The hitachi and the hair

Or: The fable Aesop forgot to mention.

I don't like being told to get myself off in front of people. It makes me nervous in the worst way. It makes me nervous because somewhere along the line I stopped being able to get myself off without props. Which is why I bought a hitachi. Periodically I bring it out, plug it in, and go to town. Some people swear by the attachments, but I find them to just frustrate me further. But still, I have alot of trouble getting myself off, it just doesn't always happen for me.

You see a back in January I was out and I mentioned the way that I like to play in a passing conversation, and the person I was talking to gave me this look. And that look stopped me short. I became very self concious, I began showering in the dark, I did not want to have sex with anyone, and I stopped being able to get myself off. It probably didn't help that I no longer wanted to try. It bothered me that I would be percieved in a negative way. After all, who is anyone to tell me how and with whom to play, least of all someone who barely knows me. It angered me, but it also hit a very sensitive nerve. And because of that my sex drive shut down. I became another woman who was unable to have an orgasm, and that had never happened to me before. I hated that it had happened to me. I grew ashamed of my breasts and the flat stomach that I had once been so proud of. My thighs were disgusting to me. So I started dressing conservatively and ignored my body to the best of my ability.

But then valentines day came around, and I detest valentines day, I detest it with an incredible passion. It would be another day that I would be completely alone. I never understood why no one adopted the Greek tradition of a mass orgies for valentines day. I would love to have meaningless sex on valentines day. Lots and lots of it. But, in the absense of a mass orgy, I bought a hitachi.

I had a lovely valentines day, thank you very much.

I'm sure it will come as a surprise to some of you that even that stopped working for me for a while. It too joined the myriad of sex toys collecting dust in my bottom dresser drawer.

But then one night, on the verge of my period and the absense of a date, I decided to have a go at myself. Why not? In the preceding months I had regained my comfort with my body, and began rejoicing in the pleasure that others could give me, even if I could not count myself among their numbers. So I plugged in my hitachi, but no matter how hard I tried, I could only ride the edge, never quite slipping into that sweet release. This frustrated me to no end.

So I tried straddling it. Two pillows later and a great deal of patience, I managed to get myself off. Again and again and again, and I rode it out like a cowgirl on the back of a bull, my breasts bouncing up and down and my hair, my incredible hair that has always made me feel so sexy, bounced heavily on my shoulders, and I felt like walking sex, or rather cumming sex, as it were. I felt gloriously wonderously lush. I love cumming when I'm on top, but usually it's not feasible with another person, not with the way I'm known to cum. But damn. When you feel incredibly sexy while you are loving yourself, there is nothing quite like it.

Moral of the story? Honestly I can't think of a moral for this story.