Dear Clubhouse Letters,

Let me tell you all a story. I’m sure your readers will get a kick out of this. I know I will if I see it in the pages of your great magazine. I love it, I should tell you, and the pictorials are totally HOT. But I have a question to ask, as a paying subscriber, about what you put (or rather don’t put) in your pages.

Why aren’t there more toys in your feature spreads?

Don’t get me wrong, I love the pictures and the close ups and stuff. The chicks are totally hot. But as a young female reader it would make me so much wetter to see them using vibrators and dildos and, well, sex toys! I’ve very recently just discovered how much I love sex toys and using dildos and such. Am I the only one in this world who wants to see that sort of thing?

Well, I’m not the only one. There is my sister. She might even love toys more than I do. I used to think she was strange for it (for reasons I will go into soon). I going to tell you that story, because I think it might help you understand where I’m coming from.

Not to long ago, I went to her room to find a skirt. We’re twins you see, and so we are the same size and height. I think I have about half an inch on her, but for the most part were the same figure. The only exceptions to this are the more recent changes I’ve made, which were all made after the time this story took place. I bought new breasts, big ones, really big ones of the over one thousand CC variety. And most recently, I plumped up my lips a little. I don’t regret it; it makes the sense of friction when I suck off my sister’s strap-on all the more intense. With regards to anything really, be it tits, or lips or dildos, bigger is better right?

Of course it is. ;)

But again, my thoughts carry me away. I get so caught up in sex these days that it’s a good thing I have my ‘special’ chair.

So then, back to the story. I was going to grab a skirt from my sister when I rudely walked in without knocking. There she was, laying spread eagle on her bed with a giant fake cock sliding in and out of her pussy. In her free hand she was holding open a Clubhouse magazine and talking dirty to it.

Now, when this happened, I was a really stupid girl. I wasn’t in to dildos or porn or any of that stuff back then because, you know, I was really a stupid girl like I said. I remember gasping in shock and horror and covering my mouth. My sister yelled at me, screamed me out of her room and threw the sheets over her hot body. I ran away, and at that point I had totally thought she was a freak. Thinking back on it, that wasn’t a very nice thing to believe. It kills me now to know that I was like that. She’s forgiven me now, but I don’t think that any amount of forgiveness on her part will ever allow me to forgive myself.

She had, and still has, needs. I should have respected that right from the start. Not that it matters any more, I’ve changed my ways and I get plenty of ‘punishment’ now.

I got chewed out that night. When my sister gets mad, she gets really mad. We’re talking worse than Henry Rollins mad. Her words and her phrases have a power beyond what anything I’ve ever heard before. She’s talented that way, I think. In grade school, my teachers always branded her as a manipulative young girl. I never had that label, or her special skill in convincing people of things, so I was always everyone’s favourite. In that way, I guess our personalities are different, even though we’re twins.

I think it made her feel alienated. She doesn’t really like people, except for one or two, and spent her childhood playing with toys. She was always the judged and misunderstood child, as I’ve come to see. Mom’s pretty tight with her. Dad isn’t around anymore; he’s on ‘vacation’. I’m the only other person she has. When she screamed at me, I saw something in her I’d never seen before. It was like seeing the light. She just wants to be accepted you know?

Granted, she let something I hadn’t known slip out. I guess she hadn’t realized that I never made a connection between her and the toy fetish. She’s completely turned off by people you see. She likes robots, vibrators, machine fucking and toys. Inanimate objects; which is why I think she freaked out so much about me catching her. She was afraid I might judge her, or think she was weird. But we had a discussion about it after she had finished venting and I totally fell into agreement with her. She has a way of convincing people of things you know, even me. I’m not ashamed to admit it.

When you’re wrong, you have to admit it. So I said sorry to her, and I told her I was wrong.

This was a turning point for me in my sex life, and is the reason I write to you, the good folks at Clubhouse, for help. I’m in love with toys and robots now too! Even one spread, playing with this theme, would satisfy me.

How did I cum to love toys just like my sister?

That’s a long and very erotic and explicit story. So it’s perfect to tell you here. I’m not ashamed.

