Two hands, three vibrators and a butt plug

Well now, that title sounds like quite the fun filled romp, doesn’t it Lovers?

But alas and alack my Lovelies, ‘twas not. ‘Twas very much not!

I suppose it all centres around the quite disturbing trend I’m discovering amongst my gentlemen callers of late.

We meet on Tinder (of course) and said gentlemen appear normal, attractive and able to string a sentence together.

Good start.

The date is arranged and they arrive, all puffed up and full of confidence, strutting around like tipsy peacocks, occasionally flashing me the odd fancy feather (although lately all the flashing has usually taken place days beforehand on Snapchat.)

Up to this point everything is trucking along fine, or if not fine, at least manageable.

It’s when I take them home that the problems start.

Take Ryan for instance; yummy yummy Ryan. We went on a date over a year ago and it went well. Unfortunately, Ryan lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere and was a class A workaholic. As hard as we texted there was no way of keeping anything alive and the date was soon forgotten.

So you can imagine my surprise when out of nowhere Ryan texts me to say he was in town and he’d like to catch up.

Happy days!

Sexy farmer for one? Yes please!

I hastily agreed and asked what he had in mind activity wise.

What I hadn’t expected from my quaint country boy was the phrase “let’s get kinky!”

I won’t lie Lovers, I was genuinely disappointed with his answer. A huge part of me thought that maybe our connection, the tiny spark between us (a spark I may have very well dreamed into existence,) was what had spurred him into texting me for a genuine date.

You know, dinner, beers and sex. It’s the perfect combo!

But sadly he was just interested in sex, and kinky sex at that. He knew of my passion surrounding all things sex so I suppose he thought there was no need for flirty repartee or any semblance of subtlety.


Oh well, I thought with a sigh, kinky sex with farm boy had to be better than my regular Tuesday afternoon.

Nope. Wrong again.

Ryan arrived at my place around one in the afternoon. As I went to buzz him up I thought I heard him talking to someone through the speaker.

Good God had he brought a playmate with him or something?

I waited tentatively by my door as he climbed the stairs to my apartment.

And that’s when I heard it.


Holy fudge-monkeys! He’d brought a dog! If there’s anything I love more than farm boys its farm dogs.

I watched with glee as a gorgeous little jack russell bounded up the stairs behind Ryan.

Screw kinky sex, I could happily sit and play with the dog for hours!

After getting over my shock and excitement, I greeted Ryan and ushered him inside. Then, much to Ryan’s dismay, I greeted the dog with much more enthusiasm.

Hey if you don’t want to be overshadowed don’t bring an adorable ball of fluff with you dude.

Eventually, after much patting and belly scratching, I tore myself away from the dog and finally gave Ryan some attention.

We sat on the couch and chatted amiably for about an hour. I was really enjoying getting to know him and sex was the farthest thing from my mind. So when Ryan piped up and asked if I had nipple clamps it was quite the unexpected segue.

However, I did in fact have nipple clamps, (an essential for any girls top drawer don’t you think ladies?) and proceeded to fetch them for him. By the time I came back into the lounge room he was shirtless and ready to be clamped.

Tasty, very tasty.

He had just a smattering of dark chest hair that trailed down to his belly button before disappearing beneath his belt. Oh yes, I could definitely work some magic here, that was for sure.

After jokingly playing around with the clamps for a few minutes, Ryan suddenly grabbed me and said huskily “let’s go to the bedroom.”

Again with the subtlety.

We headed to my room and made out standing in front of my bed. Ryan could kiss, that was for sure, and that was usually a sure fire sign of bedroom prowess.

I felt a tingle of excitement issue forth from my panty hamster as she prepared for a good time.

Then Ryan said something that was enough to send said hamster scurrying back from whence she came.

“Let’s get nakey.”


Dude what are you, twelve? I shuddered as I contemplated an afternoon of baby talk. Was he going to call me Mummy and try to suck on my titty witties?

Kill me now.

Thankfully, after my less that positive reaction to the phrase, Ryan quickly reassured me that he just said it because he was nervous.


I decided to believe him and so we did indeed ‘get nakey.’

Ryan was blessed with a Goldilocks penis (not too big, not too small, but just right) so I immediately initiated some A grade fellatio. He was loving it, sure, but things weren’t… as firm as they could be.

I massaged his balls, stuck them in my mouth and sucked seductively, switched between balls and wang and a whole other myriad of techniques, but nothing was really working.

I needed some help.

Enter vibrator number one.

I whipped out my small purple vibrator I had picked up in a show bag at Sexpo. The thing only had one speed and was fairly weak, but I thought it might have been enough to get Ryan up to scratch.

After a few moments with small purple I realised I needed more power, more speed.

