The One - No one said it would be easy
Page 27
Apropos: Good Vibrations
Let’s move on from too-small penises to vibrating plastic thingies. I’ve never really asked myself whether I wanted or needed a vibrator. It just wasn’t part and parcel of my “relevant set”, which is marketing slang for “things of relevance that I focus my attention on.” Of course I knew that various types of sex toys existed, but I had no interest in them. Especially since the dummy penises on offer were more scary or hilarious than arousing and anyway you could only get these things in grubby sex shops. What kind of a lady would want to go into one of those? Not me, that was for sure, never mind how open-minded and clued up I was. Plus, I was quite happy, contented and all together satisfied with the do-it-yourself version that utilized my own hands. I couldn’t imagine a vibrator being an improvement or a viable alternative, or rather I didn’t even consider the possibility. However – the love-toy revolution was sweeping the country like a tidal wave in quite the same fashion as the by now perfectly normal intimate haircut: previously, everyone sported bushy shrubbery, now everyone was smooth and bare or with a neat little landing strip, and even long-established venerable news journals ran cover stories about the trend for a “full Brazilian”. What, you don’t shave/wax/epilate down there? The waxing studios were bursting at the seams and the best hair removal methods were discussed amongst girl friends just as easily as one used to discuss the best recipes for apple pie. The hair-removal-revolution took its course, silently and steadily. Frowned upon to start with, then trend, and now, the new normal.
It’s the same with sex toys. This didn’t used to be something you discussed with your girl friends. Then suddenly, a miraculous turn of events. The trend reversal might have been due to a number of factors. Firstly, the rubber monster-penises found themselves in competition with cute, colorful and adorable rubber creatures and well-designed, beautifully simple, friendly-sized, smooth and sensuous penis replacements. These items didn’t make you think of ginormous erected cocks. Instead you thought, oh how cute, oh how lovely, I wouldn’t mind this making its way into my panties. Small dolphins, rubber caterpillars or naughty moles invaded girlie bedroom cabinets. Secondly, you didn’t have to enter any grim sex shops to purchase the little creatures; you could buy them in condom shops or, of course, on the Internet. Which made it much less embarrassing. Thirdly, sex shops for women have been getting more established in recent years. Women shall have, are allowed to have, and even required to have a passion for sex now, and that passion needs to be satisfied, but in a cultured sort of a way, if you don’t mind. And fourthly, the thingies were becoming trendy and part of the general lifestyle. Dildo parties were being held alongside Tupperware and lingerie parties. You’d get a Dildo-Fairy to visit, and all your girlie friends, nicely stoked on copious quantities of Prosecco, had a brilliant time and loved the cute little rubber thingies so much that they had to order masses of them. In short, the dildo and vibrator revolution was buzzing on all channels.
This didn’t pass me by either – I was definitely curious now. One after the other my girl friends presented me their cute little new bedfellows, and they all enthused about the many wondrous things these harmless looking pink dolphins and pale-blue caterpillars would do to you during the course of going about their business between the legs of their owners. I simply had to have one of those things. And my boyfriend, Number Twenty-six, was curious too, so that we both went into a little shop, selected a small green caterpillar, he paid, and we immediately tried it out at home. What a revelation! For both of us – for him and for me. No ghastly giant-cock-plastic-bomb with a terrible pattern of great big green and blue yucky veins, but a cute leaf-green caterpillar with a pretty little face. You just want to love it, it’s so cute. However – it isn’t just visually top notch, the naughty and innocent looking caterpillar is rather – shall we say, talented. And you’d better believe it! No male hand, no tongue and certainly no cock come anywhere near this power of vibration! Love-toys are awesome, I discovered whole new kinds of arousal and invigoratingly intense ways of coming.
I’d have never thought it possible, but the caterpillar has such power in its caterpillar-body, it made me want to yodel. It was a totally new sensation, this extremely intense and hard vibration, which I’d not come across before – well, how would I? But it felt just unbelievable! Usually, I’m a fan of slow, soft and gentle, but with the caterpillar, it couldn’t be ferocious enough. I adjusted it to “full throttle” straight away, pushed it hard against my most sensitive spots, and in a few short moments a most intense honey-sweet super-orgasm flashed through me. Awesome. And I hadn’t even stuck the thing in yet, this was all from the outside. My boyfriend was quite enthusiastic, too, he didn’t only just get to watch the performance, no – after my maiden flight, it was his turn. Yes really! One of those girly vibrators can be very nice indeed for the lord and master, too. I only had to hold the wildly vibrating thing to the tip of his penis for a moment or two, and he’d immediately catch his breath, groan, twitch, his eyes would pop open and he’d come just as hard as I had. For him, too, the wild vibrations worked miracles. Since then, the little caterpillar is often invited to play during sex, whether alone or together. If I’d known that vibrators are such wonderful things, I’d have acquired one a long time ago!
