Thursday, December 22, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
My fantasy football team did a 180 and ended a long losing streak to make through TWO rounds of playoffs. I'm going to the fantasy Super Bowl for my league this weekend!
Doors opened for me to both of my career dreams. Even though they are both vague possibilities and include take many, many baby steps, I still have a sense of hope I didn't before.
I'm realizing I prefer to go by masculine pronouns and a masculinized name (which was given to me by a friend on accident). This isn't possible at work, and the vast majority of people will continue to call me by my birthname. But when my friends call me by my masculinized name, I get this jolt of excitement. I don't know how else to describe it. I've started using that name to introduce myself, though only in queer settings. It's scary. But I'm taking little steps, and trying to enjoy the moments when I'm not holding back.
I used some of the money I had saved up from advertising revenue on this blog to buy a new harness, a cock I've been wanting, and a packer. I created this blog for my own sexual exploration and renaissance, so it seems appropriate that it is helping me achieve that -- and explore gender -- in very concrete ways.
I had an amazing tarot card reading with a friend from the Boxes workshop via Skype. It was... illuminating. A lot of what we discussed and felt is the need for more purposeful exploration in my life. I need to break down some boundaries, push myself into places that scare me, and take the time to process -- or sometimes, just to do. I'm setting that as a goal for 2012 -- self-awareness. The reading helped me collect my thoughts and feel more focused about heading into a new year and closing out this one.
The Saints are doing fantastically well this year. Playoffs, here we come! LSU is going for a National Championship, too, so you can imagine what football season in New Orleans has been like.
My school semester ended very well. Looking forward to one last semester of classes before my thesis; I'm so over giving up my nights and feeling exhausted constantly.
I started a new "tradition" with a friend. It's a bit of a story, but the end result is this: each Christmas, we'll buy each other some slightly bizarre or unusual sex toy. In return, I expect her to write a review for this blog. I received the famous (infamous?) bacon lube, and you can find out about hers when I post the review :) I'll review the bacon lube, too, if you're curious. Choosing her gift was probably the most fun I had this year buying presents. It was definitely a challenge... and I hope to get myself one, too.
I've had a really wonderful time catching up with friends, going to a massive number of Holiday parties, cooking crazy dishes for Thanksgiving, drinking until 3am, and causing trouble. Singing Madonna at the top of my lungs with friends. Big potluck meals. Leg wrestling. Deep conversations about gender and kink. Shutting down parties and practicing my pool playing. It's been... so much fun.
Getting geared up for traveling to Colorado in 9 days, after the Dirty Birds/Saints game. Trying to wrap up everything at work, finish gift giving, and try to enjoy what little "break" from school and work that I get. I love this time of year. I hope everyone is enjoying the holiday season!
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" The man has a very pleasant expression, almost curious. I wonder what he thinks when he sees me.
"I'm ok. Just looking." I pause for a minute to focus away from the wall, back toward him. "Can I ask you a weird question?"
He laughs. "There are no weird questions."
I think he is expecting some sort of sexual question, but that's not on my mind. "How did you get around the permitting and zoning?"
He does look a bit surprised at this question, but answers me quickly. "Well, we're technically a bakery. So it's a non-issue." I know the city enacted a ban on adult novelty stores in the French Quarter years ago, grandfathering in one locally owned leather/toy shop that caters primarily to gay men. There's another store, owned by Hustler, but I assumed they just paid someone off. His answer twists my mind in a different direction. Hustler sells half toys, half lingerie and clothing; maybe they are listed as an apparel business for permitting reasons. That's the secret: there's always a way around the rules, if you think creatively.
"That's an unusual question. Are you looking to open a store?"
I swallow the fear rising in my throat. I find it impossibly hard to express some of my most private and deeply held secrets to anyone, especially a stranger. I waiver on the answer. "Well...possibly. But I had assumed it would have to be outside the French Quarter."
His response floors me. "My wife and I are looking to sell this place in two years, if you're interested." I'm left speechless for a second, stumbling.
"Can I ask why?"
