The Adult Entertainment Expo (AEE) is held every January in Las Vegas. It is an opportunity for adult film and novelty makers to get together and share their wares with various distributors and everyone who wants to sell it, from mom and pop porn shops to the major players like Babeland. There is one giant room devoted to film and digital media. All of the major porn studios are represented with blaring and moaning video screens, and some booths proudly display graphic video games and even interactive toys that work with media. A second room houses any and all manner of sex toys. Various vendors and distributors have got you covered from butt plugs to nipple clamps. While there are a few industry-only days, the joint really starts jumping when fans are admitted to gawk and collect autographs from scantily-clad porn stars (and anyone else they might suspect of being a pornstar; someone requested a photo with my ass last year).
This year was the third year that I attended AEE. I still remember the first year I went. I was so excited. Wide-eyed and dumbstruck I stared at countless graphic sexual images. I think I saw more at that show than I had seen my whole life up until that point. I left the show proudly wearing my I *heart* Vagina pin and glowing with a new sense of ownership about my sexuality. Truth be told, I may not have ever started this blog had I not discovered AEE.
Last year I went for the second time, and I actually got up the nerve to talk to people. Still wide-eyed, I earnestly asked atendees questions about how they got into the industry and what their mothers thought about it and whether banks would give them loans to fund their less-than-vanilla projects and products. Actually talking to people made the show even more fascinating. I left not only with a new perspective but an armload of exciting new products that I went home to "test" and "review."
This year I eagerly awaited my trip to Vegas and AEE. My friends, accustomed the glee and toys I had come to share upon my return from previous shows, were just as excited about my visit. Sadly, I left Las Vegas on Sunday after the show feeling a little deflated. Don't get me wrong, there are some fabulous people involved with AEE, and I fully enjoyed spending time with Team OhMiBod and sex educator, Jamye Waxman, among others, but when it comes to the show itself, I suppose novelties can only be novel for so long. When you've smirked with appreciation for Not the Bradys XXX, how exciting is This Ain't the Munsters XXX? It is basically the same thing repackaged. And how many variations of the famed Rabbit Habbit does the world need?
Let me clarify -- I am all about capitalism, and I am a huge fan of innovation. I just found myself bored with seeing the same products and movies repackaged and reworked. There were a few novel things, and I will take the time to share some reviews over the next few days, but overall, there was not much novel about the novelties and not much new about the new releases. While I certainly enjoyed catching up with old friends and making new ones, I left the show feeling like I'd lost my mojo. This feeling is best described by the image above: beautiful, half-naked women squeezed the life out of my formerly firm porn show erection. Ah well, I suppose there are worse ways to lose a boner.
I am not big on manual stimulation. By this I mean two things. First, when self-pleasuring I prefer to have the aid of some sort of tool or another, and second, I am not really into my hand as the tool. Ever since childhood, when I have wanted to "feel good" I have been more apt to rub up against something than to use my fingers and stick it to myself.
Recently I decided it might not be a bad idea to "let my fingers do the walking" and take a more "digital" approach to pleasure. I have enjoyed the added intimacy of feeling myself with my fingers. It has helped me to better learn my own unique anatomy from texture to location to size. With this new frontier at hand, I thought it might be fun to give myself a hand and try a toy that provided a little buzz while keeping the focus on the fingers. The Fukuoku 9000 was just the toy for the job.
The Fukuoku, powered by two watch batteries, fits neatly over a finger and provides a pretty mean buzz for something smaller than many a lipstick. It comes with three washable textured silicone sleeves and a handy-dandy carrying case that even boasts a belt loop. Innovative.
What I like about the Fukuoku This little vibe is tiny. It is really a take anywhere toy that won't cause TSA to bat an eyelash. I also imagine that the Fukuoku is a great gateway toy. It is nonthreatening and, in no way, screams (or even mentions) sex. In fact, its campy brochure proclaims the wonders of using it to cure headaches and soothe tired feet (it says nothing about those sore feet and aching heads being anywhere near a vagina). Also, at about $30 it is not here to scare us off with designer sex toy pricing.
What I question about the Fukuoku I read a number of reviews about the Fukuoku that complained about battery life. While I haven't buzzed mine into oblivion yet, I know the little watch batteries it uses can be pricey. Thankfully, the manufacturers do package it with a spare set. Additionally, I have to admit that while my fingers might be bulkier than some, I was surprised at how snugly the little Fukuoku fit me. After a few minutes, my finger was clearly retaining more blood than those around it. Again, I don't think I have man hands or anything, and I wonder how man hands would feel in this little device, despite its spring loaded adjustable-ness.
My Experience with the Fukuoku I have to admit that I have been putting off trying this toy out for a few months. As I mentioned, I am not really into the finger thing, and I also enjoy penetration. When I finally pulled the Fukuoku out, it surprised me. First off, it is pretty darn loud for a little guy. Although, thankfully, its buzzing sound is muted significantly once pressed against flesh. The device fit neatly over my finger, and I found the on/off switch easy to manipulate with my thumb (watch out, Lefties; this may not work so well for you). The single speed vibration felt good on my body. I have to admit that I think it would take me many hours and batteries to actually reach climax with this device alone. As some reviewers recommend, it might be more fun with a friend and/or an insertion vibe as well.
For now, the Fukuoku 9000 delivers what its brochure offers, " Relaxation Massage Therapy..." I enjoyed the soft, warm buzz of the Fukuoku on my clit, I just can't imagine it taking me over the edge. That's alright. Some times all I need is a little "Relaxation Massage Therapy."
It was not the now infamous Sex and the City episode featuring the Rabbit Pearl vibrator that caused me to run out and buy one. In fact, I didn’t see that episode until years after I was the proud owner of my very own Rabbit.
I would, perhaps, still be bunny-less today if it were not for the creative shopping habits of The Mister. As I have mentioned here before, I did not own, nor use, a vibrator until my late twenties. One fine Capitalism Day in 2002, The Mister decided to give me the gift of things that go bump in the night. Wrapped with the utmost care in my pile of loot were both the Hello Kitty vibe (a hard plastic vibe that looks more like a children’s toy than a sex toy) and my very first Rabbit Pearl. I must admit I was a bit overwhelmed by the gifts at first. I felt a little like a cat owner; I knew the dead bird laid lovingly on my doorstep by my proud feline meant he loved me above all others, I just wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Years passed before I actually put my toys to use. While I admit that Hello Kitty never received a warm greeting from my “kitty,” The Rabbit Pearl quickly became my favorite sex toy, and like Charlotte on Sex in the City, I risked becoming its eternal victim. I loved my first bunny so much that he died in a haze of smoke that resulted (I think) from the motor overheating. I am serious. I killed the freakin’ rabbit with my vagina. Now that's love.