It wasn’t long after that crucial conversation with my sister that I passed her room again, and heard some noises. I’m not sure why I became so interested, but their tone and rhythm just grabbed hold of me. I never much considered myself a detective, or a peeping tom, but I went to her door anyway. I think it was curiosity stirred by what she had said to me the other night. After talking with her, I think there was a small part of me that was pushing to discover what are these toys all about? By this point it was pretty easy to hear her panting through the door, paired with the low rumble of what could only be described as something very nice and rigid.

That’s what drew me in. That was the first experience I had where I thought that toys and such might also be for me. Listening to that sound like it was the word of god was also the first time I had drenched my panties. I had never been that aroused before. It occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t so different from my sister after all? My sister’s words from our previous conversation reinforced that. She was, and still is, very wise and smart.

I then opened the door, just a crack, and this is where it got really good. I watched her pump a serious pussy-payload into her body with this gigantic vibrator. It was huge, I mean really huge. It had to have been bigger than a beer bottle. And there she was on her bed enjoying herself to the fullest, holding one of your magazines, thinking about the women in those pictures. Watching her do that, operate her cunt like a finely tuned machine with a look of sheer delight on her smile, it made me wonder. Why wasn’t I doing stuff like that?

Something I came to learn a little later was why have a guy around when you can have a toy? When it comes right down to it, vibrators can replace men, as can many of the other toys you can buy. It’s all about endurance. Toys last. Guys don’t. This isn’t to say of course that a good boy can’t be the denouement. ;)

Another thing I learned was that if one didn’t have a toy, one still always had her own hand. Again, this was one of the most important moments in my sexual history. I reached down between my legs and began to rub my finger into my slit. I wasn’t fully aware of it at first, but watching my sister skewer herself on a seven-inch rod was totally hot! Before I knew it, I was thrusting my fingers into myself at the same pace and rhythm as my sister was with her vibrator. Its basso rumble just drew me in, and before I knew it I was spraying the insides of my thighs with a heavy dose of cum.

A hand is a great thing, kind of like a girl’s own personal vibrator. With five fingers come five options for placement. Nothing can beat that kind of dexterity, though its endurance leaves something to be desired. So while I have a couple fingers curling up and clawing at the inside of my cunt I have another hooked up under the hood of my clit. I yelped, I tried to stifle it, but I made too much noise in the orgasm that followed. The doorframe creaked as I lost all control and leaned into it. She looked up at me, saw me standing there gasping, and I ran (or rather waddled for my panties were around my knees) to my room. I cried and fell face down into the sheets of my bed. I was so confused then, because there were so many feelings trying to take over me at once. My fright and arousal were so conflicting. Sometimes, when you come to grips with yourself, it can be tough.

But sure enough, my sister came by to make it all better. She helped me get through that episode. She talked me through my changing sexuality and helped me realize that pleasure comes from within. There I was, probably being a jerk and thinking I was a freak, and she was being a good friend and sister and trying to make me feel better. She had no qualms about me, and at the end of our talk she gave me a small gift; my very first dildo.

After she left I had some time to think about it. Then and now, when I think about getting caught watching her and being turned on by it, I remember that for a split second I saw her looking at me. In that split second she never faltered in her thrusting rhythm, and in fact I distinctly remember her smile getting just a little wider.

In memory, that moment has such a sense of eroticism for me. Two sisters, looking at each other, masturbating and having orgasms in each other’s presence, and they both know that the other is there. It’s like something out of a dream. The incestuous nature of it is one of the hottest things about it. How sinful are we? I hope it floats the boats of some of your readers. For the rest of your readers who don’t feel incest is as hot as I think, they can pretend we’re sexually blooming school chums. ;)

Giving so much thought to the matter then, while I was on my bed, made me wet again. It’s a wonderful thing for girls you see, not to have that latency that men have to suffer with. As long as your body and your mood are in the right zone, a girl is always ready to go. Yet another reason to choose toys over boys. What if he cums first? Where else is a girl to turn to other than her bedside drawer?

