Tonight we fuck with ceramics.

Thanks for sending along this awesome vibrator, Battery Bliss!

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This post, Look What Came in the Mail!, originally appeared on aag on Thursday, July 29, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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That’s how it worked during my years as married woman, but once the bedroom belonged only to me I allocated one power outlet for practical purposes and reserved the other just for fun. Permanently plugged in are the Hitachi and the Eroscillator; when not in use the cords stretch long enough that the devices can hide beneath the bed, safe from the eyes of children and (mostly) unmolested by cats.

Now the Wahl jostles for space amidst the tangled cords of its compatriots. I’m in need of a power strip so that it can be permanently plugged in too. One day I’ll remember to buy it at the store, then all three weapons-grade toys can be deployed in service of my needs without bother or fuss.

Because I’m greedy like that, I often use multiple toys in succession. I love to start with slow, soft, throbby orgasms the Eroscillator gives, then move on to the pounding screaming thrashing force of the Hitachi before ending with gentle oscillating waves. Am I rendered dead by the Hitachi’s overwhelming force? Is my clit ruined for the delicate touch of battery-powered vibes? Do I long for something more powerful when a lover’s tongue caresses me?

Not bloody likely.

And here’s something really amazing: Even with the best sex toys money can buy, sometimes I just want my fingers. And they still work! I can pop off to the bathroom (or, ahem, the laundry room) and take care of business in less time that it would take another woman to fix her makeup.

…

…

…

Like now! See how fast that was? (Gawd I feel so much better.)

Numb to more delicate pleasures of the flesh because of my arsenal of toys? Not hardly.

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This post, The Need for a Power Strip, originally appeared on aag on Monday, June 28, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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Me: Wha?

Her: The missing vibe. It has returned.

Me: NO

Her: YES

Me: But where?

Her: [Insert lengthy explanation which showed beyond all doubt that her mother-in-law had indeed moved the vibe] …but that’s not important. What is important is that I now have two vibrators.

Me: You have two vibrators! That’s awesome!

Her: No, you don’t understand. I have two vibrators.

Me: Rite?

Her: And my house has two floors.

Me: You don’t mean…

Her: XXXXXX, I have a vibrator on every floor.

Me: You never have to walk up the stairs to jack off.

Her: Never.

Me: You know, you really should think about getting the Wahl too.

Her: If we ever add another level I will.

Me: Girl, you are livin’ the dream.

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This post, A Chicken In Every Pot And…, originally appeared on aag on Friday, June 18, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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I did. “I’ll expect a full report about how it works out,” I warned. And a week later this arrived in my email:

So last night I got in bed, ready to try out the Eroscillator.  The husband was tired and fully endorsed my special alone time with the new toy. I spent a couple of minutes getting into character [ed. note: What does this involve, I wonder?], emitting a few “mmph” sounds, and then I grabbed the steampunk toy that I had already plugged in and I turned it on.

Except it didn’t turn on!  Moving the switch thing up and down did nothing!  “What the fuck…” I whimpered.

He answered “Ohhhhh… [insert tedious explanation regarding why that outlet didn't work].  You can go into the garage and flip a switch and it’ll work again.”

But I was comfy and warm. “Nah, I guess I can wait.”

And that’s when he pounced on me, saying, “Your little sounds turned me on.”

Then today after work I decided to give it a trial run using an outlet that worked. Holy Toledo. I wasn’t even that turned on and it made it all happen for me in like two minutes. I screamed, and then I screamed a lot more. I got up, looked at my toy, and announced loudly to it and the cats: “THERE’S A NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN!”

With a reception like that, I may start paying all my debts in sex toys.

Do you think my mortgage company would mind?

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This post, Payment, originally appeared on aag on Wednesday, April 14, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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You remember that super-cute Lelo vibrator you gave me about a year ago?  The one that was awesome and I love?

I keep it upstairs in my little studio for occasional special alone time, and for the sake of convenience, I “store” it behind the cushions of my couch.  Fine.  Terrific.  Good times for me!

