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I even tried meditating, a process literally deed to relieve and realign. But as I sat on my paisley-painted mat with a patronizing fitness influencer coaching me on the TV screen, it all felt too forced. Nothing could ever quite offer me enough escapism. That was, until I bought my first sex toy. The only problem was, I bought the wrong one. In Aprilmy partner moved back to his hometown. We had both lived in a small Surrey town in Britain known for being one of the most expensive places to live in the country where we attended the same art school.
To recover from his financial difficulties and find a good job, he moved back in with his mum while I, still finishing the final year of my degree, stayed behind. Growing up, I had a regressive view of masturbation. I had always wrongly considered them to be for single people, or married couples losing their spark and looking to spice things up. But with no partner, I did what I thought was a fair trade for my favourite person: I reluctantly gave in and bought a sex toy.
Still, I paid, and nervously waited for my first-ever sex toy to arrive. The next day, my parcel was delivered. I excitedly opened the box. Instead of the tiny vibe I anticipated, it was a heavy, near inch black magic wand.
Confused, I checked the order confirmation —and realized I had ordered the wrong toy. The first time I used my magic wand, I was anxious. It felt absurd to have something so large and indiscreet between my legs. The wand comes equipped with a dial to control its speed, though the faster Hitachi magic wand stories goes, the louder the noise—like that of a power drill. I kept it on low, and once I—and the toy—got going, my worries quickly dissolved. After that day, the size, price and noise of my magic wand was no longer intimidating—it was decadenta clear-cut of self-care and indulgence.
With this weapon in my arsenal, I unlocked an entirely new method of pleasure, and with that, a new perspective on solo sex. Every time I was in the mood, I whacked out my no-longer-intimidating magic wand and went to town. I was surprised by the joy of the experience—and the release.
It was different from regular partnered sex, but equally as powerful. My magic wand became my best friend, with benefits. I used it whenever I had a moment to spare. The attempt at long-distance ultimately worked, and I eventually followed my boyfriend to his hometown. Another health benefit of wanking: Numerous studies have shown that, in addition to relieving stress, masturbation can act as a natural painkiller and sedative, as well as help improve concentration.
This vibrator, paired with the care I invested in my solo sex life, allowed me to get back in touch with my body and my mind simultaneously. Heed my warning, though: Anyone who dares come into contact with this holy grail of toys will have all other vibrators ruined for them forever.
Beth Ashley is a creative writer and journalist specializing in sex, queer culture and health. Advocating strongly for women and queer people's sexual freedom, Beth focuses on a range of sex subjects from pleasure and contraception to recovery and reproductive rights.
She has written a range of global brands and publications. Follow her on Instagram bethashleywriter. Need A Suggestion? We got You Follow Us: facebook. More From This Contributor Follow. Editorial Standards. Keep Reading. What safer sex looks like in a post-pandemic world wildly in flux. What queering public spaces with anxious, hopeful bodies might look like post-lockdown. Ask an Expert. How to get started with dominance and submission. Love Like Mine.
The physics of a failed relationship. We were like two subatomic particles moving in space, never really able to be in the same place or time.Hitachi magic wand stories
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