Due to the overwhelming response received for the male version of creative masturbation techniques, it is only fair that the I divulge some of the secret techniques of women. That’s right ladies, we’re up to bat.
I know a lot of women who like to masturbate, and by a lot, I mean almost all. There are a few women whom I have encountered who vehemently deny such clitoral shenanigans, to which I say, “are you crazy?” or “you’re a big fucking liar.” But the general consensus is this; we are masters at conducting our own orchestra pits.
Without further ado, I present you with Creative Masturbation Techniques for Women. Of course we all already know about cucumbers and all the other random shit that we are capable of shoving inside of ourselves, that is certainly no secret. The following are a few stories of vaginal creativity, one of which I have tested in the name of research, for quality assurance. You’re welcome.
The Swimming Pool
When Jackie first discovered the magical sensation rubbing her clitoris generated, she couldn’t get enough. This is true for most girls, but we grow tired of rubbing, and soon branch out in search of new and more exciting frontiers.
Jackie loved spending her summers at the country club pool with all of her friends. While the grown ups sat and gossiped, she was allowed the luxury of unlimited vending machine access, and long sunny days in the pool playing sharks and minnows with her friends.
One day Jackie swam over to the side of the pool to ask the lifeguard a question. As she grabbed on to the side, crossed her arms on the ledge and placed her chin on her hands, she felt what was soon to become her favorite pastime. There was a forceful jet of warm water flowing from the wall of the pool directly onto the crotch of her one-piece swimsuit. Jackie’s eyes widened in surprise and pleasure, and she inconspicuously shifted her ladyparts closer to the jet until positioned perfectly on her magic spot. Her face flushed, her legs trembled under water, and right there, in the highly occupied swimming pool, Jackie had her first jet-induced eye-rolling orgasm.
She was hooked. Numerous times every day, she would swim over to a jet under the guise of catching her breath on the side, and let one rip. One particularly horny day, she decided to pull the tight lycra of her swimsuit over to the side of her crotch to allow for direct contact of the jet to her magic button. Midway into her routine, she was jolted out of her masturbatory coma by a girl in swim goggles who had popped up beside her, “Eww! What are you doing??!!!” she exclaimed loudly. Jackie was mortified, she had her entire vagina exposed to the jet with one hand holding the crotch of her swimsuit to the side, there was no excuse. Flushed and frustrated, she turned to the girl and simply said, “try it!”
The remainder of the summer, at any given moment, you could find adolescent girls “resting” all over the sides of the pool.
I don’t necessarily consider myself a prude by any means, but I had never heard of a wall mount until I met Amy. Years ago, I was out for happy hour with a bunch of girlfriends, and the topic had turned to sex. I know, shocker. Amy’s friend Michelle, after approximately 14 cocktails, started snort-laughing and shouted, “AMY! TELL THE WALL MOUNT STORY!” Instantly all the women were egging her on,“What’s a wall mount? TELL THE STORY!!!“
Although Amy really loved her live-in boyfriend, apparently he fell short in the sexual satisfaction category. Like many women, she was a professional orgasm faker in order to save his self-esteem, but he was never able to bring her even remotely close to climax, unbeknownst to him of course.
She did what a lot of us do, which is to take care of business ourselves, in private. She was tired of the same old vibrator routine so she had gone to the adult video/supply store to expand her horizons. This was back in the day before online ordering, when we had to actually walk into a store, pick something out, take it to the counter, and pay for it. In person. It sucked.
So while perusing the store, she came across the Wall-Mount. Please, take a moment to familiarize yourself with this piece of equipment:
Somehow Amy mustered the balls to walk up to the register with this thing and buy it. That image alone made me want to throw up in my mouth. But man, when she got it home, Amy was off to the fucking races! She stuck that fucker on her wall and backed up to it like it was Channing Tatum. She stuck it on the floor and bounced around on it like she was a child on a hoppy-horse. The bottom line was this; Amy was having a secret affair, with a rubber wall mounted dick.
When her boyfriend was out, she would remove it from the secret shoebox tucked in the back of her closet, lick the bottom, and stick that bad boy to the surface of choice and have herself a one woman party. One day, Amy had discovered that if she stuck it to a door, she could reach around and pull the door, thus increasing the force and adding a little more perverse excitement to her escapades.
She was so wrapped up in the moment of slamming the rubber door mounted dick into herself, that she did not realize her boyfriend popping in from around that door. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” He accused in shock and horror. I don’t know about you, but I definitely would’ve eaten a fistful of pills right there and taken a death nap. She was so shocked and embarrassed she couldn’t speak. He launched into a distraught rant, saying things like, “What, am I not good enough for you?!” and “How could you!?” The dude actually said to her, “You love that goddamned thing more than me!” With tears of insane jealousy in is eyes.
The sad truth was, she did.
Ladies and gentlemen, don’t be shy. Share a story or technique that you or “someone else” has tried. It’s like poop stories, everybody has at least one. Give back to the community, you’ll be glad you did.