I Tried a Sex Blanket (And You Should Too)

Welcome to the splash zone

A sex blanket seemed like an extravagant thing to own. I don’t even have a designated sex towel — what would I need a special sex blanket for?

Then I started squirting, and I knew exactly what I needed a sex blanket for.

I had actually been squirting for years, but it was never a problem because it only happened in the shower.

When I was a teenager, I discovered that the massaging showerhead in the main floor bathroom of my parents’ house could do a lot more than help me get clean and soothe my tense shoulders. If I played with it and aimed it just right, I could give myself a very different kind of relief.

Humping my stuffed animals had been a fun way to get off. But the showerhead could give me really strong, really powerful orgasms.

Those orgasms were also really wet. Like, wetter than they should’ve been, even with all the water I was spraying on myself.

Because I was in the shower, the whole thing was so neat and tidy that I didn’t even realize my body was doing anything special.

Flash forward about twenty years later. My husband learns a new trick he can do with his fingers and wrists and all of a sudden, he’s giving me the same wet orgasms I got from my showerhead.

And that was a problem, because I couldn’t fully enjoy them.

Don’t get me wrong, they felt really fucking good. But any time I felt an intense G-spot orgasm coming, I’d start worrying about my sheets — or worse, the mattress.

Instead of just easing up and letting the orgasm take its course, I was bracing myself for a mess.

I don’t know about you, but gritting my teeth and trying to hold back is not my favorite way of coming.

It even made pussy massages less enjoyable.

Pussy massages are pretty much perfect. You get to just lie there, relax, and let the slow, steady stimulation you’re getting bring you to a huge climax.

At least, that’s what it’s like until you start worrying that you might gush all over your sheets.

Now, the further we got into a pussy massage, the more nervous I’d get. I’d lose my concentration, get frustrated, and have to build the pleasure back up.

That was total bullshit. Squirting could mess with my G-spot orgasms. It could make fingering a little tense. But ruin my pussy massages and we’ve got a problem.

I had enough of holding back, so I decided to set out a towel. If I was going to become a sex towel person after all, so be it.

Now, with the towel under my ass and my legs spread, I could let my husband finger me whichever way he pleases and I can just get out of my head and enjoy the fuck out of it.

And I did. I felt his fingers tapping my G-spot, felt the pleasure build up, and didn’t give a goddamn fuck. Let the orgasm rip through me, let my pussy get as wet as it wants to, we have a fucking sex towel now.

It felt good to let my body do whatever the hell it wants. Mr. Austin made me come a few times, and I squirted with every orgasm.

It was more than the towel could handle, though. The problem with my squirting is that it doesn’t happen the way you see it in a lot of porn. I don’t spray or splutter or splatter. I just sort of gush out. It sort of pools in one spot. That makes it too big of a job for one measly towel. When I lifted it, I saw that it had soaked through.

I was quietly thankful that the wet spot was on his side of the bed. But I knew I had to get a better solution.

Everywhere I looked, I got the same advice: get a sex blanket. Specifically, a Liberator Fascinator Throw. So that’s exactly what I did.

My Very First Sex Blanket

I bought the Liberator blanket even though it’s not big enough to cover my entire King size mattress.

Liberator does make a bigger one, but I couldn’t get it shipped to Canada at a reasonable cost. The frugal part of me won out, and it’s fine because it covers more than half the bed and that’s all we need.

Once it arrived and I took it out of the box, I started to worry because it was a little noisy.

The exterior of the Fascinator is made from a nice, soft fabric called “velvish.” I loved the way it felt to run my hand on it, but whenever I moved the blanket, it would crinkle.

That sound was the waterproof layer inside the blanket. It almost felt like a shower curtain covered over with a very pleasant-feeling material.

I love the sounds of sex. I get turned on by the moaning, grunting, and panting. Part of the reason I enjoy a good pounding is because I want to hear the sound of hips slapping against my ass.

But a crinkle that sounds like we’re fucking on a pile of wrapping paper? That could get annoying really fast.

Thankfully, it wasn’t an issue. It’s a little noisy when I unfolded it and threw it on the bed, but once it was smoothed out across it, it didn’t make a peep.

I laid on it naked and it was great. The velvety soft material on the outside feels really nice against the skin.

And now it was time to put the blanket to the test, and I knew I could only do that with the help of my G-spot-punching husband.

Fucking Mr. Austin is usually varied and slightly unpredictable. We change things up, vary the stimulation, get in different positions, and just follow the mood.

This time, though, he had a more narrow purpose. He was going to make me squirt as often as he could, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I assumed the position — on my back, legs spread apart, and docile. He slid two fingers inside me, crooked them, and made a rocking motion with his hand.

The way he moved his wrists meant that his fingertips kept tapping against my G-spot in a steady, quick rhythm.

I came soon after he started. I squirted on the blanket. He gave me a moment to rest and then started again. Another gush. And then he’d repeat the same pattern over and over.

I’m not sure how many times I squirted before I tapped out. It was somewhere between half a dozen and too many to count. All I know is that by the end of it, I felt like a human geiser — a spent, exhausted geiser who just wants to get cuddled a bit and then go to sleep.

But first, I had to see how the blanket did. I lifted it, flipped it, checked it all over, and was really pleased to see that it held up perfectly.

The blanket absorbed all the wetness. And my sheets were pristine.

I could finally squirt with reckless abandon — though I don’t think I’ll ever subject myself to another squirt-a-thon. My G-spot was so sore the next day, I was surprised I could still walk.

Sex Blankets Are Worth It

Buying a sex blanket always seemed kind of silly. Especially when you can spend the same money on vibrators that warm up, kegel balls that make you horny as fuck, and thrusters you wish you owned when you were single.

But a vibrator can’t keep your sheets from getting ruined. And I would much rather cuddle after sex, not change the bedspread.

Having a sex blanket became an urgent necessity when I started squirting. But since owning it, I’ve been using it for other kinds of messiness.

I love sloppy, messy sex. One of my recurring fantasies is to get naked with my partner and fuck in a kiddie pool filled to the brim with lube.

I’m not even sure it’s a sexual thing — I just want to experience the slippery, slick, squishiness of it.

I can’t do that in bed — and I don’t have gallons of lube on hand even if I wanted to. But what I can do is use as much slippery stuff as I want.

When I put the sex blanket down, I can slather my husband’s cock in lube and give him the slickest handjob possible.

He can pump and pump more lube into his palm when he’s giving me a pussy massage, so that it’s so wet it’s like there’s barely any friction between his fingers and my clit.

He can come on my ass while I’m still humping my vibrator and I don’t have to worry that it’s going to drip down my hips and onto the bed. And that’s the kind of peace of mind I can really use when I’m about to give myself a show-stopping orgasm.

I can lie down for a massage, knowing that he won’t be timid with the massage oil. He can pour half the bottle for all we care — the bed is safe.

I even use it solo. When I treat myself to an elaborate masturbation session, the blanket gives me a convenient spot to place my lubed-up toys when I switch them out.

And we can just fuck hard, get sweaty, and not give a fuck about anything other than making sure we don’t wake up the kids.

If you don’t have a sex blanket, get it for the peace of mind. Because as fun as it is to squirt in the shower, nothing beats getting as messy as you want in your own bed.

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