Story Time: My First Girlfriend

Kate Sloan

There’s nothing quite like being freshly out of the closet.

Once the smoke has cleared and you’re no longer dealing with a daily onslaught of reactions to your announcement, you can see the enormous horizons in front of you. You can see all the people who you now have permission to date and to fuck. And it’s a freeing, though incredibly terrifying, feeling.

I came out as bi when I was fifteen, after I realized that a raver chick who’d been flirting with me was actually pretty attractive. Not just in an “Oh hey, I like her outfit” kind of way, but in an “I wouldn’t mind if she pinned me against a wall and kissed me til my lips bruise” kind of way.

The raver girl got a boyfriend just before school let out for the summer. I remember being crushed when, on the last day of ninth grade, I stood by the front doors and watched her walk out, hand in hand with her new man (or should I say, boy). I had this sense that she was the only girl in possession of the key to my bisexuality, and I’d have to give up on girls forever now. It was silly, but it was how I felt.

But when we got back to school after the summer of my first Pride, I noticed a new girl. A charming, awkward, witty, intelligent girl who loved Edward Albee and potato latkes. Her gender presentation veered toward androgyny, and she proudly self-identified with the word “dyke,” but she was nowhere near butch. To this day, I still have a thing for girls who are boyish as hell but still very much girls (which I realize is hard to conceptualize and visualize – it’s more of a “vibe” thing, I suppose).

She wrote to me online to tell me she liked something I’d written, some story I’d read aloud in the English class we’d shared in the previous school year. We sent messages back and forth after that, rarely encountering each other at school but encountering each other multiple times a day in our online haunts. We talked about books and films and strange societal phenomena.

I remember standing at the sinks in the girls’ bathroom with my best friend at the time, and telling her, “I think I have a crush on that girl I’ve been talking to.” My friend said, “You should ask her out!” Like it was so simple. Like I was that brave. Like I was ready to take on my first relationship, period, let alone my first queer relationship.

It took me an entire month to build up a sense that The Girl actually liked me, in some way beyond just admiring my writing and my taste in horror flicks. But she did. I was almost certain of it. The way she looked up at me demurely when I walked by her group of friends at lunch, the way she snuck out of detention just to talk to me for a few short minutes, the way she kept mentioning her gayness and my biness as if to confirm the compatibility of the two. It seemed almost like an invitation.

Once, on the subway, I leaned forward to hug her just as the train was pulling into my stop, and it suddenly jerked, causing me to fall right into her. Body contact. Words caught somewhere in my esophagus. I gasped and giggled and rushed off the train, euphoric.

So it was finally time to do something about it.

I wrote her a letter, though “assembled” would probably be a better word, since it was actually just an annotated collection of excerpts from my journal. The excerpts explained that I really, really liked her, that I wanted to be with her and thought she was wonderful and thought about kissing her. Mushy crap that I figured she would like.

After shoving the letter nervously into her hands at the very end of a party, I said goodbye and rushed home. I didn’t want to be anywhere near her when she read that thing. I wanted to be far enough away that she could completely ignore me if she wanted to.

But she didn’t want to. My phone rang shortly after I arrived home.

“Hello?”
“Hi.” It was her.
“Hi.” I felt like I’d been dunked in ice.
“Hi. So… we should date.”

And so began the most gutwrenching and romantically titillating few weeks of my life thus far.

To be continued…?

Readers: Have any romantic stories from your youth to share? Did your first boyfriend/girlfriend live up to your expectations of relationships? How have you grown since then?

Review: California Exotics Couture Collection Eclipse

Kate Sloan

Vaginal balls always vaguely intrigued me. The claims they make are so impressive: stronger orgasms, increased muscle control, something to keep you entertained while you wait in line at the grocery store. As someone who cares immensely about maintaining my sexual health, I decided I needed a set – so I asked Sex Toys Canada to send me the Eclipse from CalEx’s Couture Collection. Despite CalEx’s shoddy reputation and sometimes even shoddier products, I’m very pleased with my choice.

My Eclipse balls are white, but they also come in pink or purple. The balls themselves are made of shiny ABS plastic, and are housed in a non-removable, soft silicone casing with circular cutouts that allow some of the plastic to show through. Because the silicone is apparently fused to the plastic, there’s no risk of getting bacteria-laden fluids trapped between the two, though the seams might need some toothbrush-scrubbing during cleaning.

Each ball has a diameter of about 1.4 inches, which (unless you’re a size queen) is nothing to sneeze at. They aren’t always comfortable to insert, so I opt to put some water-based lube on the first ball before pushing it up into me.

In use, the balls feel very bouncy and lovely. Walking up and down stairs is the best way to get that jangly feeling as the balls roll around inside their casings – but even walking around at a normal speed on level ground is enough to get ‘em rolling. It’s my understanding that vaginal balls are meant to be constantly noticeable so that you remember to do your kegels, and these are certainly effective for that – but the bouncing feeling is pleasant enough on its own, even without following it up with kegel exercises.

I’ve worn the Eclipse balls for hours at a time and nothing bad has happened as a result of this. I can wear them while going to the bathroom without incident, as long as I hold the retrieval cord out of the way – though people with narrow urethras may have trouble peeing with these girthy balls inside them.

