Tag Archives: masturbation
How to dominate a man – sexy ideas from an eager amateur
How the hell do I dominate a man? If your partner has any kind of submissive tendency, and if – like me – you’re enthusiastic yet clumsy when it comes to wielding a whip and calling someone a ‘filthy puppy’, at some point you may have heard the two most terrifying words in the English language:
“Surprise me.”
On the most popular sex toys (and a sex toy competition)
Brace yourselves, I’m doing a special thing. Long time readers will know that for the last few months the fantastic Bondara has been supporting me. This has helped pay for hosting and domain stuff, pass a bit of money on to guest bloggers, and hire an amazing illustrator to create pretty images for some of my posts. To say thanks to Bondara and to you for your support, I’m running a sex toy competition to give away a £100 shopping spree at Bondara. You can buy anything – whether you want to wear it, smear it all over yourself, or turn it on and let it buzz deliciously against your sensitive bits. When you get to the bottom of this post, there’s a widget that you can use to enter the competition.
So what’s this post about? Well, I don’t really do toy reviews, but I wanted to do something that gives a bit of an insight into sex blogging, and also appeals to my nerdier sensibilities. So I’ve done some very top-level analysis of the kind of toys people buy via my site. A sort of ‘if you like my blog, you might like some of this stuff too’ – like Amazon does with books, but for fucktoys. The following graphs have been created using anonymised data based on purchases at Bondara via my website.
Which sex toys are the most popular?
I had a look at the percentage of toys sold for different genital uses. As you can see, my readers are generally a big fan of arses, which makes sense given the number of posts I’ve written about butt plugs. Penis and vagina toys sold equally, which I am pleased with, because it shows a delightful sex toy equality in the discerning audience of this blog.
Which sex products are the most popular?
Of course, it’s not just about things you put in/on/up yourself – there are other types of products too. While toys are by far and away the winner, plenty of people have been stocking up on bondage equipment, underwear and accessories too. For this, ‘accessories’ includes things like condoms and lube, as well as sex toy cleaners and things.
Sex toy sales by day of the week
Statisticians, please shield your eyes, because this one’s a fucking mess. I don’t think the data was significant enough to make a guess on the day that sales were most likely – apart from anything else, my traffic’s always higher on Sundays, Wednesdays or Fridays when I post. Still, in case you’re interested, it looks like Friday is officially the least sexy day, with Wednesdays and weekends being far more popular.
What are the most popular sex products?
I’d hoped that at least one person would have bought the fucking machine that I have on my sex toy wish list. Sadly not, but if you’re after something new, and you fancy following in the footsteps of other readers, here are some of the most popular products (or product categories) from the last three months:
– Cock rings. A solid and admirable choice.
– Male masturbators. I’m not surprised these are near the top of the list because I am obsessed with them – Tenga eggs came through as a strong favourite, which is handy because I have recently got the hang of using them without breaking them due to overenthusiastic wanking.
– Butt plugs. Again, solid choice,and I hope these hot butt-plug stories helped some people make their decision.
– Coquette knickers. I am 100% sure this came about as a result of this post about the sexiest types of knickers.
– Jessica rabbit vibrator. A classic. Also very cheap. I am impressed with your money-saving expertise.
Sex toy competition – win a £100 Bondara shopping spree!
Now on to the exciting bit – all you need to do is enter the competition using the magical widget below, and you’ll be entered into a draw. The comp will run for exactly two weeks – until midday (UK time) on the 11th of August, with the winner chosen the next day. If you win, you can spend £100 on whatever you like from Bondara. I’m afraid you have to be UK resident and over 18 to take part, but if this is popular, I’ll see if I can run something separate for US-based people so you can have sexy things too.
Best of luck, and thank you again for all your support.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
[Note from GOTN – I have never run a competition like this before, and in all probability I am a bit incompetent at it. I’ve tried to make it so there are plenty of easy ways to enter, but if you have any feedback or you’re not sure how to use it please drop me an email]
On butt plugs
When I first started getting into sex – and I mean really into sex, past the initial ‘oh bloody hell this is awesome’ stage and into the ‘I wonder what it would be like if I did this unusual thing’ phase – I gave butt plugs a fairly wide berth. Hitting implements: fine. Vibrators: no problem. Role play: as long as it wasn’t too funny. But butt plugs seemed like a strange and unusual thing.