I did get a replacement Rabbit Pearl, but since reading about phthalates and the harm they can cause, I have been forcing my bunny to wear a condom, and I have been less than thrilled about using him at all; should I put a second condom on his cute little ears?
Enter Babeland with a fine solution to all my rabbit woes. Babeland is now selling a 100% elastomer version of the Rabbit Habit. What this means is that it is made of some sort of fancy rubber and completely free of latex and phthalates. This makes me feel safer overall and glad that Vibratex (the manufacturer) had the good sense to listen to consumers and change their formula.
I just played with my new Rabbit Habit for the first time, and I am not disappointed. First off, I know it is cheesy, and perhaps even juvenile, but I really appreciate the purple glitter body of the bunny. I feel it is appropriately visually stimulating for the task at hand. I prefer it to the pink of my old Rabbit Pearl. Another improvement of the Rabbit habit over the Rabbit Pearl is that the controls and battery case are located within the vibe instead of on a separate attached remote (is it still a remote if it’s attached?). This allows for one-handed use. I enjoyed having a hand free to roam where it pleased (me).
There are several other differences between the Rabbit Pearl and the new Rabbit Habit. First off, the shape of the Rabbit Habit is slightly different than that of the Rabbit Pearl. Most significantly, it is larger. I didn’t really notice the increased size until I was done playing with it and went to pull it out of my body. It didn’t cause pain or anything, but it was a noticeable feeling. If you are very petite, I might recommend a smaller duel-action (meaning clitoral and internal stimulation) vibe like the Rosebud.
Also changed is the rotation of the pearls in the shaft. They move more evenly in the Rabbit Habit. I can appreciate this because one of my earlier bunnies had pearls that got stuck and stopped rotating all together. Lastly, the new material of the Rabbit Habit allows the ears to flop about quite a bit more than they ever did on my old bunnies. I appreciated the added movement, but I think I got clit-slapped by my new bunny’s ears at one point. I didn’t mind. Slap me, Bunny, slap me. You dirty little rabbit!
Overall, I think the Rabbit Habit is a great addition to anyone’s toy collection, and a fabulous first time vibe. I have read many a tale of first time orgasms being achieved through the help of the Bunny. The added benefit of both clitoral and internal vibration (each with separate speed control) make this vibe extra versatile. In fact, because both the shaft and the bunny have separate controls, you can choose to use one or both and at varying speeds. I love the uniquely Japanese design which may make this vibe less intimidating to first time vibrator users. The shaft is made to look like the body of a woman. The “head” is actually her hair neatly parted in the middle. A demure pearl necklace and earrings accentuate her cute little smile. Only the Japanese. The Rabbit Habit is a classic, one of Babeland's All-Stars, actually. If you are going to buzz, this is the way to go.
Ahhh. A few weeks ago I gave thanks for having been introduced to the Canadian duo, The Wet Spots. Today I sit in reverie and awe as I listen to their album for about the seventeenth time since I bought it at their show last Thursday.
I went to the Wet Spots' concert with enough knowledge of their songs to know it would not be a waste of my time. I did not expect to become so totally and utterly enthralled. Both 'Spots,' Cass, and her husband John were in rare form and kept me totally engaged the entire time they were on stage (or next to me giving my lucky friend, May, a lapdance).
It is frequent that performers can get a laugh or two by repeating profanities with zeal, but The Wet Spots go beyond dirty, and are downright clever. Yes, sometimes they have (totally fantastic and lovable) potty mouths, but their lyrics are engaging and terribly amusing -- I mean, who, but the Wet Spots, could have come up with "Bi-Curious George."
In addition to their cleverness, it is their spunk and delivery that set them apart. They know how to play to a crowd, and play with a crowd, as May's husband John learned when he had a percussion solo played on his ass (to be fair, he got to dole out an ass-smacking solo of his own).
If you think this is just a shameless plug for the Wet Spots, you are right. It is. If you think this is not very clever or well-written, you are also right. It isn't. The Wet Spots leave me speechless and drooling. There isn't any clever left; they used it all.
Because I am out of clever myself, I will leave you with some directly from the Wet Spots. You may even learn something. Enjoy!
When I was nineteen, I was at an amusement park with a boyfriend who was on the verge of ex-ness and my younger sister, in whom he had a keen interest.Tensions were high.We’d made it through the whole morning without incident, and it was time for lunch.I was vegetarian at the time and had some anxiety about what I might find to eat.I also knew that my food choices would likely separate me from my sister and this boy as they were both apt to choose something quite carnivorous.I was the third wheel, and I felt a yearning for something to fill the hole that was growing inside me.It is important to note that any tension, sexual or otherwise, had gone unvoiced; we were all just the best of friends out for a day of good times at the amusement park (while my insides were torn asunder by the thought of my main squeeze squeezing my sister).
We congregated on a concrete bench by the food court to voice our gastronomic desires.The two of them were pretty much decided on a trip to the hamburger stand together (I knew it; damn hamburgers!).I tried to maintain the appearance of calm nonchalance I had worked on developing over the last few months of bitter anguish over my dying love.Leaning back on my hands, I cocked my head to one side and casually said, “I think I’ll have some pizza.”Well, that is what I meant to say.What I actually said was, “I think I’ll have some penis.”The word practically jumped out of my mouth and danced around mocking us all.What could I do but laugh?We all laughed, and for a brief moment, the tension that had surrounded us the whole day was shattered by my inadvertent utterance of truth.
To this day, my sister (who left said boyfriend in the dust years ago) and I can break into a mean giggle at the mere mention of pizza.In fact, there is perhaps a permanently blown fuse in my brain when it comes to those two “P” words; I feel so passionate about them both.That is part of the reason I love my new culinary gadget.Babeland has embraced my passion for all things “P” and has started carrying the Penis Cupcake pan.This little beauty makes up to six piping hot penises at a time.And while I suppose I could cram a mini Chicago-style pizza into each of these shiny shafts, I think this tin might be better suited for brownies or even Jell-O shots.Mmmmmmm. Whatever you choose to put in your penises, just make sure to use ample grease (no, not K-Y Jelly). It would be a shame to have an accidental beheading or castration upon removal from the pans.
