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Done! They really are quite sexy and awesome, aren’t they?

Just before Christmas break is my favorite kind of year, because my professors always give out candy canes and I can watch and see who I think would be the best at oral sex.

(P.S. There’s this boy in my stats class- not terribly attractive, but ohh boy, if he’d do to my clitoris what he does to that candy cane…)

I love the way your mind works.

I woke up this morning soo wet. I wish I could remember what I was dreaming!

Not to assume I know your business or anything, but it was pretty much definitely a sex dream about Data from Star Trek: TNG.

Goddamit, Cupie, you’re so fucking hot.

Best confession ever. Okay, I’m lying. The actual best confession ever can be found here, but I do like this one. It has a certain something…

Not a sex confession but…

I am so in love with my boyfriend that all I want to do is wrap myself around him at night and fall asleep against his chest.

And that is scarier to me than any sex confession I could possibly make.

This is more adorable than a baby in a manger. By way a lot.

I’ve always been a cock-loving lass, but there’s this girl at my coffeeshop… when she smiles all I can think about is how the inside of her thighs would feel against my lips.

Raise your hand if you suddenly wish you worked in a coffee shop.

Give the gift of a juicy secret.

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Okay, wait. Yes I do. It’s because of how often many of us have been ridiculed and shamed and accused of lying/deluding ourselves about squirting. Sometimes that sort of thing makes you want to scream “FUCK YOU DO YOU REALIZE THIS MAKES ME AWESOME!?!?” It’s a defense mechanism, and it makes perfect sense. But I hate how it creates a culture where someone might feel like they’re falling short if they happen to not be an ejaculator.

Really, we’re just talking about an orgasm with some extra liquid added. It doesn’t make you automatically awesome. It doesn’t make you sexier¹ or healthier or smarter or more financially solvent. You will probably not even get a sticker.²

It might, however, be an especially intense orgasm, and it is an interesting thing to experience. For many people, that alone makes it worth looking in to. That’s why I’m offering some squirting tips for those who want to squirt and those who want to assist others in their quest to do so. If you succeed at this, try not to brag too much. I will see what I can do about stickers.

You don’t need to know the basics of the physiology of female ejaculation to squirt, but they can help. I am equipped to give you only the very basics.

The g-spot exists. It’s actually the underside of the urethral sponge, which swells with fluid when arousal happens. It’s usually found a couple inches above the vaginal opening on the clitular facing side of the vaginal wall. Its texture is usually different from the surrounding tissue, making it fairly easy to find. Sometimes there will be gasps or squeals or other sound effects that help further clarify its location. Keep in mind, though, that every body is different.

Sometimes the urethral sponge releases this fluid through the urethra during orgasm. The orgasms that bring this about often come from g-spot stimulation, but not always. Clitoral stimulation alone can do it for some people. The release can be like a spray, a gush, or a trickle: they all qualify as squirting. The fluid isn’t pee, it’s most often clear, and it is harmless.

Whether squirting orgasms actually feel better than any other kind very much depends on the person. And in fact, from here on out I’m really just going to talk about personal experiences and observations.

1. The first rule of squirting is: squirting is really, honestly no big deal. If you do it, it’s nothing to be self-conscious or worried about. If you don’t do it, you’re in the majority, and this in no way constitutes failure. My point here is that stressing out never helped anyone’s sex life.³ And it especially never helped anyone ejaculate. Relaxing is going to help you here with one tiny exception that we’ll cover later.
2. The actual first rule of squirting probably should have been put down a towel. If not several. Do not forget the towels. You can skip this step if and only if you have rubber sheets or are doing this on a hard surface like a bathtub or an inspiring marble fountain.
3. Start doing kegels now. Right now. Really. I’ll wait. Mighty PC muscles are only going to help your cause here. Apparently, when they’re toned your g-spot is more accessible, and has more sensitivity because of better blood flow. All I know is that I’ve been doing kegels since I was ten and I am a squirter, so that’s n=1. Science!⁴
4. Get an njoy pure wand. If there is one toy in all the world that is responsible for more female ejaculation than all the others combined, it’s probably this one. Or, at very least, I cannot use it without squirting. I can practically not look at it without squirting. Both ends feel incredible: the knob (I usually prefer the smaller side, but both work) lands right on my g-spot perfectly, whether I’m thrusting with it or rocking the toy back and forth from its center. This is quite literally the best sex toy investment I’ve made. And, did I mention? Splashy.
5. If you’re not ready to embrace the feat of engineering that is the pure wand, your best bet is a toy with a curved end that will easily reach your g-spot.
6. When playing with a partner, I’ve found that simultaneous focused clit and g-spot stimulation tend to make me squirt. For instance, sucking on my clit while fingering me with those come-hither crooked fingers for a bit works like a charm. It also puts me in a pretty chipper mood.
7. Sometimes a lot of orgasms have to happen before the squirting starts. Be patient and persevere. Could there really be a less tedious thing to practice?
8. If you have enough muscle control that you’re able to tense just the area around your urethral sponge/g-spot during stimulation, that can be a helpful way to put yourself over the top.