I love anal sex, but the main reason I love it is because of the whole atmosphere – his grunting, delicious desperation as well as the feeling of his dick meeting tight resistance. Butt plugs seemed a bit pointless: I don’t have a prostate, so why would I want one there? What’s more, I felt a teeny bit nervous about using one on a guy. Worried that I might do it badly and it’d either be totally underwhelming or – worse – hurt.
As with many things, I was spectacularly wrong.
Sit
We talked about it first. He told me that he liked it: that feeling of being full. My head was full of pictures: him lying on the bed, naked from the waist down, reaching to push something firmly into himself. Him: sitting at his computer, with a plug snugly inside him and braced against the seat of the chair, frowning in concentration as he rubbed himself to climax.
I wanted to see that first hand.
“Are you going to use that on me?” he asked. I waited for a while, putting on the kind of face that covered my nervousness with controlled indecision.
“Nope.” I put it on the chair. “You’re going to use it on yourself.”
Stay
Watching him lube up the plug then wince with concentration as he slid it into himself was just the start. As he sat down slowly onto the wooden chair, his face displayed a beautiful tortured dilemma: ‘I like this. It feels good. But I feel so dirty.’
“How do you feel?”
“Dirty.”
“Touch yourself.”
He gripped his cock firmly and started sliding his hand up and down. He twitched and trembled with a combination or nervousness and arousal. I could see the tension in his neck, and the taut effort in his thighs as he tried not to rest with too much pressure. He didn’t want it in too deep straight away – he wanted to take it slowly. He swallowed, rubbed harder, relaxed a tiny bit. Let the plug slip slightly deeper into him.
“How do you feel?”
“Still…” he rubbed harder “…dirty.”
I sat on the edge of the bed getting hot at the sight of him. It was his face, mostly. The flickers of competing expressions and emotions as he stroked himself towards a climax that he was both desperate for and ashamed of. I couldn’t believe there could be such a difference between watching him wank and watching him wank like this: with a plug holding him firmly in a place where he was conflicted about his joy.
I had rarely wanted him more.
Good boy
I stood over him and pulled the crotch of my knickers to one side. He looked up at me and I gave him the kind of grin I’d usually save for afterwards: gleeful, ecstatic, overjoyed by this intensely new thing. I loved that this boy was so utterly on edge – aching from the plug and tingling through his dick and desperate to come right in front of me.
I straddled his legs, wrapped my arms around his neck, and lowered myself onto his cock. Gently, for the first few strokes, I slid up and down him – my cunt getting wetter and hotter at the sounds of his plaintive moans.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please… harder.”
“Fuck you harder?”
“Yes.”
“You want to feel me fuck you hard so this plug is pushed deeper into you?”
“I… yes.”
“Say it.”
“Please fuck me harder. I want to feel it inside me. Deep inside m… Oh God. Fuck. That deep inside me.”
So I fucked him harder – much harder. I rode his dick in a swift, jerking rhythm, grinding his arse into the chair and the butt plug deeper inside him. I rocked back and forth so he could feel it pushing against the inside of him from all angles. I gripped the back of the chair and pulled on his hair as he cried out. I felt the tension in him every time I slammed down to the base of his cock – the solid, hard strokes that drummed the base of the plug against the chair, and the tip of it into the boy.
There are other stories to tell about butt plugs – when they’re used on me, or other ways I’ve used them to make guys whimper. But this was one of the first introductions I had to butt plugs. From this point on, the main thing I associate them with (and the reason I always keep a couple of different types in my sex toy drawer) isn’t the play itself – the specific acts or moments or even the feeling as one is slipped inside – it’s the expressions. The looks of lust mixed with uncertainty and a heavy dollop of need. It’s filthy not just because he likes it but because of the way he likes it.
Finally, too quickly, before my thighs could even think about aching, he came. One final grunt of satisfaction and anguish and lust, and his cock twitched hard inside me. He buried his face in my chest and offered a wholly unnecessary “thank you.”
As with any toys mentioned here, you’d be helping to support my site by buying butt plugs from my affiliates using any of the links on this sex toys page. If you’d like a specific butt plug recommendation, my favourites at the moment are these Doxy butt plugs – buy direct from Doxy using my affiliate link and you’ll get 15% off and free shipping if you use the code GOTN15.
