Christmas is coming. And as for me, well...

It had been a long year; I’d worked hard and had my fair share of trials and tribulations, so it seemed like a good idea to indulge myself. I decided to treat myself to an early Christmas gift.

It arrived in a big box, huge really, considering the size of the item inside. It would have been nice if Santa had brought it. Instead it was the postman who delivered it to my desk. Had the box been smaller I might have gotten away with it, but the boss, knowing from experience the kinds of things that get delivered to me, was curious.
The last time I’d received a package from my favourite online pleasure emporium, he manhandled the goods and removed them from their packaging to have a closer look. I’d had to endure my colleagues’ sniggers as he’d hauled an electric blue double-ended dildo around the office to show them what I’d bought with my hard-earned salary.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if the dildo hadn’t been so big. But, in fairness, the thumbnail picture on screen had given no indication of just how long and wide the damn thing was. No man could have competed, and to be honest, that’s a relief – size may matter but too much of a good thing is still too much.
My latest gadget, the cone, was – or rather is – of far more reasonable proportions. For those of you who haven’t heard of it yet, I’ll explain. It’s a hands-free vibrator shaped like a wide cone with 16 different speed settings including an orgasm button. My friend Ciara has one and loves it. Having heard her rave review, I decided to get one for myself. What truly horny woman wouldn’t?
Still, I’m a bit more horny than the average. Some women collect handbags, CDs, stamps or vintage dresses. My sister collects broken hearts, but me, I collect sex toys. And books. It may seem like an odd combination, but this way I keep both my body and mind stimulated.
I hadn’t bought a new toy in a while because I’d seen nothing that caught my fancy. I have all manner of vibrators, dildos, cock rings, clit ticklers and personal massagers, so I have plenty to amuse myself with – and most toys tend to be a variation on an already existing idea. But the cone, now that’s something entirely new. I couldn’t wait to get home and try it out.
Thomas was working late so I had some time to myself. I wanted to get to know it, try out the various positions the manufacturers suggested, and figure out all the jingle bells and whistles, without an errant and (equally) horny partner demanding he be allowed to watch.
I decided to set the scene for a little personal romancing. The iPod was in the dock, the candles were ready, all I needed was to load up the cone with batteries and begin, but fickle fate was against me. I couldn’t get the battery cover open. Aargh! Frustration! And in more ways than one.
Ten minutes later I was still struggling. What the hell were the manufacturers thinking? Did they assume that only Russian gymnasts with impressive upper body strength would buy their toys? Eventually, like an amateur cat burglar, I managed to get it open, with the help of a nail file. There was some satisfaction in that, but not the kind I’d been planning.
If I’m going to be honest, I have to say that my new toy failed to impress. Firstly, it’s pretty loud. Not to begin with, but once you use the higher vibrations it sounds like a swarm of Huey helicopters are hovering overhead. Not great when you share paper thin walls with the folks next door.
The noise I could live with, but a bigger issue was that I couldn’t get comfortable. The manufacturers suggest sitting on the cone but the plastic tip is fairly hard and it connected with my delicate flesh in a manner that was less than orgasmic.
I tried it on the bed. This was no good as my quilt is big and soft so the cone kept moving. After that I tried a lunge, positioning myself over the cone. This was better, but by the time I began to get off on the vibrations, my legs started to cramp.
Still I pressed on, pushing the button to run through the speed settings, hoping to orgasm before my thighs finally gave way and I did myself an injury. I was close, so close, so I decided to hit the orgasm button. This was it!
Or wasn’t as it turned out to be. The orgasm button and the off switch are one and the same. Hit once to orgasm or hold down for two seconds to switch off. I hit the button and the cone sputtered to a stop. Goddamnit!
I gave up. Hey, I’m no quitter, but by this stage I was feeling pretty peeved. All that work and I was still no closer to orgasm. Besides which, Thomas would be home any moment. There are a few things in life a woman has to keep private from her man and I have a feeling that doing squats atop a vibrating pink pyramid is one of them.
When Thomas got back, he listened to my tale of woe. The bastard laughed, looked smug and then, being a bloke, he put the cone on his head like a hat. I wish I could say he was sympathetic, but at least he had a solution to my problem. If the cone had failed me, Thomas would come through. That’s the great thing about men – so practical!
All in all, I was pretty disappointed with the cone. Still I have other gifts to look forward to, so it not all bad. Christmas may not have come early to the Sexton household, but luckily I eventually did. Have a very merry one and a great new year!