Thunking-Punctuated Fucking with Gushing

A few weeks ago Babeland sent me this cute little toy to review for Jane’s Guide. I took one look at it and went, “Eh.”

I mean, it really doesn’t look like much, does it? A little controller with a silvery button, a telephone-style cord, and a rubbery bullet. Who would expect much from a toy like that?

I certainly didn’t. I have a fondness for what one toy company representative termed “weapons-grade” sex toys, and this little egg certainly didn’t look like it would be capable of the kind of stimulation I need.

But work is work, and as little as I enjoy wankin’ for dollarz (*heavy sigh*), it must be done. So I loaded the toy up with batteries and hopped into bed.

I was somewhat distracted from a conversation I’d just had on the phone with a sexy man, so I was not really thinking too clearly when I tucked the tiny bullet between my labia, squeezed my legs tightly together and pressed the big silver button. I was expecting at most a gentle buzz that might eventually (with the help of a previously-concocted fantasy) put me over the edge.

Instead I yelped when the egg roared to life. My entire body went as stiff as if I’d been electrocuted. I scrambled for the controller in order to turn the toy off.

A gentle buzz? Hell no! The toy sent me through the roof. The thing’s fuckin’ awesome.

The toy also has several different vibing patterns that made it feel like someone was typing coded messages on my clit. See, in print that doesn’t sound so great, but in real life? It went something like this: THUNK – thunk – THUNK – thunk – THUNK – OOOOGod! Repeat for as long as you can stand.

I repeated for a long long time and found myself in starry-eyed love with the toy.

I knew I had to take it with me next time I got together with my friend. I gave him advance warning of what I wanted (he’s used to a never-ending lineup of sex-toys arriving in my purse). He agreed that mine was a fine plan.

So when the moment was right, I asked my friend if he was ready. Oh, he was very very ready, as was evidenced by the look in his eyes and the throbbing quality of his erection. He moved to stand behind me while I assumed the position on the bed. I tucked the egg inside my pussy while he slid on a condom.

“Turn it on, baby,” I purred to him.

Can you guess what happened? In the brain-scrambling pleasure of the moment (I blame him) I’d forgotten the extraordinary power of this little vibe, and when he turned it on I once again shrieked and had to be peeled from the ceiling.

Eventually we dialed the vibe to an acceptable setting. My friend slowly worked his magic on my bottom as I enjoyed the thunking in my cunt. The devil played with the settings on the toy, finally ending up with a pattern that felt a little like this: thunk – Thunk – THUNK – THUNK! – thunk – Thunk – THUNK – THUNK! And then he started fucking me in time to the thunking.

Let me tell you, thunking-punctuated fucking is a beautiful thing. Thunking-punctuated fucking with gushing is an even more beautiful thing. I did the former for a while, then I did the latter for a while, and then I noticed something.

The noise from the vibe had changed. It still felt the same, but I guess the acoustical properties of my vajayjay were altered by the insistent stroking in my bottom, not to mention the streams of come running from me.

Instead of thunk – Thunk – THUNK – THUNK!, the noise from my pussy sounded more like thwack – Thwack – THWACK – THWACK! I did my best to stop moaning and pay closer attention. Yep, thwack – Thwack – THWACK- THWACK!, accompanied by an odd rattle from the vibe wiggling in the wetness.

I willed myself not to giggle.

But then the noise changed again, or at least my perception of the noise changed. Instead of thwack – Thwack – THWACK – THWACK! , I began hearing quack – Quack – QUACK – QUACK! Add to that the wet little rattle, and it sounded like a duck was drowning in my nether regions.

As you know, I come very very easily. Ridiculously easily, some might say. But I assure you that it is damn near impossible for me to come when I’ve got a cunt fulla waterlogged poultry.

I had to giggle. Soon the insistent thrusting from behind me slowed. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

I told him about the drowning duck. He pulled the foul beast from me, flung it across the room and went back to his insistent thrusts.

And this is but one small thing I adore about this man. He can fuck in time with a cunt-drowned duck, but when at last its goofy quack causes me to giggle hysterically, he can rescue me without even losing a beat.