“A spreadsheet of my best wanking times.”
He didn’t even ask why. He just laughed, rolled his eyes, and then wandered into the kitchen to make coffee. But, for the record, I am compiling a spreadsheet of my wanking times, so that I can eventually graph the results and post a blog about it. Why?
I have fallen into a couple of bad sex habits, and I am intrigued to see whether I can get rid of them. The way I wank is one of them, and I might blog separately about the other.
The Doxy detox
After another midday wank that lasted approximately thirty seconds, and happened standing up, jeans around thighs, while I had one eye on my mobile because I was expecting a call, I thought to myself ‘perhaps there is more to life than functional wanking-for-the-sake-of-wanking.’ Don’t get me wrong, perhaps there isn’t, but I thought it might be good to give it a go.
My Doxy is without a doubt the best sex toy I have ever owned. It is powerful, efficient, and brings me to the kind of yelping, bedsheet-clawing orgasms that you think people in porn must inevitably be faking. Using it during sex tips me powerfully over the edge, until my cunt is twitching hard around his dick, practically ripping the rest of his own orgasm from his pulsing, startled cock.
Using it on my own, the Doxy rumbles happily against my clit for approximately sixty seconds until I reach a bucking, teeth-gritting satisfaction, before I toss it to one side like a neglected lover and fuck off to the kitchen to make a sandwich. It’s great. But perhaps a little too great. I realised, during that stand-up wank, that I’d forgotten what most of my fantasies are for. I used to paint elaborate scenarios inside my own head – build-ups with angry gents fucking me every which way, gang bangs with dirty talk, and military officers whacking my naked arse with a riding crop while they throatfucked me till they jizzed. With the Doxy, however, I have no need for these fantasies, and instead I tend to focus just on pressing it against me at the right angle, and quickly hitting the ‘off’ switch if I hear the doorbell ring.
There’s a time and a place for this, obviously. And I don’t think there’s ever a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ way to wank. But recently I’ve become pretty lazy and bored with any wank that doesn’t include the Doxy. While I’ve pretty much always been a speed-wanker, I have a vague recollection of a few languid, easy wanks I’ve had in the past – ones which last at least ten minutes and maybe even a fantasy or two. Masturbation where you’re doing something other than sprinting for a rapid finish. Not necessarily a marathon, but more of a dance – where you enjoy what you’re doing for the sake of doing it, rather than cramming all the steps into as short a space as possible.
So I invented something called the Doxy detox, which is pleasing in its alliteration but less pleasing for my greedy cunt, and I’ve sworn off using the Doxy to masturbate. For how long? For LENT. That’s right. The whole of Lent. That period of time when Christians give up sweets and chocolate and hand-fucking themselves into a glazed-eyed oblivion too.
- No Doxy, or any vibrating toys (although other sex toys are fine if I have the restraint to use them as playful things rather than magical insta-orgasm delivery devices)
- No wank that lasts less than ten minutes. Judging by the spreadsheet at the moment, this one’s going to be a bit tricky.
- For every fuck, a fantasy. So no masturbation which is purely physical, everything must have some corresponding delicious idea I can lose myself in – whether it’s porn or just in my head.
Bad sex habits
I have to add this final section, because it’s important to point out that what I might consider a ‘bad sex habit’ for me might be a stunning and exciting thing for you. I don’t think there are any ways of wanking that are inherently ‘good’ or ‘bad’ – even a fifty-five second stand-up wank. But sometimes there are habits I fall into that I want to try and break. Sometimes I get in the habit of lazy shagging – same easy position, every night, until we’re both thoroughly sick of it. The ‘same position’ isn’t the problem, but the ‘sick of it’ is.
So yeah, while it’s good to do what’s comfortable, when what’s comfortable gets boring it’s nice to recharge. If you’ve got any sex habits you fancy breaking, or you’ve ever made a conscious decision to stop doing something in bed, feel free to join me. I’m going to be writing an article about ‘bad sex habits’ for the Debrief and I’d love to know your thoughts and experiences. Shameless plug, for sure, but it occurred to me that I know of a fair few people who’ve set themselves personal sexual challenges – avoiding a particular position they’ve become bored of, committing more time to foreplay or BDSM play that doesn’t have an orgasm as it’s core aim, setting aside specific time slots each week to spend just with a partner, avoiding porn or masturbation altogether.
Have you ever done this, or would you be up for joining me in a lent challenge? As I say – I don’t think anyone should ever feel obliged to force their sex life to conform to a particular model, but I do think it’s fun to reflect on what we really want out of sex, and how it fits with what we’re actually getting. And if nothing else, a period of abstention from my favourite sex toy in the whole world ever means that the first time I use it on Easter Sunday will most likely be the best wank I’ve ever had.
Yesterday I had a chat with my other half about the wanking spreadsheet, with which he’s developed a kind of playfully indulgent fascination:
“A new record?”
When I asked him what his record was, he paused for a long while, before gently explaining that, for him, it’s just not about efficiency – it’s about the journey to the end rather than the end itself. So that’s the aim of my detox. It’s got less to do with the toy itself and more to do with the attitude – for 40 days and 40 nights, I’m going to try and train myself out of the ‘sprint finish’ attitude. To spend more time with my hand down my pants, and less time with my eye on the clock.