"She's finishing school, and we're not from here. We'd like to move back home."
"I'm not sure I'm equipped to run a bakery."
"Well, that's not necessarily required. You could do something else. But our profits from toys have increased significantly, so if that's what you're interested in... it's there."
We continue talking about the zoning and permitting, rent, their landlord, and other aspects of the business. I get his card, and express my serious interest. As I'm about to turn and walk out, an object hanging from the wall catches my eye. I walk across the shop, to the far side of the counter, and reach out to touch a black and white braided leather whip, about three feet long, hanging from the wall. It looks incredibly out of place in this shop, and I can't help the smile spreading across my face.
"I have this exact same whip. Got it in San Antonio at the Mexican Market. Can't find hand-braided leather like that for so cheap anywhere else."
It's his turn to smile. "A friend of mine gave that to me. It's not for sale." He gives me a look of recognition -- I'd swear it was one kinkster to another.
I feel like it's a sign, from somewhere. "I'll be back." I leave the shop, practically skipping down the street, thoughts swirling in my head. I have few dreams, but one of them definitely involves owning a sex shop.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
I pull my fingers back, slightly, releasing my grip on her g-spot. I want to play this very carefully. I pull my tongue away, but it's not a complete disconnect. I move slowly, climbing over her, kissing my way across her body. Leaning in, toward her neck, I catch the lobe of her ear between my teeth. I whisper, between biting her neck, "Don't be afraid to tell me what you want."
She shifts a bit, stiffening but moving her hands onto my thighs, and I swear I can hear the wheels turning. I don't know how she will respond, but I can tell, clear as day, that she knows exact what she wants. I just want to coax it out of her. I move back down her body, scratching my nails down the outside of her thighs, and pulling her legs roughly apart so I can tease her. She breaks her silence, as I'm leaning down to find her clit. Her voice comes out rough, unsure, "More head. Less penetration."
I crack a smile. "I think I can handle that." I push my shoulders up against the insides of her thighs, locking my lower arms around her hips, and run my tongue deep inside her. "How's that?" I get so fucking cocky sometimes. But damn. I just want to feel her melt. I get a soft moan in response, and she cups my head in her hands and pulls me back into her. I don't stop again until she comes, bold and unforgiving.
I'm sitting up on one end of the bed in a position that can only be described as awkward. I wish I could see her in the dark, and I curse myself for a second for turning off the lights. She's still spread across the bed (how does that usually end up happening?), and I've got her clit between my right thumb and forefinger. I'm not used to anyone who can take this kind of direct stimulation, and I'm enjoying the hell out of the opportunity while I have it. I can feel her swelling under my fingers.
"That feels really good." I'm grateful for her praise, simply because it means I'm doing the right thing.
"Is there anything else you'd like?" I lean down to punctuate the question with a bite to her thigh.
She cocks her head to the side. I can see the motion faintly in the reflection of the street light outside the window. "I like you. In bed, I mean."
I can't follow her train of thought. I don't know her well enough. "What do you mean?"
"I like that you tell me to say what I want. I like that you ask me." I don't know what to say. It's a deeply flattering comment, simply because it's taken me so long to get here, too. But I always feel like I've got so much left to learn, to experience. I want so badly to ask about her history. I want to know where she comes from, what she thinks about her body, what she secretly desires. I want to know what she fears. But I'm already significantly pushing her boundaries. Any more could be overkill.
"I'll tell you a secret." I'm still rolling her clit between my fingers, tracing her labia, dipping around her vagina. There's nothing quite as sweet as the feeling of someone get wet in my hands. "I had the same reaction the first time someone asked me that question. I remember clearly I had to stop and think -- what was it that I wanted? Really? And where could I get the courage to say that out loud? It's why I ask. I can't give you what you want, what you deserve, if I don't know." She falls silent as she focuses into her body and comes again, her clit pulsing.
I pull her up after she finishes, reaching to bring her into my lap. But she stops me, telling me no, and pushing me gently toward the other side of the bed. "Lie down," she tells me, and for once, I don't put up any resistance. "Now tell me, what is it that you like?"