Out came medium pink, my slightly more expensive and always dependable vibrator. Old faithful was usually good in situations such as these, so with the combination of pink and purple, there was no way I could lose.

But still no movement!

I asked Ryan if he was ok, was I overstimulating him? Did he like what I was doing?

He loved it all apparently, but sadly wanted more!

By this stage I was seriously running out of hands, not to mention the strain on my wrists trying to coordinate everything concurrently.

I delved deep into my drawer and found one of my silicone vibrating cock rings. I looked at it for a moment and shrugged. Couldn’t hurt to throw another vibrator in there could it?

After fastening the cock ring around Ryan’s semi flaccid penis, I went hard with my hands and vibrators. Good god, it was like trying to play three instruments all at once!

Still nothing.

I was about to give up when Ryan piped up.

“Got any butt plugs?”

Ah, he was a butt guy, maybe that’s why we weren’t achieving lift-off.

I wasn’t super pleased with this turn of events. I knew he’d been out running errands all day, so it would be safe to assume that the area was not going to be particularly fresh.

But I’d come this far (pun intended) so I may as well give it a crack…

I dug out a fairly intricate looking red butt plug and proceeded to probe the area.

But guys have so much hair down there I couldn’t find the bloody hole! I didn’t just want to jam it in and hope for the best, as this particular plug was quite knobbly and could be quite painful if not eased in nicely.

Eventually I found what I assumed to be an entry point, (certainly smelled like one anyways) and stuck just the tip of the plug in. Then it was on for young and old Lovers. For a solid ten minutes I did the work of three women! Hands here, mouth over there, rub this vibrator on that, clutch the balls now, butt plug in and out, in and out.

It was exhausting!

But finally we had success! The beef bayonet was standing to attention proud and tall, ready to lay waste to any beaver misfortunate enough to get in its way.

There was only one problem.

I’d spent over an hour attempting to jump-start his cucumber, but he hadn’t even touched my honeypot.

Time for some payback!

I lay on the bed and relaxed as the tongue that had showed such great prowess in my mouth now displayed its other talents betwixt my thighs.

It only took two minutes and I was good to go. I grabbed Ryan by the hair and dragged him up to meet me.

It was go time.

But we must always remember Lovers, that life is cruel and God needs a good laugh from time to time. Yes, in the two minutes spent on someone other than himself, Ryan had completely lost his boner.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

Ropable Lovers, I was absolutely ropable!

All that work for nothing? You’ve got to be shitting me.

The worst part is, after the wind left his sails, Ryan decided that that was the perfect time for him to head back to the farm.

So with a kiss on the cheek and a ‘thanks, I had fun,’ Ryan left me, naked and unsatisfied on a Tuesday afternoon.

Not happy Jan!

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: Do you like my pearl earrings? I’m looking for the necklace to match.


The terrible tale of the mistreated muff


I did the unthinkable this morning Lovers! No, I didn’t turn a condom inside out and attempt to use it again. No, I didn’t wax a man’s initials into my lady garden, or my own initials for that matter (it’s not a business card people.) No, I didn’t purchase a shewee and a snuggy in order to experience a completely uninterrupted ten hour marathon of Outlander. No no Lovers, I did something far worse.

I cried during sex!

Oh god the shame of it all! This is exactly the reason I don’t relish the idea of morning sex, I’m not a morning person! So many emotions at 7 in the god dam am!

But surely it was more than the fact that the moon was still up that made you blubber like a baby Claire? I hear your question loud and clear Lovers, and as usual, your astute observations are spot on! I didn’t merely descend into tears at the sight, sound and smell of a man and his wang attempting to pry my legs open before my eyes. No no, it was much more than that.

Back story!

Ok Lovers, I’ll fill you in on this particular fellow in detail in further posts, but what you need to know right now is that I was suffering from one of the sexual maladies most people choose not to discuss.

Over and over I hear friends and colleagues cry out in frustration that their main man comes too soon. Often far too soon. And as girls we have incredible amounts of sympathy for these women. How awful to have that pivotal moment of orgasm ripped away from you as your man comes to a shuddering halt and collapses on top of you, sated and sleepy. This issue is one of the many women and men experience and talk about regularly, but what happens when you have completely the opposite problem?

There is no sympathy out there for girls like me Lovers!

Next time your swapping shag stories with your girlfriends, take a moment to appreciate the girl who moans about her chafed vag and aching thighs. Show her a little pity as she goes into detail about her marathon session, complete with multiple position switches, leg cramps and copious amounts of lube. Because I can tell you now Lovers, chances are, as jealous as you may be of her long time Lothario, if she’s anything like me, she only enjoyed the first twenty minutes or so. The rest… well that’s where the tears come in.