I’m not saying the majority of your readers who are male are useless mind you. I want to write this because knowing that guys are reading and finding my sexual appetites arousing makes me hot too. Watching, and being watched, is what its about. I’m sure some of your more voyeuristic fans are enjoying my story very much. ;)

But at this point in my story, I hadn’t really examined my voyeuristic or exhibitionist side yet, so let me get back on track here. I had the gift dildo, the heat of arousal boiling in my blood, and plenty of free time before lunch. Guess what I did next?

In the interest of length I’ll spare the details. Needless to say I felt every bulge and wave of that dildo’s crafted shaft inside of me, and I put it to good use. In the process, I learned more about myself then ever possible. Sex with a toy is different, as there is a measure of feedback. Every twinge of your pussy and shot of pleasure works its way into your brain and then back into the movements your own hand. Instant updates every second, for a one of a kind, personalized, wonderfuck.

If I had a man, be it now or then, we’d have so much to discuss. I’d tell him everything about my toys and sex with him would be so much better for it. But I’m not into men anymore you see, not that it’s a shame, I’ve just come to see things the way my sister does. She’s done a lot to guide me and show me what’s good for me. What can I say, I just love to lick cunt.

But here I must call out to your readers and say; don’t become obsolete. Toys are wonderful gifts; buy them for your ladies and go spelunking. Obsidian is a good material but expensive, so work your way up. Toys are your friends, much as I’ve discovered. Vibrators have a bad wrap and it’s a shame that most women in this country don’t have at least one or two, or even three, of different variety.

We buy multiple televisions so that we can watch ad-infested swill but we don’t pay for a six-inch rod of pure pleasure?

I know from experience with my sister, that giving pleasure rather than taking it, is certainly the best way to make a girl melt like putty in your hands. I do it all the time for my top (sister). Oh! How delightfully taboo. She’s a total domme.

And now back to my story. It’s far from over I promise you, and it only gets hotter from here on in. After my pre-lunch fuck session, and a short dessert session for good measure, my sister convinced me that I needed to do some modelling. At the time I was confused as to what she meant. Several shopping bags dispelled that confusion however, and so too did the lacy frills that were thrown in my direction. My sister, in her generosity, had gone on a shopping spree for me. My sister had a way of talking to store clerks and shop owners to get discounts. They just always agreed with what she suggested. And when you’re twins like us, it isn’t hard to shop for one another.

She got me underwear with built in dildos and vibrators, lingerie, skimpy dresses (my favourite of which I’ll describe soon) new shoes, and a big wrapped box that I was told I wasn’t getting until the next morning. My sister is so great to me, investing all her hard earned money and free time into me. But she told me that’s what sisters, and toys, are for. One has to invest in their toys after all, to keep them clean and sparkling and in good working order. Investment involves a sacrifice of time, care and money; to get things just the way you want them. New toys have to be broken in.

It took me a while to decipher her comments. But believe me that on that night, I found out. My body is a toy. All our bodies are toys, at least in my opinion. Our bodies are like personal jungle gyms close to home, right under our noses, and they should be exploited. I mean, why the hell else would they feel so damn good? Restraint doesn’t make any sense. A girl should go wild and play with herself if she has the chance. The body doesn’t last forever and it rusts without use. A girl like me, on the verge of something as sexually brilliant and mind-blowing as I was, pretty much had no choice but to see it that way. I won’t impress that on your readers, to do the same, because I just want to let people know how I feel about myself.

Every toy deserves a flashy wrapper, too.

In one of the bags was a sweet piece of wear. It was almost see-through, more translucent than anything. It was real tight, a claustrophobic tube of lace and frills that fit over my hips and my breasts and clung like sandwich wrap. The white material was printed with a pattern that, for lack of a better comparison, kind of resembled those dainty little doilies one puts under tea. It was made out of silk and almost without texture. When I put it on I nearly glided into it, its shape and edges just falling into place and tucking my body away inside. I’ll tell you now, for the memory is certainly etched well, that my nipples sure as hell felt it, as did the buns of my ass. That little dress is almost beyond description. As best as I can visualize, I’d ask any of your readers to imagine invisible hands stroking their sensitive bits. As firm and kind as any loving touch but as soft as the wind.

