Enough with the pleasantries....sex toys anyone?

We’re all adults, right? 

We gon’ get a little down and dirty today.  We’ve got all the formalities out the way so far, wouldn’t you say?  I’ve kept it pretty basic, the topics on my YouTube channel haven’t been uncomfortable or nothing.  And y’all know I try to keep it as real as I can, right? 

(Now, I’m gonna need for those of you who know me personally to remember that this is itsrox speaking now…taking off my Roxanne hat…)

Let’s talk toys!  No, not the one’s they sell made by Fisher Price.

I’m talking about the good stuff.

Dildos.  Rabbits.  Butterflies.  Bullets.  Ben Wa Balls.  Strap-Ons.  Pocket Pussies.  Masturbation Sleeves.  Cock Rings.  Penis Pumps.  Anal Plugs.  And a partridge in a pear tree. 

Say it with me:  SEX TOYS.

Sex.  Toys.  Yes.

Man, you guys are so friggin’ stuffy.  You would think I was asking you to upload a video of you back in your college days when you had a bet with your homegirl of how many people you could sleep with in a year.

And speaking of getting to know yourself better…do you Roxstars ever partake in the occasional breathtaking experience of getting two fully charged batteries, close and lock your bedroom door, turn your television up real loud, put that sucker on high, and challenge all the cats in your area with feline-like howling and grunts that would probably bring the apes to your front door if you lived closer to the zoo?

I’m talking about your most favoritest appliance here y’all.

Before you even start, let me remind you that since this page is blog is new, I personally know about 50% of my readers of this page, and of those I KNOW 90% of you have a toy.  Hell, I was with you when you bought it.  So don’t be acting all brand new y’all…

However, I know this is a sensitive subject and nobody is trying to display their buckwildedness all up and full frontal and all so I’ll just write this as a commentary. 

My gift to you.  *smile*

Talking to my girls, both single and married, the conversation can venture off into quite the obscene.  Men would be SO surprised at how downright nasty women can be, especially when it is aided by rapid-fire rounds of Grey Goose and Patron Silver shots.  I always like to sit back and watch the different reactions to someone talking about a new pleasurable purchase.  Have you ever paid attention to the dynamics of sexual girl group talk? 

Well I have.   There are specific types of women when it comes to who is comfortable enough to share their desires with an object made of high-grade rubber and shaped like big fat shoe horn with varying sizes of prickles on it.  (sidebar – why is it okay to have a vibrator with prickles on it but don’t nothin’ bring that fuckathon you thought about and smiled to yourself about all day Friday to a close faster than an ACTUAL dick with varying sizes of prickles?)

Anyways…toys.

Ok.  So, one friend is the one who doesn’t use toys and the whole thought either grosses her out, embarrasses her, or she acts like her man/husband is such the bomb that they don’t even need one. 

The latter of which gets on my nerves. 

Because, really, it’s not about needs here.  I think we can all agree we don’t NEED a hot pink foreign object with pulsating veins and a bird with a very long beak attached at the top inserted up the cooch.  It’s about WANTS sis.  Stay with me here.  Do you WANT to get off really quickly?  Do you WANT to do it without having to get down on all fours and hook brothaman up, feigning passion while you tick off things to do in your mind for the next morning?  Do you WANT the never-ending and constant speed of a vibrator?  Remember, all that vibrating don’t get a catch in their calf, it doesn’t have to stop to keep from coming, and it doesn’t expect you to talk dirty back to it.  I mean, you could, but…you know.  Um, no. 

I particularly like to lay the nasty on pretty thick for the ones who are embarrassed.  And for those who are grossed out, I remind them that as long as they wash the crust off when you finish that there’s nothing gross about it at all.  Ha.

The category that I believe most fit in is the occasional user.  You know, have your one or two favorites, can appreciate a little one on one time with the Bullet, and once you get over the initial pain of trying to relax the mind enough to not remember that you are laying in some very odd position, spread eagle, panting and sweating all by your lonesome, then you will enjoy it.  For what it’s worth.  You are even open to letting your man/husband use them with you.  This way it takes all the extra think-work off you.  (And no, I don’t mean he can use it on him unless it is SPECIFICALLY for a man.  It is certainly ok to shut the shit down completely if your man is asking you to insert anything in him for the obvious and blaring flashing red signals this should reveal.  If he isn’t your husband, then you even have permission to find someone to kick his ass.  No, no and NO.  And trust me, Rocky is very liberal.)

Then, we got the professional.  She got every toy known to mankind, and have even made a few of her own. 

“Girl, we cut a tennis ball in half and glued it to the top of a FiniSheen can…” 

She can name off every toy in any catalog, and has a Neilson Rating’s Scale-like system for what good they are or aren’t:  “Oh no, girl.  That thing heats up after twenty minutes and it burned all the hair off the top…Oh yeah, that’s the Rockin’ Robbin 8000 with 65 speeds, the twirling chains in both pearls or metal balls, vibrates up and down, side to side, round about, swivels, comes in 4 colors, has disco ball lights and plays Stayin’ Alive out of a speaker that comes out the tip.”  She has stashes in a plant, on top of a bookcase, under the couch in the livingroom, like you just never know when the urge is gonna hit.  You can just look at her and know she’s clocked hour upon hour with straps, gels, apparatus’s, locks…you are actually oddly in awe and afraid of her at the same time.  The funniest about her?  She absolutely doesn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t have a plethora of the same.

(I have to say, my friend THE PROFESSIONAL scared me to death once when she came out of her bedroom closet with her prized possession: a butt plug that squeezes water out of it. 

“Someone doesn’t use that on you, do they?”  I asked incredulously.

“Yeah.” She said like it was no big deal.

What the fuck?

“With water?”  I asked, trying to grasp the mental jest of this situation.

“Yeah, hot water.  Well, you know.  Warm.” Just as easily, like she was talking about walking the damn dog.

I didn’t know what to say, because to me, sex shouldn’t be like taking a fuckin’ enema, but to each her own.)

Which one are you?  I believe we can all relate to one or the other, don’t you?  Life is all about balance.  Sex, like anything, can get boring if you aren’t willing to make some changes.  Do you think the toy is the change you need?