sensation so sometimes it was mmmm, sometimes oohhh, and occasionally even a little ungh. I’m not sure what exactly I was doing to produce the different results, but it felt good. Usually, my brain needs to be well engaged for me to get warmed up, but this was what I’d call a “manual start” — purely physical stimulus that gets me hot. Yum.

When I became a little more relaxed and confident with the plug, I started doing some housework. From time to time, I’d stop for a few minutes and bring myself close to orgasm with my new vibrator (the storied Hitachi Magic Wand), and then resume whatever I had been doing. The plug generated different sensations depending on whether I was moving about, going up or down stairs, standing, or sitting, and what I was sitting on.

After the fear of unexpected and unpleasant bottom-related surprises subsided, I decided to take it for a test walk to a store nearby. On the way there, I found myself walking rather slowly and breathing shallowly; I must have subconsciously felt that I needed to actively hold it in. I felt a little more confident with it on the return; the sensation was still odd but sometimes mmmm or even oohhh.

Later on, back at home, I collected the vibrator and readied my Pure Wand. I had hoped that G-spot stimulation with the plug in place would be enough to get me off. It was not. Vibe it is, then.

That first orgasm set the bar high: it was noticeably more intense than any I’d previously managed to accomplish through solo play. And then the second proceeded to vault well over that bar. It wasn’t the absolute most intense orgasm I’ve ever had ever, but it was still a fucking brilliant, panting, keening, shuddering experience.

Now, I acknowledge that there are a lot of variables here: a wearable plug (nJoy Pure Plug, medium); a technique that probably just passes as edging; a new and very strong vibrator. And these are in addition to the Pure Wand, whose properties I have a fair handle on already. I can’t pinpoint quite what went right because there’s too much new stuff going on.

But I intend to keep experimenting with these (very pleasant) variables. You know, for science.

can’t wait

He’s up and out the door early, and I immediately revert to my solo morning routine of thinking pleasant thoughts while I prepare to greet the day. I pick up where I left off yesterday evening, thinking on some new ideas for playtime. I clearly have some good material because it gets me nice and wet.

If he were home, I might try to ignore it ‌— he’s busy with a big project today, I’m still self-conscious about taking care of myself when he’s around but not involved, and surely I’m getting fucked enough already…

He fucked me last night. First he did my ass with an anal toy, and then with the toy still in place, put his cock in my cunt and reamed me out. And he fucked me the night before. I have every reason to expect that he’ll fuck me tonight and, if I’m not too tired after the party, tomorrow night too.

But I’m wet and warm now. I reach over, grab the vibe, and deliberate…

Then I heft a toy that was readied last night but not used — a weighty piece of surgical steel with a mirror shine and a graceful arc, icy to the touch. Press it to my wet lips – so cold! And then proceed to fuck myself with it.

I think I can make it to this evening now…