Experiment. A lot. Alone, with a partner, with several different partners. If it doesn’t happen right away try doing kegels regularly for a month and then trying again. Try a new toy. If it’s important to you, keep at it. Keep calm and carry on.

But seriously? The pure wand. I’m telling you.

1. Unless the beholder in question is someone with a thing for squirters, I suppose.
2. Note: I really should make stickers.
3. Unless, of course, we consider the case of Hippolyta Craig of Lubbock, Texas, but that is another story entirely.
4. Disclaimer: This is not science.

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But I find that when my body has so little interest in cooperating with my wish to be a productive member of society, I tend to not want to do nice things for it. My masturbation habits got patchier and more grudging as the summer progressed. Yes, it’s unreasonable to punish my body for having a chronic illness by refusing to give myself orgasms, and I do not under any circumstances advocate trying to control someone with sex or withholding of same, but what can I say? Maybe with all the resentment and everything I’m just not emotionally attracted to me lately.

You can imagine how things have been: the fights, and stony silences, the outlandish threats. This domestic strife is the background to a series of extraordinary events (i.e. orgasms) that led to my clitoris dumping me for the LELO Siri, and I can’t say I half blame it.

NOT actual size.

I’d been wanting to try a LELO toy for some time. They have a reputation for being elegant, clever, and oh-so luxurious. Actually, though, I kind of also think of LELO as the IKEA of the sex toy world: the caps lock, the funny sparse-but-exotic product names (pop quiz: tell me which of these are sex toys and which are furniture: Odda, Noga, Ina, Nea, Agne, Mona, Malma) the simple lines and bright colors. I’ve always been of the opinion that IKEA could be greatly improved by the introduction of clitoral stimulation, so when I saw that Babeland had LELO’s newest creation, the Siri, up for grabs I knew I would at least temporarily lift my masturbation embargo. I’m mad, but I’m not stupid.

Happy the day that Siri graced my front door, dressed in an unassuming brown box and the glamor of youth! If I ever try to convince you that I didn’t rip it open immediately, I’ll be lying to you. Do not trust me.

The LELO Siri comes in a fucking classy series of minimalist boxes, the first of which claims to hold a “Siri pleasure object”. I applaud their decision against going that extra step into pretentiousness by calling it an “objet”. As it is, I’m pleased. And aroused, because I’m a fan of pleasure. It comes with a little satiny drawstring bag, meant, no doubt, to prevent the Siri from ever being stored in a ziplock sandwich bag. Someone must’ve told LELO about my current toys’ accommodations, and they are clearly not impressed.

The Siri itself is cute, shaped like an aerodynamic computer mouse, but smaller. It’s a clit vibe/massager, so in other words you don’t insert it, which happens to fit very well with my usual masturbation style. Roughly one (the white plastic) half is devoted to business and buttons and charging and such. The other half is covered in LELO’s vibrant matte silicone (purple, in mine), and this is the half devoted to business and skin and vibrations and climaxing. As I plugged in my adorable new pleasure object, whose charger took my cell phone charger’s place on the power strip, being of similar size and shape, I mused to myself how advanced-looking the Siri was next to my cellphone, and not just because I drop my phone all the time. I was also immediately grateful that the former had no camera function (although I should probably invent something like that because I’m sure there’s a market). It only took a couple hours to charge, and conveniently tells you when it’s ready by producing a continuous blue LED glow from the button vicinity; it blinks while it’s still charging, and reportedly glows red when it needs juice (although I haven’t experienced that yet, because this thing is a laster). Helpful!