All those years ago at the amusement park, my brain (and Dr. Frued) played a trick on me, but what slipped from my mouth was a delicious treat that I still savor with amusement and (perhaps misguided) pride. What a gift the truth is. Here's to a celebration of penises -- piping hot, cream-filled penises! Just in time for Halloween! What a great opportunity to turn some tricks… into treats.
I have a new favorite band. The Wet Spots make me laugh and think about sex -- two of my most favorite things on the planet. Thank you Wet Spots (and thank you, Lula, for telling me about them). I am looking forward to enjoying them live and in the flesh in San Francisco later this month.
I had my inaugural visit to the Folsom Street Fair this last Sunday, and I had a gay o' time. While I was fully prepared to see the leather and chains that dominated many an outfit, I still found shocks and surprises around every corner. One of my favorite surprises was running into the folks responsible for Divine Interventions. They had lovingly set up a booth displaying all of their heavenly wares.
I first learned about Divine Interventions several years ago as a result of a Google bet with myself. It is a game I like to play, and it goes something like this, "Nasal Sex. Now that's a funny idea. As much as I feel like I am the first person to ever think of it, I bet Google could find it." Yeah. Google usually can find it, no matter how original and/or sick I think I am.
This particular bet took root in Florence, Italy. I was seated in front of Michelangelo's stunning David. I had already been through the shock of rounding the corner at Galleria dell 'Accademia to be confronted with his perfect, seventeen-foot-tall, nakedness. I had walked circles around him and admired him from all angles as tears of joy welled in my eyes (yes, he does have an amazing ass). I was seated in a hushed reverie staring up at this giant nude man and unable to untangle my admiration for his form from my admiration for his creator. I fantasized about what it would like to have an affair with an older man. Five hundred years didn't seem like such a big deal; it was the whole dead thing that was getting in my way.
These feelings of admiration and lust mingled with visions of the David salt and pepper shakers I had seen at all the little vendors' carts all throughout the streets of Florence, and then I made myself a Google bet. "David dildos. Now that's a funny idea. As much as I feel like I am the first person to ever think of it, I bet Google could find it."
After getting my fill of David (visually), my husband and I meandered back to our hotel. I couldn't contain myself, and I shared with him my new vision of David. I felt almost sacrilegious talking about the phallic shape of such a revered work of sculptural genius, but I didn't stop talking and giggling about it. Upon returning to the hotel, we immediately Googled "David Dildo." Nada. In fact, as I sit here now, three years later, I just checked again and was unable to find any sort of David that one might find "satisfying." Maybe I'll have to work on that one.
As we wandered through the rest of Florence and all through Rome, I was full of thoughts for new and never before seen dildos. One night over dinner, while contemplating the sacrilegious feelings I had about my sexual desire for David, I thought of something truly sacrilegious. What symbolizes religion in the way that David has come to represent art? What is a symbol for Christians of their purity and righteousness? Jesus Fucking Christ! A Jesus dildo! Reformed Catholics would line up for one of those, right?
After dinner we rushed back to the hotel. "Jesus Dildos. Now that's a funny idea. As much as I feel like I am the first person to ever think of it, I bet Google could find it." This time Google pulled through for me, and introduced me to Divine Interventions. This oh-we're-so-going-to-hell company not only makes Jesus dildos, but they are also the creators of the Baby Jesus Butt plug. Now, I don't know if I would have even thought of feeling god inside of me like that.
When I first found Divine Interventions, I explored their site thoroughly. These evil geniuses have made something to offend (or amuse -- depending on your fervor) everyone. If you are not feeling the love for Christ on the Cross, you can always opt for Buddha's Delight. Even the females are represented. I mean, who doesn't get all hot under the collar thinking of the Virgin Mary or a sleek, silicone sister? The Diving Nun, like all of their lovely toys, is handcrafted from 100% silicone. Jesus! These guys are practically dildo artisans!
When I visited these evil doers at Folsom, I learned that they've expanded their line. Not only did they have all of their fantastic religious icons on display, they have decided to divinely intervene in politics. Fuckin' Barack Obama!
Now we can get fucked by politics and religion without even having to leave the comfort of our homes. God bless Divine Interventions!
I have to admit that I am the Girl Scout type. Yes, I love the cookies, but, more importantly, I try to always "be prepared." In high school this meant carrying everything from Band-Aids to Silly Putty in my purse -- the Band-Aids to help with physical ailments, the Silly Putty to cheer-up, distract, or entertain anyone who needed it (including me).
On any given day, I am still equipped with Band-Aids, safety pins, dental floss, and Kleenex. But since high school, I have traded-in my Silly Putty for a more grown-up diversion. JimmyJane, known for its upscale vibrators and other sexy accouterments, has created the Indulgences Pocket Pleasure Set for Girl Scouts just like me. This cute and classy little pocket pack ignites the imagination while putting safety first. Scouts' honor!
When I first opened the sturdy plastic box, I was surprised by all the goodies stashed inside. As a girl who loves miniatures (I still can't use a single serving of coffee creamer without thinking how it makes a perfect Barbie waste basket), I first had to marvel at the cuteness of it all. In this box, that is less than an inch thick, the JimmyJane folks managed to stuff two condoms, lube, a feather tickler, a mini waterproof vibe, and (my favorite) a shiny Love Decoder that helps inspire the placement of kisses and other tokens of affection.
True to their designer style and thoughtful innovation, JimmyJane didn't skimp on the goodies in this box. I like to think of it as a complete package that starts with foreplay and has you "covered" all along the trail of passion. Each component builds upon the last.
Great sex can start just by thinking about it, and the Love Decoder gets the juicy thoughts flowing. Just the look of the black and silver Love Decoder is enticing. It is an unusual take on the love dice I have seen everywhere. Based on the origami fortune tellers of my youth, the Love Decoder provides a great conversation piece and serves as inspiration for what's to come.