So I’ve been having sex with this fellow for about six weeks now, lets call him…Spencer. Spencer is a great guy, another lucky Tinder find, but to say we’ve been having some issues in the bedroom is putting it lightly.

The boy just never comes! Like ever. Never ever. Like times never by infinite and you still wouldn’t be close to it. We’re talking hours of P in V action with no finale.

We’ve had sex at least thirty times and not once has he popped his cork. Do you know how frustrating that is Lovers? The worst part is he absolutely adores blowjobs. Now, don;t get me wrong, I love giving a good bj when the occasion calls for it, and that occasion occurs often, but blowjobs have a time limit. I am not a bobblehead!

Argh the pain, the agony of the never-ending head job! Sometimes I have to do inconspicuous stretches during foreplay to prepare my body for whats about to come. Woe betide the girl who attempts this mission. First comes the subtle ache in the back of your neck as you mosh relentlessly up and down on his yogurt slinger. Next is the throbbing of your knees, elbows or whatever unfortunate limb you happen to be supporting yourself on. Finally, and what usually brings said job to a conclusion (or at least a downgrade to a simple handjob) is the tender muscles of your pleasure inducing mouth giving up the ghost and you either can’t stop gagging or you begin to seriously fear a case of lockjaw occurring. Nobody wants to rock up to the emergency room with the words ” gave too much head” emblazoned across their patient form.

So anyways, I think you get the idea Lovers, I’ve been matched by the scientists at Tinder with a marathon runner when I’m much more of a sprinter. The most frustrating thing about my sessions with Spencer however, is not their lengthy duration, but the utterly infuriating phrase he utters immediately after every romp.

“Gah, I was so close that time.”

Then fucking come already! Ooh the amount of times I have almost screamed this right at his sweaty face is becoming too high to count. The problem is Lovers, it’s always me who has to call time on our activities. I’ll go for as long as I can, but my poor little juicebox is just in tatters by the time he’s halfway done! I’ll wriggle and squirm, trying to find a comfortable position to wait out his pounding, but before long another layer of my flaps will have been thrusted vigorously away and I’m back to grinding bone against bone. I’m not proud of this Lovers, and as an avid sex lover it truly upsets me that I can’t pull a Survivor and outwit, outplay and outlast his randy shaft. I’ve tried cock rings (three different types of varying price), oral sex popping candy, pelvic floor exercises, ball slings and more. But I still can’t ride out that never-ending wave of copulation!

So you can imagine just how crap I feel when after trying everything I can, after continuing on long after all feeling has left my lower extremities and after giving as much encouragement and help as I can humanly give, when he sighs and says,

“That time, that time I was so close. Just a few more minutes and you would’ve had me.”

This is after two full hours of balls deep, pound the duck, solid boinking.

My little whisker biscuit can only take so much Spencer!

So, the crying, how did all of this equate to me ending up in a big old pile of tears?

As I said Lovers, I’m not a huge fan of morning sex, but I had promised Spencer a good time the night before so I let him do his thing while I lay there and fantasised about going back to sleep as soon as he left.

After a while we switched to doggie, a suprise new favourite position of mine. Normally things can feel a little uncomfortable with doggie, but with Spence something just clicks and it feels great; which is useful because he likes to stay in this position for ages. Anyways whilst in doggy Spencer has developed a bad habit of pressing down on my spine. Grab my  hips? Fine. Shoulders? Fine. Waist? Fine. Middle of my spine? Hands off dude!

It seriously feels like he’s going to snap me in two when he leans on my frigging spine and I tell him time and time again to get the hell off me. His excuse is always that he’s so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t notice.

Yeah, well I do buddy.

So this morning he starts doing the spine thing. I tell him not to. He does it again, this time while he’s pounding into me super hard. I tried and I tried to hold my position but I just couldn’t take it any more. Sex shouldn’t be painful!

I collapsed on the bed and felt his wang fall out of me.

“Damn! You would not believe how close I was that time!”

Aaaand that was it. I was gone. The combination of all the effort I had gone to, time and time again to satisfy him, coupled with the obvious failure time and time again plus the fact it was 7am and the fact that he had ignored my words and hurt me once again was just all too much.

The worst part of it all was that Spencer didn’t realise I was crying and simply shifted me onto my side and kept going!

Oh it was so humiliating Lovers. I just closed my eyes and waited for it to be over.

Luckily Spencer isn’t a total asshole and noticed pretty soon after that I was crying and stopped having very one way sex with me.

He wiped away my tears and asked what was wrong but I didn’t have much time to tell him as he had to get to work.

It was a very, very awkward way to leave things.

Never a dull moment in the sex life of Claire hey Lovers? I’ll fill you in on more next week!

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: Want to have sex? Breathe for yes, lick your elbow for no.