Sex, Life, and Hannah » vibrators

Having an Orgasm

hannah — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 14:57:02 +0000

photo: http://la-inspiration.tumblr.com/

From a response to my sister:

Having an orgasm? It all comes down to figuring out what gets you off. For me it started with romance novels, by accident. I was twelve, and I wanted more grown-up reading material. I had no idea romance novels were so…dirty. But reading all those prolonged, and usually illicit, love scenes got my body excited, even though I couldn’t quite figure out how. At thirteen, to figure out the “how”, I decided to buy a Cosmopolitan magazine that promised to reveal all the secrets behind having an orgasm. To this day, just sitting back in a tub and letting the water run over my vagina, is good ol’ reliable. And vibrators, yes, but I didn't have one for a very long time. ...

G-spot Orgasms and Vibrators.

hannah — Thu, 24 Feb 2011 17:14:34 +0000

It’s still fucking hot, me and Christian are back to the naked, and the cold beer, and cigarettes. Even after all the Deirdre drama of tonight, we still can’t sleep. “Have you ever had a g-spot orgasm?” he asks putting another empty on my end table, and reaching into the cooler for a fresh one. I light up a fresh cigarette, and start laughing and almost choking. I tell him the only time I had the Super Big O was at Ireland’s. We were stoned, watching Californication, and salivating over David Duchovny, but really Hank Moody, because there was something very sexy about an emotionally fucked up, tortured artist; we women liked to “fix”. Hours later, I still couldn’t sleep, and in my half-baked state I walked over to Ireland’s side of the bed, and opened up the top drawer of her end table, where most women keep their sex toys. Sure enough, she had a vibrating gadget that looked to be the size we all imagined black NBA player’s cocks to be, and I took it out. I then walked into her bathroom and locked the door.

The Screaming O.

hannah — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 19:01:39 +0000

December 22, 2010: “Lick my pussy. No, read me some porn. No, I’ll do the reading, you do the vibrating,” I pass hubbie the Screaming O. He turns it on, “holy shit, that’s a lot of rpm.” He was right. The Screaming O Super Powered Bullet was small, yet very powerful. And within moments I was asking him to hand the Screaming O back to me, so I could control the pressure. “Do you want me to do anything else?” I tell him to play with himself, until I’m ready…

Hot Date Night?

hannah — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 23:26:43 +0000

PeeWee: Date night with the wife. What do I bring for the after party? Me: Lube. PeeWee: I can get her wet. Me: Titanium cock ring. PeeWee: What does that do? Me: Makes your dick look big, hard, and pretty. It’s mostly cock jewelry. PeeWee: Does it help stimulate the woman?

Is a vibrator a good xmas present?

hannah — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 23:26:34 +0000

73% said yes, 27% said no. I think you could go either way, and it depends A LOT on the status of your relationship. Although I think it's best to save the vibrator for a hot date and buy her some cute jewelry for xmas instead.

Are you a prairie vole or a montane vole?

hannah — Sat, 06 Nov 2010 01:27:03 +0000

Love is an addictive drug. No seriously, it is, and 83% of you agree. Or maybe the more accurate thing to say is lust is a drug. As Lee Ann Obringer writes in her awesome article on how love works ,"the same chemical process that takes place with addiction takes place when we fall in love". Here's some cliff notes from the article:

Dopamine is the "pleasure chemical," producing a feeling of bliss. Norepinephrine is similar to adrenaline and produces the racing heart and excitement. When two people have sex, oxytocin is released, which helps bond the relationship. The more sex, the greater the bond. Vasopressin, is the chemical associated with the formation of long-term, monogamous relationships. The longer we're together with someone, the more oxytocin and vasopressin start interfering with the dopamine and norepinephrine pathways, and the passionate love fades as attachment grows.

Let me break down this addictive euphoria for you in real terms: You see someone. You think they're hot, i.e. I want to make out with you. You talk to them. You like them even more i.e. I want to get naked with you. If you're at a club, you end up dry-humping them on the dance floor. Maybe you pry yourself off, because you don't want anyone thinking you're a slut, or maybe the feeling is so intense you say fuck it, go home with them, and have a wild passionte night of sex. The next morning, you try to remember their name, so you can exchange numbers, because you really do want to go on a date with them. And when that date goes extremely well you start OBSESSING, idealizing, pining for the phone calls, the next date, the next night of hot sex, until you have The Conversation that establishes you're in a committed, monogomous relationship (or not). As the months, maybe even years go by, you fall more and more in love with them, until...your "date" nights start turning into renting movies, cuddling up on the couch, and falling asleep by 11PM, and you realize you're having more fun with your vibrator. You still love them, care more deeply for them than ever, and would take a bullet for them, but the high is over, and you find your eye wandering more and more...

Breaking up and moving on, for real.

hannah — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 16:42:00 +0000

We are nostalgic creatures, yearning for those perfect memories of the past: the first glance, passionate kiss, emotional fuck, that private chartered tour around Nassau he took me on... But we also have selective memory, and seem to conveniently forget the jealous, immature, off-kilter remarks, when we got our heart ripped out, or when he didn't just get a boner the moment my hand landed on his crotch... And so, when we hit a dry spell that lasts longer than a season of Weeds, and our vibrator batteries simultaneously peeter out, and we get a call from a number we recognize all too well, we start to believe it's a "sign". Yes a sign from, oh, I don't know, God, maybe, like stigmata, and we start making statements like this to our BFF: "He says he's changed, and wants to work things out. That things will be different now. And the sex was AMAZING".

My favorite pocket rocket is the Layaspot.

hannah — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 20:03:50 +0000

The hunt for the perfect vibrator can be frustrating and expensive. The top drawer of my night table is filled with vibrators that are too small, too big, too textured, so zippy that if not careful they might de-sensitize your bean forever, or take too long to figure out. But girls...I believe the hunt is over. This is what my fave vibrator looks like, and it's called the LAYAspot. Why is it my fave? It's the perfect size to take with anywhere. The shape fits snuggly against your palm and fingers and up agains your...you know. Bottom line: It's ergonomically correct; no more cramped wrists or risk of carpel tunnel sundrome from excessive use...

Every now and then we all need multiple orgasms

hannah — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 16:58:28 +0000

From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season (CHAPTER 4: MULTIPLE ORGASMS) I fall back onto my bed and look at the clock. Still plenty of time before I have to get ready for work. I open the drawer of my end table, grab my trusty pocket rocket, and slide under my sheets.