Let’s talk sex toys today. Specifically, I’ll be reviewing The Stubby G.
First, I want to explain how a few things work for all y’all, since I know sex-blog readers see these reviews all the time, and, personally, I see that 95% of them are positive, so I could understand how review-readers might skeptically dismiss us one and all as rabid sex-toy fans who love everything that comes our way.
What you need to understand is, there are a couple different ways sex toy companies operate. Some will contact bloggers and go, “Hey, want to review toys?” and when our broke asses reply, “Dude! Yeah! I need me some O’s!” they’ll send us a box of toys, it gets opened, and inside is a bunch of shit they couldn’t sell and now the poor sucker who opened the box is on the hook to review hundreds of dollars of piece-of-shit toys. I threw out the toys One Company To Remain Unnamed sent me a couple years back — they weren’t fit for my body, for reviews, for nothing.
I’m sorry, but I often really, really hate the name of sex toys. And this is no exception.
From Emma’s Passion Garden comes the Dual Rose aka “The Lovely Rose.” Jesus, people. Fire the marketing department, because this toy deserves so much better. Really.
Nonetheless, when a guy was recently given the choice of what toy to invade my personal space with, this is the toy he thought looked most up to the job. 20 minutes later and we were both in agreement that his choice was a good one, and since the rest of the sexual encounter was a total waste of my time, I was pleased I’d had the foresight to give the bad loverman some tools toward pleasuring me.
The Dual/Lovely Rose is a Rabbit-type vibe that aims to give you a double-dose of the feelin’-goods.
Obviously I have a hard time getting past bad product names or lame packaging, and I felt that the Rose came with both. And that’s why I was so pleasantly surprised that the toy itself is actually quite good. I mean, it succeeds in getting my knees shaking. Continue reading →
This thing is to sex toys what the iPOD is to music. No, really.
Sure, you could go for the so-called five-speed turn-the-dial vibrators out there, or you could cross the threshold into the 21st century and try a vibrator powered by a microchip, that offers five incredible sensations, and each of those come in five different speeds. Oh, you have no idea.
But that’s only part of what I love, love, love about this toy. So, let’s slow down and break it down for a second: Continue reading →
Is there anything more fun than walking out a postal outlet knowing that, under your arms, is a big-ass box of sex toys, and no one there has a clue?
My local postal outlet’s in a 7-11. So there I am, walking out with a box of orgasms under my arm, and everyone else has got a Slurpee. Hardy-fucking-har. Enjoy yourselves. Clearly different notions of wetting one’s whistle.
The box, of course, was just your basic brown cardboard box. Within, however, were six sex toys and a nice big bottle of Liquid Sex lube. Yep, prepared for all eventualities now. A very exciting experience, receiving more than one GOOD toy at once.
The folks at Vibe Reviews asked me if I’d be willing to play around and write some reviews for them. No real rules, I can say what I want, yet I get the toys for free, and that’s that.
Which is good, because when I’m broke off my ass and barely getting by on what I’ve got now, the last thing I can afford to splurge on, sadly, are orgasms. Besides, I’m rather adept at, urm, “knocking one out” the ol’ manual way.
(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.”