Why Women Love Sex Toys & Their Men
I’m not going to say your sex life is boring. That would be rude. We haven’t even met. But I am gonna say neither of you seem quite as satisfied as you used to. I won’t ask you what’s going on in your bedroom. I’ll just tell you what’s going on in mine.
Sex toys. For a while, I wouldn’t use them when M and I got together. I threw out the ones I had before him that the ex didn’t take with him. And when M asked if I liked sex toys, I flat out lied. We didn’t know each other, yet, and you know what they say about guys whose girls use toys, right?
That’s a lie, too. The adoration most women have for things that go vroom has nothing to do with whether or not they enjoy what their partners do for them. The experiences are wholly different. On a personal level, while adult toys are fun to play with (and even more fun to include in play), the real thing is always better; even when I’ve had better.
Without knowing how M felt, I made up my mind to spare his ego, until one day, he dragged me into an adult store.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been in one of those places, but very few brick-and-mortar stores are what I’d call “sex positive.” They’re often dark and dirty and not all that inviting. Many are run by men who could use a lesson or two in the subject of women. A lot of the toys are cheap or made of unsafe materials. To be honest, I do all my toy shopping online, now, to avoid the situation entirely.
I own over $3,000 in sex toys. Not the least of which being the beanbag chair – that slightly resembles a UFO and is about 6′ in diameter. Its filled with foam instead of beads, and is designed to take pressure off your joints while you’re knocking boots. Or playing video games. Or napping. Or whatever.
Some of my favorite toys are are shaped like ghosts, or made of glass or stainless steel. The shine on my Pure Wand will kick your chrome’s ass any day. But the toy I reach for the most – cause it makes those Os so. incredibly. earth-shaking – is the exact same size and a rather similar shape to the member of my lover.
The difference? The texture and the fact that if I grab hold of my guy as hard as I grab hold of my favorite silicone dong, he’s liable to come back damaged.
I’m not much for the vibrators. I’ll use them, don’t get me wrong. And I’ll enjoy every delicious climax they coax from between my legs. But I’ve yet to find a toy that can rival the feel of fingers or a tongue pressed against that delicate nub of flesh that brings me so much pleasure, and if those are my choices, I’ll take parts of a human over toys every single time.
But I do so love my toys.
All my closest girlfriends have sex toy collections larger than mine. And almost all of them are sleeping with, married or engaged to men who rock their respective worlds behind closed doors with what they’ve got in their pants. And they still love sex toys.
Baby, what I’m trying to say is it’s not what’s in your pants. It’s not what you do to me. It’s that toys are fun!
Would it help if I licked the tip, traced the cleft of my mmm and laid it to rest between my ahh, then proceeded to screw your brains out? I thought so.