To match the puffy lace frills that crowned each hem and tickled my breasts and my ass was a pair of white translucent stockings for added titillation. I pulled them on and let them hug snugly to my mid thighs for support, a fit that provided a visual cue as to the squeezability of my thighs. You could tell that I had meat on me, but that what I had was certainly AAA prime cut, like the curves you find on the hotties that visit the gym.

When it comes to toys, you shouldn’t take it all at once. The point is about play, fiddling and testing, gradually working up from the pre-show to the main event. My sweet little outfit certainly gave that impression. My firm breasts surged up a little out of the hemline and half my thighs and the bottom of my ass leaked out the other end. How the curtain still managed not to ride up and reveal the whole stage is beyond me. When I sit down, there is absolutely nothing that protects my ass or my cunny from the cold chair.

Ah, my ‘special’ chair. I get ahead of myself again.

Now back to my outfit. Its translucent, so if you were to see me, you’ll also see the darkness of my nipples and the shadow of my furry nethers (though not furry anymore! He he). And looking down at my chest right now (I’m wearing the outfit today) there is just enough pudding pouring out to steal a lick and feel some jiggle. The jiggle effect however, came after I bought my new breasts. Toys require investment after all, right? The jiggle came when the tightness of the fabric was overwhelmed by the bugling weight of my tits. The battle between fabric and flesh has been a very pleasant one since; for me who ‘endures’ it and for those who watch.

Speaking of watching, that leads me to the next part of my story. I went out after that, to the local park, in nothing but that little outfit, some gloss and mascara and some stilettos. I sat on a bench, well, on a blanket I brought, for I’ll be damned if my pussy is going to touch any of that wood. Toys have to stay clean and in good working order, and my body’s toys are very special to me and my sister. So I sat on that bench in front of a gushing water fountain feasting on the surge of adrenaline that accompanied every wandering eye that became drunk with my image.

Just like a flashy wrapper, enjoying yourself is also about advertisement.

Feeling like Sharon Stone without any underwear, I crossed and uncrossed my legs. I could have caused an accident, almost did, between a biker and an ice cream stand. Everyone’s attention was on me! You should have seen the face on the ice cream vendor, when he flabbergastedly handed me a popsicle and took money from my cleavage. And you should have seen the face of the middle aged mother who scolded her child, a charming young teenage boy, when I let him feel his first breast; my breast. In public no doubt! But the kicker, the real shocker, came when I got up to leave.

I dropped my popsicle stick on purpose just before the trash bin and, looking about at the throngs of people moving in and out of the fountain courtyard, bent over to pick it up. Now I’ve told you that when I sit down the dress is not long enough to protect my seat, so obviously the same goes for bending over. The collective gasp of the crowd there that day probably traveled halfway around the world. One could almost sense the vacuum as they inhaled their collective breathes. Mothers covered the eyes of their children, men tripped and fell in the fountain, horny teenage boys bragged about how they could definitely tap my ass (though they’re all talk as teenage boys are want to be), and all the while my dripping snatch glistened in the sun and caught the wind.

Pure arousal. That is the moment I unequivocally came to realize how right my sister was about sex. I listen to her about everything now. She tells me what to do and how to act, as she’s my guide for the time being until I learn to do it on my own. Sex is play, fun, and it shouldn’t know restraint. Toys can’t just sit on the shelf or lay unseen, they have to get out there and be used. By the same token, a girl has to get her body out there, she got to get around the block, or risk being stranded with the cobwebs and dust bunnies. Am I right?

But I had to outrun the cops, so there was no time to slip my fingers down there in public and enjoy the watching eyes. Easy access was certainly a perk of such a short dress. My fingers had almost been on target when the pigs came charging around the bend. Bummer. I lost a good pair of stilettos that day.