Monday, November 21, 2011
The lovers are crazy by tasteofomi
Welcome to Pleasurists, a round-up of the adult product and sex toy reviews that came out in the last seven days. If you like what you see and want more of it be sure to follow the RSS Feed and Twitter for updates.
Did you miss Pleasurists 156? Read it all here. Do you have a review for Pleasurists 158? Be sure to read the submission guidelines and then use the submission form to submit before Sunday November 27th @ 11:59pm Pacific.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
How can I make reviews more accessible for people of all genders?
The vibrator is bejeweled with two rows jewels in clear, blue, and pink, adding a little pizazz. The vibrator comes in four color options: sky blue, violet/purple, a soft pink, and black. I requested the black. While the jewels are pretty, I rank quality and performance over appearance every time. Unfortunately, like many lower-end toys, Jenna's Jewels has a lovely aesthetic but it doesn't perform up to par.
To be fair, I need a strong vibrator for clitoral stimulation. (My standard vibrator is a Hitachi Magic Wand.) Bullets don't usually cut it for me, and few battery-powered vibes are worth my time. Jenna's Jewels just doesn't pack the power of a good vibrator. I had a tough time coming to orgasm using it. I do appreciate the turn-dial which adjusts the strength of the vibrations; many vibrators only have an on/off or two speeds. The dial is preferable, and I wish all vibrators came with it. Do take the batteries out when you store this vibrator, though; I found the dial would turn on easily in a drawer or even if I set it in the bed.
Jenna's Jewels is also quite loud. The vibrator hum is quite high-pitched, more so than many vibrators I've used. Even under the sheets, with my door closed, you could probably hear it faintly outside the bedroom. I have trouble with the design, too, though that's not an issues specific to this vibrator. I, like many women, tend to need some clitoral stimulation to orgasm. But these simple, dildo-shaped vibrators, are built for either penetration or clitoral stimulation; you can't do both at once. In terms of penetration, this toy isn't shaped for G-spot stimulation. The more creatively-designed toys can do one or the other well, whereas, I feel like this toy doesn't really do either very well. But this is also part of the price you choose to pay -- for $16.99 (or the currently discounted $12.74), you can buy something simple and pretty. Throw in another $50 or so, and you can get something truly high performing.
If your body is sensitive and you need something less jarring, this vibe might be worth a try. I wouldn't recommend it for beginners -- if you don't know what your body needs and responds to, you could be investing in a toy that doesn't fit your body. Don't let the sparkle and shine distract you from buying less attractive sex toys that pack a bigger punch.
(In full disclosure as required by the FTC, I was given this toy for free to review for EdenFantasys. I do not receive any payment from EdenFantasys for reviewing toys.)
If you've never checked out queer porn, there's two websites I would recommend to start with: Crash Pad Series and QueerPorn.tv. The concepts are similar for both sites: the performers are given leeway to choose their partners, a room to play in, and little direction or scripting. Essentially, you put two (or more) queer people in a room, let them negotiate out what they want, and then film them fucking. There's no airbrushed vaginas, no elaborate sets and few story lines. So what will you find? Fisting, strap-ons, bondage, squirting, spanking, you name it. You'll see people orgasm on screen, and it's not fake. You'll see trans, genderqueer, femme, butch, and cis performers, performers of color -- diverse people who bring their identities and bodies, their sexual attractions and desires, to the camera. You'll see people having safe sex and enjoying it immensely.
These ideas shouldn't be radical, but when most "queer" porn you see on the mainstream market is two thin, white, blonde "lesbians" touching each other in the shower, marketed at straight men... well, you get the idea. Gay male porn opened the door for us, because it's often gay men fucking gay men produced by gay men. But for many of us, the people we fuck, the way we fuck, involves intersections of gender and sexuality and kink in really unique and beautiful ways. Why not have porn that reflects the reality of our lives?