“Realize I’m not doing this for you,” I informed my body as I held the fully-charged Siri over my nethers. “I haven’t even begun to forgive you,” but we agreed to put our differences aside for the moment. This thing was bigger than our ongoing issues.

I turned it on. This was going well. I turned it up a bit. Oh, this was going very well. I kept turning it up, and it kept going up, past the point where I felt sure it would stop. This pleasure object is small, but it’s fierce!

The Siri has four buttons, and even from the dizzying heights of orgasm it isn’t confusing to work them. The plus and minus sign buttons turn it on and off, and coax the intensity up and down. The arrow buttons step through six vibration patterns. I’m not usually a huge pattern person, but some of these were, in a word, compelling. Especially the last one, which when you put it up against your temporomandibular joint sounds like an NES theme song.

I find it easy to grasp and hold onto and adjust in my hand for more focused or more diffused vibrations. This is not a hard toy to work one-handed, which makes it nice if you want to add an insertable to the party.

My clitoris, especially, seemed overjoyed with the experiment. After too many orgasms to count, did my clitoris thank me? Did it thank our friends at Babeland? No. It was all about the Siri. In the days that followed, my clitoris kept pestering me: “When are we going to use the Siri again? Do you think the Siri liked me? Why are we playing a video game when the Siri’s sitting right there? Why are we driving to the doctor’s office when we could be playing with the Siri? We never do what I want to do,” and frequently, “SIRI!” out of nowhere, at any time of the day or night. Bitch woke me up twice.

After a difficult week of zero masturbation mostly unrelated to my tiny, high-maintenance passenger, I brought out the Siri again. I was surprised to find that a) it had held its charge beautifully, and b) there was a note, signed by my clitoris, in that little satiny drawstring bag. The text is as follows:

I burn, I pine, I perish.

No one ever accused my clitoris of being original. Did I ignore the note and go on to use the Siri and have some really stellar orgasms? You know I did.

It wasn’t long before my clitoris notified me that because of my neglect and general unpleasantness in comparison to some, we would remain connected only because of physiological necessity. From this point on, we were not “together”, because it now belonged entirely to my Siri. It also informed me that I look stupid in boyshorts.

Overall, I love the Siri. It’s exactly what I hoped it would be: an easy-to-use, stylish, surprisingly mighty clit vibe. Also, it’s cute as a button and cuter than most actual buttons. The only minor complaints I have against it are:

1. It doesn’t cycle through its vibration patterns. That is, you can go up through patterns 1 to 6, and you can go back down again. You can’t easily get from 6 back around to 1. I personally would find it very useful if I could, since pattern 6 is a great buildup and pattern 1 is the steady vibration, which is what really gets me off the most. As it is, the quickest transition seems to be turning the thing off and on.
2. This thing is not waterproof. You’re supposed to keep water away from the charging port and buttons. It’s really not that difficult to clean if you take a bit of care, but if you’re a squirter there could be complications, depending on how you’re positioning your Siri and the trajectory of your orgasm.
3. It stole my motherfucking clitoris. Homewrecker.

A thousand thanks to Babeland!

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While I was married to my first wife, I had an affair with her sister, that lasted about a year. In all honesty, I should have stayed with the sister, life would have been much better. One night, I butt-fucked my SIL, and then went upstairs, and woke up my wife, and had her give me a blow job. What made it even more weird was that my SIL stood in the hallway and masturbated while she watched us.

I recently discovered that if I apply really strong pressure to my clitoris as I’m orgasming, the climax keeps going for an extra thirty seconds or so. I wish it was socially acceptable to share these sorts of little personal triumphs with the world at large, but it’s not, so I’ll share it with you.

You know how something will randomly pop into your head and you’ll think “I have to remember to look this up on the internet later”, but you don’t have a smart phone and you every time– without fail– forget to look it up when you’re actually on a computer? Well, in a similar vein, I keep meaning to try this!

Boy, you are very cute and you have a tophat, which is always a plus. However, you violate the xkcd rule, so despite your flirting I doubt we shall ever have a relationship. …Maybe making out. But that is definitely the limit here.

If I wear top hat will you make out with me? I’m just curious here.

I confessed here before my boyfriend barely touches me. He’s doing such a great job convincing me he doesn’t find me attractive, that I’m starting to find him less attractive… I go to get my nethers waxed and think sadly how I’ll keep paying for this because at least twice a month, I know someone will touch me below the waist.

