Life is a Mystery

I’m not a tech person, but when I heard about the Mystery Vibe Crescendo, I understood why tech people were stoked about it.  With six different motors inside and not only the ability to flex and bend into different shapes BUT ALSO Bluetooth connectivity / an app from which you can create your own vibration patterns, it feels futuristic. It’s a brilliant concept – make one vibrator that can fit the needs of a variety of people.  That can be a G-spot stimulator one day and a dual-stim vibe the next.  That has twelve different patterns built into it already as well as a variety of speeds, so you don’t even need to download the app.

dsc01712

The Crescendo comes in beautiful packaging – an elegant black box with a magnetized lid which stays tight when you close it.  The instructions come on a black card with gold lettering in a black envelope tucked into the lid of the box – like an invitation to a remote and lavish ball.  Actually, it kind of reminded me of the murder mysteries I used to love playing as a teenager!  Opening the box, you discover that the vibrator also comes with what I can only describe as a knife roll for sex toys – a silky pouch that has separate compartments for the vibe and the charging components, easily rolled up and tied round with a black satin ribbon.  It’s a very classy design, and I can’t even say how excited I am that it’s not pink.  Seriously, industry people – SO HAPPY IT’S NOT PINK.  None of it is pink.  Thank you for that, Mystery Vibe.

dsc01714    dsc01717    dsc01721

The Crescendo comes with a charger that can plug into a computer or wall adapter; the charging cord plugs into a base on which you set the vibe to charge.  This blew my fucking mind until a friend pointed out to me that other electronics do that – I’d just never seen it before.  Again, not a tech person.  Despite this and despite being wary of privacy concerns (I don’t use my phone to do anything blog-related), I tried to download the app onto my phone – no dice.  The Android version said that “there was a problem parsing the package,” and the Google Play store said that my phone wasn’t compatible with the current version of the app (it requires Android 6.0 or higher).

dsc01728

I was actually okay with this – while I’m sure the app is fun to play with, the vibrator is fun enough on its own.  To be quite honest, it took me some time to warm up to the Crescendo.  It’s called the Crescendo for a reason; most of the patterns rise and fall or switch between different motors in the vibrator.  I’m used to using vibrators with one major point of vibration, so even when they use patterns, it’s always in the same spot.  Not so with the Crescendo.  At first, I found this frustrating – this is not a vibrator that you use in a pinch to get your rocks off before running out the door.  It takes a bit of time and buildup.  This is a lazy Sunday afternoon vibrator.  Because of that, however, and because it can be used hands-free (awesome!), I found that my orgasms with it were more intense than usual.  Instead of tensing into my orgasm, I could lay back and let the sensations build and build before coming, which is something I’ve been trying to work on lately.

There are a couple of minor drawbacks for me – I could bend it into the shape I wanted, but couldn’t get it inside of me while it was in that shape… and once I had it inside of me, could no longer bend it into the shape I wanted.  I got close, though.  At times I would go to push it deeper inside and accidentally hit the buttons, changing the speed or pattern; it would be nice to have a kind of locking mechanism to prevent that were it possible.  It is a lot noisier than the website lets on (it is “expected to create some noise”); that’s not a problem for me, as I’m noisy as fuck when I’m having sex… but there is one pattern that involves a sound that to me mimics an elephant trumpet, which I find mildly alarming.

dsc01801

There are also some major drawbacks.  The Crescendo falls somewhere in the middle of the buzzy – rumbly spectrum, but a lot of the vibrations are on the buzzy end; I wish they were a bit more rumbly.  Maybe it’s that the motors are buried underneath the flexing mechanisms, or maybe they’re just buzzy motors.  Perhaps that’s why it takes me longer to get off with this vibe.  Another big drawback is the price; at $200, it feels like you’re paying for the novelty of having a bendable vibrator.

That being said, there are also big benefits.  It has wireless charging, and you can wash it after use (just don’t submerge it) – a big deal for an insertable vibrator.  You can register for a warranty if you buy it, which I think is fantastic!  It has a nice feel to it, too; the outer shell is made of soft silicone (not medical-grade).  My very favorite thing about it is that after using it as a dual-stim vibrator, I can take it out, change the shape, and keep using it as an A-spot stimulator without having to change toys.  That’s pretty badass in my book.  You know that feeling right before you come where your whole body is tingling and you feel waves of ecstasy?  The Crescendo had me in that state for a loooong while; it’s a toy I will use whenever I have leisure time.

dsc01803
Like Gumby with boobs.

