Monday 31 July 2017

My First Sex-Toy

WARNING: the following blog-post is about sex, using sex-toys; if the subject matter might offend, please do not continue reading.


When it comes to sex, whether with female (yes, I have dated women) or (mainly) men, I have been and thus am very vanilla. For those not in the know - and I definitely know there are plenty of you out there - this is a vernacular term for conventional sex. This roughly means, per Wikipedia:

"sex which does not include elements of BDSM, kink, or fetishism."

The links are there, so educate yourself if you so desire.

I have not had dozens of partners, and suspect I am one of the odd creatures on this planet who has actually turned down offers more often than accepting. Satisfaction of my libido is not the be-all-and-end-all for me or my life. I am very much a delayed gratificationist (the term is NOT specifically about sex). With one major exception - so the exception that proves the rule - I have not had any kind of sex on or directly after a first date. I am though very happy to explore light kissing.

For me I have to trust a person before I am able to play. (One day I hope to have the courage to write about the abuse in my past and the rapes: but perhaps that gives an indication as to why I am like this. Or maybe it is an age thing?) I personally prefer to take things slow over a few dates. It does not mean I want to settle down permanently with the person receiving my attentions. I however enjoy: the looking forward to seeing the individual; the getting prepared for the dates; getting to know each other; the kissing; the caressing; the frottage; the dry-humping; and on to clothes flying everywhere.

I actually enjoy learning new things about sex, about how my body reacts - yes, at fifty-plus I am still experiencing new pleasures!

After a drought of more than a decade (in which period I had extended ill-health patches, but nonetheless turned down more than a handful of non-out to their wife/girlfriend bisexual guys - read my blog-post Bisexual Blues), in 2015 whilst on my annual health visit to Andalusia, I met a chap and we mutually hit it off. My account of this can be found in this blog-post Coitus at Last!/"White". The chap was quite liberated and had experience of a much wider palette of sexual activities than myself. For example, he offered to fist me, which I politely declined. I did however, later, accept engaging in piss-play (sometimes called yellow), another first for me. However, whilst passing a sign for a sex-shop it gave me an idea. So I dragged him in for moral support. I went straight over to the glass-counter displaying the shop's panoply of sex-toys. I was rather astounded at the range: so many shapes, styles, colours, materials, with whizzy lights, with sound-effects, and so on. I selected what I considered to be a rather elegant, glass toy (images below). In my head I argued that if it was not for me - after trying it of course - it would make a rather lovely paper-weight. Anyhow, the server really insisted I should purchase a larger toy. I, however, was having none of it: there was no way anything bigger than what I had selected was being inserted by either myself or my chum into my cavities. With that I paid up and we went off for dinner, then a gay-bar we both knew and so to bed. Chum broke the toy out of its packaging and gave it a wash prior to giving me a very good time with the dildo, which proved very versatile in his capable and experienced hands, etc.

Chum & I had a fling for three months and then went our separate ways, as we were not (and never would have been) compatible for any long-term affinity, even if either/both of us had wanted one. My glass toy did indeed become a rather pretty paper-weight in my bedroom and I have used it as such over the past couple of years.

This evening I came across a packet of lube (lubricant) I had forgotten about. So my little glass dildo got to give me some pleasure and relight wonderful sensations. Unfortunately, something was bound to go wrong and the whole utensil disappeared inside me, handle and all! Thankfully, after a few minutes relaxation, I was able to retrieve it. But, blimey, that young server back in the sex-shop was right: I need a bigger one!

No comments:

Post a Comment