If I wear a top hat will you let me give you a big hug? Because this confession really makes me want to.

Send in your anonymous confessions using this convenient form! Make haste!

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I got the hood of my clit pierced a few years ago because guys had too hard of a time finding it – my clit’s too small. That’s not a problem anymore!

I have a fantasy where I’m a dog at a dog show and the judge comes up and does the judgey thing where they check the teeth and the coat and whatever else on the dog. And then the judge checks my balls and starts feeling me up and talking dirty, giving me a handjob. Different stuff happens from there. I’ve looked into puppy play but it seems (at least in my area) that puppy play is pretty nonsexual. Or at least the sexual stuff happens between dogs only. You know how there’s the joke about putting peanut butter on your junk and getting the dog to lick you? I tried that with honey and I have to say: get a dog with good technique! No teeth!

At the advanced age of 44, I find myself with a boyfriend whom I love and am attracted to, and a pretty irresistible attraction to other men. He’s older than I am, and he’s on the downhill curve of his sexuality. I’m way more revved up than I was earlier in my life, and still get plenty of attention from attractive men. I love my boyfriend (did I mention that?) and I’m very attracted to him (he’s hot!), but he can’t quite keep up with my sex drive. We’ve talked about the possibility of opening our relationship, and that could be fun, but even though I find myself attracted to other men, I don’t really want to do that. I don’t really want to fuck other men while I’m in love with my boyfriend, and I don’t want him to fuck other women. Maybe if we kept it between ourselves, maybe if we just had threesomes, it could work. I don’t want to be left out of his sexual experiences; if he’s having one with another person, I want to be there sharing it with him. If I have a sexual experience with another man, I want him to share it with me — I’m really sexually oriented toward my boyfriend, and very attached to him, and striking out on my own just doesn’t seem like much…fun. This is all quite painful because I’ve finally found a man who I could see myself growing old with, and this sex thing keeps gumming up with works. I really don’t know what to do.

[The other] week someone said “my girlfriend’s clitoris is too big for my taste”. I want to meet his girlfriend. If there’s one physical attribute that really affects me, that moves me past sensible personality-match thinking, it’s a big clitoris. Luckily for me it’s not the kind of thing that shows.

Got a secret? You should go here and share.

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Last week’s FWB confession made me want to confess this: Sometimes I hope that my former FWB’s current girlfriend will leave him after the kid is born… they’re only together because she’s pregnant, and I really miss his dick…

In relation to your post on penetration. I’m a guy who enjoys the occasional “pegging” by his girlfriend. And I do not feel particularly dominated by the experience. I asked for it, the first time we did it, and it always feels like I’m perverting her, that I am, in essence, controlling and dominating and corrupting her; she never gets off on it, although she comes close. It’s not the case, though, as she quite enjoys it; this had been a fantasy of hers for almost precisely the reasons mentioned in the article – the idea of domination. So we’re both feeling like we’re dominating and corrupting the other. The more confessional part? I haven’t really told her how I feel about it because I’m pretty sure it would lessen her enjoyment of the experience that I’m still feeling in control of the situation.

I’m challenging myself to send in 1 confession a week, even if it means creating adventures just to have something to send in each week.

You’re pretty much the coolest ever.

That doctor who chopped up little girls makes me sick, but Truth: my girlfriend’s clitoris is too big for my taste. I’ve not mentioned it to her,  I definitely don’t want her to be self-conscious about it. It still weirds me out and effects my attraction level. I know part of loving someone is realizing that those details aren’t important in the big picture, but it’s a turn off anyway. And I feel bad about it.

Why don’t you go have an adventure and then tell me about it?

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I don’t know how parents determine their daughter’s clitoris is “too big”. I don’t even know what that means. I was under the impression that big clitorises were sexy anyway, but no one should be evaluating a child’s genitals in such a way unless they’re presenting an actual medical problem. “Being bigger than average” isn’t a medical problem. But somehow, a bunch of parents decided their daughters’ clitorises were too big, and turned to Dr. Dix P. Poppas for help (you probably think I made that name up, but I didn’t even!).

Dr. Dix P. Poppas is nothing if not helpful. According to this and this and this he’ll helpfully hack into your child’s healthy clitoris (as young as 4 months) and pare it down to some arbitrary acceptable size. Then he’ll stimulate her clitoris with a vibrating device and ask her how it feels… not just once, no! Every year. He’ll keep a chart. A chart of your daughter’s mutilated clitoris’s sexual response. Across years.