The main issue I detect with the Eclipse balls is its stretchy silicone parts. The bridge between the two balls is stretchy, and it’s so insanely thin that I frequently get nervous it’ll break. However, I’ve stretched it a fair bit and it’s still perfectly intact. The same is true of the retrieval cord – it’s stretchy, making removal difficult and time-consuming but not impossible. (I usually end up just tugging on one of the balls itself to get them to pop out, since the string is so annoyingly elastic.)

Each of the balls weighs around a tenth of a pound, or 45 grams, which some beginners may find too heavy to start with. I think these balls are girthy and draggy enough that they’d stay in anyway, but it’s hard to say, because my pussy is on the tighter side. Someone with underdeveloped PC muscles might have a better time with a different kegel exerciser toy that is smaller and lighter.

While the CalEx Eclipse balls have a couple of design problems, I ultimately believe they do their job quite well. They remind me to do my kegels, they feel good in use, and they’re cute to look at. I still want to get my hands on some Lelo Luna Beads one day, but for now, these certainly do the trick.

Thanks, Sex Toys Canada, for assisting me with my sexual health!

Review: Icicles No. 2

Kate Sloan

The icicles No. 2 dildo is like a tall, muscular, handsome guy you meet at a party. As he charms you with easy flirtation, you think about sleeping with him; you imagine he probably looks fantastic naked and has a big, thick cock. But at the same time, you know his good looks may have allowed him to squeak by without picking up the sexual skills you’ll need to be satisfied. He likely knows how to use his dick well, but maybe that’s all he knows how to do. And as good-looking as he is, a lack of creativity and versatility would make him a bore in bed.

That is to say: the Icicles No. 2 is a beautiful dildo, and it feels good in use, but it doesn’t do anything particularly new or exciting or even satisfying.

The Icicles line, by Pipedreams, is the mass-produced answer to all those small companies making hand-blown glass toys. The “big guys” don’t always pay as much attention to quality as the little guys do, and I’ve heard some bad stories about the Icicles line – mainly that some of the paint will sometimes flake off the colored dildos. For this reason, I chose an Icicles model that had no color, and was fairly straight-ahead.

Icicles No. 2 actually kind of looks like an icicle, unlike many of its brothers and sisters. It consists of several ripply bulbs, ranging in size from ¾" to 1 ½" – it measures 8 ½" from end to end, so it’s quite big. I can only fit about half of it inside me comfortably.

My overwhelming impression of this toy is that it doesn’t know what it wants to be. The big end feels good in my vagina for the first little while, but eventually I crave a thicker shaft with more G-spotting capabilities. The small end, on the other hand, feels good when inserted anally, but the toy doesn’t have a flared base, so I worry about using it that way. I feel like Pipedreams should have picked one specific purpose for this toy, whether that be vaginal or anal stimulation, and added features to improve the toy for that use. As is, it’s a little “meh” in either orifice.

Another obnoxious thing about Icicles toys is that they don’t come with storage bags. The packaging is nice, and includes a thick styrofoam insert to protect the toy during transit, but there really isn’t any excuse for selling glass toys without padded bags to keep them in. I’ve been keeping this dildo in the styrofoam it came in, but that’s big and bulky, so I’ll have to come up with another solution soon (maybe I’ll wrap it in an old shirt?). Hey Pipedreams, even tiny, independent toy makers have figured out the importance of including storage options; why haven’t you?

The biggest ball is my favorite part of the toy, because it hits my G-spot very nicely when it first slides in. If the entire dildo consisted of 1 ½" balls, it’d probably be my new favorite glass toy. It still wouldn’t be especially exciting or interesting, but at least it’d be good.

If you want a long, ripply, glass wand that can be used anally or vaginally, to pleasant effect, the Icicles No. 2 could be your new best friend. But if you’ve already felt glass ripples, this one probably won’t impress you too much, and you’d be better off getting something more unique (maybe the tentacle-like Icicles No. 24, or the G-spot champion Bent Graduate). Glass is fun, easy to take care of, and feels great, but toy manufacturers will have to be more creative than the Icicles No. 2 if they want to continue to do well.

The Charm of Cunnilingus

Kate Sloan

Sometimes I ask myself why I’m so obsessed with cunnilingus. The word, the concept, the act, all loom large in my sexual fantasies and my sexual life. When I filled out compatibility questions for OkCupid, I made it mandatory that all potential matches “love performing oral sex.” That’s how into cunnilingus I am.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s a proclivity that developed due to the fact that my first sexual relationship consisted almost entirely of cunnilingus… but when I’m honest with myself, I know that the preoccupation dates back further than that. I remember writing oral-soaked fan fiction when I was a wee thing. I remember masturbating by rubbing my teddy bear’s face against my vulva. I remember imagining that the bath water cascading onto my clit was the tongue of an attentive lover.

