The Jimmyjane Rumble Seat in front of my sex toy closet. When you arrive at the sex party and present the guests with your vibrating sex chair, you don’t exactly want the response to be “that looks like a toilet.” But that’s where I was. I was the guy bringing the sex machine to the party, and my sex machine immediately turned everyone off. One guest stated bluntly, “that’s not attractive enough to fuck, not at all.” “It looks like something a toddler would sit on,” another added. Nobody disputed it. Clearly, we were all super aroused. The subject in question was the Jimmyjane Rumble Seat, and it was getting quite the icy reception for a contraption that retails for . . . read more

When you’re a sex toy reviewer, certain toys can feel like a blessing from above. Mediocre masturbation sessions are par for the course with this job, and even toys that aren’t exceptionally terrible can start to feel insulting and exhausting after a while. If you’re lucky, there’s one toy in your to-review queue that you actually enjoy using. One that is effortlessly satisfying, enough to get you out of your head a little, remind you that sometimes this gig ain’t so bad. There should be a name for toys like this… hmm, “savior toys”? The Zumio X is my savior toy of the last few months. Sometimes, it was the reason I kept masturbating when I wanted to stop. I’d . . . read more

Screaming O is not a high-end sex toy company, or at least they didn’t used to be. They’re more known for inexpensive cock rings, cheapo finger vibes, toys shaped like lipstick and mascara, the pussy snorkel, and the deeply unfortunate OBOB Battery-Operated Boyfriend — a vibrator that literally resembles a cartoon person with a winking emoticon face and crossed arms (more like Battery-Operated Mansplainer, am I right?). All of this is to say, I’ve never willingly tried any Screaming O products until now. But they’ve also never made rechargeable toys until now. The times they are a-changin’, and now even pussy snorkel peddlers are dabbling in luxury toy-making. Wonderful. These vibrators are the Positive and Vooom, from Screaming O’s new Charged . . . read more

What is life if not a series of attempts at proving arrogant men wrong? I never wanted to have to review My Celebrator. I’ve known about this vibrator for years; people like to excitedly email me and alert me to its existence, flailing about its supposed oscillation and “low” price of $40. It has happened often enough for me to become sufficiently jaded about it. So, last year, while sitting in Joan Price’s senior sex workshop at Woodhull, I was sadly unsurprised when a male member of the audience piped up to mention My Celebrator… as an alternative to Joan’s (and my, and a lot of peoples’) beloved Eroscillator. Because… you know… dudes know these things. There were at least six sex . . . read more

The Bubble Love has been discontinued, but check out the WaterSlyde. I am one of many who grew up getting my orgasms from the bathtub faucet. Legs spread, back against the bottom of the tub, water pouring delightfully over my clit, I’d lay there with my mind split between thrilling newfound pleasure and neurotic calculation of how long I could run the bath before it seemed suspicious. I almost certainly ran up my parents’ water bill from roughly 2000 to 2002. (Sorry, guys. At 14 I was too stupid to even know water bills existed.) But I later graduated to circling a Sharpie over my clit through my underwear, and after that, vibrators. Glorious, glorious vibrators. So many shapes, so many options, such ease. I started . . . read more

My rollercoaster ride with the OVO L1 Silicone Love Balls began one fateful afternoon in August. Days before, I’d sweated my ass off cleaning and organizing my garage. But it was not completely The Worst, because I had the LELO Luna Beads in my vag. They jiggled and joggled as I hauled boxes back and forth, reminding me that life was perhaps worth living despite the creeping despair that comes with realizing you own way too much goddamn stuff. Then, a few days later, I put in the OVO kegel balls, hoping to replicate the experience as I continued packing for my new home. And… I promptly forgot they were in. They were in for many hours, and I was doing strenuous work, yet they did not shiver, they . . . read more

Have you ever looked at a jump rope, bike lock, thighmaster, or lasso and thought, “oh hey, I bet that’d be good in my vagina”? Yeah, me either. And so, I was prepared to hate the Magic Banana, because: 1. Just look at it. 2. It’s called the Magic Banana. 3. Just look at it. 4. It came with a “note on empowerment.” 5. Just look at it. COMING SOON TO A VAGINA NEAR YOU! TOTAL AND COMPLETE EMPOWERMENT! THE REVOLUTION WOMEN HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR! THE REVOLUTION WILL BE VAGINIZED! FEMINISM OVER! Truth from a friend: “I feel like that’s not how empowerment works… people don’t mail it to you.” Shrink wrapped in a box patterned like a banana leaf, the Magic Banana is . . . read more

[What’s my favorite way to use the Tango? Like this for hands-free orgasms!] Dude, man, guys, shit, dawg. Everyone loves the We-Vibe Tango. I’m totally late to the party. Then again, I was also late to anal beads, smartphones, and liking the Hitachi, so it’s not as if you should trust my timing on anything (except having an orgasm right when the corn dog timer goes off — I’m great at that.) Other contenders have come and gone, but the fact remains: the We-Vibe Tango — and its sibling the Touch — are the strongest, rumbliest rechargeable vibrators out there for their size. Unlike most little rechargeable clit vibes, the Tango is made only of plastic. No silicone to cushion or buffer the sensation. Vibrations shine through loud and clear. . . . read more

OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ Welcome to the sound you will long for once you hear the iGino. About one minute into using it, you will lose all sense of musical taste and long for something, anything, to cover up the sound. You’ll be overcome with the uncontrollable urge to find a beach and BURY THE FUCKER. The idea is, ostensibly, to be discreet — the thing charges via USB and comes with a cap to cover its moving nub — yet there is no travel lock, and if this went off in your bag I’m pretty sure it . . . read more