There’s no way to convey this in normal-sized font, so…

Creepy. Evil. Creepy.

Why this guy is allowed perform experimental surgery on children and then systematically molest them is anyone’s guess.

I posted about this on twitter the other night, and comparisons were naturally made to male circumcision, which I’m also entirely against (concerning male circ, Holly Pervocracy wrote about it recently, and made some excellent points, as she tends to do). I’m not sure if we’re talking equal atrocities considering the potentially-scarring, prolonged aftercare involved, but to me these seem like obvious civil rights issues. We’re talking about the physical integrity of a person. You don’t fuck with that, even if you’re that person’s legal guardian. What am I missing here?

Maybe it’s down to the fact that I don’t want kids and can’t realistically put myself in the position of a parent, so maybe there are complexities to this I can’t grasp, but when we’re talking circumcision I’m appalled when otherwise-intelligent people whose opinions I respect trot out tired, unsound reasons for cutting off pieces of their hypothetical babies’ genitals. I’m not going to fight all the stupid pro-circ. myths right now because Intact America does a thorough job here. But really, the bottom line is that I just feel that cutting a child’s genitals for arbitrary reasons is never justified. Trust me, when they’re adults they’ll have plenty of time to decide if they want to mutilate their own genitals.

Why would anyone force a child to submit to any surgery that’s medically unnecessary? Or does that just go back to the “Why is there evil in the world?” question.

(image source)

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While I like to name things as much as the next sexual deviant, naming my genitals would feel too much like dissociating myself from them, and that’s the last thing I want to do a) because that’s where I have a great deal of my fun and I have no wish to start living vicariously through my own body parts, and b) because if they got to have opinions they’d probably be very disappointed in me just now because I haven’t been keeping up on my caretaking duties (read: masturbating) lately.

I have jokingly given my tits names before, patently unsexy names that I throw out at really inconvenient times.

INT. SOME RANDOM COUCH – NIGHT

Groping is happening. Groping moves in a booberly direction.

Quizzical Pussy (indicating left breast): Ooooh, see that’s Statler.

Confused Dude: Huh?

Quizzical Pussy: The other one’s Waldorf. Now back to the balcony, kiddo! The old boys aren’t quite done with you!

Confused Dude: You sicken me.

Quizzical Pussy: Ah ah ah I lahve eet!

…This sort of thing is really great fun until I run out of people willing to fuck me. That’s when the laughter stops.

(image source)

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At this point I always give my little funereal grimace/smile that I practiced when all my grandparents were dying off; I nod gravely. “Thank you for being here. It means so much to the family.”

But the conversation doesn’t end there. How could it? The next question is only natural, and it comes as surely as dry-humping appears at your first unsupervised high school party: “So, if you don’t mind my asking, Q.P., what are you doing for orgasms these days?”

It’s an excellent question. It deserves a good answer, and thorough. Of course sometimes I get orgasms from my boyfriend, Laramy. You know how solo orgasms can be every bit as satisfying and powerful as those you experience with an ultra-hot, highly-skilled partner? Yeah, me neither.

If I could work out a way to do this feasibly, I’d probably want 97% (with a 3% margin of error) of my orgasms to be partner orgasms. But guess what? That isn’t likely to happen, ever, given any logistics at all and my cartoonish desire for more and ever more orgasms. So masturbation is still eating up huge swaths of my sex life.

I love jacking off. It’s one of the coolest feelings ever, but putting something (like, say, a Feeldoe!) in my vagina is a big masturbation commitment for me. If the person I’m fucking doesn’t put something inside me I feel like I’m going to go insane (not in anything approaching a good way). This sort of treatment elicits a whimper that clearly says, “There are no fingers, toys, nor penises inside me right now! Heavens, why not? And did your mother know you were diabolically evil while she was carrying you in her womb or did she come to find out later? Also, still nothing in my pussy!? Hate you. Hate. You.” … I mean, all that’s in the subtext of the whimper. But on my own I can’t be arsed to penetrate myself. Clit work is clean and powerful and entirely satisfying when I’m fucking me, and (let’s face it) not really all that turned on in the first place, compared to when there’s real lust and attraction and all that.

I’m not sure if it’s normal, pathological or quirky that sex with someone is a related-but-entirely-different animal from sex with myself. I’m guessing it’s fairly common.

