I should start with an apology, because when this line of sex toys came out, I mocked it. “Hahahahaha Doc Johnson acting like they invented silicone,” I tweeted derisively. But what I didn’t realize is that these aren’t garden-variety silicone toys — they’re made of squishy dual-density silicone, and I am so on board with more affordable dual-density dildos. (“TruSkyn,” though? Still ludicrous. Good lord, when will misspelling words become uncool again?) So, I must eat my hat. I’m sorry for preemptively ridiculing TruSkyn. While I do think it’s amusing to watch bigwig sex toy manufacturers “discover” body-safe materials 500 years behind everybody else, it can only be a good thing for consumers. Dual-density silicone has been the domain of indie . . . read more

Four years ago, my G-spot was forever changed by a revolutionary sex toy called the Stronic Eins. Not really a dildo and definitely not a vibrator, the Eins features an internal weight that facilitates a back-and-forth thrusting movement. This “pulsator” felt unlike anything I’d ever tried, wiggling against my G-spot so enthusiastically, and quickly became one of my favorite insertables. Fun Factory’s Stronic line proved that innovation is still possible in the sex toy industry — true innovation, not gimmicky and spurious “innovation” with air quotes. So a few weeks ago when an email popped up with the subject line CONFIDENTIAL: Secret Preview of New Stronic?, it set my heart fluttering. I was in the middle of writing a different email, but I immediately . . . read more

Feeldoe More, Realdoe Stout, ShareVibe, Tango. I’ve never thought strapless strap-on dildos were the second coming of Christ. Let’s start there. I have my Joque harness, I have well-loved strap-on dildos, and I am comfortable combining those things and fucking someone silly. I’ve never felt like strap-on sex wasn’t “intimate” enough, or like I needed extra genital stimulation in order to enjoy it. For me, the pleasure comes from wielding a cock, achieving ideal positioning and thrusting, and watching myself plunge into the depths of an orifice. (I love labia, all labia, labia forever — so I will take literally any chance to ogle them.) Strapless strap-on dildos attempt to eliminate the harness aspect altogether. These double-ended toys have a bulb . . . read more

I squirt every time I use the New York Toy Collective Carter. Movement or not. No matter the external vibe. Whatever my mood. If clitoral stimulation makes me come while the Carter is inside me, I gush. I’ll be just hanging out, about to have a completely ordinary orgasm or so it seems, when I feel the pressure building, urging me to slide the dildo out. Sure enough: an expulsion of fluid follows. It hardly ever feels like I’ve earned it, yet it happens, consistently as the sun rising and setting each day. Sneak-attack squirting. And oh, with movement? With actual thrusting? Then I’m ejaculating even more, soaking through the towel on my desk chair. Carter is a meaty dude. . . . read more

[This post is an April Fool’s Day joke. However, because I am very dedicated to my jokes, I actually did do all these things.] Perhaps “tiny” is condescending. “Diminutive”? “Miniature”? “Wee”? I don’t want to be flippant or rude, but it’s an objective fact that these dildos are roughly 1/60th the size of their, shall I say, phallotypical counterparts. This is not going to be girth mania. Lowing your expectations for pleasure might be a good idea. Rewiring your brain, wiping all data about previously-experienced insertables: encouraged. Over the years I’ve amassed quite the collection of tiny silicone dildos from Tantus, Bad Dragon, Fun Factory, and Vamp. They accumulate in my purse, come home in my suitcase from conferences, and materialize in crevasses of my life. One time I found one, inexplicably, in . . . read more

[Sadly, Downunder Toys closed down in 2018. For 100% silicone toys, check out Vixen, Tantus, NYTC, Fuze, Hole Punch Toys, Funkit, BS Atelier, Split Peaches, or Godemiche (ugh).] Contrary to popular belief, I can be sweet-talked. Start by sending me a nice, gracious email. Acknowledge the work I do in the world (“your honest approach to this field makes my heart sing,” “I’m still laughing over your LELO Hula Beads review”). Introduce yourself without condescending to me (hint: if you’re a sex toy company, I probably already know that you exist). Then… the cherry on top… the pièce de résistance… drop a sentence like this: I really think I’d like to challenge your love of VixSkin — I know, a bold claim, but hey, if you don’t set a challenge, where’s the fun . . . read more

Oh, Fun Factory. You poor things. Do you not realize what the word “bouncer” insinuates here in America? That’s the guy who slices up fake IDs in vodka commercials. The guy who tells you your slacks are not appropriate for the sex club. The guy whose existence you begrudgingly accept because he might protect you from peril at some point, but who is mostly just macho and huge and ridiculous. It’s true that the Bouncer needs a technical name, though, since simply meandering across its shape would not grab your attention. You’d never know without reading a description or holding this dildo in your hands that each ripple contains a free-moving ball, ready to roll around when the toy is jostled. Yeah — kegel ball style. . . . read more

These glass dildos from Joyful Pleasure presented me with a few obstacles. See, I have this thing with insertable objects where I feel frustrated if I can’t conquer them. Whether it’s sheer size, extreme heft, repetitive bloops, every imaginable electrostim setting, or simply a bulge just out of reach, I feel the uncontrollable urge to experience all that a toy has to offer. Combine this with the fact that I’m a texture slut, and you have a recipe for vaginal disaster. When presented with the opportunity to review dildos from Joyful Pleasure, I of course ignored anything smooth and went straight for dildos with bumps, swirls, bloops, and, unbeknownst to me, challenging lengths. A large part of my reason for trying these dildos was price: they’re all under $45. If your . . . read more

I wanted to feel the sensation of water sloshing in my vagina. Like the refreshing feeling of wading into the ocean. Like the satisfaction of tilting a Magic 8 Ball. The Ceramix No. 4 doesn’t feel like that, which is one reason you shouldn’t buy it. But it’s not the main one. The other reason is that it’s made by Pipedream. I hate this company and want to burn it to the ground. They have violently sexist and racist marketing, which they defend with statements about how men are basically pigs anyway. They write upsetting press releases and send repulsive emails. Their silicone dildos are stuffed with foam, their “metal” toys are nowhere near stainless steel, and they rip off shapes from njoy and Crystal Delights. The . . . read more