Awhile ago, the fabulous Yummy from The Sexual Adventures of A Married Woman did some posts on using various objects for sexual purposes. Those posts brought back something that happened when I was young. Since I'm not having sex or even able to play with myself because of my general malaise (don't you LOVE that word? So Alexandre Dumas!) and because of this goddamn shoulder/spine/muscle/nerve injury, I thought y'all might like to hear about it.
When I was in “middle school”, I was about 4’ 11” tall, flat-chested, slightly chubby, blonde with whiter than white skin. This is a picture of me at about age 15 a couple of years after this incident.
(I KNOW! Cute as a button, huh?) I also had about as much sexual knowledge as a button. I knew how babies were made and knew what happened to a boy's penis when he got aroused. Not that I personally was doing much of that arousing but I got it in theory.
Nichelle Shelby was a Nubian goddess. She was tall, with huge breasts, a plump round ass and a tiny waist. Even I, in my white girl world, knew that Michelle was “SEX”. She also was 15, having been held back a couple of times. Her academic knowledge might have been lacking but she had a doctorate in sexual knowledge.
Eva Crabtree was my 7th grade art teacher. Her name almost sounds romantic, maybe conjuring images of Miss Crabtree from The Little Rascals if you’re of a certain age. WRONG! Eva was most definitely a Miss but she was as old as God and probably was most definitely related to the woman in “American Gothic”.
She was thin as a whip and had a tongue just as sharp. Miss Crabtree was an “old school” teacher. She even wore those old black- lace- up- the- front- heels! She wanted order, learning, an appreciation of art and above all obedience. I doubted Miss Eva Crabtree had ever induced one sexual thought in any man or woman.
The desks were similar to drafting tables, they did not have modesty panels. Who woulda thunk that modesty panels were necessary in a 7th grade art class, right? We sat in alphabetical order because Miss Crabtree was a stickler for rules and order. My last name began with an “S” and came directly after Nichelle. We were the last in the alphabet – no T, U, V, etc. so our desks were nestled in the front of a small anteroom in the back of the classroom. Directly in front of us were three boys, two were black, friends of Nichelle's from her neighborhood and the other was an adorable white boy that I sorta had a crush on. He grew up to be a gynecologist. I'm convinced this experience in art class has a MAJOR effect on him.
During this particular class, we were learning how to enamel. Miss Crabtree was in the front of the class writing on the chalkboard when Nichelle whipped out a rubber hot dog, it was actually a dog toy. It looked something like this one in the picture. Girls were not allowed to wear pants to school at that time. Boys had to wear chinos or khaki pants with their shirts tucked in and a belt. As Miss Crabtree droned on about enameling techniques, Nichelle wriggled out of her RED NYLON underpants. (Yes, underpants – granny panties. That's what we had.) I began to blush a bit because I only had white cotton undies. Red nylon ones were scandalous!
Nichelle “pssst” to the boys and they turned around and that's when Nichelle used that rubber hot dog dog toy for a totally unintended purpose! When Miss Crabtree would turn around, Nichelle would close her legs. At one point Miss Crabtree seemed intent on the board, writing away so Nichelle got going like a woman possessed. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to look anywhere but at her hands and exposed crotch but it was like the proverbial train wreck – I couldn't, I was mesmerized. She was getting wetter and wetter because as she worked that toy in her pussy, squishing sounds began to permeate the air. The boys started rubbing the front of their pants. That poor little future gyno, was as red as a beet but it didn't effect his hard-on, clearly visible to me. I think either Nichelle or once of the boys made a noise and Miss Crabtree whipped around like a top. Nichelle had the hot dog poised mid-thrust, the boys hands on their crotches and I looking like a deer caught in headlights all seemed frozen in time as Miss Crabtree bellowed “MISS SHELBY WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU DOING!?!” Then her head split open as she yelled, she quivered, she quaked, fire shot out of her eyes and mouth and a portal to Hell yawned between her out thrust arms. (Not really but it sure seemed like it to me!) I wanted to die. I noticed that my crush had a wet spot on the front of his pants. I figured he peed himself when Miss Crabtree screeched, 'cause I sure as hell almost did. Later I realized he ejaculated.
Suddenly, Miss Crabtree looked at me. Those angry laser eyes pierced my very soul. She hollered, “MISS NITEBRYD WHAT IS GOING ON BACK THERE?” A resounding hush fell over the classroom. Was I ready to be coherent and provide a detailed explanation? Hell NO! I sounded like an outboard motor, “IYAIYAIYAIYAIYA”, and promptly started to cry. As Miss Crabtree stomped back to were we sat, grabbing Nichelle by her arm, she yanked her out of the seat. (Teachers could touch and even hit kids back in the Dark Ages.) Nichelle's red nylon panties dropped to the floor but the toy hot dog remained in her hand. Miss Crabtree, still holding Nichelle's arm with one hand, pointed to the abandoned underwear with the other and shrilled, “RETREIVE YOUR UNDERGAMENT, MISS SHELBY!” To my absolute horror I realized that Nichelle was holding back laughter!!! What a woman! The whispers and giggles in the room sounded like two million bees had been released in there.