The mini black feather tickler is a great way to tease and titillate the person subject to its touch. If it's whispery feather kisses leave him/her wanting more, the waterproof mini-vibe packs a powerful punch. I imagine that after a feather-light touch, it might be fun to up the intensity with this little vibe. I love that it's waterproof which makes it perfect for aquatic adventures and for Girl Scouts like me who like to keep their toys super clean (If only that merit badge had been an option back in the day).
The mini-vibe will also stand up to the included water-based lube and, in case the vibe just isn't enough, the kit also includes two condoms. While the condoms aren't branded with the JimmyJane logo, they come in their own cute little JimmyJane box which adds to the neat appearance and the integrated look of the whole set.
The JimmyJane Indulgences Pocket Pleasure Pack is a high-end take on more mainstream combo packs like the Vibrating Rings sold by Trojan and packaged with their condoms. While I wouldn't think of going to Wal-Mart and buying a box of Trojans and a fingertip massager for a friend, I would totally bequeath a gal pal with some JimmyJane love. I am not someone who is normally very brand conscious (I didn't get the boutique-shopping merit badge), but JimmyJane has built a brand that is worth recognizing. Among a few others, they stand out as a provider of tasteful and tasty sexy goodies. Not only is The Indulgences Pleasure Pack great in case of an emergency, I think it would make a fantastic party favor for guests at a bachelorette party or even as gifts to a hip wedding party.
Whatever the occasion, this little kit will help us all to "be prepared." Gee whiz, my scout-leader would be so proud! Maybe she'll let me sell cookies this year! Egads!
This morning, whilst climbing the stairs to nowhere at the gym, I was reading. I was reading The Six Pillars of Self-Esteemby Nathaniel Branden. Most of my reading happens aboard some exercise contraption surrounded by sweaty strangers and bad morning TV. Sometimes these distractions steal my focus. Not this morning. This morning, Branden said something, and I felt he was talking just to me. I delighted in the "ah-ha!" moment I had when I read Branden's description of "An intelligence that takes joy in its own function":
"The natural inclination of a child is to take pleasure in the use of mind no less than of body. The child's primary business is learning. It is also the primary entertainment. To retain that orientation into adulthood, so that consciousness is not a burden but a joy, is the mark of a successfully developed human being" (73).
I could almost see Nathaniel Branden's clear blue eyes peering out of the pages, looking directly at me as he said this. For the last few months, I have been noticing that when I want to access my feelings of joy, I turn to my childhood. I still relish an opportunity to play dress-up, and I delight in make-believe. These "childish" activities bring me great pleasure, and a weight is lifted from my soul.
As I explore who I am and what I want to be doing (yet again), I keep coming up with two answers. First, I love to play. I love to fall on the floor laughing, tears streaming down my flushed cheeks. I love games and pretending and funny voices and puns. I love dress-up and whispering and singing silly songs and wrestling. I laugh at fart jokes. Recently, I was complimented when an seven year-old friend of mine chided me for being a big kid. Damn straight.
The other thing I love is sex. I love connecting deeply with other people. I love learning new things about my body and how it works. I love anticipation and flirtation. I am mesmerised by the human form, and I admire those who embrace their sexuality fully.
For a while now I have been trying, and failing, to integrate these things. I imagined they were connected, but I couldn't really see how. I had hit a wall. This morning, Branden's words sent bricks flying everywhere. He made me want to take a closer look at what he was saying.
"The natural inclination of a child is to take pleasure in the use of mind no less than of body."
Call me childish, but just like it is my natural inclination to sing songs and play dress-up, it is my natural inclination to find pleasure through my body, including sexual pleasure. The joy that I find through my body is one more manifestation of my love of play. While I derive immense pleasure from the use of my mind and learning new things with it, it is matched (at the very least) by the pleasure I glean from the use of my body. We all are born without knowledge of the taboo associated with deriving pleasure from our bodies. Religion and society tell us sex is bad and masturbation is worse. Imagine if we could take into adulthood, without a lick of fear or shame or guilt, the unbridled joy that our bodies are capable of giving us.
"The child's primary business is learning."
When I think about it, it is really rather extraordinary how much children learn and absorb as they age. I never cease to be amazed by how much children pick up, both consciously and not, from the environment around them. What amazes me more though is the ridiculous notion that so many of us have that learning stops when school is over and/or adulthood is reached. The most youthful adults I know are the ones that are constantly learning new things, uncovering new ideas, trying some new activity. Being in a constant state of inquiry keeps us young.
"[Learning] is also the primary entertainment."
The other day we went to visit some friends and their three year-old son. The living room floor was covered with the packaging from an electronic keyboard (the piano kind, not the typing kind) that had been opened and set up only moments before our arrival. It was a pleasure to watch this child fully engross himself in the wonders of his new treasure. He was completely entertained by learning how it worked and exploring all of its features (most noticeably, the volume control -- ouch!). He was utterly enthralled.
One of the reasons I am enthralled by the topic of sex is that I find that there are, seemingly, limitless things to learn about it. Given the fact that our culture persists in being so secretive and quiet about it, I imagine there are many things yet uncovered. For example, it wasn't until 1981 that the term G-Spot was even coined. I am excited just by the prospect of all the secrets that still lay hidden. Learning about sex, both with my mind and my body, gives me great joy.
"To retain that orientation into adulthood, so that consciousness is not a burden but a joy, is the mark of a successfully developed human being."
As an adult, I have tried all kinds of things to block out my consciousness. I have kept having "just one more glass of wine" until I couldn't see straight. I have slept. I have watched with intrigue to see which one of the fabulous celebrity dancers would make it to the next level of the lavish, over-dramatized televised competition. I have successfully avoided looking at, or being conscious of, things that cause me pain. Self-anesthetization is frighteningly easy.
The more I embrace my childishness, the easier it becomes to remain conscious. In fact, when I am learning about things that fascinate me and doing things that I love, just like a child at nap time, I fight to maintain consciousness for as long as I possibly can. Thanks, Nathaniel Branden, for the much needed wake-up call.
References: Branden, Nathaniel. The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem. New York: Bantam Books, 1995. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G-spot
I am kind of obsessed. I can't focus. I want to go back to bed. All morning my hand has been wandering off and landing in my lap. My mind has been wandering off and landing in rich fantasies of njoy's Pure Wand. I used the Pure Wand for the first time yesterday, and I can't stop thinking about it.
