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Feel The Vibration

One of the places I did not imagine that I would go when I began my journey was becoming a quite avid fan of vibrators.

I know that there are men who enjoy using them or having them used on those men's own bodies, but that is not what I am talking about. For whatever reasons of physiology or psychology I don't enjoy that feeling.

I am a fan of using vibrators to make women happy, whatever happy might be, and to tease and frustrate before that to bring the greater happiness later.

There is so much to love. They are tireless instruments, and their abilities exceed the limitations of the flesh, but continue on with their work with unvarnished monomania (though I have dealt with the unfortunate matter of batteries giving out at an inopportune time).

They can also be precise instruments, causing just the right amount of pleasure, walking up to the edge and then retreating, then walking again and back. They can find just the right spot and do it at just the right moment.

And they can be applied in circumstances where my own body can only do so much, and a bit of additional stimulation is required. There is much that I can do, but adding a vibrator almost always makes things better.

It is not something that men learn about when they are young and eager. Not usually, in my experience. And there are men who feel threatened by them, as if they are diminished by their electrical pal.

I began more befuddled than threatened, but I discovered just how much I enjoyed the effects that they provided. When I discovered what they could do and the horizons that they widened, I became the biggest fan in the world (maybe the biggest fan among people who get no pleasure from using them on themselves).

What I know is that then make me free. I don't have to worry about my own unaided physical abilities. I have the power, at my fingertips, to make everything right and joyous.

And they can make fun last much longer than it ever could without their buzzing cooperation.

And, forgive me if this sounds pretentious, one more medium of artistry to explore, or at least a craft that I could and would try to become more skilled at.

During my lifetime the vibrators themselves have become better and more varied and more interesting. There are so many, and so excellent are they, I don't even know all of the things that they can do. Not just cheap bits of junk that work badly, they have come into their own, so to speak.

And I am their number one fan, well, maybe not number one, but possessed of an irrational (and rational) exuberance for them.

I didn't think, when I began, that I would learn to love them. But they have buzzed their way into my heart and into the hearts of those whom I have loved. And I don't know what I would do without them.

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Fan Favorites

On The Couch

Kids at a friends. I come home, and there you are, on the couch. Barefoot. Flannel shirt. Jeans. Drop my bag and I'm on you. Buttons fly everywhere. My hands all over. Reach in your pants. No panties! Rubbing your pussy. Faster. Don't cum yet. I push my cock in. Fucking until we can't move.

Water and Air

I am a creature of the sea. The water is my home, I in it, it in me. I am enveloped by it and I drink it in, nourished, filled with life, in happy union. I am a creature of the air. I fly above the blue water, sunlight bright on my skin. Bright dot against the sky. I dance, with you. I see you are a shining fish like me, come up from oceans different, yet much the same. We will each, in our time, seek sea's embrace again, then rise, and fly together, in the warm air.

Notes

When she came to his house for dinner, he had been oddly quiet. She had been dating him for a while, and found him to be fun, and pleasant, and gentlemanly. She had the most conflict with the gentlemanly part. She liked it, and she also was eager to see the ungentlemanly side of him, but it had not been forthcoming. And he wasn't talking. He took her coat to the closet, and took a box from it, as he was putting the coat in. He looked at her fixedly, as he handed her the box, and said, "You know where the bathroom is." She was puzzled for a moment, then, when it was clear he was not going to explain, walked to the bathroom, and took a look in the box. There was a black dress, a very nice string of pearls, that looked to be antiques, and a note. It said, "wear this, and only this." She thought for a second. This was quite the odd left turn from gentlemanly. She felt very funny about it. And she also began to feel wetness near her thighs. It seemed