Except that my husband’s mom has nothing to do and comes to our house once every couple of weeks or so to clean things *apparently for the sheer novelty and fun of it* while his dad does house repairs and, I dunno, monitors our siding and the beaver situation near our stream.  Who knows what he’s up to.  It’s bizarre and is a thing they’ve been doing since way before I came on the scene.  My husband–an only child, obviously–has become increasingly annoyed at their presence in our house, although it is nice to see that the dishes have been washed and put away, albeit often in the wrong places.

So I think you can see where this is going.  His mom was puttering around in my studio, which I had always kind of assumed was off-limits to her.  Well, everything changed a few days ago, when she apparently saw the need for a complete overhaul.  She reorganized my desk and went so far as to vacuum my couch and chair…and discover my vibrator and put it I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE.  It is gone.

And now I am asking myself questions like, If I were my mother in-law, and I discovered a rogue vibrator, where the exact fuck would I put it??

Hm, I wrote back. Perhaps she put it in the trash? Or in the bathroom? Or you could, I suppose, ask her where she put your prescription phlebitis prevention device?

Dear reader, if you were my friend’s mother-in-law, where would you have stashed her vibe? Please leave answers in the comments below so that my friend will be able once again to enjoy the special alone time we all periodically need.

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This post, The Case of the Missing Vibrator, originally appeared on aag on Monday, March 22, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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I was happy not only because my readers seemed to enjoy — judging by the number of purchases– Liberator’s affiliate banners, but also because I have adored every one of their products that I’ve tried. The Zeppelin? Heavenly. The Esse? Brilliant. And the Throe? If possible, I’ll take it to my grave.

So it was with extreme pleasure that I watched the dollars add up. Every time I logged into my affiliate account I imagined how much fun the items’ new owners were having and a happy jolt passed from brain to cunt.

Um. Surely I’m not the only one who gets slightly excited by this sort of thing?

Eventually enough dollars accumulated that I reached Liberator’s very high pay-out amount. Some affiliate programs issue payments at $50 or $100; Liberator requires $200 before they’ll pay. Is this because the products tend to be pretty pricey? Or because they figure that few will stick with the program long enough to earn that much? I don’t know, but since I’d reached the level without undue fuss I didn’t much worry. I gleefully clicked Liberator’s “Pay Me Now” button and waited for my miniature windfall.

Almost immediately I began to hear murmurings that all was not well in the land of water-resistant sex positioning furniture. “They’re delaying payments,” one rumor went. “The whole program is frozen,” said another, and my previous confidence began slipping. I fired off an email to the company requesting information. It went unanswered. More rumors reached my ears. Am I ever going to get paid, I wondered, realizing that by then it had been many more days than one might reasonably expect for a check to wing its way from Atlanta to the Upper Midwest. Does anyone have a number for their main office, I asked via Twitter, and Twitter once again proved itself to be capable of answering my every question.

Reader, I called them. Immediately I was connected to someone who was not, by her own admission, in charge of the program. She was, however, quite chatty. “We’re a couple months behind,” she told me frankly. “We’re paying the big guys — the ones we owe hundreds or thousands of dollars to — first. The little guys like you are seeing their payments delayed.”

Well that’s hardly fair, quoth I.

“Not much I can do about it,” she said, and that’s when I asked to speak to her boss. Of course she wasn’t around; I was encouraged to email her (I already have, I pointed out to no avail), and the conversation was over. Imagine my surprise when not even five minutes later my phone rang and on the other end I found the head of the affiliate program herself.

“Problems? In our program? Delays in payments? Of course not,” she said, and went on to explain fourteen ways to Sunday how they were just transitioning over to a new program and while payments might seem ever so slightly delayed in my perception, in reality everything was perfectly, glowingly fine. Just fine. In fact things were so fine that they’d decided to lower the pay-out amount from $200 to just $100.

Hm, I said. So might I have my check?

“Of course!” she gushed. “We’ll put it in the mail today!”

And the check did indeed arrive in the exact number of days one might expect for a missive sent from Liberator corporate headquarters. Only one problem. The check was not for two-hundred-plus dollars. Instead it was for roughly 70% of that amount.

