Sex Toy Review: The Remote Controlled Egg

(Fun for everyone! I forgot that I have a few things in my stores I can post, like this review:)

You know I’m a fan of voyeurism, but sometimes the best voyeurism is the one where no one even knows what’s going down.

An egg, an itty-bitty harmless egg came in my mail lately, and while awaiting its arrival, I began hatching a scheme for reviewing it.

Wireless remote, I thought. Why, that means, have egg, will travel. But travel to where, I thought?

Well, I’d insert the bad little egg and I’d take on the world, I thought. I’d zip downtown, egg in use, scootin’ through the masses. But I’d remove the battery from the remote for the scooter ride downtown. I mean, really, like you wouldn’t want that thing going off on the main drag.

“But, Bob, I think that woman on that little scooter is having an orgasm. Oh! She is. Oh, my…”

Bob veers sharply to the left, killing the granny in the passenger seat of the Caravan. No, we would avoid tragedy today. Battery, out.

So, on a perfect early spring day: Beach volleyball. Shirtless men. Sand. Sun.

I found myself a comfy spot on the sand, took in the view, and got cracking.

Yes, it’s a bad little egg, but I’m a fan. This summer, my outdoors life just got a whole lot more entertaining.

And, hey, who says loverman can’t get me off in a crowded room, huh? This is the kind of toy made for outdoors, made for indoors, but the wireless remote control means things can get fun not only for me, but for he who wields the remote, while the fun’s still private.

Oh, wireless, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. “Quiet and discreet.” Oh, indeed.

(The only way I’d like this better is if it were multispeed. But, then, multi could get mighty annoying if it were, in fact, some party setting where your loverman was playfully controlling the remote, and you’re there trying to schmooze with some big-wig. Loverman’s flicking through speeds like a kid with ADHD. Can you imagine? “And yes, the product launch was more successf…. errr… um, well, more successful than we — oh! I’m sorry, it must be the shrimp. Oh, DEAR. I think I need to take a moment. I’ll be right back.”