Our up-for-almost-anything reporter travels three adventurous paths toward orgasmic bliss: sex furniture, a viral sex tip, and a sex toy.

This Valentine’s Day, you reap the rewards of her newfound experience.

Come Out Swinging

Ever wonder about using a sex swing? So did this intrepid reporter, who learns some lessons through trial and error.

My boyfriend J is getting older. So are all of us, for that matter, but unlike myself, his days spent in the gym are becoming fewer. Unfortunately, my raging libido and desire for varied sexual gymnastics was wearing out poor J’s back and knees. I knew if I didn’t want J to keep collapsing from exhaustion during our sexual escapades, I had to do something.

After J once again complained his back hurt, I stealthily consulted my oracle: Google. After much research, I realized a sex swing might be the answer to our (or maybe just my) prayers. The benefits of a sex swing are many. Though they look intimidating and reminiscent of something one might find in a dungeon, they are seemingly perfect for anyone suffering from fatigue or backache: no weight to hold, added momentum to aid in thrusting, and new and improved positions. Spinning 360! Upside-down fellatio! Not only would a sex swing save his ego (God forbid I mention doing some lifts or squats), it could also possibly spice up our sex life. I just hoped all that swinging didn’t make me so dizzy that I puked on his member.

So I went online and immediately purchased two sex swings: one for the door, courtesy of Babeland; and one from Extreme Restraints, that hangs from the ceiling. Two days later they arrived. J and I were giddy, tearing open the packages like two overeager five-year-olds at Christmas. We decided to start off easy and opted for the door swing first.

ROUND 1: The Door Swing

Although it looked like some sort of medieval torture device, the sex swing was relatively straightforward. We placed the weighted ends behind my bathroom door and shut it to keep it in place. A padded seat keeps your butt comfy, while arm and leg straps allow you to hold on while getting nailed.

“Let’s test the height,” J suggested. “I’m gonna lift you up.” Good thing one of us was thinking. The only thing on my mind was the imminent fun to be had. He lifted me up and carefully placed me on the swing, where I sat several inches too low. Clearly we were going to have to realign. Pulling on the nylon straps, J hoisted the seat and me up until our nether regions were perfectly aligned.

J gave me a few practice dry humps, just to make sure. “Looks perfect,” I said flirtatiously. Now that we had everything set up, it was time to get busy. Maybe it was the excitement of experimenting with something new, or the fact that we had been sexting each other all day, but suddenly his kiss electrified me. He picked me up and threw me on the sofa, where we began making out furiously. After we were both sufficiently warmed up, we made our way to the door to test out our new toy.

Once again, J lifted me up into the seat. It took a second, but I finally got it to sit in just the right place. Holding on to the straps, I adjusted my legs, holding them straight out in a V position, and we went at it. Unfortunately after a few thrusts, my butt began to slide off the seat. Stopping for a moment, I held on to the straps and hoisted myself further back. We resumed humping, only to find that my butt was now hitting the door. Not comfy.

“We must not be doing this right,” I muttered in frustration. “All those people on Amazon loved it!”

“Okay, what if I stand farther back so we have more room and you’re not hitting the door?”

“Good call.”

J moved back a few inches and, rather than ramming into me, pulled my hips toward him. The position was somewhat better. J was able to pull the swing back and forth without slamming me into the door. Then it dawned on me: “What if you put your back to the door and I face the other way?” I suggested.

“Hmm, that’s an interesting twist. Let’s try it.”

I dismounted and we quickly switched places. In this position, I had to keep my legs straight up and over his shoulders, like a V and not bent. Which was fine by me, but if a less-flexible lady were to get in the swing, it might not be so comfy. J once again began to move the swing back and forth. “This is kind of better. I wish the straps weren’t hitting me, though.”

Nonetheless, we both enjoyed this newfound position much better. Not that long after, we both came.

Still, we weren’t too convinced that the door swing was the Holy Grail. Sure, it was fun, but the constricted movement and the constant worrying about banging into the door were somewhat of a buzzkill. On the other hand, J didn’t get tired, nor did his back or knees ache. Plus, the door swing actually enabled us to make eye contact while upright, which brought a whole new level of intimacy. The fact that I could actually look at J inches from my face as he was thrusting made it a far deeper (literally and physically) experience than normal.

Proud of our efforts, we went to sleep looking forward to the big dog: the ceiling swing.