All in all – the Mystery Vibe Crescendo is an innovative and creative (but rather expensive) product that can suit many needs, comes in beautiful packaging, and will be lots of fun to experiment with!

UPDATE!  I just got an email from the creator of the Crescendo; he tells me that a) they’re working on a firmware upgrade so that the device can be locked into a certain pattern / intensity; b) they’re working with the motor manufacturer to make a quieter motor and more rumbly motors on the ends of the device.  Yea!

 

*Full disclosure: Mystery Vibe sent me a sample of the Crescendo, but did not ask me to write a review.

Just a light wank before bed…

Have a new toy to play with, so I thought I might as well make it festive!

xmas-1

xmas-3

xmas-5

Sometimes I get a little creative ’cause I’m bendy:

xmas-4

Once in a while we just find ourselves in strange positions while wanking, you know?

This week’s photos are sure to be… brilliant (see what I did there?); check them out by clicking on the lips below!

Sinful Sunday

Campfire

Indra liked the way the crisp autumn air stung her cheeks as she squatted close to the ground, her urine stream splashing a bit onto her shoes from the crunchy fallen oak leaves between her feet.  This was a sensual time of year: everything smelled rich due to harvest or decay.  The light was more golden, connections between people more heightened as friends and family came together after vacations apart.  She stood up, buttoning her jeans, closed her eyes, and inhaled the earthy scent of burning branches for a moment before starting her walk back to the cluster of tents she and her friends had set up earlier that day.  She could see the glow of their bonfire in the distance; she, too, felt radiant.

Fire, Flame, Wood Fire, Brand

Coming closer to the tents, Indra stopped short when a movement caught her eye.  Still hidden in the forest, her hand grazing the scratchy bark on the tree next to her, she squinted to see more clearly the silhouette of someone inside their tent; the campfire in front of the tent made the shadow visible from behind.  Whose tent is that? she wondered as she intently stared, craning her neck to get a better look.  Suddenly understanding what she was seeing, she flushed and took a step toward camp – then stepped back to look again.  His hand was down his pants, methodically and slowly stroking.  She stepped toward camp again… but then immediately came back for more.  Now he had pulled his cock out; its shadow looked comically large in the firelight.  She laughed a small, barely audible, nervous laugh, unable to look away as he licked his hand and rubbed it over the head of his cock, then all the way to the bottom of his shaft.  Her cunt warmed, thickened, pulsed.

An unexpected shout of “INDRA!” from a friend jolted her and sent her heart racing, but she couldn’t avert her eyes, couldn’t move her feet.  Maybe if she just stayed silent… she heard boots pounding leaves and panting breath coming into the woods; she stayed stock still but for a slight rubbing of her thighs.  Catching her breath, Ellen jogged up to Indra, asking for toilet paper.  A few seconds too late, Indra switched her glance over to Ellen, trying to find words that were sticky in her mouth, and snapping out of her reverie, patted her pockets for the desired item.  “What were you staring at?” asked Ellen, whose eyes were adjusting to the darkness.

“I just – uh – nothing,” she replied, her vulva now aflame.  Ellen looked into the camp and audibly gasped when she saw it.  She grabbed Indra’s warm hand in hers and they looked on silently, blood thudding together.  “It’s so hot,” Indra whispered.  Ellen, a bit tipsy, leaned into Indra’s ear and whispered, “Can I touch you like that?”  Indra, still looking at the tent, just swallowed hard and nodded, her nipples like cherry pits.  Ellen unbuttoned Indra’s pants and lowered her zipper just a bit before sliding her slender hand into the slick folds of Indra’s vulva, rubbing her juices up and over her clit before moving two fingers inside of her.  She looked behind her for a moment to get the rhythm of his stroke and tried to match it, curling and pressing her fingers inside of Indra.

