Several Halloween’s ago, hubby coaxed me into visiting a haunting establishment: a journey I submitted to with trepidation, embarrassment, and anxiety. The fear of the unknown gripped me as if entering a spooky house after dark and peering into demonic chambers with a weak flashlight and thumping heart.
It was an unforgettable, impressionable scene: a horrific step into an unknown realm with exaggerated body parts, animalistic moans, and a zombie-like goon squad. It was a place where dashing out the door was as terrifying as entering. Once inside, the only option was to swallow my fear like women in the videos did with those elephant cocks.
We selected an adult book store/theater along a depressing stretch of highway in a nondescript concrete building. A few beat-up cars lined the parking lot, the store lights flickered, and I sat imagining the horrors within those walls from the safety of my car. I needed a few tokes to calm my nerves before entering the chamber – which in retrospect, only exaggerated the paranoia which followed.
It was a foggy night with few cars on the road and the glow of the book store sign reminded me of a Bates Motel sanctuary for weary pervs. The stigma I felt entering the building was quickly squashed by the goon squad welcoming committee. An oafish, mute man of about 8-feet tall leered at us as we walked in and adjusted our eyes to the bright neon of a plastic pleasure dome. There was no friendly welcome to this hellish place: no smiling Wal-Mart greeter to assuage my fears.
Behind the counter stood a bizarre-looking man giant bent over looming at a Playboy magazine with a puffy red face and neck bulging from the neckline of his shirt. Was he overcome with sheer horniness, a third-degree sunburn, or roid-rage? I still don’t know. Thankfully, lobster man failed to acknowledge us as we skulked through the store entrance.
Above his head and scattered about the store were large television screens blasting scenes of bondage, primal sex, and women with contorted faces. I paused to watch a video aimed toward a standing women’s pussy with her one leg extended out to the side. She moaned with pleasure as a large cock pounded her from behind then paused and slowly moved in and out in shallow thrusts just inside her vagina.
She furiously rubbed her clit and howled like a cat in heat before squirting a fire hose stream aligned with the camera view. At that time, I was just learning about female ejaculation, and this video captured my deep imagination as she repeatedly came each time that cock pulled out.
As the cock came inside her and that sticky liquid oozed from between her legs, I felt my own pussy twitching with excitement and I felt a certain “squirt envy” for her accomplishment. As I pondered the physics of the scene, the lobster-faced goon beneath the video screen coughed and jolted my bewildered trance. He stared hard at me, likely wondering why the newbie ogled the screen with the wonder of a tourist in front of the Mona Lisa.
Hurriedly, I disengaged his penetrating Peter Lorre stare and searched for hubby, the one human in the building I was reasonably sure could return some perspective to the scene. Turning to escape the goon squad, I bumped into a scruffy-looking gent perusing the video rack of bi-sexual male porn. I swear he licked his lips and parted his squinting lids to eyeball the frightened girl adrift among daunting over-sized dildos, heinous-looking butt plugs, painful nipple clamps, and electro-shock thrills.
Just then, I caught an overhead video of a women lying on her back being faced-fucked by a cock the size of a submarine. As she stared up at her tormentor, she mustered an occasional smile with her eyes as the unrelenting cock continued thrusting deep into her throat and plowed her esophagus. This anatomical wonder captured my attention as my THC-haze tried to map the logistics of throat fucking and the actress’ feigned enjoyment of the assault on her digestive system.
“Come here,” shouted hubby from a nearby wall of toys and I scurried to join him and his discovery of pervy sexual delights. A couple passed by giggling at the bondage toys they collected and I blushed with embarrassment that I knew nothing of spreader bars, urethral plugs, and cock cages.
“You should try this,” hubby said, proudly displaying a shiny bullet vibrator.
“Use it on the way home in the car.”
The thought of pleasuring myself with him beside me in the car further cajoled my altered state into a paranoid urge to slink out of the store. I struggled with visions of myself bound and gagged in the adjoining theater, an experimental sex victim at the mercy of Halloween’s Michael Myers and his grimy coveralls.
Collecting my wits, I wandered into the dildo isle where I felt comfortable perusing the offerings and selected a thick 8-inch curved whopper I was sure would not disappoint. Women rode cocks in videos above my head with a dancer’s finesse and derrieres of sculptural artistry. Never mind analyzing their physical prowess now, my altered state had convinced me I was out of place in the Land of Oz, and the wizard behind the curtain amused himself at my expense.