Crash Pad offers a monthly subscription, $22 a month, which you can keep for as long as you choose. There's no year-long requirement or sign-up fees. There are 112 episodes, and over a hundred performers involved in the series. Pink and White Productions have also released a few DVDs of the Crash Pad videos, if you'd prefer that format over the online access. QueerPorn.tv offers a $29.99 monthly VIP membership, or anyone can pay-per-video-download.
If you haven't yet, go check these sites out. Have your mind blown.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
I'm perpetually surprised by how tame and vanilla I consider some acts, like being videotaped or tied with handcuffs, when for others, those actions really push the edge. I've been struggling to adjust my very skewed frame of reference, so if I come off otherwise, please forgive me. I can't seem to grasp this line between kinky and vanilla that most (?) people have.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Couched in the language of a man whose understanding of disability is little changed from the 1950s and 1960s, I heard a young father describe the pain of letting go of a child. I teared up, thinking about his young daughter not knowing a life outside of the walls and grounds of an institution. I can't imagine. I hear that same pain in parents who have lost a child, in mothers who gave up their children for adoption, in parents who have made unimaginable -- but still incredibly strong and powerful -- choices that affected the rest of their lives.
I work with infants and toddlers with developmental delays and disabilities. My kids come from every walk of life. Their needs and concerns range from minor concerns, speech delays they will outgrow with a bit of therapy, to neurodegenerative diseases and feeding tubes and breathing machines. I can't imagine if my kids were institutionalized. I can't imagine the pain that would cause for them, for their families -- the loneliness and isolation, the opportunities and lives they would miss out on. I know that in the 1950's, institutionalization was considered humane, even kind. I know that we have made leaps and bounds in society toward decreasing the stigma against people with disabilities, and I know this fight was led by the parents of children, by people with disabilities, by anyone and everyone who realized institutionalization is not humane.
But I still hear this stigma every day. I hear it when my mother tells me approvingly of her friend, who institutionalized her young daughter with Down syndrome in the 1990's. I hear it when someone says, "That's retarded." I hear it when people say things like, "I couldn't do what you do. How do you do it?" What do you mean, I want to ask. My children and their parents aren't pity cases. I don't catalogue the things they can't do, the milestones they haven't reached yet, the ways they are "disabled." We celebrate their strengths. We set goals for them. We work with them, not for them, not at them. With them. We cry with them when they hurt. We offer what we can, and we urge them to go farther and do more and dream bigger than they are told that they can. We give them the resources and the knowledge to advocate for themselves. We listen, We agree, when a grandmother tells me that a doctor said her three-month-old grandchild will never walk... and she tells me that she will never, ever stop believing that he can.
My kids, my parents, are amazing. I have so much respect for them. They have taught me strength in ways I can't even explain. They have more abilities than most anyone I know. They may have specific needs, but who doesn't? They may need help, but so do we all. I don't do my job based on pity. I don't do my job with the idea that I'm offering a service to be passively received, even if that is the way the system is set up. My parents, my kids, are active participants -- they work harder than I do. They have the dreams and goals, and we just help meet them. That's how I do my job.
I cut my teeth on queer advocacy. I became an advocate because I saw a need -- because I couldn't keep my mouth shut when someone discriminated against those I cared about. It's not about identifying as an advocate or an activist for me, and it never will be. It's about seeing injustice and disparity and the pain borne of discrimination, harassment, and violence and not being able to stand by quietly. It's about recognizing that I can use my privilege, my knowledge, my strength, to stand with the people around me who need an ally. It's about holding up a microphone when someone else needs to share their struggle.
I don't claim to know everything -- or anything -- about what it means to be differently abled in our society. I don't know what is best for a community I don't belong to. But I do know that I would fight to the death for my kids to have the same opportunities, to be treated with respect, not pity, to have their needs acknowledged and met, not ignored. Even if advocacy wasn't part of my job description, I will always do it. Social justice and equality isn't just about queers. It's about racism. It's about sexism. It's about poverty and disparities and violence, it's about my kids, it's about adults with disabilities, it's about creating a society where needs and differences can be respected and recognized without being unequal. It's about creating a world where families can raise children with the support they need from the community, instead of institutionalizing them.