I will admit that the beautiful toy lived under my bed in its lush pink satin nest encased in its sturdy black box for much too long. I think I was a little intimidated by it. Every woman I have ever spoken to about the Pure Wand has gushed over it -- literally and figuratively. They say it is one of their favorite toys ever and that it makes them squirt like nobody's business. Wow. That's a lot to live up to. I am not a squirter -- at least not yet, and, thus far, my experiences with G-Spot stimulation have left me unable to get past that "holy crap, I'm gonna wet the bed" sensation. I left the toy untouched for months because I was afraid I would be successful stimulating my G-Spot, and I was afraid I wouldn't be.
Yesterday I threw caution to the wind and decided to unearth my treasure. Just the thought of pulling out a new toy always gets me a bit excited. Lying on my belly, reaching under the bed, I felt yummy warm tingles emanating from the center of my being. Even preparing the Pure Wand was a sensual experience. The weight of it in my hands (a full one-and-a-half pounds) felt so substantial. The sound it made when I rested it on my porcelain sink rang throughout my body. I washed it, as I do with all new toys, and then I decided it might be fun to leave it under the stream of warm water for a while. Just as I'd imagined, its smooth stainless steel body retained the heat, and as I carried it to the bedroom, I enjoyed its warmth on my forearm and palm.
The gentle warmth I felt on my limbs became spicy hot when it reached my sensitive groin. The heat was almost too much, but so exciting at the same time. While getting the Pure wand out of its box, I had told myself that I could go easy and start with the smaller end. The ball there is only one inch in diameter as opposed to the full inch-and-a-half on the larger side. Fuck that. Um, yes. Fuck that. On my back, I couldn't resist the temptation to "take the plunge" with the bigger end, and I eased it into myself. Once inside, the Pure Wand seemed to have an almost magnetic attraction to my cervix. The shape and weight of the toy allowed it to fall comfortably inside of me in a way that seemed surprisingly natural.
I have never been one for dildos. Most of my experience with sex toys has been battery-powered. I wondered how I would react to an object whose only movement would be generated by me. I am not wondering anymore. In fact, I am exerting a good deal of will power to stay in my seat right now and not go generate some movement.
There is so much that I love about the Pure Wand that I am having trouble deciding where to begin. This simple toy is a smorgasbord for my senses. The juxtaposition of the hard polished stainless steel resting in its delicate hot pink satin nest is seared on my eyeballs. My body can still feel the weight of of it, and my hands remember the coolness it radiated as I removed it from the box. I am singing on the inside with the recalled sound of it falling further into me. I am even excited by its smell, or lack there of. Many plastic sex toys radiate a fierce odor of what I imagine is phthalates. Because the Pure Wand (like all of njoy's toys) is 100% medical grade stainless steel, it is not only stainless, but odorless. This attribute also makes it one of the only sex toys I am comfortable using without a condom; it is completely nonporous. While I admit that I haven't yet tasted the Pure Wand, I am savoring the delicious orgasms it brought me yesterday, and I am looking forward to going back for additional helpings.
The fact that the Pure Wand is a delicacy for the senses stems from it's stunning and deliberate design. Before taking it for a test drive, I could appreciate the curved shape of the toy esthetically, but I was unsure how it would impact my sensations. Holy crap! As I mentioned earlier, the shape allowed the warm metal to fall into me in a most pleasing fashion. Further, the curve provided some additional stimulation just below my pubic bone. The small end, peaking out from inside me, served as a perfect handle. The weight of it and the substantial feel of it in my hands reminded me of the gearshift on an expensive luxury car. It allowed me to drive myself crazy. Vvvvroom!
While I relished the contractions of my muscles brought on by the the Pure Wand, I felt much more relaxed using it than I do with most vibrators. They sometimes work me into a frenzy that feels out of my control. The Pure Wand allowed me to cede control and trust that I was safe in my own hands. The angle of it also enabled me to grip it in a much more comfortable way than other sex toys... "Uh, no, Doctor, I can't imagine how I developed carpal tunnel syndrome. Huh. What a mystery." Dare I say that the Pure Wand is ergonomic?
Because of its comfortable shape and my growing curiosity about my ability to join the ranks of female ejaculators, I played with the Pure Wand for quite a while. No, I didn't manage to wet the bed, but I did manage to have a thoroughly juicy experience and severely whet my appetite. I don't view my lack of waterworks as a failure. I view it as an opportunity to try and try again. I can hardly wait for my next encounter with the Pure Wand. In fact, I am salivating as I type, and...
Once again my friend May has got me dressed in style. Thanks to her tireless research, and discerning taste, I am now a fan of Mudflap Boy. This cool company dug up the long lost brother of the shiny, silver chick who has been adorning the mudflaps of truckers for years, and guess what? He's a hottie, and they've plastered his nude silhouette all over teeshirts, and belt buckles and even trucker hats.
Most men are fairly unabashed about brandishing their appreciation of the female form. Why not share the love? If a man can make an altar to a curvy goddess on the strips of black rubber that live behind his rear tires, why shouldn't I wear my love of the male form across my bosom? What better way to pay tribute to the penis-bearers? I mean, I don't know many women who get their jollies hanging out on the back of a mudflap, but what guy wouldn't be happy to be pressed firmly against a woman's breast or sit just below her bellybutton?
I am now ready to face the world in my new man-loving regalia. Thanks, May. I'd be naked without you.
I have spent the last two weeks chasing my husband around the house trying to give him head. While I am sure that this is a normal phenomenon occurring daily in households across America, it is not something that generally happens in our home. The reason for my husband's sprint was a new toy I picked up called Blowguard.This clever little device was one of the few truly novel things I encountered at the Adult Novelty Expo (ANE) last month in Los Angeles.
The Blowguard is, essentially, a silicone bite plate that fits over the teeth and prevents them from "leaving their mark" on the person at the effect of fellatio. The dentist who created this gadget did so originally to appease a client who wished to keep her dentures in place whilst pleasing her partner orally. Although both the dentist and I agree that her partner may have preferred the "gumming it" approach, the woman was adamant and explained that her partner knew not of her toothlessness. Hence, the Blowguard was born.