Some time ago, I started a cunnilingus-themed blog, its aim to collect a whole bunch of images, text, and videos on the topic into one area, for fellow enthusiasts to enjoy. I was proud of the blog, and treasured the feeling that I was filling a void where there had been very little before. But as proud as I was, it was still difficult for me to tell my boyfriend (who, at the time, I’d only been dating for a month or two) about my blog, because I worried he’d think I was some kind of oral sex addict. I didn’t want to come off as sexually selfish.

After he started going down on me regularly, though, I felt like the taboo was lifted. He was clearly a fan of it too (hell, we’d met on OkCupid, which I’d set up to guarantee this for me) and I felt able to open up about my sexual obsession. I told him about my blog, and we discussed what made cunnilingus such a magical, beautiful thing.

Here’s my theory:

Penises want warm, wet things to surround them. That is their goal in life. So whether it be a pussy or a mouth or a well-lubed ass, that need is being met fairly regularly for the vast majority of men in sexual relationships.

The clitoris is analogous to the penis, so it stands to reason that it would crave the same warm, wet sensations – but it doesn’t get them in most typical forms of sex and masturbation. Doesn’t matter how intense the vibrator, how fast the fingers, or how well-angled the pubic bone – it’s not warm, it’s not wet, it’s not entirely fulfilling (at least in my case).

In that way, I feel that it would be 100% reasonable and expectable for a woman to consider cunnilingus mandatory in all of her sexual relationships. Naturally, not every woman likes receiving oral sex and not every partner is interested in giving it, but no woman should ever be shamed out of asking for oral if it’s what she wants. It’s every bit as valid, important, and wonderful as a blowjob could ever be.

I also feel that, as women, we are constantly being told that there’s something wrong with our genitals – clit too big, labia too long, pussy too loose, too tangy, too smelly, what have you – and so there’s something incredibly powerful about someone being willing, even wanting, to take all that into their mouth. True, there are also men who feel ashamed of their junk, but I don’t think it’s as systematic and pervasive as vagina-hate.

To this day, cunnilingus is still the fastest way to get me going. I would almost consider it a fetish (though, arguably, “standard” sexual acts can’t really be “fetishes,” since they aren’t exactly deviant or different) because I pretty much have to be either receiving it or thinking about it to be able to reach orgasm.

I’m lucky enough to have a lover who loves the whole concept of pussy-eating as much as I do. It’s a part of our experience almost every time we have sex, because it’s something we mutually enjoy very much. And it helps get me primed so I can come much easier during intercourse – always a plus, for both of us!

I wish I could go back in time and talk to my younger self. After giving her a loving lecture on the importance of self-acceptance and not giving a damn what anyone thinks, I’d add, “You know how you love the idea of someone going down on you? Yeah, that’s going to happen a lot when you’re older. Just wait it out.” I know she’d be totally stoked.

Readers: What’s your relationship with cunnilingus? What are your thoughts on how it’s depicted in porn and mainstream media? Got any recommendations of must-see videos, images, or text for a cunnilingus enthusiast?

5 Sex Toys I Covet For Their Weirdness

Kate Sloan

My sex toy wishlists are an eclectic amalgamation of awesome, good, and questionable. (You can click over to them using the links in my sidebar, if you want to take a look or even buy me something.) There are all sorts of materials (everything except jelly!), shapes, sizes, functions, intensities, volumes, companies, and levels of attractiveness. I thought I’d do a post to profile some of the weirder items on my wishlists, and the reasons I want them.

At first glance, the Vibratex Pixie Plus looks like any gross sex toy you could pull off a shelf at a low-end “novelty” sex shop – cheap, nubby, vaguely jelly-esque (don’t worry, it’s elastomer). But if you could turn it on, you’d see that the internal portion of the Pixie doesn’t vibrate – its tip strokes back and forth, like the famous “come hither” motion. Since most G-spots respond better to stroking than they do to vibration, I am all for dual-stimulation vibes with internal parts that do something interesting.

The Lelo Olga wins the award for most ridiculously luxe toy, because it’s just Ella made of stainless steel and given a price increase of approximately 700%. Despite what a silly purchase it’d be, I want it, because Ella’s neck was too bendy and couldn’t put enough pressure on my G-spot. Plus, you could use Olga to do your daily bicep curls.

Love To Love’s Oh Oui! is a hot pink vibrating banana. It makes me wonder if there is a fruit fetishist market within the sex toy industry. But I gotta say, it looks like it’d reach my G-spot efficiently, which is more than I can say for many toys.

I will one day have a Clone-a-Willy Kit. It turns out that my boyfriend’s cock is literally the perfect size for me – long enough to fill me up without hitting my cervix, wide enough to hit the right spots without stretching me apart – and I want a replica that I can use when I’m alone. For now, I’m lusting after the Mark O2 because it seems to have similar dimensions… but one day, I will want a real copy, and that is where Clone-a-Willy comes in.

There’s been much talk about the Sqweel, an oral sex simulator with ten fast-flapping tongues. Many reviewers say it’s messy, not stimulating enough, has seams you can feel, and gets in the way of any penetrative toys you might want to use in tandem with it. Still, something about it makes me want it. I’m a cunnilingus enthusiast 4 lyfe, and that is why I need a Sqweel, no matter how bad it is.