Oh, my kids. They are a part of my family, a part of my heart, a part of my pain, a part of my dreams. I worry about them, sometimes, when I wake up in the middle of the night. I wonder who they will become, what lives they will lead years from now. I wonder what their parents would think of me, of my blog and my queerness. I struggle to balance my own life with the drive to want to put all my needs to the side, just to focus on theirs. I closed the case files of three children this week, and I opened two more, and I found that 'hello' and 'goodbye' are equally fraught with complexity. I hear stories, like my professor's, and I am reminded again and again that children and adults with special needs and disabilites are everywhere -- but we don't tell these stories enough, we don't talk about (or against) stigma enough. So I'm making a commitment to do so -- to speak up every time someone expresses pity, every time someone says "retarded" or "crippled" or something equally offensive. I'm making a commitment to remember that social justice isn't just about my community, but about every member of every community.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Laughter explodes in the living room, and I hear a voice raised in protest. A group of our friends is carving pumpkins and drinking beers; I doubt they've noticed our absence. You've got you fingers tracing up the inside of my thighs. I back out of the fridge carefully, a hard-won jar in my hands, and turn to face you with my best poker face.
"Can I help you, sir?"
You move toward me, carefully pinning me to the counter with your hands on either side of my waist. You've got several inches on me, and I have to look up to make eye contact. You're almost close enough for me to kiss. But instead you ask me, "Where are your wooden spoons?"
I point across the kitchen and wiggle out of your grasp, turning my attention toward the chili pot on the stove. What a mistake. In a single move, you've got a wooden spoon out of my top shelf and it's colliding with my ass.
I can't help but jump with surprise. "...what the? What are you trying to prove?"
There's a cheshire grin stretching across your lips, dimples pulled tight. "Come upstairs."
"Now? With everyone here? I've got cooking to do" -- I gesture hopelessly at the pot to emphasize my point -- "and a pumpkin to carve and..." Your finger across my lips silences me. "It can wait. We won't be long."
I'm half turned toward the sink, and you reach out to pull the string on my apron, causing it to fall forward around my neck. I pull it off and stash it in mock-protest, turning the stove heat down to a simmer. You're already halfway up the stairs when I reach the banister, hoping no one else notices our disappearance.
I step in my bedroom, and you push the lock closed on the door behind me. I've taught you this, enabled this... but I don't say a word when you reach around my waist, kissing the nape of my neck as you pop the top button on my jeans. You peel the jeans and my lace panties down only as far as mid-thigh, running your palms carefully around my ass. I realize you are sizing me up, deciding where your palm will have the most impact. The cold air hits my cunt, and I try to stifle the nerves as the sensation spreads.
You climb on my bed, sitting down with your legs crossed. I know that look in your eyes. It breaks only for my whimpers, only when you have me utterly at your mercy. You coax me onto the bed, and I pull myself across your lap. This isn't my first rodeo; I'm well aware of what you want. I fight it almost out of habit, becoming sassy, wiggling until my ass is draped over your thighs, and my face is pressed south into the pillows.
"Be a good girl, and don't make too much noise. We wouldn't want to alert your guests downstairs, now would we?" You stroke my hair with one hand as you say this, it's a sweet gesture, but the tension in your voice tells me you're only a second away from gripping a handful of my hair and pulling it by the roots. My breath becomes shallow with anticipation.
"You will be quiet, yes? Answer me."
"Yes." The pillow muffled my response.
"I didn't hear you." This time I feel my hair twisting in your fingers.
There's no warning before your hand collides with my bare right cheek. I tense from the pain, but don't make a sound.
"That's my girl."
You begin to spank me, a succession of slaps, soft enough that I can tell you are warming me up. I hear voices downstairs, and I hope the echo of my 14 foot ceilings and wood floors prevents our sounds from traveling to the guests below. The pain comes in quick succession, low along the dip where my ass meets my thigh, as you rotate from one side to the other. The first time I whimper, you switch, going for higher on the cheek where the sting from the last hit doesn't reverberate.