“The horror. The horror….” Marlon Brando was with me.
Armed with a dildo clutched tight against my chest, lube, a bullet vibrator, a vibrating egg, and some cock rings, I scurried past hubby leisurely perusing some lingerie and stockings for me. The horror of squeezing into an ill-fitting lace body suit and prancing about as a sex kitten at my age spawned visions of Phyllis Diller and sent me spiraling into a dissociative state.
Piling the toys in hubby’s arms, I bolted for the door past lobster man, a gadfly creep leering at customers, and the mute goon by the exit. With walls closing in and the floor slowly falling, I jumped out of that sex dimension and into the foggy, damp parking lot.
Safe in the car driving home and coming down from my 420 haze, I laughed as hubby and I recounted the scene. We enjoyed embellishing the drama — as we do with every good story — and categorized the scene as a bad Peter Lorre horror movie.
Hubby convinced me to try the vibrating egg in my pussy. Pulling my pants down and fingering my pussy, I anticipated sexual pleasure like the woman squirting in the video, and I eagerly spread my legs.
Hubby rubbed my clit as I inserted the plastic egg, turned it on, and slowly relaxed enough to enjoy the sensation. At that point, I knew I would become a lover of sex toys and increasingly less mortified to visit adult toy stores. The bumps in the road jolted the egg inside my pussy and intensified the thrill.
I lay my head back and concentrated on that vibrating pleasure sphere in my pussy. As we rounded the next corner, hubby jumped on the brakes as the headlights revealed a sideways car on the road with lobster man and mute boy standing on the road brandishing chain saws and over-sized, pointed sharp dildos.
© Copyright Sexualista 2017 – All rights reserved.
Please enjoy the following guest post from Oral Sax: A finalist in the World’s Most Interesting Man auditions, Oral Sax travels the globe seeking high stakes thrills and the most exotic of women. Known as “Oh God!” among women for his sexual prowess, his international playboy status precedes him in every port. Oral is an award-winning adult film star, erotic novelist, and a swingers lifestyle enthusiast. He teaches sexuality skills to elite patrons in Milan, Italy, and he divides most of his time between a set of shapely female thighs and the mons pubis region.
By Oral Sax
Having been complimented many times on my oral skills, I thought it might be fun and a bit entertaining to share some of my techniques and comments. This is just one set of techniques and all women don’t appreciate the same style.
Many women won’t let their partner go down on them. I have found that this is usually because they fear that the man does not know what he is doing and they do not want to make him feel bad. Most women think men have a fragile male ego when it comes to giving oral pleasure, so don’t be offended if you get turned down. Tell her you have been reading up on “How To” and ask for her patience and both of you could have a great experience.
The Set Up:
My style is to lay my partner kitty-corner on the bed so her head is supported and she does not run the risk of hitting the head board. This position also gives me some room to lay on the bed while my face is between her legs. I fold a pillow in half, put a towel over it, and prop it under her butt. The towel keeps things relatively dry in the event of a squirt or gush and the folded pillow lifts her butt up enough so I do not get a kink in my neck.
I ask my partner spread her legs as far apart as she can comfortably. I start by licking the inside of her thighs and pass lightly over the outside of her pussy. I will take my fingernails and lightly touch her tummy and top of her thighs. I will blow some hot breath directly on her pussy. I will then very lightly bite the outside edges of her pussy (vulva).
The trick here is to get her extremely wet with your mouth and tongue. She will think that she is the one causing the extreme wetness and she will get more turned on. I run my tongue on the outside of her labia and just tease her clit a little: up and down her labia and getting her very wet. I will locate her clit and lightly tease it with my tongue: this typically is the build-up to her wanting more of a touch.
The Main Event:
Once I have located her clit, I work it lightly until it starts to swell and she is aroused. Then I suck on it and draw it up while releasing it for a second in my suction grip. I repeat this method of sucking and releasing several times to make the clit super engorged. Once engorged, I lick the clit in an upward motion with the palm of my tongue, then touch it with the tip of my tongue, and finish off with a flip of my lower lip.
Typically she will be very aroused by now so you need to read her signs as to how much more she wants.