Since its humble debut in the mouth of a nameless, toothless woman, Blowguard has seen some improvements. While the dentist/creator does not offer custom-fit models as yet, the standard silicone tray is surprisingly comfortable and malleable; I kinda wanted to chew it. The Blowguard now comes with a removable mini-bullet vibe that fits neatly in the front of the device. I imagine, that with proper placement, it could do a number on the super sensitive frenulum.
Since acquiring a Blowguard of my very own, I have been chomping at the bit, so to speak, to give it a go. My husband, who I would consider to be fairly adventurous, has not been so eager to be my research partner. Perhaps I should take it as a compliment to my "natural" skill, but he wasn't super turned on by the thought of “guarding” the “blow,” or “taking the job out blow jobs,” as the company’s motto suggests.
Finally, late one Saturday afternoon, we struck a deal. I readied the Blowguard with the cherry flavored lube that was included in the package and placed it in my mouth whilst trying to override my strong urge to mouth breathe and tell Luke I was his father (Maybe there is a market among the Star Wars obsessed -- I know there must be a fetish community somewhere that worships those who can give good Vader). If I ever try the Blowguard again, I will wait until after dark; the bright flesh-colored loop that holds the vibe in place is a little too reminiscent of my retainer days, and having to look at it did not make me feel like the sexiest of sex-pots. Note to Star Wars fans: wearing it at night would also maximize one's resemblance to the Dark Lord of the Sith. Bonus points!
My husband is not part of the Vader fetish community, but he was very patient with my unintentional (ok, and then kind of intentional) imitation of Shelly Marsh ("Skyler!"). He also gave me ample time to try and figure out the darn thing. While Blowguard's website clearly indicates that the device should go on one's bottom teeth, the package does not have such clear instructions. Having not explored the website prior to usage, I experimented with the Blowguard in both places. Gravity was not my friend with the Blowguard on my top teeth, and I ended up having to bite down harder to keep it in place. Not fun. Wearing the Blowguard on my bottom teeth worked much better although, I like being able to get my lips around my teeth, and the mini-vibe inhibited this.
While I certainly see that there could be a market for the Blowguard, I am sad to say that I don't think I am it (at least not until I lose my teeth or gain a greater appreciation for lightsabers). I am all for trying new things, but I found myself thinking, "If it ain't broke…" That said, I am glad that Blowguard exists, and I think it could make a fun gift. There is such a dearth of sex toys geared towards men, and I welcome this creative newcomer. Boys are hard to shop for as it is, and it is great to be able to buy that special someone what is, essentially, a blow job in a box for under thirty bucks. I imagine that just the thought of what's to come might be enough to get many a motor running.
Overall, the unusual sensation of vibration in my mouth was my favorite part of the Blowguard, but my husband did not share the love, and we ended up turning off the vibe. The Blowguard experience was definitely an entertaining one, but my man had a hard time seeing what all the buzz was about, and ultimately told me to "buzz off."
My friend May had on the coolest shirt the other day. It was a lovely shade of pink, and hidden amongst the beautifully embroidered flowers that caressed her collarbone were the the words (in delicate cursive) "I Like it rough."
May pointed me to the designer of her shirt in hopes that I might find a treasure of my own. Boy, did I! Nicole Locher has perfectly combined naughty and nice. Each of her elegantly embroidered designs contains subtle little messages like, "Will Fuck for Shoes," and "Petite Salope," which I just learned means, "Little slut," in French. I love learning new languages!
In addition to the glee I feel wearing something delightfully beautiful that happens to say something nasty, I am also thankful to Ms. Locher for helping me with my language skills. With her shirts I can now announce when I am "sans culotte" or without panties. Shucks! Speaking French makes me feel like such a high class dame. Oui oui and ooo la la!
Sheet Set OK, I thought I was done, but I found one more irresistible item of bedding. Last week I whined a bit when I couldn't find sexy photographic bedding with boys on it. Thanks to Al Gore and his fantastical Interweb, I managed to track down not only bedding with a naked man on it, but, even better, a headless naked man. Now I am able not only to live out my fantasies of attaching my head to a man's body, but also those of making love to someone prone to chasing Ichabod Crane on horseback.
The makers of these sheets are admirably detail oriented; the backside of the duvet is complete with a backside. Spooning has never been easier. Now my bed buddy can't complain when I tell him he has a flat ass. I mean, first off, it's true and secondly, he hasn't a head with which to produce complaints.
As if I wasn't completely satisfied with my headless man, I also have the option of acquiring a headless woman and a headless couple. I never thought I would get to live out that neck-less necrophiliac ménage-a-trois fantasy. My dreams are coming true all over the place!
Cheat Sheets Velcro sheets? Piece of cake. Kama Sutra sheets? No problem. Little did I know I would spend an hour and a half shifting through the sheets to try and find a link for a company I saw last January at The Adult Entertainment Expo (AEE). Anyone hear of actually marketing your product? I digress…
Have you ever wanted to sleep with a woman chalk-full o’ silicone without actually having to communicate with her? Do you fear the prospect of maneuvering the curves of an actual female or the conversation and emotions that may come along with her? Worry not! Now you can sleep with a two-dimensional diva (or several) for only $65 (including shipping and handling – yes, once your payment is received, you can handle her as much as you want). All this and you don’t have to buy her dinner. Heck, you can eat dinner off of her, and she’ll never complain. You can even throw her in the washing machine when you’re done.
It seems several companies have taken advantage of the cutting-edge printing technology available and brought to market photo sheets. FantaSheet is the company I saw in January at ANE. According to TechCrunch, their competitor, Reality Bedding, fell asleep on the job and let go of the dream last year. Vision Bedding, which had planned to collaborate with Reality Bedding at one point, not only offers photo bedding but custom photo bedding. They may not go for the photos like the schoolgirls offered by FantaSheet, but they seem to have the most versatility. Heck, they even make custom dog beds, for the spoiled bitches in your life.
FantaSheet promises a future full of custom sheets and sheets with male models, but for now, if you want to catch your Z’s from them, you’ll have to do it on double D, 2D T’n’A. Sweet dreams…
Spread Sheets Sex can produce some sticky situations. For some, the stickier, the better. That is where Sportsheets come in. The signature product of Sportsheets International, the Sportsheet Bondage Bedsheet, makes use of Velcro to aid in restraining bed buddies. Tom Stewart, the founder and president of the company, was first inspired by those Velcro walls such as the one that appeared on The David Letterman Show in 1984. He figured that if Velcro was strong enough to hold a person upside down, it could replace more traditional bondage restraints – why ruin a perfectly good necktie or two?
