I remember how I felt when I got my first ever sex toy. I can’t remember what I said about it, although I suspect it was somewhere between ‘unnffgh’ and ‘jjjhgfgyhbd’, as the guy who’d kindly bought it for me used it to wank me to a swift and almost terrifying climax.

Naturally, when this week’s guest blogger got in touch to tell me about her first sex toy experience, I thought it was the perfect thing to share with you. As I’m also a Great Businesswoman, I’ll use this opportunity to point out that if you’d like to buy a rabbit, as she describes in her post, you can support my blog by buying from SexToys.co.uk or SheVibe if you’re outside the UK. Shameless, I know.

Now please enjoy the following hot blog post, and share your own first sex toy stories in the comments because I bloody LOVE stories like this…

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Confession: I secretly want you to fail in your wanking endeavours. OK, perhaps not fail exactly, but struggle. I have a vested interest in you rubbing frantically at your dick with a kind of angry determination – balanced seemingly forever at that tipping point just before you come. I like to watch your face while you’re struggling during an anger wank. I like to see the look in your eyes: rage and frustration and desperation all rolled into one. I like to see your hand gripping harder, feel the bed or the sofa shake as you speed up to try and push yourself over the brink.

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Allow me to answer the question on everyone’s lips: what on Earth is this for?

When I first had a look at a Doxy Skittle – at Eroticon this year – I asked the boss of Doxy. He said: “Well, what would you use it for?” to which I naturally replied:

“Butt stuff.”

For confirmation, I took a picture and emailed it to a bloke I like with the subject line: “Butt stuff?” and he confirmed: “Butt stuff.”

Last week I got hold of one, and it sat on my bedside table, occasionally whispering temptingly to me until it was all I could do to grab the nearest willing bloke and cover him in lube and enthusiasm. Then on Friday night I got to use it and… holy shit. That is definitely at least one of the things you can use it for.

Here comes the usual caveat about how I don’t do sex toy reviews. Other people do them way better than I could, which is why I run the Sex Fairies thing (to let other people try out toys), and why so far I’ve only really reviewed the Doxy massager (love of my life). I’m only writing about this Skittle thingy because I love the Doxy massager so much that I wanted to see if any other Doxy toy could work the same kind of magic. If you want to know the details of a toy: what it’s made from, how big it is, how it compares to others, all that jazz, then you need to go to an expert – Cara Sutra has a review up with more info, and she knows her stuff.

So yeah, if you want all the technical details, go there. If, on the other hand, you want to know how to grind out a sweaty, desperate orgasm by shoving something really hard into your ass, then here’s my two cents.

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There are plenty of things in life I love right now, which I’ll inevitably tire of in the future; painting weird patterns on my nails, eating coleslaw directly from the tub, occasional incompetent gardening. But there is one thing I will never ever tire of: hearing new masturbation tricks.

The following story was told to me by a smoking hot stoner guy – the same guy who taught me blowbacks could be a form of breath play. I’m going to tell it to you in his own words, as closely as I can remember. If you would like to picture him speaking, understand that however you see his face, you must give him big hands and broad shoulders: strong, hefty arms in a loose t-shirt. Picture it now: imagine him reaching down to grip his cock.

Got it? Then let’s begin.

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Confession: I used to hate lube. Not all the time, I could see it had its merits. When you’re bumming, for instance, there is no natural lubricant up your arse, so a fuckload of the sticky stuff is as essential as a safety rope if you’re climbing a mountain.

For hand jobs, I could get on board with lube as a means of making the whole thing more special – just the right kind of tingling lube at the perfect moment, or a good dollop to enable better use of a masturbation sheath. Fine.

But for sex? I wasn’t sure. I feel like a total nob for admitting this but lube used to seem like a sign of personal failure.

I haven’t talked about this much before, and to wrench a nugget of total honesty out of my cringing heart, I hadn’t really discussed it with my partners either. Occasionally, if I was horny but a bit too drunk to slick my knickers, I’d pop to the bathroom on the way to the bedroom. Pull down my pants, spit on my hand, and rub it in the right places: fake what I couldn’t make.

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