Anyway, for my purposes, jacking off with my Feeldoe isn’t going to replace my rabbit (whose shaft was barely ever used–especially after all the fancy rotation functioning died, but whose little bunny ears gave me more orgasms than I can possibly even try to begin to count) as my sexual staple. And clearly my Hitachi Magic Wand was not going to step up from its glamorous life of pummeling knots in my shoulders to meet the challenge. No, my new mighty mighty foot soldier of love isn’t even from the glamorous side of the I’m-a-personal-massager-not-a-vibrator-dammit tracks. Indeed, these days I’m getting most of my orgasms from the humble Wahl 7-in-1 massager.

I rode horses when I was younger, so for a long time Wahl was synonymous with the roaching of manes and the clipping of bridle paths. Much like Hitachi makes everything from automatic teller machines to elevators to sex toys, Wahl makes animal clippers, soldering irons, and… fucking magic, baby.

I’ve had my Wahl 7-in-1 (also known as the 2-Speed All-Body Massager) for years. It isn’t flashy, it isn’t sexy, it definitely wasn’t my first choice when I had those amazing flickering jack rabbit ears at my disposal, but it is solid and reliable and profoundly good at what it does.

Looking at the utilitarian, clunky, blow-dryer/glue-gun-esque form of the 7-in-1, I defy you to muster up an ounce of surprise when you learn that the design hasn’t changed since the nineteen-smumblies. It’s heavy for its size, made of hard gray plastic, and comes with little rubber-like attachments that slip over the peg at its muzzle. You use a little trigger at the handle to turn the thing on and adjust the speed from ooooooooh buzzy to aaaaaaahehehe jackhammer! and back again. It’s whisper-quiet for the power it’s packing.

It comes with seven exciting(!) attachments. I don’t really like them all, but they end up covering a lot of bases and I could certainly see how someone might have entirely different favorites than I do…

General Body kind of looks like a megaphone or the bell of a brass instrument. I have never figured out how this attachment is a good idea. In full disclosure, I think this attachment is floating around in my closet because I accidentally-on-subconscious-purpose lost it, so maybe it never got a fair shake. Still, I tried it several times and blah.

Deep Muscle looks like a pierced nipple with a barbell and two concentric nipple ring-shields. That’s the sexiest thing you’ll hear about this attachment all day, I bet. Or at least I never really use it, because I find it insipid.

Spot Application is kind of just this huge nipple thing, and it’s definitely my go-to attachment. I cannot use this on high, but it’s glorious on low. If I had to pick just one attachment and throw all the others into a volcano (or my closet), I’d be surly about it but there would be no question. Spot App, it was always you.

Scalp has lots of roundish-but-still-pretty-pointy teeth arranged in three circles on a big dish. It has an “Oh god I’m not putting that on my genitals” look to it. Of course for you people, I tried it. It’s quite lovely on one’s scalp (as you might hope), but really much nicer on my pussy than I thought it would be. Like lots of little fingers with a light, tickling touch. Don’t press hard, obviously, unless you have a special interest in lots of little fingers with an ouchy, stabby touch.

Facial…Hehe. Facial. This attachment looks more or less like a satellite dish. It feels roughly awesome, and mellows/spreads out the vibrations. I have it gently cup my whole pussy, one edge hovering over my clit and the other poised at my perineum. On the highest setting, this is just shy of “way too intense”, and it feels amazing. The Wahl’s high setting actually feels like it pummels you a bit rather than just vibrating politely, so if you follow my facial attachment method, there are some funny labia-slapping noises that you will not regret if you have any sense of humor (and/or are getting off like mad). You’ll also feel an interesting breeze, which is all part of the “Wahl facial” experience for me.

Knuckle-Joint looks like a rounded roof off a tiny toy house. This one is pretty good for applying direct pressure to the clit: you can use the rounded edge or corner to maximize intensity or a flat plane for a more dissipated effect.

Muscle Kneading is a deeply ribbed rectangular attachment. This one is a little better at actual massaging than getting me off. If this got misplaced somewhere in the depths of my closet I probably wouldn’t notice.

…If you have a super-sensitive clitoris, both high and low settings could be too intense for you, especially if you’re using an attachment that provides direct stimulation. But some of these attachments do diffuse the vibrations a little, which affords Wahl wider appeal than, for instance, the Hitachi Magic Wand enjoys. That is to say, I like the Wahl better and I suspect that many woman might feel the same way.

