Every Girl Needs a Toy

I am becoming tired of Miss Marble. She is me, I am her. I probably wasn’t really fooling anyone anyway. Trying to hide your identity requires too much proofreading. I’ve already written some of what I’m about to write in French in my other Tumblr blog but I’m assuming not all that many of you are reading that one.

As a child, I was always tremendously interested in sex. Not actually doing it, collecting information about it. At a very early age, I knew most everything about how to orgasm, what positions worked best and why. My biggest source of information was Cosmopolitan magazine, highly reliable even today! I was fascinated by the forbidden Playboy magazines carefully hidden at my grandparent’s house. Once backs were turned I was drawn to this world of nudity and sex. I even went so far as to take an outing with scissors, nice smelling school glue, construction paper and a couple of those magazines. I was in the midst of making a collage when my grandma found me. I was her only precious grandchild at the time but she liked me a lot less that day. In my own home, slyly hidden under my mom and step-father’s bed there was a lovely edition of the Joy of Sex. It had pencil illustrations and I found the couple portrayed to be hairy and ugly but nonetheless, I knew that book by heart by the ripe age of about ten.

Maybe none of this is that unusual. I didn’t have siblings when I was a child so I can’t compare myself to them. I don’t remember any childhood friends that expressed much interest in this kind of thing. What I do find unusual is the fact that as a child, I have no recollection of masturbating. I was of the non-masturbating species until my thirties. Really. You don’t have to believe me, but it’s true. I have no memory of being told I’d be burned at the stake or go blind if I did, my parents were not particularly staunch or religious. My mother didn’t have much advice to give about sex or anything else related to it. She said it was better to wait for marriage, that it is more enjoyable with someone you actually care about. I’d say, not necessarily, and waiting for marriage was archaic even when I was a teenager. My father’s best advice was, “Keep an aspirin between your knees and you’ll be fine.” I didn’t understand this when I was sixteen and I still don’t understand it today, but I’m just trying to say I wasn’t raised in a puritanical way. So I can’t really explain why I didn’t masturbate. I remember saying to a girl when I was in my late twenties, “It’s like when a guy you like touches your elbow, you’re electrified. But when you touch your own elbow….” and that is really what I thought about the whole deal.

My sexless marriage has led me to do many things I thought I never would. Entering a sex-shop in Stuttgart, Germany is one of them. I have to say that in Germany there are about as many sex-shops as there are pharmacies and although my first big purchase was prior to the time when sex-shops became Clean Wal-Mart of Sex, this place was in no way sleazy or frightening to me. Where I’m spent the best years of my sex-life in Denver, Colorado, there are loads of sex-shops on Colfax Avenue. I would have never dreamed of going into one for fear of never coming back out, being sold into white-slavery and forced to learn the art of picking up coins with my snatch. My goal in buying my first sex-toy was to make my husband either feel aroused or feel guilty that I had sunk to this. Neither of these tactics worked at all but I have to say I have no regrets. The first one cost only fifteen euros, was silver and was so beautiful, I figured you could leave it laying on the coffee table and people would assume it was a lovely decorative item. I named him Juanito and we became very close very quickly.

Sometimes it is only after you have learned something that you realize to what extent you were an idiot before. All of my documentation work, my whoring around…none of it was as instructive as Juanito. Obviously, women are very different from men. Getting there is not always so easy and it can be even more elusive (The Big O”) when you don’t know exactly how to all by your lonesome. Thanks to Juanito at least now I know the way. It is a powerful feeling in some ways but I would have preferred a less solitary sex-life. That’s another story!

I’m sharing a link of a French photographer’s work. I think it is really beautiful and I’m sure he will be famous because he is really talented.

Voyages intérieurs – regards sur la masturbation féminine

www.voyages-interieurs.20mn.com

23 comments

  1. Gillian Colbert

    Excellent post! I’ve had a weird, dysfunctional relationship with masturbation myself despite always “knowing” about sex and being exposed to sex at a very young age. We all relate differently to things.

    The links are great!

    • pivoine68

      Thanks Gillian! I’m glad you liked it and glad to know I’m not alone in my “weirdness”. My husband has been hogging the computer all morning (usually he sleeps, I read/write but not today.) So I have not properly read your new posts. Skimmed and liked! Now off to Zumba, one of the more sexual aspects of my life! LOL

  2. Halcyon52

    This honesty is lacking in todays atmoshpere. I still fantisize about my
    crotch against your beatiful ass—why not?

    • pivoine68

      Honesty is a good thing! I think my own honesty will probably get me in trouble but, c’est la vie. Fantasies are good things too…I spend most of my time wrapped up in them. No wonder why I can never find a job!

  3. pivoine68

    You certainly are! Thanks for liking Miss Marble/Me. Good luck with all those moms in sexy underwear today. I’m relieved that you are prepared for the situation! One never knows…odd things happen in unlikely places.

    • pivoine68

      Mine is rechargeable and the proof that even such a feminine object was designed by men….it gives you a hint that it’s almost out of gas by flashing a red light. As if I’m looking at it! As if my eyes would even be open! Being let down by such a faithfull friend is worse in my opinion than being let down by a real live partner. Another worst-case scenario, being interrupted. That puts me in a very fowl mood.

      • Accidental Masturbator

        “Mine is rechargeable and the proof that even such a feminine object was designed by men….it gives you a hint that it’s almost out of gas by flashing a red light. As if I’m looking at it!”
        A curiously misandric comment. How would a woman have designed it differently? Would a woman have fitted a claxon? Or perhaps something that emmited a subtle buzzing sound? 😉
        And as for it being a feminine object – what’s feminine about a phallus?

  4. pivoine68

    I had to look up “misandric”. You’re right, I was being a bit misandric I guess. Maybe women design these things, I have no idea…I just don’t like it when My Juanito suddenly dies with no forewarning, leaving me hanging there. I’d like it to play “Sex Machine” really quietly about ten minutes before it’s going to cut me off. An alert, yuno. Then I could speed things up.

    True, nothing that feminine about a phallus. Made for women? Not necessarily. I hope things are going alright for you. Didn’t mean to be….offensive???

    • pivoine68

      Hi, I had to look for it…I have not posted much on there yet. I just started writing blogs last December. It’s deltadawn16.tumblr.com Une Rénaissance de la Jouissance. De rien. 🙂

    • pivoine68

      Oops. Just realized that this isn’t the link. My computer skills SUCK! I’ll try to correct this although I never really write there much.

      Bisous,
      Dawn

  5. Woman

    Thank god in this day and age there is rechargeable toys… plug in toys… and I’ve got a job where I can buy them all!!!!

    Interesting post here!!! Toys are indeed a great addition to sex!!!! And sometimes, when we women play on our own… fingers… just don’t always do the job!!!

    • pivoine68

      I think I’ve become way too lazy for fingers…or maybe I was never very nimble anyway! LOL
      One problem with rechargeable, I live in France and haven’t been home to America since 2006…
      I’m worried that on top of family visits being overly stressful, I may not even be able to recharge! I get seriously cranky.

      PS: Is that a word? Never very successful.

  6. H.H.

    Who/what is Miss Marble? And are you in that book you reference? Lastly, couldn’t access the tumblr link. Still up?

    • pivoine68

      I was sort of an undercover marble in some stories before this one but it was becoming tedious trying to hide the fact that it was just me. Nope, I’m not in that book. I just love the photographer. I’m not sure if this link works for my tumblr blog or not. I thought it did. (?)

      Bisous H.H.,
      Dawn

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