Meet My Sex Doll

My sexual appetites have led me almost everywhere, including love dolls. At first, I thought I’d interview sex doll owners. But guess what? I decided to go ahead and write about my own personal experimentation with them. It just so happens I’ve had a little bit of experience on this front. Why? Because for a few months I was bi-curious and didn’t know what else to do.

I’m not sure how I first learned about high-end sex dolls. Once they came across my radar, I wanted one. A handful of websites exist for doll devotees, with forums for blow-up dolls, mannequins, silicone dolls, and everything in between. You can even buy plush girls. Yeah, a life-sized stuffed toy that looks like a girl. Pretty cool, huh?

Before we go any further, let me say something. There’s no shame in owning any kind of sex doll. Lots of people like to judge. Sure, it’s not conventional. But a lot of fetishist would describe dolls as an alternative sexuality. They don’t have problems with relationships, at least not in that superficial stereotypical way. This category fits me. I’ve dated a lot, had a fair deal of sex, and yet something about the first silicone doll I laid eyes on…Lemme tell you, wow. She turned me on. Imagine Kate Beckinsale with slightly shinier skin. I fell in love right away.

Have you ever heard of the uncanny valley effect? It pops up in science fiction a lot. When a robot appears just shy of human, eerily so, that’s the uncanny valley. Some people find that look disturbing, slightly uncomfortable. Not me. I like it. So I was guilty not only of bi-curiosity but also doll-curiosity. Something about a doll triggered feelings in me I didn’t know I had. Feelings I didn’t have for people.

At first, I didn’t want to shell out $7k for a doll. Get real. That’s the price of a used car. After all, I was a grad student. Didn’t have that kinda cash. So I tried making one. That failed horribly, and it really stank up my apartment. What I wound up with resembled a mummy with a mannequin face, lumpy breasts, and a curdled butt. God knows what my neighbors thought when they saw that thing in the dumpster. A pterodactyl ate a woman and shat her out?

Anyway, I trolled Ebay for a few weeks and then miraculously saw a silicone doll for sale in my area for only a couple hundred bucks. She was the one, the one I originally saw that looked like Kate Beckinsale. It was a sign. God wanted me to have this doll. And if you’re curious—yes, I would sleep with Kate B. Who wouldn’t? She’s a goddess.

There had to be a catch, right? Well, they accepted PayPal. That was encouraging. So I placed a bid, expecting to lose. Made some coffee, answered emails from my students, read a couple of articles with Netflix in the background. Then I got a phone call from the seller. “You won,” he said. He gave me his address.

The next day I picked up my prize from a house in the country, and snuck her into my apartment. She was way heavier than I expected. So heavy, in fact, that I dropped her halfway into my kitchen and broke her left shoulder. Sad. I hefted my new latex girlfriend up by the armpits, dragging her like a hostage into my bedroom. Her left arm dangled at a weird angle.

For a few days, I didn’t know what to do with my guest. If nothing else, I wanted to disinfect her vagina and wait a few days for whatever viruses to die. If I’m right, no sexually transmitted disease can survive outside the human body for 72 hours. Meanwhile I dressed her, did her makeup, played with her like some creepy ass villain from a Gothic horror movie. So I had to start reading online about lesbian sex. Then I bought…erm…some equipment.

For 8 weeks, we were so happy. I looked forward to seeing my doll all day. I came home, fucked her, then hanged her on my bike rack in the closet and worked on articles. Some nights, I spooned with her in my bed. It was nice waking up next to her beautiful face. C’mon. I didn’t talk to her like Lars from that movie. If anything, the Asperger’s side of me liked our relationship. No talking, a relationship based solely on aesthetics. Nice, neat, no emotional mess.

What happened? A cute guy asked me out. That’s what. We sat together in a PhD class . We’d been talking for a few weeks, and after one class we grabbed coffee. He said he’d like to go see a movie with me. So nice. It reminded me of what I was missing with real human companionship.

We made plans for the following weekend. For two days, I wondered what to do. The guy was bound to find my doll. That concerned me. I didn’t want to have to explain it to him. So I slept on it. Over solo coffee the next morning, I decided. It was either a chance with this guy, or the doll for the rest of my sterile fucking life.

Getting rid of a doll wasn’t simple. Could I just trash her? It seemed like an awful waste, and probably not friendly to the environment. What to do? Ebay. Duh. I established a seller’s account.

I took a bunch of hot photos of Kate in all kinds of sexual positions.

In my description I wrote, “The doll’s in great shape except for a loose arm that’s easily fixable.” Price? I’d bought her for $300. I set the starting bid at $500.

Within a day, the bids had soared to $800. Was I going to turn a profit on this sex doll? Looked that way.

The bids peaked out at $900. Now I had to figure out a way to ship Kate to Pennsylvania. So I wrapped a blanket around her, and encased her in bubble wrap. Then I drove her to UPS. At night. Less people, less potential embarrassment.

The guy up front was very confused. He was like, “You want to ship a…what?”

My face turned red. I stuttered, “A m-m-m-mannequin?”

He wiped his glasses. “I mean, is it valuable?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, priceless.”

He circled the bubble-wrapped doll. Then he knelt and started to undo the tape.

I squealed. “What are you doing!?”

He froze. “Well, we can’t ship it like this. We’re going to have to re-do the whole thing.”

I sighed and knelt beside the clerk. “Please, don’t open it here.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why? What is this, really?”

“It’s a sex doll,” I breathed.

For a few seconds, he said nothing. I thought he was going to throw me out. Instead, he smirked and sighed. “Well, okay. We could probably just stuff the box with a bunch of peanuts.” Foam peanuts, thank you.

And that’s how my sex doll adventure ended. She’s in a good home now. Well taken care-of. Disinfected, I hope. The next time you see a sex doll owner, remember. They’re just like you. I don’t know what that means. It’s after 2 am though, and I need to sleep.

Advertisements

9 thoughts on “Meet My Sex Doll

  1. Rob

    You are a simply incredible writer, conveying powerful thoughts and images effortlessly. Wow. – (HockeySkates3/AnotherOvertimeGoal.)

    Like

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s