I really wish the world at large would just accept that pussy is beautiful. You won’t find another physical feature in the world with as much capacity, as many functions and as many ‘styles’ as the pussy. It’s a finely tuned device, requiring just the right touch. Like a new glove or plaything it has to be tested and calibrated. Using it, filling it and flashing it around is the only way to find out what turns it on.

At least my sister understands that, and understood it back then enough to show me the way. It was the heart pounding flight from the cops that helped me appreciate her help, and the sense of pursuit really entrenched her teachings in my mind. I was so flustered and horny by the time I got home, and so out of breathe, that I ran upstairs and fished out a vibrator to relieve the pressure. I lay there, with the jittery pole plugging my hole and performing all the tiresome work, until I fell asleep. Your standard vibrator is good for that. Nothing fancy like a clit stimulator, just gentle slow burning persuasion that doesn’t make you cum too easily or quickly. Just something that carries you away to toyland.

I dreamt of toys that night. So many nice toys.

But the big dream came in the morning, when I woke up and found a new chair next to my bed. This would be the aforementioned ‘special’ chair. What’s so special about it? Well, for one, its not constructed like any chair most people are familiar with. It has no back, and looks very much like the letter ‘X’. It’s a lot like one of those folding stools with the canvas seat for picnics. It has a little seat on top and kneepads for support. There is no back, and on the seat is a rather intimidating dildo.

And dear old sis was there to help me when I got up. She helped me fix my dress, which had bunched in the night, and helped make me pretty for the day. I cannot begin to describe how erotic it felt to be dressed by my sister. She saw all the parts of my naked body, even feathered my ass a bit with her fingers when fixing the skirt, and gave my clit a nice lick for good measure. It didn’t seem weird at the time at all, in fact, I was happy for a nice ‘good morning’ lick. There was just something so erotic, so trusting, and intimate about letting her take over for me. Wouldn’t any girl want to wake up to a pair of gentle roaming hands and a rough tongue on her pussy?

Her tender words and guiding hands helped me climb aboard my new chair. Slowly I let myself down, her hands on my hips guiding me straight, until I felt he nub of the head press into my box. First contact is a very important point when trying a dildo for the first time, particularly when trying one as thick as the chair’s was, which was thicker than any one I’d ever seen before, let alone used. It was flared a bit at the end, to be more phallic no doubt, and that made the first penetration the most intense.

It’s only when you hear and feel that first ‘pop’, when it squeezes between your tight underused folds and begins to parade along down your road, that you can let out your breath and feel it stretch you for the first time. It was certainly intense, and the thickness was certainly the most astonishing aspect of this new toy. It stretched me really wide, for that wonderful form fitting ‘feeling full’ sensation. Within no time I was hopping up and down like an excitable girl on my new pogo pole. Feeling her heat and her body behind me, knowing she watched me with hungry eyes, only made it hotter.

My pussy lips, so my sister told me, blurred as they accepted every shocking impact from every rib and knob that lined an otherwise slick black surface. I had just been fucking myself so vigourously with it. I was swearing and moaning and hissing for more and more. I remember only being able to think ‘is there any way it can be thicker? Bigger? Longer?’

My sister loved to see me get stretched. I loved to feel that way too.

Using my knees as support, I rocketed away into blissful unawareness. My sister spoke to me in my passionate fever, her words having more impact and wisdom than ever at that point. She told me that there was much more to cum. ;)

When my sister speaks, she’s just so right. I’ve cum to look up to her in that regard, for support and wisdom on the ways and workings of my body. We’re twins after all, we know each other closer than many siblings do, and now even more so. What’s the big deal about sisters helping each other sexually? Were twins; if we’ve seen our own body we’ve seen the other, more or less. Though I have bigger tits now, much bigger tits. Sis loves them (she’s decided I’m the only living toy she’s willing to love and fuck). She plays with my breasts like toys, chewing, licking and batting them around while I giggle with glee. Imagine the kind of games we play!

But back to my chair. After cumming to a grinding halt after a string of orgasms, exhausted and knees weak with enjoyment, my sister revealed another feature for my amusement. Dildos are really great, but they require work. If you use your fingers and a well-shaped dildo correctly you can bring yourself to higher fits of pleasure than you can with another person (a second mind with its own ideas and uncontrollable thoughts). It’s all about singular intention. Every device was designed for a purpose, and who better to know it than its creator, or in my case, it’s owner. But sometimes your wrist gets tired or your fingers start to ache; and then what?

