I’ve been a do-it-yourselfer since I was 13, beginning shortly after perusing the relevant passages in a copy of ‘The Happy Hooker’ that was being passed around at my Jr. High. Having arrived somewhat late to the game I jumped into the fray with an eye toward making up for lost time. Once the manual technique had been mastered (you see what I did there) the search for insertables became an avocation. The idea of a specialized appliance devoted to that task and that task alone was something I’d never imagined, of course, being 13. Then there was that whole issue of this having all taken place in the early 70’s and my living in a small town as well. As far as most of us knew back then, ‘dildo’ was just a goofy sounding thing you called people to piss them off.
I eventually settled on the the produce department. You cannot beat the selection and the price is right too. If unexpected company arrives, or you lose your nerve?? You’ve got a side dish. Try that with surgical grade silicone. (The ‘Marketmore 88′ cucumber variety in particular earns two thumbs up, a twist AND a kiss. Avoid daikons.)
The thought of buying a dildo or a vibrator has occurred to me, but I never felt like it was worth the expense…although I have to admit to being tempted by some of the more sculptural abstract forms available now. Hell, you could leave some of them on the coffee table; they’re gorgeous objects. It’s a festive holiday centerpiece-no! It goes up your butt!
I could never use one that actually looked like a penis, though. I’ve been married for a long time and I’m really, really happy with my husbands equipment. The thought of another dick up there, even a fake one, gives me the heebie jeebies. Come on, you know that’s a cast of someones schlong. Whose? You don’t know. I don’t know. It could be some ooky persons’ weiner. No.
Vibrators do very little for me, weirdly enough. It’s not as if they don’t work; they do…but it’s over with too fast, and it feels like having your orgasm yanked out of you, at least for me.
I do have a toy that I absolutely love, though: A pair of police issue handcuffs. I have no idea what that’s about either, but there you go.
The first time I ever saw a pair in real life it went through me like a bolt. I was a fairly small person; maybe 8 or 9. Now I can look back and recognize the response for what it was but at the time I simply thought ‘Whoa, those are coooooooooool.”
Of course come the punk era I had a pair of cheapos that dangled from the epaulet of my leather jacket. People made jokes about them, and we all laughed, and there they were, and that was that.
…right up until the first time that someone snapped them around my wrist, and I cramped because I came so hard. Not in the middle of the street or anything; I mean, we were already having sex, please. In looking back I’m very glad I wasn’t in the middle of a crosswalk though because HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I freaked myself out, and I know my response repelled the person I was with. Well, I was appalled too. And scared. I’m not an inexperienced person, or a particularly closed-minded one either, and I’d already settled the issue of what I liked and what I didn’t. That wasn’t even something I suspected was lurking there.
Needless to say, that was the last time for a number of years that the handcuffs came into play.
Enter my current lover, and his Smith and Wessons. Why was he carrying handcuffs? Because back then was a bouncer. Fine, and a loan enforcement officer *ahem*. Yes, well.
We’d reached that point in the proceedings where anything goes, when you’re spaced out on bliss and endorphins. The original plan was going to be a nice leisurely blowjob. Fine. He was reaching for his cigars and knocked the cuffs off the nightstand (along with his wallet and keys and fine you get the picture.)
He picked them up and grinned at me.
I came up off the bed making this noise, flushed crimson.
Did I lose my shit? I lost my shit hard. For an hour. We both did.
I’m already a pretty enthusiastic fuck; both of us are. This was like having ALL the stops pulled out and the volume cranked up past 11. It’s so extreme, in fact, that we both have to be in a particular mood to get into it. And doesn’t that sound weird? Something that’s too good to indulge in? But its true.
Does this count as a fetish? I do not know. Probably, though. What I do know is what I’ve learned from experience:
1. Use quality equipment. Cheap handcuffs will bend, jam, split and twist. I’ve done it. It’s a buzzkill, too. You want something heavy and polished, not plated- and it needs to have bullnosed edges (unless you like that sharp bite; otherwise you will get cut and it will leave marks; possibly even scars if you lose track of yourself.)
2. Keep the goddamn key HANDY. Thank God I’ve never had that ‘Geralds Game’ scenario play out in real life; I intend to keep it that way. Real handcuffs are meant to provide reliable restraint in violent, emergency situations. Bear that in mind. If you don’t own a portable grinding saw with a diamond blade, the EMT’S DO….and they WILL GOSSIP ABOUT YOUR LAME ASS. My best bud is an EMT. They do. He does.
3. Cuffs leave marks. Be prepared to hide them for at least a week if you’re a fighter.
4. Choose a set that has a widely adjustable ratchet bar. They work just as effectively around ankles as they do wrists, and not all bedposts are uniform.
5. Avoid used equipment. You cannot trust it. Shell out the dough and buy new. You can pick them up at knife and gun shows, on the Internet, up in Canada, and also here in the US; some of the shadier gun dealers and sporting goods outfits carry them in stock. If you have a cool friend with a police number you can get them to order a set for you from one of the law enforcement catalogs out there. I can personally vouch for the Smith and Wesson marque.
I can’t speak for any other toys or equipment out there. Accessories have been discussed over the years and a couple tried, but they end up lost in the bedding because we forget to use them. Too busy, what with all the screwing. But a bitch does know her handcuffs. If this sounds like something you’d like, take my advice. Buy quality, buy new, and buy a pair of those exercising terrycloth bracelet-sweatband thingies to wear if you have to go out for a few days afterward.
Posted by The Red Menace
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