Nichelle and the three boys were marched to the principal's office, I was sent to the nurse's office with instructions to be sent home. Much hilarity ensued as I tried to explain what happened to my mother and sister/mother. I did think I was going to die right there and then from acute embarrassment.
I'm not sure what punishment Nichelle and the guys received because they were back in class the next time it met. I desperately wanted to ask Nichelle why she did that and did it feel good. But I didn't, I really was painfully shy.
I didn't even have a name for it to look it up in the library. Obviously, I eventually found out about dildos, vibrators, fucking, oral sex, etc. but this incident that happened so many years ago was my very first voyeur experience. I just wish I could have enjoyed it more!
For the past couple months my right shoulder has been hurting. Thursday, it decided to go from, This-pain-is-really-annoying to OHMYFUCKINGGODSKILLMENOW!!! I went to the doctor who told me that my trapezius was like a Chinese knot. This apparently is what happens when you have a horrible amount of stress in your life, you work at a computer 8 hours a day and decide to exercise muscles you haven't used in 50 years. So since Friday, I've been hopped up on muscle relaxers and pain killers. My brain is functioning less than usual but I don't really give a shit! (Better living through chemistry!) I planned on getting up a review of this item from BABELAND ~
but I haven't been able to try it out. I think it's an absolute MUST HAVE and is perfect for Valentine's day. Babeland is carrying two different ones - a red and a silver. Order now or call them. It is just the cutest thing! From testing it on the tip of my nose (yes, a good place to test vibes!) it'll bring you to a very satisfying orgasm right quick!
Two funnies for ya. The first from my sexy Vincent ~
And this, because he looks like he works in public service or construction and he made me laugh ~
I'll try to be back this week and to answer all your comments. I really feel badly about not replying. Have a good Sunday!
I have a “thing” for bunnies. Not your cute, sweet Easter bunny bunnies. No, my passion runs to the bizarre, weird, odd type of bunny. When BABELAND offered to send me Toyfriends "Coney" in exchange for an honest review, I was overjoyed, to say the least. Look at him – black (tres Goth!), sleek and stylish (Toyfriend is like IKEA for sex toys!) and best of all he’s a VIBRATOR!!!
Coney is about 8” long, bottom to top of ears. His ears are flexible but his body and nose are not. I just love the feel of Coney, velvet-soft silicone (use only water based lube!) and is waterproof. Toyfriend has included the two (2) AAA batteries that powers his 5 vibrations. Two steady settings – fast and faster and three pulse settings. Noise level is pretty low. The company states the battery life is approximately 4 hours, which isn't too bad. The push control is on the bottom of the vibe and can be a little tricky. I had to push rather firmly to get Coney to run through his repertoire and really hard to get him to turn off. Now the specs state, “Swedish Company” so I'm assuming he's made in Sweden, although I can't find a “Made In” statement anywhere.
Coney is one of the second generation of Toyfriends called The Power Toyfriends. BABELAND has all four models as well as the other Toyfriends.
Now, I get off on direct and intense clitoral stimulation. I still haven't located my g-spot and think I'm just defective. I like vaginal vibrators but I rarely will use them by themselves. Coney looked great because of his hard nose and wiggling ears. Nose on clit, ears tickling my labia. I settled back to put darling Coney through his paces and have a grand ol' time. Sadly, that didn't happen. Coney just doesn't have enough power for me. I love the design, love the look, the feel and even love that Coney comes with a cute little stand so he can look fabulous on the night-stand. I just don't love Coney as a vibrator. I might give Coney another try as the opening act but he won't ever be the main act in my bedroom. One other thing I did like is the vibe cleaned up very quickly and thoroughly with some toy cleaner. The company says you can also use warm water and soap. I'm not a proponent of using soap – of any kind, on any vibrator but if Toyfriends says you can, then have at it.
Because I really do think Coney is very “artsy”, I've stood him up in my curio cabinet. No one ever guesses that he's a wicked bunny and not a sculpture!
This is a blog by a woman in her 50's who is finally on the crooked path to find who she truly is.
Married at 19 and divorced at 53. I am going to unearth the artist, the cynic, the free spirit that has been long buried. Or die trying.
I've left Bethlehem
and I feel free...
I've left the girl I was supposed to be
and some day I'll be born.