Did I mention that the Wahl is a plug-in, so you’re not burning through batteries? The cord is under 9 feet long by my measuring tape, so you don’t have crazy range to play with, but it’s serviceable. Also, extension cords exist.

Add to all that the Wahl 7-in-1′s durability and versatility, and the fact that you can get one for under $15 if you know where to look*, and you’ve got an absolute gem of an orgasm-giving machine. Oh, and I hear people use it for muscles or something too.

*It’s good to patronize sex-positive companies that promote sex education and all that, but most sex shops that don’t overcharge for most things still overcharge for this particular product. I have no idea why.

(image source)

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Ancient Egyptian Deities <3 sex toys. Ask anyone.

International Buy A Sex Toy Day is fast approaching (it’s June 4th!), and I’m contemplating what to buy. I want to make this sex toy purchase count (toward mad orgasms). I’m not above buying cheap-ass sex toys, no, but in honor of the first annual BAST day I want to get something special, something I’m sure I won’t regret. So I’ve narrowed my current wishlist down to five top contenders. And here they are…

1. Sqweel The way oral sex simulators are described always irks me. For instance, the marketing copy for this toy on most sites says: “Luckily, the Sqweel won’t give you any excuses. No tired jaw, no early meeting the next morning, so it’ll keep going as long as you need.” Ooh baby. Nothing makes me horny like thinking about how much people hate to go down on me! Nevertheless, this toy looks like fun, and completely unlike anything else out there. In partnered sex, I tend to prefer oral sex with hard fingering right on my G-spot, so I’m curious as to whether I’ll feel the need for some penetration while using this.
2. We Vibe 2 The We Vibe is made specifically for wearing while fucking, in the sense that it’s supposed to go inside you (and also outside you) while a penis is also inside you. That promises like a million and seven standard units of stimulation for everyone involved! A while back, Laramy and I visited a sex toy shop and the We Vibe 2 was sitting there all coy on a glass shelf, begging to be picked up and fondled. Once we figured out how to turn the damn thing on, the vibration patterns were mesmerizing, and my imagination was captured: I wanted to put it in and fuck him right there on the floor immediately. Unfortunately, it was not that kind of place. Two misgivings: I don’t really know if the added friction against something shiny and silicone (even though it is, as advertised, quite soft) is going to be a problem for my partner’s penis, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep up with the plot of the sequel without first seeing We Vibe 1.
3. Njoy Pure Wand This is the G-spot toy, apparently. I want it both for personal use and for its great potential in the realm of girlfucking. It should come with a t-shirt that says “I will make you squirt”. Or wait, would that be tacky? Oh wait, don’t care.
4. Lelo Ina So my Impulse Jack Rabbit all kinds of died. It’s pretty much a mere shadow of its former, bliss-giving self. We had a good run so I’m not mad…I’m just disappointed. But if the rumors are true, Lelo has taken the winning Rabbit vibe formula and elevated it to high art with the Ina. I feel like that might just help me through my mourning process.
5. Eroscillator As a huge fan of clitoral masturbation, ever since I read Epiphora’s review of this technological marvel I’ve been consumed with desire. I burn, I pine, I perish. For reals. Plus, this is the only vibrator ever recommended by Dr. Ruth Westheimer, and you may recall that BAST day is on her birthday. It’s fate or something, I swear. Of course, the package I want goes for $240.90, so I’m starting to think that fate is cruel. Realistically, I’ll probably start saving up now so I can buy it for BAST day 2011. Still, it’s a beautiful dream.

Honorable Mention: Fleshlight Ice I can’t emphasize enough how dearly I want to fuck a Fleshlight with my Feeldoe. It would feel so deliciously postmodern. And the Fleshlight Ice is the clear favorite for this activity because of the visual treat of seeing every inch of my beautiful cock as it slides in and out. The only problem is that I mostly want it for novelty because I’m not sure it’ll beat jacking off with my Feeldoe one iota sensation-wise.

So there’s my shortlist. Each of my top five occupies a different sex toy niche, which makes the choice both more interesting and harder. As always, your input is welcome.

I hope you consider going online or visiting your local sex shop to buy a sex toy on June 4th, or at least spreading the word about BAST day! Blog it, tweet it, whatever! I think it would be wicked fun if it caught on.

(image source)

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