Cherry Trees Blossoming in Profusion

Last week, I took a slice out of my paycheck for my new job and bought myself a Fleshlight. My god, it is the unparalleled opus of onanism! Makes me feel a bit crass to discuss it in any space, even one as discrete as this. Kevin Smith praised a high holy hymn to the fleshy implement's virtues on his podcast. While I may like to consider myself above the persuasive power of advertising, it stuck. I'd always worried that it would end up another useless implement at the back of the sex toy drawer, next to the too-pointy buttplug and the inexplicable 14" dildo. Really, all I needed was a vote of confidence that it wasn't a waste of ~$70.

And it isn't; it's the best sex I've ever had. Which isn't as much of a statement as it sounds, as I've only had two sex partners, neither of whom I successfully topped. Part of me feels creepy for enjoying it to the extent that I do. I guess I kind of worry that it's a step or two removed from knitting scarves for my RealDoll. Hell, as a transwoman I feel guilty for taking so much pleasure from sticking my dick in something. But these are reservations that enter my mind long after the deed has done, and they tend to not linger long.