SEX TOYS 'R' US

SEX TOYS ‘R’ US

It was your average day in the suburbs, nothing too exotic occuring between the school run and the kids returning to their father in the early evening. During the mothering stints it is possible for me to forget entirely that I’m a Tantric Goddess. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mum (except when they’re operating in ‘selective listening’ mode) but it is somewhat challenging to remember that you’re One with the Universe, Channeling Cosmic Energy and Embodying the Divine Feminine when you’ve spent a week in sweats and trainers and haven’t seen much of life outside the kitchen and utility room.
Nevertheless, as luck would have it there was a treat in store that evening, which I’d been looking forward to all month. I have some very interesting friends, and one in particular had phoned to ask if I would like to participate in some market research - a colleague of his had just been given the distribution rights for a brand new, hi-tech vibrator and needed some feedback from a woman or two. Well, I’m always up for a bit of sensorial stimulation, as you already know if you’ve been following my blogs.
This friend (I’ll call him Nick for artistic, legal and safety reasons), who proves his love for me by leaving the excitement of London and trecking to the ‘burbs, happens to be one of the finest yoni masseurs in the country and as I consider myself a connoisseur in this area, having tried a fair few yoni massages in my time, I also consider myself qualified to rate my mate’s massage at the top of the scale. Now being a woman who knows which side her bread’s buttered on, I wasn’t going to turn down the offer of a yoni massage and a test drive on a new sex toy..I couldn’t believe that there was a machine on the market that might be even more effective than Nick! This I had to try.
Now, what you have to realise here is that I’m actually not big on vibrators. I honestly prefer the real thing, attached to a real man, with faults, feelings and foibles. I’d rather wait for the genuine article, no matter how long. I enjoy those additional bonuses like spontaneous groans, unexpected bodily fluid, snoring in the post-coital cuddle, etc. Also, a vibrator can’t get up and make you a cup of tea afterwards.
I do posess a gizmo or two in my bedside drawer, more because as a Modern Woman I feel obliged occasionally to join the emancipated masses and consume accordingly. (Did you know that the top selling domestic appliance is indeed the vibrator? Has anyone told Mr Dyson he’s in the wrong business?)
I pick up a new model every couple of years at Erotica (where you shop alongside the emancipated masses - about ten thousand people visit Erotica over three days. It's a bit like being on Oxford Street on Christmas Eve) with the good intention of self-pleasuring occasionally and sadly they lie in my drawer for years, unloved and barely used. I even threw an expensive one in the bin the other day. It was fancy - shaped like a frog and it twiddled, twirled and tap-danced. But I didn’t like the way it smelled, and paranoia was beginning to set in around the level of carcinogens in latex.
So, back to the yoni massage, which was unfolding in its delicious, unhurried way. I was transcending even the need to talk, and had drifted off to Planet Sex where an orgy was taking place starring angelic beings in a state of enlightened euphoria.....
“Shall we try it?” asked my bringer of heavenly delights.
“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten,” I mumbled.
“I think you should keep your eyes closed, it’s a little industrial-looking”, instructed the expert.
I did as I was told.
Suddenly I heard what clearly resembled the sound of a jack hammer. It sounded like someone was fixing the pavement outside. I almost jumped off the table as my shoulders were attacked by a road-digger.
“Waah!” I yelped. “You’re not putting that thing on my clit are you?! Can’t you turn the vibration down?”
“That’s the lowest of the two settings” replied Nick, sounding a little nervous.
As the fearsome, juddering contraption made contact with my yoni, I hit the ceiling.
“Waaaaah!” I screamed and laughed and screamed some more.
This was not the effect my friend had expected and within a minute we were helpless with laughter, tears rolling down our faces.
When we recovered, we experimented with the ‘attachments’. Bobbly bits went here, flicky things went there. Gadget Man would have had a field day.
Whenever the device was vibrating anywhere near me, the only sound I appeared to be able to make was,
“Waaaaaah!”
It’s quite possible that I’m not the ideal testing ground for researching battery-operated sex toys. Women who use plastic toys, fuck machines that simulate the ‘real’ thing, cucumbers, broom handles and such like, tend to become de-sensitised. A soft, warm, wet part of the human anatomy just won’t ‘do it’ anymore. This makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean the stronger the pressure someone needs to stimulate climax, or any level of pleasure, surely the pressure would just have to get harder and harder. Think of those kamikaze fun-fair riders who need a wilder ride to achieve the thrill, or valium addicts who have to take incrementally higher doses to put them to sleep..... There are a lot of numbed-out people in the world trying to have a decent sex life. Thank god for genital healing...........

Anyway, back to my thoughts on The Jack Hammer Vibrator (not its real name, so don’t go Googling for it), which is to be taken with a pinch of salt (or ‘Extra Zest, Hot and Spicy’ sex lube) considering I’m a bit of an old-fashioned tantric sex goddess at heart:
The JHV is certainly an experience, although perhaps not quite the experience that the manufacturer had in mind. I’m going to ask a question, at the risk of seeming a little dramatic –
Do you think it’s possible that the inventor of this glow-in-the-dark monstrosity actually HATES WOMEN?
This brings us to the rather more important question relating to our modern age – why are there women out there who can’t/choose not to/won’t/believe it’s impossible to find real, fulfilling sexual connection on a regular basis, either with one special partner or a variety of lovers? And believe me, there ARE women who would choose a vibrating, plastic object over a man. Sad, but true (although completely understandable if you’ve ever been in a British city at the point when the pubs empty out).
The answer to this dilemma lies in tantra.
There is a common misconception out there that tantra is all about sex. If we drew a foot-long line representing tantra, tantric sex is about an inch worth, tantric massage about an inch; dancing, meditating, swimming, walking in nature, creating art, writing, hugging, sharing, channeling, eating, all these aspects make up the remaining part of that line..... but I want to assure you that should you step into the world of tantra, you certainly stand more of a chance of connecting sexually with a genuine, honest and authentic fellow human than if you spend your leisure time down the disco or local sport centre, or traipsing the barren floors of your local mall.

Tantra is the antidote to all the cruelty and unconsciousness that exists on the planet right now. A rather bold claim I know, but hey, why do you think I created Tantralink? It’s not a hobby! Way too expensive and time-consuming. I’m the Tantric Supercrusader on a mission. And considering how irritating I can become when I’m on a roll, it’s a miracle I have any friends left.......
I’m not ashamed of my enthusiasm, and here’s a message to the Sistas – Throw down your vibrators! Register on a tantra course and sign up with a tantra dating agency.
But if you’ve just read this blog and think, ‘Nah she’s off with the fairies’ and you do decide to just head off down the pub, a word of advice - keep your vibrators handy. You’ll need them.