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" I was 22 years old in a shower in Paris when I had my first orgasm. There was no man in sight \u2014 just a phallic, plastic shaft the same color as a blue raspberry Blow Pop. In that steamy (literally) moment, the Blueberry Bliss vibrator changed my sexual life. Before Blueberry, sex was pure frustration. &amp;quot;You like that?&amp;quot; guys would ask from between my legs. &amp;quot;Um, keep going,&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;d instruct, as clueless boyfriends rubbed everywhere but my clitoris. Occasionally, someone would get close \u2014 but I&amp;#039;d always stop him by faking an orgasm (lots of loud puppyish noises did the trick) just as the sensation started to get really intense. The truth is, I was scared. Although I lost my virginity at 15 and always had boyfriends, I never really masturbated. I spent more time fantasizing about crushes falling in love with me than discovering what I found arousing. Tapping into my own pleasure seemed less motivating than making myself into what guys wanted. Plus, being an orgasm virgin made me afraid of my body. If I come, will I pee? I wondered. Sometimes, it felt like I might. By my 20s, I knew I was missing out. &amp;quot;Maybe I&amp;#039;ve had an orgasm,&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;d say to friends. &amp;quot;If I think I have, I probably have\u2026right?&amp;quot; They stared at me with pity. One Sunday, my best friend dragged me to Babeland. I chose the Blueberry Bliss Turbo Glider because it was the cheapest, and I promptly hid it deep in my closet from my then live-in boyfriend. I continued to fake orgasms with him and then felt resentful about the fact that he got a lot more pleasure from our sex life than I did. A few days before traveling to Paris for a summer study-abroad trip, I slid Blueberry into my suitcase on a whim. Was it in the spirit of trying new things that I whipped it out and took it with me into the shower? More likely, it was because I was finally alone. I stood there, water streaming down my face, rubbing the vibrator (on medium speed) in a circular motion on my clitoris until, miracle of miracles, my mind went blank and my entire body turned to fizz. I let out a soft little &amp;quot;oh,&amp;quot; more of a choke than a moan. Do you even need to ask how I spent the rest of my summer in Paris? There were no guys involved, but I was coming daily. It took getting myself off to learn that sexual chemistry requires a give and take. Once I knew how I liked to be touched, I dropped the fake porny act and realized that compromising my own pleasure for the sake of someone else&amp;#039;s feelings was only going to hurt my relationships. Ultimately, this led to breaking up with the boyfriend, who could never get the job done, even after I figured out how to explain what turned me on. Without Blueberry, I might still be with him. Happily, I now have mind-blowing orgasms with other human beings. In fact, I hardly ever use Blueberry anymore. But we&amp;#039;ll always have Paris. Julie Buntin is a New York\u2013based writer of embarrassingly personal stories she hopes her mother never reads. Follow Julie on Twitter  Photo Credit: Getty Images "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/celebs/news/a5349/a-blue-vibrator-changed-my-sex-life/?click=rel>