The following blog is a sex toy review that I am way past due on writing. I was distracted by my sweet new ice cream maker and the odd amount of smoosh faced dogs that keep moving in with me at random. But better late then never, so here we go…
I got my first real harness when I was 21 years old. My girlfriend at the time liked me so much that she had one custom made for me in San Francisco’s most famous leather shop, Mr. S. I had pretty much no queer sex experience and had come out as trans about two split-seconds before. I was really insistent back then that nobody knew I had never had a girlfriend or really any sex. For some reason I was paranoid that if anybody knew my lack of a queer past, they would assume I was just pulling a freshman year guinea pig phase and they wouldn’t take me seriously. I wanted everyone to think and know that I was Really Really Gay. The first dick I got cost 20 dollars, was a swirly blue/purple blend and was made out of some sort of jelly. My hot new girlfriend took one look at it, and immediately told me there was no way in hell I was going to put that thing inside of her. I turned instantly beet red, and reassured her that my normal one had gotten lost in a move. I won’t talk about the count-on-one-hand encounters where I fucked with jelly dick. I will instead just ask you to quietly think how a baby rabbit on meth would have intercourse, and hope your morbid imagination is less depressing than the actual acts that had occurred themselves.
Getting a harness seemed like a huge stepping stone into the gayest of worlds. Especially since I had already purchased several pairs of dickies, cut off my long, blonde hair and was now sporting a sweet tongue ring. I remember being so-fucking-thrilled entering the doors to this weird dungeon-like store. A heavily tattooed bear measured my waist and thighs while casually shooting the shit on strap-on styles. Not wanting to seem like the dick-wielding amateur that I, in fact, was, I pretended I knew what he was talking about and feigned a wise old butch daddy demeanor. That very same day, my two high femme faux sisters took me to goodvibes.com to get my first decent cock. I met them at the lexington Club a few months prior. I was shit-drunk and wobbling around while attempting to posture all by myself. They instantly took a liking to me and decided I was to be shoved underneath their busty older wings. To this day these girls have a huge piece of my heart. When we entered Good Vibes, my eyes literally almost popped out of my head. Lube and dicks and anal beads floated in and out of my periphery as I tried to soak it all in at once. Feeling overwhelmed by the semi-hallucinatory dildo dance, I quickly tried to choose the smallest dick I could find. They laughed hysterically at me, grabbed a hefty cock from the top shelf and shoved it into my hands. Thank god for them. I loved it so much that it was my dick until three years ago, when I got the exact same size and style in a more realistic Vixskin coating.
My harness was a thing of beauty. After a year of so of using it, it had become like a second skin to me. While for years the act of getting up and putting it on felt awkward to me, it never did once I was in bed and fucking someone. All my nervousness and insecurities vanished with time and age, and my love for strapping grew until one day it was just a normal part of my sex-life. I could yank my harness on and buckle it up with one hand in the dark, and every stroke of my dick felt natural and right. This leather beast of a strap brought me through many relationships, hordes of filthy and not-so-filthy casual encounters and finally into the limelight of porn. I constantly get short and sweet messages in my inbox asking me where I got it. Happily and sadly (I like being helpful) I always have to say that it was designed just for me, and there was no other just like it. This fucking strap-on was such a god damn tank of a strap-on that I thought I would have it around my waist for all of eternity. It almost did. It lasted ten years.
Exactly one month into my brand new relationship, which was exactly two weeks after I discreetly moved to New York and right in with her, my harness passed away. I was fucking her with my dick for about the fifth or sixth time ever when suddenly I felt something pop, and the leather straps around my thighs burst open from their tight embrace. Immediately not wanting her to know, I pulled my dick out and started fucking her with my fingers instead. One of the biggest fears most people have about learning how to strap-on fuck is not knowing if their dick falls out. I remember being so petrified about it when I first started using one. I didn’t realize that something worse could happen. Having my harness actually crumble into pieces during sex was like my own sexual nightmare. It’s also incredibly difficult to become instantly horrified/traumatized/and maybe a bit hungry while continuing on with sex like nothing had happened. After we finished having sex, I showed her my miserable heap of leather wreckage. I felt an odd sense of shame in that moment. Almost like I had experienced some sort of transsexual erectile dysfunction. She luckily didn’t seem to notice my embarrassment, or at least pretended not to.