I'm letting go, relaxing into the pain, feeling the warmth of the needles along my skin each time you hit me. You stop for a second, and I tense. My stomach sinks. The warm up is over. The silence and the cold compound my tension.
"I love to keep you waiting," you whisper. "You're such a good girl. Tell me what you want."
I've forgotten the crowd downstairs, the stove, the pie in the oven. I've forgotten anything exists outside of my dripping cunt and the cold air hitting my raw backside.
"Spank me again," I whisper, "harder."
"Can you handle it?"
You wait, again, leaving me to wonder when it will happen. But instead, I feel your finger reach between my thighs, stroking the lips of my cunt. "My, you are soaking wet."
I smile into the pillow. "You must really enjoy this." You're playing with me, now, stroking so lightly that I'm wiggling and stretching to hold my body still. I want your fingers buried in my cunt, your cock, your lips, hell, I don't care. Anything you can find to put inside me. But you stop, lean down to plant a soft kiss on my left cheek, and bring your hand down so hard on my right cheek that I jump involuntarily.
"Hold still," you growl, "or I'll take your insolence and disobedience out on you." I nod, and you bring your palm down again, hitting me without abandon, until I'm moaning low and softly, almost yelping. The seconds stretch out into minutes, and I find myself holding on tight, wishing for the end, but simultaneously reveling in the pain. Such a love/hate sensation, this need for pleasure and pain, so wound up together.
I can't take much more of this. I breathe a sigh of relief when you stop. You slide your fingers back into my cunt, teasing, as you lean over to whisper, "I'll finish you later."
You land one more good smack on my ass, then pull me up and off the bed. I turn away to pull my jeans back up and unbutton them, hoping I haven't soaked completely through the the fabric. You check to see that I'm dressed and unhook the latch, pulling the door open to let me leave first. But I turn back at the door way to kiss you, quick and dirty and deep, before bounding down the stairs for the kitchen.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
She laughs, a little too loud, and cocks her head to the side in that quizzical, puppy dog way. "That's ridiculous! You can't crush me. You're not that much bigger than me."
"It feels like it. I don't know. It's probably just my being self conscious." I climb off her, shifting my weight onto my hands so I can fall on my hip into the bed next to her. She reaches up to slide her hands through my hair. She's been doing this exact move for months, over a year now, and I still turn my eyes down when she looks directly at me. I don't know if it's the intensity of her stare, or the way her fingers feel in my hair. I want to rest my chin in her palm, turn my cheek into her fingers. I find myself hesitating (again). It takes so long to let go. I can't handle this kind of intimacy with someone immediately. I shy away, turn stiff.
The thoughts turn off automatically when she kisses me, and I reach my hand back down between her thighs. She pulls away. "What are you doing?" She's cocky almost, and I immediately wonder if I overstepped my bounds.
"May I fuck you again?"
"May you... hm. You just did." I lean in to kiss her again, pushing my body against her until she falls back, buried in the pillows. I lean in to bite her neck, beginning at her clavicle and working my way to her ear, running my tongue along her earlobe until I can feel her start to squirm beneath me. "Did I?" I mutter softly into her ear. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much. I don't recollect this. How about I try once again, just to make sure?"
She hesitates, and I kiss her neck again, so softly I can barely taste the salt of her sweat on my lips.
"I don't want to be... a pillow princess." It's my turn to laugh. I spin her nipple in my fingers, twisting it before I bite around the areola. "Ouch!" She jumps in surprise, not hurt, but not sure what to make of it. I can see the playfulness in her eyes. "Please. I offered to fuck you. Hell, if you're sweet, I might even beg. Don't be silly. I promise to never, ever think less of you for asking for sex, for wanting to get off, for letting me play with you. If I didn't enjoy the hell out of it, I wouldn't offer."
She squirms again, as I hope my words sink in, wrapping around her self-conscious thoughts, and bringing her instead to the surface, to here, to now.