ROUND 2: The Ceiling Swing

While the door swing offered limited positions and movement, the ceiling swing allowed for full-360 action. Doggie-style, missionary, swinging, oral, and upside down; for two pervs like us, it was far more exciting.

The swing consisted of six straps: one that goes behind your butt, one that goes behind your back, two your feet go into, and two others to hold on to. All the straps were thickly padded with leopard-print fur to ensure we didn’t get cut or burned. The swing was attached to a metal triangle with a spring. The instructions suggested installing it into a door frame, much to our chagrin.

“What is the point of installing it into a door frame?” J asked. “We won’t be able to move very much.”

“Fuck it, let’s put it in the ceiling. We’ll get more out of it.”

Slightly intimidated by the technicality of it all, we (or, more specifically, J) went to work trying to install it into the ceiling. There was only one problem: My ceiling was made of cement. Literally. J attempted to drill a hole, only to find the drill wouldn’t go in all the way. There was no way to install it without the proper tools, which we clearly didn’t have. A more logical person might have procured the right tools ahead of time, but we were both too impulsive.

Instead, we chose to hang it from a hook in the ceiling that was currently holding a flimsy disco ball (don’t ask). We hung the swing on the ceiling, only to find out it was a foot too high. With nine-foot ceilings, this whole swing thing was proving to be a major problem. We briefly considered taking it to his apartment, but alas, he had ten-foot ceilings, so that was out. Undeterred, we were hell-bent on making this work. Cutting off an extraneous strap from the door swing, we attached it to the regular swing to give it a little extra length. He hung it on the hook.

“I’m gonna lift you up . Hang on to the bar and let’s see if it holds your weight.”

He hoisted me up as I grabbed on to the bar while he yanked me up and down, trying to simulate what we would soon be doing. So far so good. After readjusting the height on the swing, we got ready to screw our brains out. I placed towels at the door to muffle our potential sounds, and turned on my carefully curated song list, including our all-time favorite raunchy song, Guns N’ Roses’s “Rocket Queen.”

Once again, we got each other warmed up before I got into the swing. Lying back, I watched J’s eyes light up as I placed my ankles on his shoulders.

“This is so hot!” J exclaimed as he began thrusting.

“Fuck yeah, it is!” Sex had always been enjoyable, but the sex swing opened up a whole new door to an erotic world. I felt like I had just stepped into sexual Narnia.

That is, until the flimsy hook gave way, mid-coitus, causing me to suddenly fall, thankfully crash-landing on the sofa.

“Are you okay?” J asked worriedly.

“Totes fine!” I giggled. “The couch saved me. But we have another problem: How on earth are we going to make this work? My ceilings are made of cement and yours are too high.”

“I think there’s only one thing left to do: Get a frame.”

ROUND 3: The Sex Swing With a Frame

J was slightly worried. A frame for the sex swing is no joke and, at more than $300, a serious investment. But there was no other way to actually use the swing without it. So I ordered the frame, and two days later it arrived.

Thankfully, we could easily assemble it, and then disassemble it and put it away, so it wouldn’t be sitting in the middle of my apartment like an advertisement for our sexual proclivities. After 15 minutes, the stand was up and ready to go. We attached the swing, sure that this time our efforts would not go unrewarded.

We started off again in the same position as before: legs up above his shoulders. With the swing’s added momentum and bounce factor (thanks to the spring attached), J was able to thrust with little effort. As for me, being strapped into a swing while weightlessly bouncing up and down was a sensation I had never felt outside of a ride at an amusement park, much less during sex. Suffice it to say, this was one ride that I could go on again and again.

But we didn’t want to come too soon. So we switched things up to slow down the pace. I leaned back as he came around for a little oral action. It seemed sexy at first, but as the swing started to move around I lost my grip and began to swing away from him. J decided to grasp the straps to hold me in place, and before we knew it we had our groove on. As an added bonus, J soon figured out he could hold on to just one strap and touch me with the other hand. It was like a new version of sixty-nineing. To say we were in sexual heaven would be an understatement. The new sensations, positions, and views all added up to a sensual, saucy sexual frenzy.

We decided to tackle one last position before we allowed ourselves to finally explode — doggie-style. I got out, flipped over, and got ready for our final hurrah. As doggie-style was one of our favorite positions, I was eager to see how J would enjoy it.

