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Again two women and a vibrator, only this time the machine is visible (not withstanding the fuzzy square dictated by Japanese censors) and of a highly phallic form. The shape suggests the raw strength of a male thrusting his erect penis in and out, a quality missing from buzzing eggs and butterflies that tease the nerves without plundering the vagina.
The image of power suggested by the shape is reinforced by the cord, which signals us that this is a plug-in type capable of producing gobs of stimulation hour after hour, a feat which ought to make the Energizer Bunny green with envy. Piling symbol upon symbol, the artist extended the power symbolized by the cord by wrapping it around the woman's body in a manner suggesting bondage. Notice how the woman wielding the vibrator is leaking from her own sweet orifice? I like to think that she has just finished being on the receiving end and is returning the favor.
Perhaps these two young women are away at college, spending a Sunday afternoon together. It is too cold to go out, and all the boys are glued to their TV sets watching football. Their goal was only to drink a little wine and talk about men, but after a couple of glasses they found themselves trading stories of how unsatisfying sex was with the guys they dated. Much too quick, and totally lacking in affection. Gradually their mutual desire became painfully evident. Desire, but not for each other so much as to be swept away by a fantastic sexual encounter.
Somehow the subject of vibrators crept into the conversation, and eventually they both agreed that there was nothing like a long session with one. What began as a little boasting about how long they could last turned into a friendly challenge to see who could last longer, tinged with bit of wild curiosity to discover just how much they could take. Alas, they only had one vibrator to play with so they made up a game based on taking turns for a set amount of time. The one who refused to continue had to pay for the other's lunch for a week. (Actually, my kind of punishment for the loser would involve having to wear something highly arousing to school every day, such as the slinky bellbottom pants worn by Lynn at the close of my novel Sweet Agony.)
I tend not to treat competitiveness as a feminine trait, yet the truth is that women are highly competitive if sometimes in ways that men do not see. In Sweet Agony, the competition between the Elle Elle pledges to see who is the least able to endure being tickled is overshadowed by the submissive role they play and the dominant role of Ginger, their tormentor. A competition based on a woman's ability to have sex to the point of exhaustion is for me a highly arousing idea, but I confess that a scenario such as the one I present above does not turn me on nearly as much as when dominance and submission are key elements.
Sandy Beach
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