By now, the caterpillar has two siblings. A pretty clitoral massager and a beautifully shaped designer version, very swish. Both presents from my boyfriend. They’ll soon need their own display cabinet if they keep multiplying like that! However, I have some complaints directed at the vibrator industry – evidently, they are not too knowledgeable about female anatomy. They advertise their products’ super ergonomic shape, designed to reach all the right places, clitoris and G-spot, but I suspect they’ve been devised by just another bunch of guys who haven’t a clue. The massager, for example, I apply pretty much like the caterpillar, I hold it and press it on just the right places until I come. Because, if you just lay it on top of you, which is what it was apparently designed for, it just slides off due to the vibration. Which means it’s not very well designed at all. But our designer version of a vibrator is much worse. It’s a black-and-white thing shaped like a clef, curved and everything, fits beautifully in your hand, looks very pretty, has won lots of design awards and is super expensive, with a great long list of usage instructions and things you can do with it.
For example, when you insert it, half of it will lie flat on the outside and is supposed to stimulate the clitoris at the same time. Hah – not so! I’ve inserted the thing in all possible ways but not once did any part of it come anywhere close to my clitoris. And no, I don’t believe that my vagina is in any way unusual – indeed, I guess I am the proud owner of a perfectly standard specimen. And so I ask myself, doesn’t anyone ever try these things out? Is this really all due to some boring engineer who once upon a time heard about the clitoris but really hasn’t the faintest idea where exactly the damn thing is located? Are they trying to make fools of us? Don’t they have any female testers for vibrator prototypes? That would be a brilliantly relaxing job! But never mind all that – my boyfriend and I, we have a lot of fun with these things. The power of vibration remains fantastically strong and provides ecstatic orgasms for both parties. And another thing: combining two vibrators is really exciting – for him, too.
Well girls, if you don’t have one of these things yet, go check the Internet and order one, or hotfoot it to the nearest condom shop. You’ll love it. I promise!
Number Twenty-six: Happily ever after
Dear Number Twenty-six,
Don’t worry, I won’t write about our sex life. You have diplomatic immunity, you see, and so nobody is permitted to X-ray or open the suitcase that contains our love and our sex life. Honestly, that’s how it is. Psst! State secret! But if you want to know, you can always ask me, grin-grin-grin.
Dear Number Twenty-six, you are my happy ending. And like every happy ending in every Hollywood movie ever made, there was a good dramatic script with quite a
few twists and turns before we could live happily ever after. We both managed to screw up royally a few times, but in the end it was these screw-up times that gave us the opportunity to rub each other up the wrong way sufficiently to learn what our right way was. Because, just like an orchestra or a football team has to become attuned to each other and train hard to become a top team and make beautiful music together, we too had to learn all this. And I thank you so much for your tenacity, because the music we make together is most wonderful. It’s the number one hit in my Chart of the Heart. And as for our beautiful game – well no contest, we’re the undisputed Champions of the World!
Dear Number Twenty-six, I have some fears and worries and questions, too. I am scared that we, too, will flounder when faced with the irony of the ages old and as yet unresolved conundrum of reconciling love, closeness, head space, trust, daily routine, faithfulness, sex and passion. Will we, can we, do we want to manage to resist the temptations thrown at us by this nasty world brimming with interesting and attractive people? And how will we manage this? And will we be able to avoid getting on each other’s nerves and one day ending up silently sitting opposite one another in some restaurant, with nothing to say anymore? Will we be able to hold on to our love and not watch it slide away, like it so often does? Why should our relationship work, when so many others fail? What will our secret be? And will we share it once we’ve found it?
Dear Number Twenty-six, I can tell you one thing though: I intend to keep you. And it will be my pleasure, my labor of love, to do all I can to ensure that things remain as wonderful as they are now for as long as is humanly possible. Best of all, forever. With you, I feel real and strong and beautiful and sexy and special. I feel that I have “arrived” with you. Forever. I am your wife and that’s wonderful. Let us make lots of cute little babies, let us plant trees, let us buy a house in the Hollywood Hills, let us always be as happy as we’ve been for so long already. Let us go through thick and thin together. Let us savor the good times together and somehow get through the bad times together. Let us continue to sing silly little songs all day long. Let us discover the world at our feet. Let us grow into an even bigger “us” – and at the same time, let us grow individually. Let us continue to grant one another the freedom we each need. Let us continue to have wonderful sex, even when we’re old and wrinkly. Let us always hug and cuddle and make out, like we’ve always done. Let us take care that we don’t lose each other. Let us take care of one another. Let us always be able to add a bit of new, fresh firewood to the fire of our passion, so that the flames never die down. Let us never stop kidding around, being silly, having so much fun. Let us always be able to talk about anything. Let us always be friends. Let us allow each other to have a few secrets. Let us be in love, always and forever. You are my friend. My partner. My husband. You are so beautiful, inside and out. And let us always eat blueberry pancakes. Come what may.
Your J.