"I'm going to try this again," I coax her gently, "You're welcome to say no. May I fuck you again?" This time I don't touch her; I want a genuine answer -- not an influenced one. I look directly into her eyes, and even though the impulse to turn away is strong, I fight it. What do I want? This. Her. I can't ask her to not pull away, to not give into those same impulses, if I'm not willing to check my own.
The playful fire melts, and instead of her strength, I find her vulnerability swirling around dark pupils. Maybe this is why sex is intimate -- not because touching genitalia is, not because orgasms are, not because of nudity or skin-to-skin contact or the way her clit slides between my fingers. It's intimate because we bring our fears here, our baggage and our needs. It's intimate because we have to learn to ask for what we want, and more importantly, how to draw boundaries around what we don't. The give-and-take is intense.
She reaches up to put her hand through my hair again, stroking it, and this time I don't break eye contact. I can feel the fear building up under the surface, flooding my body, but I focus in on the crows feet around her eyes, the hit at the beginning of laugh lines. She pulls me in for a kiss, but slides over instead, letting her lips brush my earlobe, and whispers, "yes."
The word sends chills down my spine.
Your gender. Your body. Your energy. Your beautiful self. How often has the world tried to force you into the gender binary, asked you to assure it that your pronouns matched what it saw rather than what you felt, required that your genitals conform to expectations, demanded that you deny the complexity of all that is you?
- explore the innate wisdom of your body
- expand awareness, sensation and pleasure through conscious breath, movement, touch, and communication, where each person's choices and rhythms are honored
- learn how to more deeply tune in to your body, mind, heart and spirit
- to receive more fully from yourself and others, and to give without losing yourself
- learn to give and receive full-body massage and to focus on the healing potential of sensual/spiritual energy
- learn from your own and others' unfolding, and feel awed witnessing and supporting our uniqueness and commonalities
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Rainbow G is a pyrex glass dildo from SSA, sold at EdenFantasys sex toys. It's not actually rainbow-colored, unless you consider the primary colors to make up the whole rainbow. Personally, I don't see how anyone can truly call something "rainbow" and leave out the color purple. I call foul on this "rainbow" thing.
Despite the misnomer, I'm still a big fan. The Rainbow G has 7 1/4 insertable inches with a lovely curve in the middle which makes it fantastic for a g-spot toy. I definitely preferred it to the straight models. I'm learning that the trick to these glass pieces, due to their unyielding nature, is to try out several and see which one fits the angle of your body best. I'm curious what the reasoning is behind this one, since the curve is in the middle but straightens back out for the bulbous head, making me wonder how the hell it works so well. I don't think the curve is quite as significant as it looks in the photo. For all my analytical skills, I can't figure it out. But I'm past caring. I suppose it's a testament to the truth that every vagina is built a little differently; we don't all resemble the curves of anatomical models!
The rounded head makes for a more graceful exit and entry than some of the glass toys I've used; as I mentioned in a previous review, taking these out after orgasm can be a bit difficult if your vaginal walls tighten. The Rainbow G passed that test for me with flying colors, and for this reason alone, it will probably become my favorite of my glass collection.
The Rainbow G has a wide base, making it suitable for anal play. It has all of the fabulous benefits of glass -- it can be sterilized, heated and cooled, and easily stored. Plus, glass will rock your world. The Rainbow G is definitely capable of giving some earth-shattering g-spot orgasms. And if you haven't experienced glass dildos yet, then stop putting it off. You're got to try one of these :)
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Red Sheets by
Welcome to Pleasurists, a round-up of the adult product and sex toy reviews that came out in the last seven days. If you like what you see and want more of it be sure to follow our RSS Feed and Twitter.
Did you miss Pleasurists 146? Read it all here. Do you have a review for Pleasurists 148? Be sure to read the submission guidelines and then use the submission form to submit before Sunday September 18th @ 11:59pm Pacific.
Want a shiny new toy? All you’ve got to do is enter.