Personally, I didn’t find it particularly comfortable lying on my stomach on two straps, even if they were padded, but once I lost myself in the heat of the moment, I found it considerably more pleasurable. J, for his part, loved it. In doggie-style, it was much easier to grab my hips and move me back and forth than when I was on my back. And unlike regular doggie-style, it required much less thrusting.

After 30-some minutes of sexual acrobatics, both of us finally came. The final verdict? Sex swings are amazing. It’s like going to the local amusement park your whole life and then suddenly discovering Disney World. Sure, the regular amusement park is great. It’s fun, it makes you feel good, and it puts a smile on your face. But Disney World is mind-blowing. You can’t go there every day, but once in a while it can knock your socks off. Even if it’s a so-so ride like Dumbo the Flying Elephant (I’m talking to you, door swing), it’s still a lot more fun than sitting at home.

The Grapefruit BJ

I’ve done many things in the name of sexual experimentation, but nothing has come close to the sheer weirdness of what I was about to attempt: the grapefruit blow job.

The grapefruit blowjob is the brainchild of Auntie Angel, a sexpert who claims her blowjob technique (otherwise known as “grapefruiting”) is so mind-blowing it can cause death. Now, even though J pisses me off sometimes, I definitely do not want to kill him. However, I did want to give him the best blowjob of his life.

In her YouTube tutorial, Auntie Angel shows us how to cut a grapefruit to make it fellatio-ready (slice the ends off and make a hole in the middle for the penis). Just when you start to think, Where is she going with this? things take a sharp turn into what-the-fuck territory: She starts fellating a large dildo, while making the same noise as a garbage disposal sucking down a box of nails.

Frightening sounds aside, I was intrigued. The idea behind this bizarre trick is that using the grapefruit to stroke his shaft while sucking the top of his dick will make the guy in question feel like he’s having sex and receiving a blowjob at the same time. Fair enough, I reasoned. What man wouldn’t like to experience that?

Of course, food and sex have a long history together. Whipped cream, chocolate body paint, and honey have all been used in many a sexy romp. But that’s because they’re sweet, fluid, and encourage licking. Grapefruit? Not so much. I worried that the acidic juice would give J a burning sensation that would cause him to ban me from his penis for the foreseeable future. Or what if the juice squirted and got in my eye, causing temporary blindness? Then there was the mess to think about. A sopping grapefruit with juice running everywhere didn’t sound terribly appealing. But I had to finish what I started, physical assault be damned. So I decided J would have to stand on the kitchen floor for easy cleanup.

There’s only one rule to this grapefruit game: You have to blindfold the man the first time. Auntie reasons that no man is going to be okay seeing a grapefruit around his dick, so you have to trick him. Fortunately, J is always up for anything even remotely kinky, so when I suggested a blindfold he didn’t put up a fight.

After handing him my lavender-scented eye mask as a blindfold, I had him stay still while I snuck out the grapefruit I’d been hiding. Placing it next to me, I got on my knees, giving him a regular ol’ BJ to get him hard. Once he was at full mast, I carefully attempted to slip the grapefruit over his dong ... until he exclaimed, “What the fuck is that?!”

“A new sex toy?” I offered lamely.

“It’s fucking wet!” he yelled, tearing off his eye mask. “Is that fruit?” he asked quizzically, looking down at his citrus-enshrined penis.

“It’s a grapefruit!” I said cheerily, so as to not alarm him. “This is going to be awesome. Just relax.”

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

I purposefully refrained from mimicking the scary industrial-vacuum noise Auntie made and stuck to my regular skills while moving the grapefruit up and down his shaft. Unfortunately, I felt J losing his boner. I looked up to see him staring down at me.

He started laughing. “I’m sorry, this is just too weird! I can’t get in the mood.”

“Stop thinking about the damn grapefruit! And keep your eyes closed!” I snapped. I was a little pissed that Auntie Angel suggested the blindfold. I’m pretty sure if I had just told J about it, he would have been fine with it. Instead we had to deal with an unplanned interruption, an ensuing explanation, and him trying to get the silliness of my covert operation out of his head.

To get him back in the mood, I engaged in some dirty talk that seemed to do the trick. Before I knew it, J was moaning and groaning, there was grapefruit juice everywhere, and I felt like a blowjob queen.

“That was amazing!” J exclaimed. “After I stopped thinking how you were blowing me with a grapefruit, anyway. It kinda did feel like a vagina.”