The Secret Tricks:
There have been many times when I have loosened my suction grip and I start humming. Most women have never experienced this. It’s a new sensation for them: the humming vibrations; the slurping sound of a wet pussy; and the touch sensation of your tongue. The more you are pressed against her pussy, and the more bass you can produce in the hum, will drive her crazy.
I like to shake my head/mouth side to side aggressively while just licking and increasing the volume of the humming – this usually brings a great reaction.
The other thing that I do is to ask my partner to use her hands separate her labia. This accomplishes two things. First, it exposes her clit for some direct attention, however, go gentle at first so she doesn’t remove her hands. Secondly, it gives her one more sensation of feeling your breath and face on her hands and pussy at the same time.
The Simultaneous G-Spot:
While continuing to lick and suck her clit I will reach in and penetrate her pussy with one or two fingers. I start by stroking her G-spot and looking for a reaction. Some women like it gently massaged and stroked while others like me to press upward on the G-spot and hold it while I lick her clit. The challenge here is to hold on as she is usually rocking and rolling by now.
When the G-spot action starts, some women will gush or squirt so you had better be ready to duck or get a wet face. I had one experience where the woman squirted so hard that I ducked and the stream went over my shoulder.
I have played with clits smaller than a pencil eraser and have played with several the size of you thumb. The bigger they are the easier they are to play with. Most all clits are equal in sensitivity regardless of size. Oftentimes I will engage the pussy and at the same time pinch her nipples if that is her thing. I usually get a great reaction when I am sucking and have her nipples between my thumb and middle finger while scratching the top of her nipple with my index finger.
My style is to make the woman cum repeatedly but I always backoff and let them catch their breath between orgasms. When this happens, she will once again relax after the orgasm and you can start up again but go lightly at first and then build up to another orgasm.
I have found that once they experience multiple orgasms, chances of them climaxing during penetration greatly increase.
Oral is busy researching and writing his next post on navigating the adult lifestyle circuit.
As I said, locating, stimulating, and engaging my G-Spot was the epiphany from which all future fucks would be measured. It was through personal masturbation that I found my spot and from there, transitioned into squirting and full-body vaginal orgasms. Orgasm was a personal quest for me – it wasn’t easy. I spent countless hours researching the net, subscribing to sexpert how-to’s, and ultimately benefiting from the patience and persistence of my long-suffering hubby.
For those few women blessed by the sex gods, orgasm “cums” easily. It must be heavenly ordained, intricately woven into their lady bits, chosen by Venus herself to experience the ultimate sexual pleasure. Statistically, a measly 25 percent of women orgasm from penetrative intercourse, and those lucky goddesses usually need clitoral stimulation to get there. Translation: seventy-five percent of women DO NOT orgasm from vaginal sex, according to published studies.
Can you imagine a more disturbing rip-off? Eve, the first bitch of Genesis, is likely to blame for the ultimate ruination of the innate ability for women to orgasm. God snapped his fingers, and poof! Women were figuratively fucked: a wretched crime against humanity surely. I’ve read that nearly half of all relationships suffer from sexual dissatisfaction, and the solution seems out of reach for many couples.
Sexual orgasm is the final frontier for women and their partners. I’m working on a future post about an interesting study involving chronically anorgasmic women. Using therapeutic interventions championed by a pioneering sex therapist, Betty Dodson, some 93 percent of those 550 female participants achieved orgasm during the study. You don’t want to miss this fascinating research.
Getting to the Point
Long story short, this rant grew from a companion post about personal masturbation and my sex chair. Next post: I get raunchy again.
COPYRIGHT © 2016-2017 – SEXUALISTA – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The seer was right. She was spot on! Even more, she predicted the fucking lifequake I was about to experience. I wanted to believe her droning on about my star sign planet alignments and that my life was jetting toward an asteroid belt; I craved a navigational challenge. I needed a new thrill: an enema to flush the bullshit, an emotional afterburn trailing an adrenaline rush.
Suddenly 50-something: aimless, burned out, blacked out, and void. I saw my best years wizz by like lightning bolts against an angry sky with little energy to greet the erupting dawn.
She and I parted ways when she omitted whether this tumult would disrupt my financial, professional, or love life unless I parted with an additional $59.99.