When I was but a wee sex toy reviewer, every new sex toy material was a treat. Not yet jaded by years of masturbatory ordeals, my vag was wowed by the smoothness of glass, the heft of stainless steel, the beauty of wood, the silkiness of silicone. Then I experienced luscious dual-density silicone, a true turning point. I quickly crowned it my favorite soft material and proceeded to stuff myself silly with dildos made out of it. That was 8 years ago, that glorious time of squishy exploration, so now I tend to take such materials for granted. It can be hard to get back into that head (vagina?) space again, but then there are toys that take me there, . . . read more

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

“Everything’s temporary if you give it enough time.” —Jewel Last week, I learned that Fucking Sculptures is closing up shop. It seems like just yesterday they popped into existence, delighting me with their jaw-dropping, hand-blown glass dildos and unabashedly straightforward company name. Their G-Spoon was lauded as a serious A-spotter, the beastly Double Trouble revered by size queens. They donated dildos to my giveaways. My girlfriend visited their studio. Now… they’re gone. After four and half years producing gorgeous toys, their website has been reduced to a vague goodbye message, and we’re left to scramble to scoop up the last of their inventory at retail shops. It all seems creepily familiar. As a lifer in the adult industry, I watch companies come and go . . . read more

Dildo Diaries (2002) and the Downunder Toys Hot Banana Rod. Buying a sex toy is a snap these days. Simply type “adult shop” into your Yelp app, or enter the product name into Google, and in mere seconds you can find a place to purchase the dildo or vibrator of your desires. We take this for granted. I take it for granted. But as recently as 9 years ago, it wasn’t that easy — especially in the South. Dildo Diaries (2002) is a documentary chronicling the absurdity of Texas’ anti-sex toy legislation. Directed by Laura Barton and Judy Wilder, it’s a joyous defense of our right to purchase and use sex toys. It’s also an invaluable historical artifact, a reminder that in . . . 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 is the stuff dreams are made of — my dreams at least. This, friends, is my majestic sex toy closet. The culmination of years of collecting, organizing, and fantasizing. It is here where I store my gigantic sex toy collection, which is rapidly nearing 600. How did I get here? Well, shockingly, one does not amass enough sex toys to fill a walk-in closet overnight. In fact, nine years ago, my sex toy collection lived in a single cardboard box under my desk. As I began reviewing more, the toys graduated to a purple zippered storage case, and later to a herd of similar cases. This was an adequate but ineffective long-term system, so when I needed more space, I . . . read more

Get free U.S. shipping at Hole Punch Toys with code EPIPHORA. There’s a little operation in Saint Paul, Minnesota, making the world a better place. Quietly, without fanfare, they’re making hand-poured silicone sex toys in fantastical shapes. Carrot and radish butt plugs. Popsicle dildos. Ice cream anal toys. Rocket ship strap-ons. And I didn’t even know they existed back when I got an email from them with the subject line Do Your Worst. Well. The owner of Hole Punch Toys, Colin, was emailing to ask that I review something of theirs. “You will absolutely tear it apart, I am sure,” he wrote. “However, I think it would be excellent fodder for your wit.” His certainty was alarming. How could I hate an ice cream shaped butt plug or a . . . read more