open sesame

Physician, heal thyself, my interior voice has said. You who have strided the earth as a Jenny panty-seeding colossus, setting yourself so high and mighty, queening the world in your autodidact’s throne, riding the unwashed masses’ faces to your own cataclysmic concupiscent crises, you find your own sexual healing.

I have, here on my pretty dumb things, handed down as if on stone tablets from on high the ways and means to some better sex. I have given primers on how to open ends, to open wide, to open up,to  open her and to open the throttle. I have, as if I know with a blind woman’s touch the interior of the arcane cookie jar, given the step-by-steps to better, higher, harder, and sweeter sex.

And yet, of late, I myself am a bit bored. I find myself twiddling my thumbs in bed with my much beloved Donny. I find myself watching the sex we have in some weird Warholian split screen, the soundtrack unaccountably screechy and disorienting, Lou Reed young again and in a maid’s apron serving us cucumber sandwiches (not really, but it would be nice if he were, it is telling that I want him to be, it says something that I envision my Donnybrook sex punctuated by Lou Reed, impossibly young, improbably de-grizzled, fantastically dressed in a fluffy apron, be-eyelinered and doting, offering cool crustless cucumber sandwiches piled high and white as Greenwich, Conneticut. It is telling that he is there at all) as if it were high tea, the split screen showing simultaneously The Sex That Was and The Sex That Is.

And the hither pales in comparison; wan it is when held up to the yon.

Physician, I say, Heal thyself.

I concoct various schemes in my head. I number them. I make flow charts. I elucidate ways to make my sex better. Number One: Plan a Sexy Date with Your Boyfriend and You Pretend You’ve Never Met! Number Two: Feed Him Sushi Off Your Body (Be Careful Where You Put the Wasabi!)! Number Three: New Lingerie!

I use exclamation points, God help me.

Each idea seems more insipid, more banal and more Cosmo-inspired than the last. Each imagined busted move seems more broken than the one before.

Physician, Heal Thyself, the voice screams. You can fix this, goooo-ooooo-oooooo, Chelsea! It cheers, and waves its pom-poms maniacally. And then we have sex again, and I feel my thumbs drawn magnetically toward each other. Must. Not. Twiddle.

(Twiddling = unhott.)

I made Donny buy me a Hitachi Magic Wand. I figured that when the sex is broke, and ok, it’s not broke, but it is kind of busted, it needs fine-tuning. It needs a chiropractic adjustment. It needs its wheels balanced, its boots resoled, its knobs tweaked. I figured that when the sex needs that extra oomph, one should go with what the pros use.

Everyone loooooooooves the Hitachi Magic Wand. Watch Sex and Submission, the Hitachi Magic Wand is the go-to toy. Read Susie, read just about anyone, and the Hitachi is the gold standard of vibrators. It is supposed to be the great holy grail of sex toys. It’s supposed to cause the spontaneous combustion of orgasms in women formerly unused to coming. It is the freaking Magic wand. In sex-positive lore, it makes Ollivander’s wands look like a warped pool cue.

So I made Donny buy me one (Donny makes six figures. I don’t demand much. I’m quite low maintenance. He bought it willingly). Despite a history of pro-Hitachi talk, Donny looked askance at the one in the store.

“I don’t know, Chelsea,” he said as its vinyl bulb buzzed in his open palm. “I think it might be too intense for you.” Then he looked me in my brightlit and optimistic dewy eyes and said, “If you really want it, I’ll buy it.” And he did.

We took it home. We kissed. He played with my pussy. I was impatient for The New Thing. He tied me up, a facet to which I was grateful if only because it wasn’t my force of will that kept my thumbs seperated as two angry, spiteful toddlers. He plugged in the wand. He touched it to my naughty bits.

I jumped.

Like a good photo of Paris Hilton, it was hott and not-hott in equal measures. It was mostly uncomfortable, its buzzing that of blood-doped bees on crack. I soldiered through. I told myself I liked it. I tried to embrace the vibrations within. And periodically there would be a moment when it felt kind of good.

But it was a far cry from Nirvana. It was not Magic.

Donny untied me. He fucked me and he came inside me, a towel laid carefully down under my spreadwide thighs. And then he gave me the toy and I made myself come with it. I nudged and noodled it, ran it up and down and held it stationary. I kept it at an angle and I held it straight up. I curved and I lay flat. I contorted my body around, submitting to the Wand’s unremitting buzzing until the orgasm tore through my innards like a hot jagged shard of glass.

I’m not sure that was pleasurable, I told Donny, who had calmly watched my improvisational Wand Dance.

“Take it home,” he said, “make friends with it. You didn’t like the nipple clamps at first either,” he reminded me.

I have. Today I played with it again, and I had a similar experience, minus Donny watching, the orgasm just a bit less of a shattered windshield.

But so far, the Wand is less Magic and more mundane.

And so far, this physician has yet to heal herself or her lover, who loves her, nonetheless.

Comments

[figleaf]

Also yeah, I think the Hitachi Magic Wand is a lot like that old Click and Clack joke about Volvos... Every single owners believe two things: everyone who has one thinks they're the best thing since sliced bread, and "...I'm the only exception."

I don't know a lot of people who use them but most of the ones who do tend to use them through their jeans to dampen and diffuse the impact.

---

Also

"I concoct various schemes in my head. I number them. I make flow charts. I elucidate ways to make my sex better."

Even I, I the most anally and banally earnest lover to inhale again after exhaling, can tell you that elucidation does not do the trick. Pellucidate instead.

figleaf

[Rich]

AWW!! THat me feel sad!! I hope your loving and action is back to its normalself soon enough.

Maybe sometime away from naughtiness will let the urge flow back with even more resurgence.

Me hopes you feel better, happier soon.

