My vagina is not ready for the brown beast they classify as “Randy.” I’m quite sure of this, pulling its plastic storage tube from the packing peanuts. I don’t own any specimens that even come close to Randy’s girth of 2 3/16″ in diameter. Even with a frugal length of 6″, this is truly an enormous dildo.
My Randy’s silicone is of the VixSkin formulation, so it’s incredibly soft and succulent to the touch, with a firm inner core. The coloration is “chocolate,” a deeper color than my camera is able to capture, although it also comes in “caramel” and “vanilla” (despite these names, I do not think Randy is meant for consumption). I am amused by squeezing and fondling it. Today, that is all I’m willing to do.
Randy Field Diary, Day #2 — Pain
But then the day of reckoning comes. It’s not that I’m scared… okay, yeah, I am. Terrified, actually. And my terror is not unfounded, as I quickly find that even with much warm-up, Randy must be forced into my vagina. And holy crap, it hurts. It hurts badly. The pressure of Randy’s head against my pubic bone is immense, unbearable. The showdown ends before it really begins, with my body pushing Randy away, and my vagina crying to itself.
I feel, suddenly, like I’ve regressed into the Epiphora of yore… the Epiphora who had to clench her teeth and admit that a toy was just too big. Will I be forced to write another not-helpful-at-all review? I refuse to let this happen. Will try again tomorrow.
Randy Field Diary, Day #3 — Breakthrough
At least I’m ready for the pain this time, so I’m not surprised when shoving Randy’s hugeness into myself hurts like a motherfucker. That same pressure on my pubic bone, that same sensation of my body wanting to expel the dildo. But I will not let Randy win, so I take some deep breaths and wait it out.
Slowly, the pain begins to dissolve. I start to feel pressure on my G-spot, and Randy’s enormity begins to feel… yes, pleasurable! With the Eroscillator on my clit, I build up to an orgasm. As I come, I lose control completely — and without warning, Randy shoots out of me, and I squirt onto the floor. How did this happen, with Randy merely inhabiting my vagina, not thrusting against my G-spot? I am baffled, but I also don’t care.
Randy Field Diary, Day #4 — Obsession
As I continue to play and squirt with Randy, I realize I’m becoming obsessed. I start to crave the head-falling-back-in-bliss moment at which Randy causes only pleasure, and no pain. I crave the sensation so badly that I fear I may hurt myself by not properly building up to Randy’s size. But the pain lessens with each passing day, replaced more and more by a glorious, intense fullness that surpasses all other sensations of fullness I’ve ever experienced. I’m especially grateful for Randy’s chunky base, which allows me to grip and thrust easily.
And it is on this day that I begin anthropomorphizing Randy. Normally, I never do this. I consider it unprofessional, plebeian. But there is something about Randy that urges me to call him him.
Randy Field Diary, Day #5 — Near-Death Experience
Well, full-fledged addiction has set in. I never want to remove Randy from my vagina. Thrusting, and feeling Randy’s head stroke my G-spot, is nothing short of sublime. Today I have three orgasms in one sitting, all of them with Randy inside of me. Afterward, I can barely breathe, move, or think.
Will any masturbation session feel complete without Randy flying out of me as I come? Probably not.
This is some of the most intense research I have ever conducted, but some of the most rewarding. I can conclusively say that Randy is a perfect specimen, as delicious in use as he feels when squeezed. When I began, Randy was a thing to be feared and gawked at from afar. Now, I can’t imagine life without the brown beast.