I did not own a sex toy until I was in my late twenties. By that point, I’d had multiple sexual partners and a few meaningful long-term relationships. I had already moved countries, adapted to different cultures, and had a child. But I had yet to discover the treasure island that was my own body.

I remember the first time I stepped into a sex shop—Good Vibrations in Coolidge Corner, Boston. The salesperson tried to engage me, but I wanted none of it. It was bad enough that I was there—to need this “electronic device” that was supposed to help me figure out my sex life. I grabbed the simplest looking slim vibe (it looked like a candlestick with a dial at the bottom) and dashed out of there as though I had done something wrong.

But I returned soon after. My little helper had sparked a curiosity about my body like never before. This time around, I ventured to the bookshelves, hoping for some reading material to help me understand my body, pleasure, and sex in general. There were some—not as many as there are today—but enough to convert the experience of purchasing a sex toy into one that I actively pursued with confidence instead of one that was pressured by shame. I learned about foreplay, the slick gift that is the lubricant, the different forms of barriers, and all the novelties that would help send my body and spirit up into heavenly bliss while I sprawled so beautifully and comfortably in the privacy of my own bed.

Read the full article:

The Feminist’s Guide to Sex Toys by Sid Azmi

Oct. 26th, 2018