[Christy]

CG, try taking naughty photos!! It always fun and is a real turn on!! You can just keep them for personal sakes or post them here!! **DREAMS**

You can look back at the later and enjoy them too!!

Or rearrange the one or two photos you have on here for us!!

I hope your period of sickiness is over soon. Best wishes.

[Alessia Brio]

The Wand is all business. No self-love involved when wanding. Do the deed & be done. Clinical release. Takes the edge off, but doesn't sate.

[Bad Kitty]

I have one of those, and the only reason I keep it on the bedside table is for back massages; anything else is a little too much buzz.

[MrManicDepressive]

Oh, TW just LOVES Mr. Hitachi! From the first time that little buzzing devil hit her clit, she's been in love with it. I get to listen in while she pleasures herself during the day, while I'm at work. It never fails to give me a hardon. All hail Mr. Hitachi and his Magic Wand!

[chelsea girl]

Thanks, you all. I'm sure it's just a little bump in the happy hump road. Even heroes have downdays.

I imagine my Donny just really, really needs a few days off in a row to plug in and recharge his sagging batteries.

kissykiss,
chelsea girl

[Karl Elvis]

You know, i gotta say, the magic wand has to be the un-sexiest vibe in the world. The thing looks like a kitchen appliance. I know (intimately) women who love the thing (in fact, one who's loved three of them to death), but still. They're big and incredibly awkward to use in bed, and they're just - well, they look like the belong in the housewares department, not in the sex-toy store.

[PugDuster]

You might want to look into the Oster Stim-U-Lax unit. What is nice about them is that they fit on your hand and you can you can control all of the intensity with your fingers. Quite nice for both partners.

[Paul]

Sounds like you two might need an island vacation or something...

[chelsea girl]

Paul, you're right. I do. As does Donny. Desperately.

Sigh.

kissykiss,
cg

[Viviane]

I agree with Alessia. It means business and it gets it done when one needs it solo and quickly. It's actually scared some partners I've been with!

[Edgy Mama]

Your hormones okay, sugar? Sadly, women our age have those damn lows--but they're often followed by lovely spikes. And they can be, ummmmm, enhanced, if necessary.

But I also second the island vaca.

[bulls_bollocks]

I do think the "shock of the new" helps with ennui, and travel to some place that is exciting helps me.

I cannot comment on the Hitachi Magic Wand.

But pictures of Paris Hilton are always always always not-hott.

[Karl Elvis]

Island Vacation?

I'm in. Tell Donny to move over.

[sgabriel]

I don't say this to everyone, but if you'd like, you may borrow my sub. She's simple to operate, very nice to look at, and self-cleaning. Extremely smart, but not proud, and slavishly obedient. Rather small and over-educated, but extremely useful.

If you're into that sort of thing..

[Calico]

Hee! The first time I encountered a Magic Wand was on the set of Hogtied.com, which is in the same porn-site family as Sexandsubmission.com. I had the same response: I jumped about a mile. There was screaming. There was pleading for it to stop. It was, frankly, unpleasant.

Of course I came, though. Not coming with a Hitachi on your clit is like trying to stop a speeding freight train. There's a reason porn sites like to use them for "forced orgasm" scenes.

I've used them a couple times since (recreationally) with more success, but it's still a lot like having one's genitals plugged into a power outlet.

I also suggest trying it over jeans. Or at least putting a towel between.

[chelsea girl]

Sga,

Really? You're offering me your sub? Wow, and here I'm excited if someone lets me borrow a pen.

Thank you, though I'm not sure I'd know what to do. Still, it's a lovely thought to contemplate in cinematic detail...

And the rest of you, thanks. Maybe we should all plan an island retreat together. Just me and my bevy of pretty dumb things, a lot of rainbow colored drinks with umbrellas in them, and a few laptops....

kissykiss,
cg

[The Minstrel Boy]

i'm sorry i nothing germaine to say, other than a trip to an island somewhere is usually the tonic for what ails me. i'm still trying to get over reading your post last week and then when filling a glass for some iced tea noticing that the ice-maker in my freezer turns out those half circle cubes that look like a cartoon kid's smile. now, even a glass of iced tea brings a silly grin and a shaking of the head. . .wicked girl.

[adrianne]

Somehow, I imagine Lou Reed much the same way you do. And I thought I was the only one!

[CyDy]

The Wand is not for everyone. We are in fact trying to plumb the depths of these mysteries right now. We intend to get a wand, an eroscillator, a synergy vibe, and maybe even a pocket rocket, and give them a go side-by-side! Come back when we do and maybe it will give you some ideas...

: )
Robin

[MandalayVA]

No lie--when I was in my early twenties and still living at home my dad bought a Wand because it helped with some shoulder pain he'd been having. Of course I had to sneak it off and try it out. I used a towel (a pretty thick one, I might add) and it was still way too intense for me. At least I didn't have to pay for it. ;)

[Deana]

Mandalay - "it helped with some shoulder pain he'd been having"????

Uhm... did your mother also have some debilitating injury requiring frequent use of the Wand? preferably with your father?

Haha, kidding. Just had the image in my mind of a whole family sharing the same delight. Had to share.

*blush*

[VJ]

OK I'm late to the party here, but let me go in an entirely different direction. You're already having married sex. That steady predictable bane of the smart set that keeps the rest of humanity slightly humming. So do the deed, get married. The sex if not better, might be a bit different. With kids, it's faster & more furtive. Even w/o kids, there's more make up sex.

So Yes, Hitachi Wands are small & powerful personal engines for mixing your measures. It's Not for everyone, and oft times a 'lil bit will do you. There's plenty of variety to be had. And yes, Lou Reed affected & perfected his 'grizzled' look way back in his teens. It's in all the pics at the time.
Cheers & Good Luck, 'VJ'