Well, there’s nothing like the sweet — or tart, in this case — smell of success. And to think, this whole time, one of the best sex toys was just down the street at the supermarket.

Hands-Free Fun

Whether it’s road-trip sex, getting fingered at a bar, or simply the vibration of a motorboat engine, the idea of getting off when I’m outside the confines of home is particularly titillating.

When I opened the package from my friends at Good Vibrations and found the Club Vibe remote-controlled vibrator, meant to be worn inside your panties, I was game. The Club Vibe offers two settings: ambient and manual. In ambient mode the vibe reacts to the surrounding noise, giving your hooha a buzz every time there’s a speaker nearby, a lunatic preaching into a bullhorn, or just a thunderous FedEx truck rolling by. Manual allows you (or your partner) to control the settings. It sounded to me like a one-way ticket to pleasure palace.

First stop on my pussy-pleasing agenda? The nail salon. What could be more pleasurable than having my feet pampered while receiving a little pussy massage at the same time? Nada. I confidently walked to the nail salon excited to see what surprises lay in store for me.

Wearing the vibrator wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but I was on an orgasmic mission, discomfort be damned. Setting the vibrator to ambient, I walked down the street hoping the vibe would pick up random noises and arouse my nether regions. Perhaps an obnoxiously loud motorcycle would whiz by and give me warm fuzzies. I didn’t get a Harley, but it didn’t take long before a giant delivery truck drove past, giving my vagina a tingle. But, alas, the vibes on the ambient-noise setting were not long-lasting enough to produce any sort of sexy feelings. Once the sound was gone, so was the vibe.

Several blocks later, I was finally at the nail salon. I sat down in the pedicure chair, eager to feel the sooth-ing tingle of my new vibrator. Switching to manual, I pushed the remote-control button and immediately heard the whirring of Club Vibe’s little battery-powered body vibrating enthusiastically. Unfortunately, everyone else could hear it, too.

Unlike my sultry stroll down the street, I was not only surrounded by other people, but the vibrator was pressed against a chair, which only amplified the noise it was making. It sounded like an electric toothbrush had fallen down my pants. Mortified, I fumbled discreetly for the remote, shutting it off before the pedicurist could figure out what was going on. So much for my plans to climax at the Museum of Modern Art.

Not satisfied with the brief rumblings of the street and feeling cockblocked by the nail salon, I knew it was time to take it up a notch. Time to introduce the Club Vibe to J.

“So this thing makes your pussy vibrate?” he asked incredulously.

“Like a washing machine!” I replied.

We decided to head to a nearby lounge. It was loud, dimly lit, and very sultry — the perfect backdrop for our experiment. Heading to the bar to get drinks, J turned on the vibrator, leaving me to get warmed up. Unfortunately, with no other visual or physical stimulation, I became no more excited than I would at the dentist. Thankfully, things soon changed.

After we settled into a booth with our drinks, J pulled out the remote control and turned up the intensity.

“How does this feel?” he asked, leaning in to kiss me.

The little pink-and-black pod in my panties buzzed enthusiastically as J drew me closer. Now we were getting somewhere. Not only was the combination of making out and the vibration down below unbelievably sexy, the fact that he had complete control of my nether regions (in public, no less) got me more riled up than Kanye West talking about himself.

“We have to leave,” I whispered. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand staying there before we had sex.

“Let’s go,” he replied with a smirk on his face.

We quickly hopped in a cab and headed back home to finish what we had started.

“Can you turn up the music?” I asked the driver. With the tunes muffling any potential noise, J and I were able to get frisky without being caught.

He may not have “popped all my buttons” or “ripped my blouse,” but as I got on my knees, I felt like Beyoncé in her video for “Partition.” That’s when it dawned on me — the Club Vibe is truly in its element during foreplay and oral sex. Going down on J was always an enjoyable experience; going down on him while he was controlling a vibrator in my underwear was intensely erotic. I may have set out on this journey to experience the joys of public masturbation, but in the end I realized it’s less about the vibration itself and more about the mental stimulation.

As much as I like getting off, there are certain places and situations where I simply can’t. The nail salon is one of them. Waiting for drinks is another. Getting warmed up for the main act? Now that I can do almost anywhere. Though the vibrator isn’t strong enough to produce an orgasm, from a psychological standpoint, it’s undeniably titillating in the hands of a partner. We continued our private party back at home to finish what we’d started. The Club Vibe might have gotten us going, but it was up to us to seal the deal.