We flirt with each other via Snapchat because we’re sophisticated adults. She snaps me a photo of handwriting on paper: “Aerie, would you like to make out with me?” and adds little Yes, No, and Maybe checkboxes that I can’t actually check because it only lasts for 8 seconds and IT IS A PHOTO. But 8 seconds is enough to permanently plaster my face into a giant stupid smile and set my heart racing. So of course I write my own checkbox reply and snap it back.
And what sex toy blogger can resist an instant messenger pickup line like this?
Unlike in the movies where people passionately rip off their clothing and fling themselves at each other, we engage in elaborate preparation.
Step 1: Clean ALL the things!
I may be having sex with someone awesome tomorrow, so I am: cleaning my bedroom and washing a Throe, my harness, and every sex toy I own.
— Epiphora (@Epiphora) April 12, 2014
Step 2: “QUICK! Pick what you want to try out of my 40,000 options!”
Her drawers of toys are endless, and as I dig into each one we build up a small mountain of Things For Aerie To Try.
“And this is where I keep my favorites,” she says while opening up a super secret drawer of her most treasured possessions.
Step 3: Better grab the Pure Wand too.
You know, just in case.
Step 4: Transport our selection to the bedroom.
The armfuls of toys take more than one trip to haul into her bedroom, and we stack them up on the nightstand like Jenga bricks because there is simply not enough space for everything.
Step 5: Cue the soundtrack.
Despite claiming that she’s not very romantic, she makes the most epic 50-song make-out playlist, after getting me to admit my fondness for 90s Alternative and undying love for Third Eye Blind.
Once the toys are staged, twinkle lights on, music playing, and cats moved out of the way, we finally fall into each other’s arms. As she leans in to kiss me, our glasses crash together. I take mine off and she promptly compliments me on having a face that doesn’t look weird without glasses.
She presses her soft lips into mine. I can reach my arms all the way around her and pull her close, and she is absolutely gorgeous. We roll around on the bed, until out of the corner of my eye I suddenly notice a tiny stack of pancakes, and I have to stop mid-kiss and pause everything because her pillow has breakfast on it. I know I am definitely in the right bed after seeing that she sleeps every night with her head upon pictures of mini fried eggs and floating cups of coffee.
We massage each other’s chests with the glorious scent of bourbon. Once we’re oiled up like we’re about to pursue a monkey in an air vent, we decide to try massaging our boobs together, but discover that boobs are not particularly efficient massaging tools.
When you're both slathered in Jimmyjane massage candle & she murmurs "So smooth and oily", avoid my mistakes & don't reply "like jelly toys"
— Aerie (@aeriesroom) April 14, 2014
Despite trying to research cunnilingus tips ahead of time from my library of sex books, once her beautiful vulva is front of my face, I really have no idea what I’m doing. I just try to move my tongue in ways I imagine would feel good on my own clitoris. She warns me that she’s also new to this, asks me to forgive her if she’s not very good, and then eats me out like a goddamn pro.
We prop up on a Liberator Wedge, and I show her how to find my G-spot with her fingers. We brainstorm better ways for sex educators to give advice on finding someone else’s G-spot, and how to reduce the unnecessary mystery that surrounds this glorious erogenous zone.
And of course, we play with toys. I get to experience glass, wood, and aluminum toys for the first time, try out the Eroscillator, and she gives me a clit blowjob with Mr. Man. One by one, she grabs toys from our Jenga pile to use on me, and I can’t help but verbally review the toys as we go.
Her sexy talk is top-notch.
“What color Mona 2 do you want to use?”
“I kind of have a thing for labia, and yours are really nice.”
“Wait a second, I have to screw this one in.”
And when I say to her, “You’ve been using all these toys on me! I think it’s your turn now…” she misses the point entirely and replies, “Oh, I’ve already tried all of these.”
Around her, I feel genuinely comfortable, even in a room full of people like the first time. As sex bloggers, we find it easy to openly communicate our needs to each other. I know she isn’t going to judge me for what I like or don’t like, or for how long it might take me to reach orgasm, or for my skill level in anything. I feel like I can just be myself, stop worrying, and have fun, and there’s really nothing better than that.
In the end, although we both own more sex toys than anyone really ever needs, fingers actually win out for both of us. Even after making my way through a pile of world-class dildos, all I really want is to come with a good vibe on my clit and her fingers inside me.
And there is nothing more sexy than thrusting my fingers against her G-spot, listening to her moan, and watching her as she trembles in orgasm right in front of me.
Kissing is both difficult and wonderful when you can’t stop smiling and giggling from hours of amazing sex. We crawl out of bed in search of pajamas, shoving all the used toys onto the floor. Then, before drifting off to sleep, we snuggle with cats and watch a documentary on Buck Angel. And later, of course, we post vague tweets alluding to the night we spent with Joque and Mustang, and our friends give us verbal high-fives.
"Good morning, sunshine… you BIG FUCKING DYKE." -how I was greeted by @queeraschinocherry this morning
— Epiphora (@Epiphora) March 16, 2014
Note: The narrative for this post is a bit mixed and taken from more than one experience.
Written and published with Epiphora’s consent ♥