On National Masturbation Month
I’ve been lax in my sex blogging, for I have not yet mentioned that May is National Masturbation Month. It’s nearly over, so presumably as soon as it has finished we’ll all put away any sex toys we might have lying around, pull up our trousers and get on with our lives. Until then, though, I thought I should mark the occasion.
I’ve had a long and joyous relationship with wanking. From initial ecstatic delight when I realised I could make myself come through my jeans through to weary defeat at the end of a day ‘working from home‘ in which the only work I had successfully completed was giving myself a sore shoulder and a tingling clit. I am, if nothing else, a complete and utter wanker, and I have been for all of my adult life. But in the very beginning I didn’t realise just how varied, joyous, and interesting wanking could be.
When you’re sitting at a computer screen with one hand down your jeans and a shining strand of drool dangling from your lips to your keyboard, it’s easy to forget that wanking isn’t always something simple, or functional. Fuck it, it isn’t even always solo. So, composed just after my most recent hand shandy, here’s a Brief History of My Thoughts on Wanking.
Pre-masturbation
People don’t really do that, do they? It sounds a bit weird and not particularly fun. Don’t they have any good books to read instead?
Initial discovery of masturbation
Holy Christ on a cock horse, this is what all the fuss was about! I need to do as much of this as possible, so that I can research all the slight variants on how it makes me feel amazing. If I just angle this bedside light correctly I can position the cold metal of the lampshade so it chills one of my nipples while I rub myself through my pants.
OK. That was excellent. I should probably go down to breakfast now. I’ll just quickly test it on the other nipple. What if I roll onto my stomach? What if I lie on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor? What if I…? Why are you still here? Please excuse me while I fail to eat, sleep, or do anything productive for the next two to three years of my life.
A year after discovering masturbation
I might have to go to the doctor because I think my clit is broken. No matter how much I rub it, all I feel is a bit numb.
A week after worrying that I’d broken my clit
Seems to be OK again. Clearly leaving it alone every once in a while is a good idea. I should do that more often. Ah, who am I kidding? *locks bedroom door*
Upon discovering sex
So, like, I probably won’t want to wank as much now, which I guess is for the best given the whole clit-break thing. But then the sex I’m having is really fucking hot. I should think about it a bit and… dammit.
Upon discovering mutual masturbation
You know that thing boys do where they ineffectually prod your clit? I sort of want to grab their hands and show them how I do it.
After showing them how I do it
Holy God that’s good. That’s… yes. That’s… umm… mmmm… yes that’s pretty much spot on. Little to the left. Harder. Bite my nipple… unngh. Yeah.
Just before wanking in front of someone for the first time
I’m not entirely sure I want you to watch me wanking. I wank far too quickly and I make odd faces and weird noises and you won’t fancy me any more and it’ll be awful.
Just after wanking in front of someone for the first time
If it always gets this reaction I should do it way more often. In fact, if it made all guys jizz that hard I would open my own show in the West End.
Present day, during sex
I’m so close. So close. So clo… I’ll just reach down here for a bit. He seems to like that.
“Do you like that?”
“Fuck yeah. Come for me.”
As he fucks me nice and deep and hard I move my fingers to the place I’ve loved since that first youthful exploration. I spit and I rub and I grind against him, and I feel his dick deep inside me. I rub with a frantic desperation and a need born of total abandon – a love for my clit and for his dick and a lack of shame about what the two can do together. When the waves of orgasm hit my cunt spasms around him, squeezing the first jets of spunk from his cock. He licks my fingers.
A tribute to masturbation
Wanking is awesome. It’s my greatest stress relief, my most enjoyable hobby, my favourite procrastination tool and one of my very best friends. In fact, if you measure affection in terms of how often your lover makes you come, how well they know and understand you, how easily they can enhance your highs and smooth your lows, then it’s not exaggerating to tell you that masturbation is truly the love of my life.
I’d kiss my own hand, if it weren’t so sticky.
On speed wanking
The average adult reads at 250 words per minute. That means that the average person will read this blog post in under three minutes. As you’re reading that online, most of you will naturally read faster than you would if you were reading print, potentially skimming through a few sections of text as you skip ahead to particularly fascinating subheadings.