Each sheet set comes with four wrist/ankle cuffs that can be quickly attached to (and, thankfully, released from) four, amazingly sticky, Velcro anchor pads that adhere directly to the velvety Velcro fitted sheet. The sheet itself looks like a plain old black sheet, and it acts like one, too; it is machine washable. And just in case you thought about freeing yourself by removing the entire sheet, the folks at Sportsheets fitted it with a drawstring and two adjustable nylon straps that are fastened under the mattress. While these are not the sheets of a super-experienced dungeon master, they are surprisingly powerful and, what I might call, “dungeon-light.” Like any good bed buddy, they are strong yet soft to the touch, flexible and easy to clean, and, of course, they have excellent staying power and durability. I am certainly stuck on them.
Damask is classy and satin is sexy, but I was recently reminded that there are a myriad of other options available when it comes to bed linens. Here are a few of my favorites.
Fact Sheet I love Twister. I love the anticipation of trying to figure out how I am going to keep my right hand on red while I stretch my left leg all the way over to the first available green. I have fondly held on to childhood memories of the game, and often find myself wondering why I don’t play it more often. No longer! I have just discovered a new, slightly more grown-up, twist on this childhood favorite. Karmasheetra has incorporated Twister and the ancient Indian art of Kama Sutra into, of all things, a bed sheet. Be still my heart!
Who would have thought that sexual nirvana would come in the form of a cotton-poly blend flat sheet and cost only £19.99? Printed on each Karmasheetra are numbered and color-coded pieces of anatomy -- blue for boys, pink for girls (although, I don't see why you couldn't switch up the assigned colors, with appropriate accessories). By choosing corresponding numbers, partners can align themselves in seven different, and potentially bliss producing, positions. Thank the gods! I have always found it a challenge to keep my ass off the ground whilst playing Twister. The lovely folks at Karmasheetra have left a spot just for my ass, several spots, actually. They have also condensed thousands of years of sexual and spiritual practices into color-coded and numbered cartoon drawings. Thanks for saving me some serious reading; who says paint-by-numbers is a bad idea? Perhaps their next endeavor will be a sheet set incorporating the classic 1960’s game, Operation and acupressure: Acuration? I suppose it’s not quite as sexy, but a girl’s gotta dream. I have always loved that big, red nose.
Right. So I have talked way more about my pubic hair on this blog than I ever imagined I would. Ever. Yet here I am again with my nether regions on my mind (not literally; I am not quite that flexible). Back in the day when Natasha Senior (my salon had the distinction of employing two Natashas) was my waxer-extraordinaire, there was talk of something dazzling and cutting edge. Some of the beauticians at this posh San Francisco salon were using cookie cutters and hair dye to dramatically transform bikini lines. Natasha Senior herself spoke of a beautiful blue dolphin she had recently emblazoned on a client's mons pubis. I remember thinking how outrageous it was at the time. Ridiculous even. I thought colorful, decorative pubic hair was soon to go the way of banana clips and zipper jeans.
Flash forward six years or so, and, much to my surprise, here I am staring at a box of do-it-yourself pubic hair dye. Betty Beauty comes in a wide variety of colors from natural (brown and black) to not so (blue and hot pink). Nancy Jarecki, the creator, got the idea when she saw colorists at a Roman salon slipping little brown bags to their clients as they left. She learned that the bags contained a small bit of the hair color that had been used on the clients' heads so they could take care of making "downstairs" match in the privacy of their own homes. Brilliant!
In addition to these fantastic colors, that come with a lightening creme and fat mascara-wand-looking applicator, Betty Beauty has also provided the stencils. For just $9.99, you can purchase a whole collection of fun shapes from hearts and lightening bolts to peace signs and dollar signs. I have always aspired to profess my political ideology with the hair on my vagina. Now I need only decide if my dollar sign will look better in Malibu Betty Blue or Fun Betty Pink. Decisions, decisions...
I love summertime! I love those rare nights where I can go sweaterless in San Francisco. I love cool drinks and brown skin. I love how everyone's chaotic pace slows just a bit. Needless to say, I have been enjoying the past few weeks, and I am abuzz with the thrill of knowing that I have spent less of it than I have left to spend; there are two whole months left of this juicy season. Yum.
In the last few weeks I have found two new things that have already made my summer better, and I look forward to making use of both as I bask in my favorite time of year. They are unrelated, but both make my heart smile and my mouth jabber on about them. The first is workout skirts. These fantastic little spandex skorts allow me to feel the breeze on my legs without subjecting myself, and those around me, to the horrors of bike shorts or the gaping indiscretion that loose-legged shorts provide -- no one likes to share too much during sit-ups at the gym. For the last few years I have been wearing capri pants to the gym and rolling them up as I begin to overheat. Not exactly a Vogue moment. Workout skirts keep me cool and "cool." A friend of mine even wore hers out dancing the other night. It was a hit. I am inspired to pull a Smurfette and buy seventeen of them so I can have a closet full at the ready. I look forward to reliving my favorite trick of second grade: "Oh! You thought I was wearing a skirt? Ha! You are wrong! I sure fooled you!"
While wearing my skorts, I will be sipping my new favorite drink. Recently, I mocked a bartender and learned something very exciting as a result. He was cutting a big bunch of fresh basil, and I asked him if he had condescended to help the kitchen staff. "No," he said, "I make a drink with this." My interest was piqued, and he went on to explain, and then serve to me, a basil infused sparkling lemonade. Just like I crinkled my nose at the thought of my first cucumber water, I was a little suspicious of the tall, beautifully basil-garnished, glass he handed me. Wow! In a matter of seconds, basil became my new favorite drink additive. I have been obsessing about cool basil drinks ever since. The subtle flavor is so refreshing and surprising, and as someone who has always longed to eat basil by the bushel, I am happy to have found a new use for my favorite herb.
After talking to the bartender and sleuthing Al Gore's Fantabulous InterWeb, I concocted a version of my own. Just for fun, I have included the recipe below.
Happy Summer!
Basil Vodka Lemonade (This is great in a pitcher or punch bowl so a large number of guests can serve themselves.)