- Win an Autographed Copy of “Slave to Love”! Deadline: September 13th @ Noon.
- Blogiversary Giveaway…for the boys Deadline: September 15th @ 11:59pm Central.
- P Style Deadline: September 18th @ 11:59pm Central.
- Win an njoy Pure Wand Deadline: September 18th.
- Win a Back to Bed Bundle Worth £100+ Deadline: September 31st.
- Barbara Carrellas’ Urban Tantra by Lucy Lemonade
I would describe Tantra as the presence of body and mind, breath, and pure enjoyment. This is the description I’ve developed from reading Urban Tantra, what I felt the book was trying to convey to me. Like some individuals I had the thought that Tantra was only for white, upper middle-class couples approaching mid-life crisis. Finishing Urban Tantra I consider it an excellent solo practice for self pleasure which can be combined with another individual.
This week’s reviews:
- Bodywand Mini Massager by Kayla
- Papaya Toys Tattoo by Robin of Robin’s Toy Nest
- Evolved Symphony Dolphin by Evil Poptart
- Extreme Platinum Rabbit by Bitchin’ Babe
- Close2you Rondo by Toys in Love
- Toyfriend Shorty by Amber from Scarlet’s Letter
- Je Joue G-Ki by Navigator
- LELO Siri by Masquerade Minx
- Double Flexi-Dong by DIY Orgasms
- Thalia Massager by Beanfiddler
- Purple Plunge by Evil Poptart
- Extreme Platinum Rabbit by Bitchin’ Babe
- Symphony Dolphin by Evil Poptart
- Blue Spiral G by S. Elle
- Fun Factory Amor by Kynky Kytty
- Xhale Fantasy G-Spot 2 by Kynky Kytty
- Phallix Dichroic Wrapped G-Spot by Kynky Kytty
- TheTemp by Mistress Kay
- Vixen Creations Lonestar by HotMoviesForHer Sex Toy Crew
- Vixen Creations Buck by Toys in Love
- Ophoria A-Plug by Kit O’Connell
- Trojan Mini Vibrating Butt Plug with Suction Cup by Midnight Boudoir
- Rocks Off Naughty Boy by Masquerade Minx
- Titus Teardrop by DIY Orgasms
- Fun Factory Bootie by DIY Orgasms
- Nexus Silo by DIY Orgasms
- Nexus Neo by Bzzingbee
Sleeves, Rings, & etc.
- Stamina Pump by Discrete Dan
- Real Touch Masturbation Device by Amber from Scarlet’s Letter
- Fun Factory Cobra Libre by Masquerade Minx
- Kissable Powder by Mistress Kay
- Fleshlight Stamina Training Unit by Nuts4Belle
Lube, Massage Oil, Bath Stuff, & etc.
- Intimate Organics Embrace Tightening Gel by True Pleasures
- Rocket Balm by Red Vinyl Kitty
- Intimate Organics Defense Lubricant by Amber from Scarlet’s Letter
- Kama Sutra Massage Oil by Pixel
Adult Books & Games
- Rose Petal Seductions by Mistress Kay
- Tricks to Please a Woman by True Pleasures
- Barbara Carrellas’ Urban Tantra by Lucy Lemonade
- Secrecy, Sophistry and Gay Sex In The Catholic Church by Kay Jaybee
Adult DVDs & Porn
- Orgy: The XXX Championship by J.D. Bauchery
- Naturally Seductive Girls by Ginger Leigh
- Dirty Little Adult Cartoons V.1 by J.D. Bauchery
- 3 Nude Exercisers by Ginger Leigh
- Crash Pad Series – Episode 8: Mik & Wes by J.D. Bauchery
Lingerie & Shoes
- Satin Elbow Length Gloves by Mistress Kay
- Pink Corset Style Fishnet Pantyhose by Mistress Kay
- Dazzlerz Mystique Sensual Nipple Jewellery by Silverdrop
- Velvet Harness by Navigator
- Soft Pack by True Pleasures
- LELO Toy Cleaner by Mistress Kay
- P Style by Bzzingbee