I’m a hoarder and a romantic at the same time, and the thought of never using my decade old strap felt so sad to me. Plus I like familiarity in a big way. I deplore throwing out things to the point that I realized that at 31 years of age I not only had a letter my best friend in third grade had written me, but I also 54 out of 56 hardbacks from the Nancy Drew series. If I wasn’t forced to, I would still probably be sporting the same pair of weird cargo shorts that I wore all through high school. But there was no more denying that it was time to move on, so I asked around to see what the cool kids were using.
Let me tell you. Shit has gotten FANCY. Technology and smart as shit homos have designed some seriously space age sex gear. It blew my fucking mind to browse all the options. Yet again overwhelmed by the choices, I decided to run a poll on twitter. The one that got the most votes was a harness called “Joque” made by SpareParts. Broke as fuck from my discreet jaunt to NY, and knowing I had a slight chance for free shit due to the amount of queer porn I’ve done, I wrote them and asked if they needed someone to review their product. They were so fucking sweet and replied almost instantly back asking me what size I needed. Two brisk e-mails later and they shipped it off to me. I spent the next ten business days going back and forth between the mailbox and fucking my girlfriend very poorly with my half-dead harness. Finally the day arrived and with an actual shout of joy I tore the wrapping off of it.
Putting it on felt so weird. It was like I was just wearing a pair of underwear. I have no idea what in the hell it’s made out of. All I know is it’s this sleek black fabric that is so lightweight it’s CRAZY. It literally weighs like one fucking ounce. Okay, maybe not literally, but it really seems that way. The Joque has straps that go around the thighs and the waist, just like my old one, except that this one has plastic buckles and velcro for the waist. Also I could probably gain or lose fifty pounds, and the extra strap material and the way it tightens would allow it to still fit me. It was so light in comparison to the leather beast of my heart that I had been sporting before that I was almost startled by the difference. I was really worried it wouldn’t support my cock properly due to the fact that it was made out of this soft fabric. My fears were thankfully squashed when I realized that it held my dick just as tightly as my last harness.
After so long of me doing my oddly-angled attempted strap dance on my girlfriend, she and I were both elated to try out our new friend. But even though it wasn’t broken into eighty pieces, and even though it fit my body like some sort of sensual sex glove, the first time using it was rather awkward and erratic. Because it was so light, and I hadn’t adjusted to the lack of heavy material, I kept almost flying into her at lightning speed with very little control. It was kind of like taking off ankle weights halfway through a run. The real surprise was how it felt on my tiny friend underneath. Without a thick chunk of black leather blocking me from my dick, it slammed into my little pal and caused a fruit basket full of enhanced sensations. I have always loved the way it feels to fuck with my dick, but I had no idea it could feel this sensitive and intense. It was confusing and hot as fuck and a bit distracting all at the same time.
I’m not sure of the longevity of the velcro situation. I can’t imagine that it could last even half as long as my old one did with the same kind of consistent wear and tear I put on it. I envision that after a few happy sex-filled years the velcro will be coated in random bits of dog fur and lint and eventually the whole thing will start to peel off of my harness. I’ll probably sob and have a heart attack mid thrust again and then force myself to buy a new one. But I could be wrong! These fancy designers could be using some sort of super velcro and I would never know it. I’m under a serious rock when it comes to new products on the market. So that’s pretty much my only concern with it, other than the fact that I now have to wash it once in a while since it’s fabric. And by wash it, I mean pretend to wash it, so as to placate germaphobes and people that take showers.
Like a fumbling teenager I tried to find my comfort zone with my new harness. It took a few attempts, with several bouts of sadness over the loss of my old faithful, and several bouts of accidental rabbit fucking. But after about three days, something clicked inside me. My body had finally adjusted to the weight difference and it suddenly felt so natural to fuck with that I actually started smiling this weird happy grin. I was right there and then the Joque’s biggest fan. I hereby declare that I will never go back to the old ways of the leather. I really can’t go back to the chunk-fest after my dick felt what it was missing. My teeny dick is incredibly needy and I’m always having to reassure it and buy it gifts. So regardless of whatever the velcro life expectancy is for my new bestie, I fully plan on buying it over and over again. The design is so smooth and it works so well that shelling out cash every two or three years is worth it to me.
If you’re interested in checking out this harness or any of the others these brilliant people have designed, go to myspare.com and tell them I sent you. Maybe they’ll send me some more fun-filled, free shit. I want to swim in a bathtub filled with free things. If I opened the door to a pile of free stuff, I would be so ecstatic that I would probably ask a neighbor to take an instagram picture of me kissing said pile.I should probably become a creepy hoarder coupon clipping king to soothe this weird free fetish, but I’ll hold off as long as I can.
p.s.I’m throwing up a few blogs over the next ten days, if anybody has any ideas, let me know!