Indra grabbed the branch above her with both hands, holding onto it like a log in a river with strong currents.  She moaned aloud; Ellen moved her lips back to Indra’s ear to whisper, “Don’t make a sound.”  She covered Indra’s mouth with one hand while continuing to fuck her with the other.  She didn’t know if it was the voyeurism or potential exhibitionism – could anyone else see them? – that made her insides growl and roar, but either way, she came hard onto Ellen’s hand, her muscles clamping around Ellen’s fingers.  Ellen gently pulled them out, licked them, and placed her hands on the sides of Indra’s face before lightly kissing her still-ajar, chapstick-covered lips.  “Thanks!” she said quietly, grabbing the tissue out of Indra’s pocket, and bounding away into the woods, leaving Indra there to watch a small stream of ejaculate bubble out of the staff in her friend’s hand, both of them finally satisfied.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Bedtime Stories (NSFR)

Wait, I say to him before we get off the phone.  I want him to read me a bedtime story.  He stoically tells me that it’s 10:00 am.  Not where I am, I remind him.  I tell him I’ll be restless without it.  That I won’t be able to sleep.  That I’ll be tossing and turning all night long when I could be dreaming of him.  He grudgingly gives in, searching for a good piece of erotica on his computer while I turn off the lights, climb my stairs, and slink into bed, the bright light of my phone pressed to my ear.

How about a gangbang story? he asks.  I smile; that’s exactly what I would have chosen.  As he starts to read, his voice deep and reassuring in my ear, I close my eyes and imagine the scene unfolding before me, vivid images floating behind the dark half-moons of my eyelids.  Hands and mouths everywhere, greedy, grasping, searching.  Every glorious orifice being used to its full potential, undulations of bodies and pleasure.  My right hand slides into my pajama bottoms, underneath my cotton panties as he continues to read; I find my labia already slick and slippery.

I’m not prepared for how fast I come.  Before I can take any clothes off, before I can pull a breast out to graze one of my nipples with a wet finger, without tensing into it like normal, I suddenly come hard at the thought of several strangers using me, not ever knowing who they are, a dozen hands groping me at once.  Fingers in my mouth, a fist around my hair, nails dug into my haunches, gripping me backward.  I cry out, my body convulsing, and continue to moan; he stops reading.

“I wasn’t done,” he says.  I am.  I tell him to keep reading to me.  I lay still in bed, my panties and thighs soaked, breathing deeply and evenly as I imagine him next to me, whispering the story into my ear in the dark.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Ambrosia

Photo from http://www.wisconsinhistory.org
 
For the third day in a row now, Mari could feel eyes caressing her back as she unlocked the door to her office at Ambrosia.  She’d only started there a week before; she assumed it would be like her previous HR jobs, but it was so much better.  She remembered being a child and smelling the chocolate factory from her school bus as it rumbled through freeway traffic every morning; now she inhaled deeply, turning the key in the lock, and paused for a minute to feel it course through her before briefly turning back to see if she would catch someone looking at her through the glass that separated office workers from the factory floor.  All the machine operators and assemblers, however, had their eyes down or forward, making sure everything continued to move smoothly along conveyor belts and into boxes. 

By lunchtime, she was starving.  Walking past the other offices on her way to the parking lot, she looked over the factory floor to her right and noticed a woman she hadn’t seen before writing on a clipboard nailed to a post.  The woman was tall and muscular – or at least she looked so in her white coat – and suddenly she looked Mari directly in the eye and smiled, tilting her head a bit.  It was a genuine smile, full of curiosity; Mari could make out bundles of black hair under the woman’s hair net.  She wondered briefly what it would be like to take the hair net off and run her fingers through the woman’s silky hair; the invasive thought caught her off guard, and she tripped over a snag in the hallway carpet.  Collecting her purse and shaken, she looked again for the mysterious woman, who had turned around and started moving a machine behind her.  Mari blushed and hurried on her way, holding her purse tight and her breath tighter, her heels soundless on the carpet. 

She lay in bed later that night, thinking again of the amazon.  Imagining her strong arms (god she looked so strong) picking her up so that Mari’s thighs gripped her obliques and placing her on the small desk in her office, deftly working one hand up Mari’s thigh and snaking her fingers under Mari’s panties and into her wet cunt, the other hand pulling one of Mari’s small breasts out of her camisole so she could slip the taut nipple into her mouth, her long black hair falling in waves over Mari’s face.  Her hair that smelled like chocolate.  Her breath that smelled like chocolate twirling up through Mari’s nostrils as she leaned in to kiss Mari with full lips, making her moan from her diaphragm.  She rubbed her clit in circles, coming in undulations as she felt the woman’s tongue and fingers and body weight. 

