I bought my first B.O.B (battery-operated-boyfriend) when I was nineteen and in my first month of college. My friends and I went to the Red Light District and entered some sleazy sex shop owned by some greasy old man. I was a student and didn’t have a lot of money so I bought a twenty-dollar toy. It was a cheap, plastic, ribbed, purple, straight and relatively small. It smelt like blueberries.
I was still a virgin and didn’t want to insert the vibe because I had been told using it before I had sex would ruin me for real men, as human dicks were far less… versatile. So I only used the toy by putting it on the lowest vibration setting and holding it against my clit till I came. This brushwork method kept me satisfied and in control of my hormones and left me douchebag-resistant for a few more years.
Then the vibe broke. Before I could buy a new one, I finally found a worthy cherry-popper and started having sex. Contrary to what I had been told about the shortcomings of the human dick, the real thing made the vibe obsolete. When my relationship became long-distance, my boyfriend and I decided I should get another B.O.B. We walked into the sex shop together and debated size, power, function, safety features, and general “ak)n)ness” until we finally settled on a very well-endowed rabbit-vibrator with rotating beads in the shaft, a thrusting function so the head went in and out like the real thing, and a silicone attachment shaped like a hummingbird that vibrated its beak against your clit while the penis part of the vibe fucked your pussy. It was the Ferrari of vibes at the time and it cost us a pretty penny.
I thought in addition to me using it to tide myself over between our two-week visits it would also be something I could introduce into our lovelife. My boyfriend wasn’t having it. He was a big fan of hearing me use it while we had phone sex. He was turned on watching me use it. But he didn’t want it anywhere near him in a bed. Somehow his dislike for it tainted my opinion of it so I didn’t use it much until we broke up. Then it became my lifeline, my best friend and my religious salvation. I learnt that having something inserted inside you while there were intense vibrations on your clit was a whole new ball game. Praise the Lord. Hallelujah. Masturbation is the way the truth and the light. The vibe kept me sane for two years and helped me get over the ex.
However, once I was ready to get back on the dating market I realized I was a little shy about telling guys I owned a vibrator. Why? Well firstly because they seemed to get overly-excited about the idea of me using one. They leered in a voyeuristic way that made me feel like they were casting me in some solo porno. Secondly my orgasms with the vibe were so amazing I thought I would intimidate any and all potential candidates and, like my ex, no one would allow the vibe in bed with us because they had had a chance to form some preconceived opposition to it.
Chale, I had grown quite attached to the thing and I didn’t want to have to choose.
Now, don’t get me wrong; I prefer sex with a real person because for me sex is an entire experience and all its components satisfy my soul—the guy’s body weight against my frame, the smell of his skin, his mouth on my nipple, his tongue on my neck, my legs wrapped around his shoulders, his tight balls banging against my ass when he fucks me silly etc—it all makes what is happening between his dick and my pussy ten times more intoxicating. Overall, my orgasms with a man are more complete and more satisfying. But I would be remiss if I did not admit that the orgasms with that second vibe did something in the top part of my pussy that I cannot find the words to adequately describe. It was ah-ma-zing!
Now as luck would have it, the first guy I hooked up with as a single gal was not intimidated by the vibe. He loved it and the first time we had sex he actually fucked me with it before he fucked me with his dick. For that alone he was worth keeping; he became my boyfriend. Throughout our relationship I used the vibe a ton for phone and skype sex and even discovered the best of two worlds—him fucking me while I held the vibrating hummingbird part of the vibe against my clit. But alas, no good thing lasts forever. The vibe choked out its last breath. The relationship also started sputtering like it was following in the vibe’s footsteps.
I knew soon it would just be me. Sniffles. So I started doing research on a replacement vibe. (Cos chale, replacement boyfriends are much harder to acquire). This time I went all out and spent half a month’s salary on what was supposed to be the best vibe ever made. It arrived in a classy box with its own special travel bag. It didn’t use batteries and came with a fancy cradle to be charged in like some high-tech phone. It was as smooth as silk and as hard as the real thing and the part for my clit was made of some special material and shaped like a dolphin. It even had a lock and unlock feature so it never came on unexpectedly when it was in your luggage. It smelt like happiness and joy.
The day it arrived in the mail, I jumped up and down like a village kid who has seen Father Christmas for the first time. But alas, this vibe failed to live up to its reputation. After lots and lots of wahala, and lying down in a particular position with it tilted just so, sometimes I would come with it. But it was often not the earth-shattering orgasm the previous vibe had trained me to expect. I tried to go back to that one, scraping my pennies together to purchase another while piteously singing mi yiri dada ei san b3 wari mi, fufr) baay3 nu adie away3 meni anji hu kwraa, mihu riy3 akyire mi, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. The toy had been discontinued!!! God had done me 419. I was vibeless and boyfriendless. And I must tell you: I was frightened for the safety of the men of Ghana. Moreover, after years and years of enjoying the innovative technology of vibrating appendages it had now become very tedious to masturbate with just my hands because my lowly fingers had to do sooo much more work to get me there and the resultant carpal tunnel injuries killed the hotness of the experience. I was in a bit of a panic about what to do. Masturbation had kept me, a-sexually-wired-super-high libido-freak-if-there-ever-was-one, from making stupid mistakes throughout my life. Without it what yawa situations would I find myself in? I didn’t want to find out. Back to the ex I went. He hadn’t wanted to break up in the first place and had been asking to get back together so I told him as a compromise we could be fuck buddies.
What I have discovered, in hooking up with him, is that sometimes my overpriced disappointment of a vibe can get me there if he works me up first. So, incorporated into our still-good and occasionally mindblowing sex life, it is not a total waste of money. But by itself, which is the purpose of a battery-operated-boyfriend, this vibrator is unable to earn its keep. I recognize logically that I need to set it free and do the same with the ex-boyfriend too. I am working on finding the willpower to achieve this by the end of the year. And as such I have a plea: God-of-Orgasms, if you’re out there, please touch the hearts, minds and memories of all your subjects and children on this site and enable them to help me find a toy that will fulfil all my needs according to your glory in Jesus’ name. Adventurers, recommendations and references, please. Help a sister find a B.O.B that can restore the good vibes to her life.
And since I can’t leave without a question I wanted to ask: Guys, why are so many of you so turned on by vibrators in abstract but so scared of the sex toys being incorporated into your sex lives? Are you afraid they will outperform you? Or just weirded out by there being another dick in the room and scared you might enjoy the sensation of it somewhere near your skin and it will all be too homoerotic to handle? C’mon, let VV know.