Joy to the World

The things we've built

The things we’ve built

GAY BEACH GIRLFROND FUNTIMES SUPERBLORPS. That’s what our shared calendar said. We planned the trip on a whim: several nights at the coast, in an adorable house we found on Airbnb. A quick drive a couple hours from the city and there we were, on the beach, walking in the surf and holding hands. Squealing when the water rushed against our legs more strongly than anticipated. Aerie had brought some new sand toys, including a hilarious sand drill, so we picked a spot and began erecting a sand city together. Sure, we could’ve stopped after a few Taj Mahals and Leaning Towers of Pisa, but we were too invested. We kept dreaming up new developments for our city, scavenging for . . . read more

The clitoris: still the center of my universe

The clitoris: still the center of my universe

Or: why G-spot stimulation is not the pinnacle of pleasure. Hi, my name’s Epiphora, and I almost always need clitoral stimulation to have an orgasm. I thought this was common knowledge, clueless as that may sound. I mean, I write about my genitals on the internet every day of my life — obviously people must know this about me? But something happened the other day that made me realize that may not be true. That perhaps I haven’t been explicit enough about the types of stimulation I like and how, logistically, that plays out in my sex toy testing. Recently, I struck up a friendship with a new sex blogger named Wendy. She messaged me one day seeking advice. “I . . . read more

A decade of sex blogging

A decade of sex blogging

Cupcake butt plug and Shilo. The cliché is true — it feels like just yesterday and like forever ago. This week marks 10 years since I first published a review of a sex toy on the internet. It was fall 2007, my junior year of college. That summer, I’d moved out of the dorms and into my first apartment. I was 20 years old, almost 21. If you’d asked me what my career was going to be, I would’ve hesitated and posited, “…writer? I hope?” A cautious optimism underneath which lied a practical fear. A fear that I could never make a living with writing, that I’d end up in an office job, probably, and that the only skill I’d spent my . . . read more

The girl I call Aerie

The girl I call Aerie

Aerie greets me at the airport with a bouquet of hand-drawn sex toys. Eleven toys, all of them my favorites, with green pipe cleaner stems. On the romance scale, this may surpass the CD that my boyfriend made for one of our anniversaries which included a Tegan & Sara cover and 5 minutes of our cat purring into a microphone. – – – Aerie lives in a swanky condo on the third level. It has sparkling wooden floors, kitchen appliances that beep at you if you don’t do their bidding, and best of all, air conditioning. We make delicious coffee in the morning with a hand grinder and a french press. Their bed is swathed in comfy grey sheets and pillows. I feel like I’m in a . . . read more

I got back-ups of my favorite vibrator and life is perfect

I got back-ups of my favorite vibrator and life is perfect

[But what about the Mona Wave, you ask? It’s a half-assed imposter.] I don’t know if you’ve heard: I love my LELO Mona 2. So much that I yell things like “THE MONA IS WHAT GOD WANTS TO BE WHEN HE GROWS UP” when I’m drunk. So much that I have nightmares about LELO changing it. So much that I rush to comfort it when it falls off my nightstand. “Obsessed” may be a word that describes how I feel about that vibrator. The Mona is the only sex toy I take on trips. I force shops to add it to their inventory. I subtly push people toward it in my job on the floor of a sex toy boutique (my current record is within 20 . . . read more

The best birthday presents

The best birthday presents

Today, I am 27. I have come to expect very little from people over the years, but Ashley Manta took this glorious photo of her cat plus the Pure Wand and Echo, Sandra emailed me singing happy birthday, and someone sent me a picture of their boobs with “Happy B-Day Piph” written on them. I feel so special. This, and all the excessively sweet comments people have been leaving on my giveaway post (which, true, I did bribe you with sex toys, but still) have really meant a lot. I am so honored to have all of you people in my life, in whatever capacity that may be. I am thankful for cats and dildos and friends who buy me sleek purses because my corduroy . . . read more

Tantus sends me a box of challenges

Tantus sends me a box of challenges

I emailed Tantus last week because someone bought stuff on their site through my affiliate link, but the sale didn’t show up in my affiliate control panel. I was directed to Jenna, whom I’ve had a lovely time emailing back-and-forth with. To my great surprise, our conversation turned into a chat about what colors of sex toys I like/loathe1, and how I don’t own any dual-density O2 toys from Tantus. Little did I know what would come next. Tantus is a small company with a limited budget, but somehow, Jenna pulled some strings and sent me a box of goodies that is going to single-handedly wipe out all the rest of my sex toy storage space. My jaw. It dropped. Seriously, . . . read more

Tantus, your neon colors are killin' me

Tantus, your neon colors are killin’ me

Yes, this is real life. Awesome silicone sex toy manufacturer Tantus has decided to make a limited run of three popular toys (Ryder, Echo, and Acute) in the colors that some of the first Tantus toys were made in: lime green, electric orange, and neon pink. OMG, just look at them! They are incredible! Buuuut I already own all of them. I do own a lime green Tantus Sherbet (discontinued) — which I scoured the internet to find — but I don’t love it as much as I love my Echo. Epiphora: i already own all those toys. i’m going to go cry into my dildos Outspoken Clitic: hahaha, too bad they’d be totally unabsorbent. Outspoken Clitic: that is what you get for owning . . . read more

Still Fleshlight after all these months

Still Fleshlight after all these months

I’m at my desk, watching porn, jacking off, while my boyfriend reads in bed. Well, he reads for about 5 minutes — then he emerges to tell me that he is going to jack off, too. His announcement is not unusual, but his masturbating at night is. Afterward, we converge in the bathroom. I pee; he washes his Fleshlight. It’s been a year since he acquired that Fleshlight. “Don’t you need a new one of those?” I ask while flipping through the new Rolling Stone. “Why?” There are so many out there! So many orifices! So many freaky innards! Crazy transparent materials! “For a cooler texture,” I say succinctly, as this is not my first time trying to convince him . . . read more

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