She came in early the next morning, wearing a red blouse and a bit of blush, which she never wore to work.  Shortly after arriving, there was a knock on her door; “Come in,” she said, staring at the green and black computer screen in front of her.  “I hope I’m not bothering you,” a husky voice said from the door frame.  She didn’t need to look up to know.  Her heart felt like the Kool-Aid man bursting through a wall; she swallowed and lifted her eyes.  “I wanted to introduce myself,” said the woman, confident and direct.  “I’m the forewoman on the floor; I thought it would help to know someone’s name in case you needed to talk to anyone here about paperwork or other unresolved issues.”  She strode in, took the latex glove off her right hand, and extended it to Mari, sliding it perfectly into Mari’s small hand, her skin smooth.  Her skin that smelled like chocolate.  She held Mari’s hand in hers for longer than necessary, her eyes searching for Mari’s and her hand making promises.  “I’m Tanya,” she said with her beautiful lips, Mari barely hearing the words, seeing in her mind her own hands on Tanya’s face and Tanya’s lips on the nape of her neck.  She felt warm and full as she made it through the words “It’s nice to meet you, Tanya – I’m Mari.”  Words like peanut butter in her mouth. 

“Let me know if you have any questions,” said Tanya, again with her engaging smile.  “You know where to find me, I believe.”  She strode out, but not before turning to say, “And by the way – you look great today.”  Cocoons opened throughout Mari’s body as she held her balance against the swivel chair behind her.  Yes.  This was so much better. 

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

 

As an aside, the Ambrosia chocolate factory is a real place; Jeffrey Dahmer worked there while he was mid-killing spree.  He lived eight blocks away from my elementary school while I was a student there – I remember his trial well because it was the biggest local news story for months.  

In Back

Seven years ago, I walked with some trepidation into a tiny shop on the third floor of a commercial building; it was up a narrow staircase, and I had to ring a buzzer at a heavy door with a tiny window to get in.  I only knew this place was there because other foreigners told me so: “Look for the interlocked male and female symbols,” they said.  Walking past masks, fake blood, face paint, props, and various other costume pieces, I saw what I came for: sex toys.  Well, sort of.  Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust and had Japanese writing on it; it all looked very old, as though it had been smuggled in via Soviet Russia.  There weren’t very many products – a fake pussy here, a crop there, a couple of PVC dildos.  Pornography is illegal in Korea; adult toy stores are highly frowned upon and hidden away, and I think they can only be open as novelty stores.  Anything considered “obscene” by the Korean government can be confiscated by customs; the Korean version of Amazon does sell a limited number of items, but only on its Korean-language page. and shoppers must submit a phone number for age verification.
A bit like these guys…
But back to this store.  The older man with greying hair behind the counter lowered his glasses and looked me up and down before asking, “Vibrator?”  I nodded and walked toward the counter.  From behind the glass, he brought out a huge rabbit and told me the price: 100,000 won.  Nope, I said – too expensive.  I was just looking for a cheap way to get off quickly.  He then brought out, in sealed plastic wrapping in a tiny box one egg vibe, bright yellow and transparent.  20,000 won, he said.  Sold.  I know this is outrageously expensive for a cheap plastic egg vibrator – but seeing as how Korea is lacking in feminist sex-positive sex shops, I took what I could get, and I got down. 

 

I had that vibrator my first two years in Korea; it never blew my mind, but it did the trick!  It was a traumatic time in my life, and that little vibrator meant waves of relief when I desperately needed it.  Every time I go home to the States now, I make several trips to my local superhero sex store and stock up, very, VERY thankful that I have all the vibrators at my disposal that I could possibly want (and that nothing has been confiscated by Korean customs).  And dammit, I want them all. 