What gives? I asked in an email to the head of the program. I earned twice the amount of your current payout, you promised to pay me, and this is what you send?

“You are so very wrong!” she said. “You earned over $200 but not all of that was eligible to be paid! You need to sell more in order to get your $200, you silly girl you!” And she continued on with an explanation I hardly heard due to a massive case of annoyance.

While I love Liberator products, I don’t love having to wonder if I’m going to get paid. Not even a little tiny bit. So how do I express my love without supporting an affiliate program which has (shall we say) issues? Here’s how:  I’m sending you to Amazon, which is the best of both worlds. You get fabulous Liberator products (if you so desire) and I get paid.

Doesn’t get much better than that.

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Sending a big wet kiss and my thanks to Bacchus from ErosBlog who provided invaluable advice on the topic of affiliate programs and their foibles.

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Read more below the cut…

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This post, On Being a Liberator Affiliate, originally appeared on aag on Monday, March 8, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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This post, I want to float too!, originally appeared on aag on Monday, February 1, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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Oh don’t worry; I can’t find out anything about the people who made those purchases. Not names, not addresses, not even when said purchases were made. But I can usually view the items themselves, for the purpose (I suppose) of allowing webmasters to understand their visitors better. I’ve spent hours in contemplation of my various accounts, wondering how exactly my generous benefactors used the things they received.

Was that book any good? How’s the Esse working out? Did one person really buy all seven?

But the other night while scrolling through recent acquisitions made through Amazon, I noticed something I’ve never seen before. Buried amidst the expected books, music, MP3 files and a few sex toys was this, and if you were the one who found it on your doorstep a few days later I’ve got some things I simply must know.

Are you going to use it in the manner it was intended to be used? Are you skilled in this pursuit or just a beginner? What was the impetus behind the purchase? Did your last one perhaps get wrecked? Stolen? Spirited away by clowns?

And most importantly, will you send me pictures of yourself on it?

Iamfivestar, was it you?

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This post, Are You the One?, originally appeared on aag on Thursday, January 28, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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This post, Pst, Valentine’s Day is coming soon, originally appeared on aag on Thursday, January 14, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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The class officially ended at 9. The planned question-and-answer session morphed into cock-and-ball bondage (as no one volunteered to provide demonstration equipment, Monk himself dropped trou) and even more suspension bondage. A group of us chatted while watching from tiled steps near the tripod; opposite a handful of experienced rope tops from a local bondage group pulled their chairs a respectful distance from the rig’s legs.

Monk tied and retied a smiling bottom, a woman who clearly loved every physical permutation he put her through. He pushed her upside-down body to demonstrate the fun that could be had with a sub in motion, but as she oscillated out and between two legs of the bondage tripod the opposing leg lifted well off the ground. It looked as though the swing would only stop when her body hit us or the rock-like steps on which we were sitting.

We threw up our hands as if to protect our faces but before we could take any more appropriate action her swing reversed and in an instant she was safe in Monk’s arms. His eyes never left her, so he had no idea that that behind him, the easy-to-assemble leg pieces — held together only by the weight of the rest of the apparatus — had completely fallen apart. Only the rapid action by the local bondage tops kept Monk and the bottom safe from the other two collapsing legs. They were able to catch the pieces and lower everything gently to the ground.

It all happened in half a blink of an eye.

Their response was impressive, seriously impressive. They could not have acted quicker if they’d been warned in advance that the device would so spectacularly fail. Even more impressive was the response of the product’s manufacturer, who accepted full responsibility as soon as he was told of the failure. Units already in use will be fixed and no more will be sold until Monk’s had a chance to test the improvements he’s already planning.

Accidents happen every day in naughty situations and in not-so-naughty, in kinky play and in vanilla. Everything, including stepping out the front door, involves some risk. Risk is common. Accidents are common. What’s not so common is to see such a beautiful response from everyone involved.

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Monk talks about the incident here, and there’s more information about that night on Carnal Nation.

If you’re a member of FetLife, you can read what the manufacturer has to say here.

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This post, Response, originally appeared on aag on Wednesday, January 13, 2010. Tweet This Post!

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