Frantically rubbing my clitoris
As you read this post, I want you to imagine the stage you’d be at if you’d started masturbating at the beginning. During the first sentence you opened your fly, pulled down your pyjama bottoms, or lifted your skirt and yanked your knickers to one side – whatever best fits your own masturbatory routine.
By now you’re about ten to twenty seconds in. For some of you, you’ll be in the ‘early arousal’ stage – just starting to get wet, or hard, or tingly, perhaps licking your fingers or reaching for the lube to speed things along.
Others might get there a bit more quickly – you’ll have graduated beyond the initial fumblings and be furiously frigging yourself, making all the delicious slick-wet or dry-rub noises that you most associate with this pleasurable past time.
If you read at the average speed, we’re now about thirty to forty seconds in.
If you’re me, you will have come already.
Speed wanking, and why I’m a bit odd
As a child I was a big fan of the film Grease. Big songs, big hair, and John Travolta in a tight leather jacket – what’s not to love? Somewhere in that film there’s a line about sex taking “just fifteen minutes.” Because I was young and inexperienced, I took this not just as a casual joke but a cast iron biological fact with the result that, during my teenage years, I was beset with occasional bouts of intense worry. I thought that either:
a) I wasn’t doing wanking right, because it was taking me between 30 and 45 seconds to come, and that if I kept doing it for longer I’d experience a ‘proper’ orgasm. This didn’t work too well, because too much wanking post-orgasm caused me much sadness and occasional intense pain. So the only other possibility was that:
b) I was a biological anomaly, and when I eventually got into bed with a man he would scream and run as soon as the first waves of orgasm twitched around his totally normal, 15-minute-ready dick.
The grass is always greener in someone else’s pants
Now that I’m an adult, I’m pretty used to my personal body quirks, and although things naturally take me a bit longer when I’m shagging, as a general rule my wanking has remained pretty quick. Thirty seconds, give or take.
I don’t usually think about it but the other day I had a conversation with a guy in which he told me – in exquisitely growling and lustful detail – about evenings he spends treating himself to extended masturbation sessions. These are the opposite of 30-minute wanking sprints – they last from when he walks in the door after work to when he finally ejaculates at bedtime. Porn, more porn, toys, slow rubbing on the sofa, frantic bouts of near-orgasmic frotting, pausing just before he comes, breaks for coffee, cigarettes and phone calls. Everything you’d do if you had all the time in the world and nothing but your genitals to play with.
I’m sad that I can’t ever really enjoy the kind of extended sessions guys like him have told me about – edging for hours until they’re ready to spurt at the lightest touch, or calmly stroking themselves to a plateau of not-quite-coming as they enjoy a particularly horny video. But even when I try to do this I fail miserably. If I watch porn (which I do, although probably not as often as people who are conoisseurs of it) I’ll watch it for about five minutes, find a section that I really like, then immediately initiate the frenzied clit-rubbing that’s so speedy and loveless I can almost hear the Countdown theme tune in my head.
It’s not that I hate wanking and need it to be over as soon as possible, or even that I’m biologically incapable of drawing it out. I wonder if it’s because when I’m alone and horny, spending longer than is strictly necessary feels like a disgraceful and guilty indulgence. If it took me half an hour to come I’d feel that was half an hour well spent. But if it only takes 30 seconds, spending longer on it might seem a bit excessive. Like preparing a gourmet meal when I’m not hungry, or wearing high heels to do the gardening.
How long does it take you?
It’s a nice trick most of the time – I don’t know many people who could pop the kettle on then guarantee they’ll have frigged themselves to orgasm by the time the water’s boiled – I’m not complaining as such. I just wonder if I’m the only one. Perhaps I’m walking through a world where most people spend two to three hours a week on masturbatory self-care, in which case I’ll kick myself for being the overly-efficient robot who bashes them out in less than a minute, never stopping to truly enjoy the build up.
If you made it to the end in less than three minutes: congratulations on your reading speed. If you went back to the beginning and started wanking to see if you could finish before the last full-stop: well done, and I’m sorry it didn’t contain more filth. And if you managed to both read it and orgasm in less than 30 seconds, perhaps we should start a league.