 

I’m a fan of rumbly over buzzy; of patterns over continuous vibration; of silicone over… well, everything.  I use vibrators mostly when I want to get off hard and fast; if I’m in for a long wank or am highly aroused and lubricated, I prefer my hands and a dildo.  That being said – I bought my first vibrator on my eighteenth birthday (it was pink and had hearts all over it – triple ugh) and have never looked back.

I bought my mom a vibrator (maybe that’s what this post should have been about!) for her 55th birthday after she confided in me that my father wouldn’t touch her anymore… and she shed tears of joy when I said that every woman had the right to experience pleasure.  She called to say thank you the following week, and we never talked about it again – but I know it made an impact on her to know that her daughter had her back.  We should all have each other’s backs when it comes to the right to self-pleasure.  Maybe when I move back to the States, I should make it a point to mail all my friends in Korea vibrators for their birthdays – I’ll just write “novelty item” on the customs slip.  

Rock On (NSFR)

Some days, you just can’t stop wanking.
It’s been a rare week for me; I’ve played with three different partners this week, and instead of satisfying my desire, it’s just stoked the fire.  I want more.  It’s been one of those days where I think I’ve decided that I just want to spend the rest of my life naked in my living room and have rotating lovers come in to please me.  Sounds like a good life, no?
Sinful Sunday

Underground Eruptions Could Cause Quakes Months Later (Scientific American)

Sitting on a KTX train bound for Daegu, I see my own reflection absentmindedly staring out the window at the mountains passing by.  As so often happens when I’m not thinking of anything in particular, my thoughts drift to you.  To your strong fingers, your expressive brown eyes, your dirty words whispered lovingly into my ears.  Your mouth on my nipple, seen from above as I’m straddling you.  Your sex and heat and body odor-mingled scent in the late morning after an all-night fuck marathon.
You often joked with me how you’d want to see me right off the train or bus because long-distance transit makes me insatiably horny.  I don’t know why; the rumblings of the engine or the bumps in the road, the freedom of my mind to wander now that I’m far from home, the shadows crossing my face as we enter and exit tunnels. 

I’m thinking of you and I remember (or did I dream it?) coming home one night after a weekend away to find you lounging on my couch, reading a book.  Waiting for me.  I didn’t expect to see you.  Didn’t expect for you to stride over to me without saying anything, kiss me full on the lips (god your lips), and then ask if my bus ride was good.  I couldn’t muster an answer as I was too busy dropping my bag, fumbling with the buttons on your shirt, and barely getting my own pants down a bit before you picked me up and put me on my kitchen counter, pushed my pants off with your foot, and grabbed the back of my hips to pull me forward enough for you to slide into me.  I came hard that night with my head banging against my cupboard, clutching your back as though I hadn’t seen you in years, feeling a hunger in my cunt for more and more of you.

Now, sitting on the train and thinking of your body pressed against me, I feel my lips swell, blood pulsing deep inside me.  Sometimes I think that if I fantasize hard enough I can make myself come – but not having accomplished that yet, I stand up suddenly, push by the passenger next to me, and enclose myself in the train bathroom.  Still standing, I move my hand into my panties and dip my fingers inside, drawing up my own lube, and rub two fingers in circles around my clit, breath coming hard, biting my own lip.  It doesn’t take long.  My whole body shakes soundlessly, vibrating against the bathroom wall.  A series of powerful contractions takes my breath away, and my body relaxes.  I see myself tremble in the bathroom mirror and I think, sorrowful for just a moment, about how much I’d like to come home to you.  You’re 7,000 miles away now, but you still erupt inside of me now and then, spilling out of me, aftershocks stretching out into the night.



This was written for a competition on Sex Blog (Of Sorts); check out the other entries and write one of your own!

Hot in Here

A Nelly ear worm for you!  You’re welcome.


These photos were taken inside a Finnish sauna in the nicest love motel room I’ve ever stayed in.

Everything leads to wanking for me.
It was a hedonistic night that involved making a sex video!  I always thought I wouldn’t want to see myself getting it on, but when we went back to my place and watched it together projected onto my wall, it just made for more hot sex, and you can’t go wrong with that.

This will be my last Sinful Sunday until March; I’ll be travelling in SE Asia for a month.  Have a lovely February, everyone!!!   

To view other hot Sinful Sunday pictures, click on the lips below!
Sinful Sunday