1 part basil lemon zest simple sugar (explained below) 1 part vodka 1 part triple sec 1 part fresh lemon juice 2 bunches fresh basil sparkling lemonade or water (to taste)
Make simple sugar: Boil one part water and one part sugar with the zest of 2-3 lemons and a bunch of basil. Heat until sugar is fully dissolved. Allow to cool fully, and then strain out all of the solids.
Infuse the vodka: Place half a bunch of basil in the bottom of your serving bowl or pitcher. Cover with vodka, and allow to sit for an hour or two.
Make the lemonade: Combine the above listed ingredients in serving vessel. Add ice (for an extra kick pre-make lemonade ice so as it melts the drink's flavor is not diluted). Garnish the drink with fresh lemon slices and basil sprigs.
Gloria Estefan had it right when she cooed, “the rhythm is gonna get’cha.” Now I don’t know that I would use her songs with my brand new OhMiBod, but she certainly captures my sentiment. OhMiBod is one of the most innovative vibrators I have ever seen. With a simple adaptor (included), it connects to any iPod, mp3 player or portable CD player and vibrates right along with, “The Rhythm of the Night” or any other song on your playlist.
The first thing that caught my eye about the OhMiBod, is its fabulous styling. In fact, I haven’t yet been able to bring myself to throw away the box because it is so darn pretty. As its name suggests, the clean, simple, design is certainly reminiscent of Apple’s iPod and makes OhMiBod seem like any other iPod accessory – any super-girly iPod accessory, that is. The sleek design has landed OhMiBod spots in hip stores such as Fred Segal in Los Angeles and Ricky’s in New York City. Its clean packaging helps to make it an ideal crossover brand.
Like the packaging, the vibrator itself is also simple and elegant in its design. It is all white and metallic, much like many an iPod. It even has an alternate endcap that turns OhMiBod into a plain ol’ vibe for those quickies that don’t require mood music. While I really appreciate the clean design, I was a little disappointed in the execution. The endcap is actually plastic coated in metallic paint rather than metal. I worry enough about my nails chipping; I don’t want to have to think about my vibrator losing paint (especially not inside of me). While I realize that this design probably makes the OhMiBod cheaper in price, it also makes it cheaper in appearance. Additionally, the smooth white plastic was not completely smooth; there is an injection molding sink mark, or dimple, at the top of my vibe that I could not clean-out completely after use. Because of this, OhMiBod may have to wear a condom next time. Safe sex for everyone!
Ok, down to the nitty-gritty. It was so much fun to play with music and vibration, that I found myself giggling a bit (not in an, “I am embarrassed, and I can’t believe I’m sticking this inside me kind of way,” but in a “Oooh, wow, that is so fun,” kind of way). As someone who dances regularly, I found using OhMiBod to be a little like dancing with a partner – a partner who didn’t miss a beat. I had fun experimenting with different types of music as the vibration frequency and quality changed with each song. I recommend songs with a strong, pulsing baseline. I also really enjoyed my blues playlist… yummy! The one frustration here was that different songs required different levels of volume in order to get the vibe humming. I also found that sometimes in order to get the level of vibration I wanted, I had to turn up the volume a bit more than is normally comfortable for my ears.
Overall, OhMiBod is a classy vibrator. Its simple design and clear instructions make it very user friendly; I was up and humming in no time. In keeping with their techie theme, OhMBod has a pretty cool integrated website. The site sells related “Acsexsories,” allows users to share comments, and even took me to the iTunes store to purchase a playlist that another user had posted.
OhMiBod is already expanding their line to include other exciting gadgets such as the OhMiBod Gspot, and a softskin pink sleeve that fits over the original OhMiBod. I am hoping those clever folks might work in some more clitoral stimulation in the not-too-distant future (please?). OhMiBod is my favorite new toy. Not only do I have fun with it personally, but I like to think of it as frontrunner in the movement of sex toys from the gutter to Fifth Avenue. It certainly does more than its fair share both in the bedroom and in the struggle to bring vibrators into the realm of social acceptability. Rock on!
I am zipping right along the show floor downstairs with all the venders at AEE, when I am stopped in my tracks by a zippy little bag.My first thought is that someone is selling cute knock-off designer purses downstairs, too, but upon closer inspection, I learn I couldn’t be more wrong.Vera Worthington and her company, For Your Nymphomation, make the most fabulous, totally not knocked-off, bags to satisfy all of your sexy storage needs.
Complete with signature glow-in-the-dark zipper pullers and FAA approved locks, this line can keep all your “pleasureables” neatly stowed until ready for use.Worthington, who worked for years in the mainstream fashion industry designing purses, has a storage solution for just about everyone.Her clients run the gambit, from stay-at-home-moms who do pleasure parties on the side to BDSM divas who need a place to store a myriad of floggers.Worthington has listened to her fans and expanded her line (and her cases) to meet their needs.She’s got all your bases covered, from cute beaded condom cases and the adorable, yet functional, Dominatrix Bag to larger items like the Flogger Trunk and the suitcase-sized Rolling Toy Trunk.
Worthington’s line is fantastically functional.Each of her Toy Boxes comes fully lined with water-resistant, washable nylon.While this storage system obviously appeals to my inner sex-freak, it also appeals to my inner neat-freak.The nylon case linings are replete with elastic strips and pouches to hold toys of all kinds.Larger cases, like the Rolling Toy Trunk, have additional inserts available to maximize storage capacity and orderliness.
While her organizational skills are top notch, it is Worthington’s panache that makes For Your Nympomation so fantastic.Not that anyone would ever store her goodies in a clear, plastic storage container from Target, but…. well, let’s just say my collection was happy to move into one of Worthingtons’s stylish purple Adult Toyboxes.Her cases come in a variety of colors from plain ol’ black to leopard spots, and they are all made of high quality faux leather and fur so that even vegan vixens can feel confident in this storage solution.Worthington even offers swanky add-ons like rhinestone-studded padlocks.
Instead of being relegated to a shameful cardboard box under the bed or on the very top shelf of the closet, For Your Nymphomation has elevated “pleasurables” to the position they deserve. Finally, there is a stylish and secure storage solution for all of those goodies you may not want to share with your house-sitter, your mover, or your two year-old.For Your Nymphomation securely shields these secrets in an oh-so-sexy way.