Vibrators; that’s what.

My new gift was more than it seemed. There was a switch under the seat. Sis showed me where to find it. When I pushed it as per her firm suggestion the chair begin to whirl and hum.

What happened next is hard to remember, so bear with me while I write it out and recall it. My eyes spent a lot of much time looking at the ceiling because I couldn’t support my own head. My sister quit talking because she was to busy nibbling on my ear and kissing my neck while her hands danced across the delicate curves of my shaking bosom. The chair meanwhile, began to fuck me, instead of me fucking it. And of course now I remember, that it was the best fucking I’d ever experienced in my life at the time. The slick black bumpy rod fucked me like a jackhammer. (I’m starting to say fuck a lot, I hope you can print that) It even threw spinning and drilling into the mix. I was so tight that day, labia fighting hard to swallow the girth of the chair as I cummed over and over, dripping and squelching with my own natural lube. On top of that, my sister graciously assisted me by pulling out a clit stimulator from the chair’s side pocket and pressed it lovingly into my most explosive of buttons. The sound of the chairs pole drowning in my sopping cunt filled the room and drowned out everything else. I might point out that by ‘everything else’, I include thought and reality altogether.

It was truly unreal. The machine damn well fucked me into submission. I was surprised; the most love I had ever felt at the time was directed at a chair. I slept soundly that afternoon.

Waking up was like a new experience. I felt different about myself, happy, happy to be used. Like an old teddy bear or action figure, no toy desires to become obsolete or ineffective. When it comes to her body, a girl has to update (implants right?), look pretty, and let her usefulness be known. I was making a shaky transition here, in both thought and spirit. I was coming into my own in terms of the mechanism of my body, the way it worked, how it pleasured me. I was casting away all those silly notions about essence and mind and spirit. What are those things anyway? Can you feel them? Can you touch them? No. Humans are physical. Every part of my body, or anyone else’s in my opinion, is a tool to be used and manipulated. Those can be touched. I can be touched. I can be fucked, oh yeah.

Why would pussies feel so good then? The senses are everything, so it seemed obvious to me that pleasure is the goal of my life. Pleasure is the ultimate achievement of feeling. My sister’s wisdom was omnipresent by now. Everyone has someone in their life to guide them and she had so much to say about me. I learned from her that my body is the wheel of my engine, the chariot of my mind, the tool of passion. The way in which I am built determines my purpose. When you look at a vibrator do you not know its purpose just by the way it is made and built to operate? It is constructed for a singular purpose is it not? Was it not engineered specifically for something and with a pre-meditated concept in mind? Well when I look at my body, my pussy, my ass, my breasts and my flexible hands, I see the same thing. Is not when my pussy starts to drip just like the light on the battery charger that says ‘I’m ready for use’?

My sister sees it. She saw it before I did. I’m so happy to be with her. She’s helped me see it to. I think other people should see my body and know how enlightening it feels to know this.

Needless to say, much sex ensued after that day. My sister and I are closer than ever. I feel so helpful, so important and useful to her. I enjoy letting her play with me in her bed, taking enjoyment in my body like she does in her toys and dolls. She likes to call me that, her Doll, and sometimes she likes it when I act like one too. I get all glammed up for her, with make-up and erotic Swiss Miss or School Girl outfits, and pretend that she controls my strings.

And when I’m not busy and in use, I can always come back to my room and sit on my chair. There I can power up after a long day or sexless afternoon, recharge my pussy with some electric love, until I’m wet and horny enough to get going again. Just like any sex toy, there is a switch that must be pushed to turn me on.

I hope you enjoyed my story, and I would be honoured to have it printed in the pages of your magazine. Some of it may be exaggerated, maybe too vulgar, but I assure you all the feelings are real and true. The chair is real too. I’m sitting on it right now. ;)

Much love; Doll