I’m not the type to chase adventure. Some people hop on roller coasters, travel to far-off lands, skydive out of planes… but I don’t pine for that rush of adrenaline. I’m more of a homebody, thriving most on routine and safety. My idea of an exciting time? Masturbating with a bizarre new sex toy to determine, once and for all, how its weird shape feels against my genitals. I first saw the Fun Factory Volta in a brief, fleeting Instagram video my friend sent me to ridicule. “It looks like a vibrating duck beak,” they said. “It scares me.” I showed the link to my girlfriend, who promptly typed back, “why does everyone want to slap the clit!” But I was . . . read more

When I hear the word “swan,” I think of a few things. Grace. Elegance. The color white. Bjork. Overwrought symbols of romance. Ostentatious pool floaties. And, because the folds of my brain are lined with a freakishly encyclopedic knowledge of sex toys, I think of a line of rechargeable vibrators called Swan. Swan is not the manufacturer. The toys are actually produced by BMS Factory, a company that prefers to mysteriously hide behind the names of their various toy lines. They make the favorably-reviewed Leaf and PalmPower lines, others called Pillow Talk and Lux, and the motors in some stuff from Jopen. If you’ve ever seen the phrase Powered by PowerBullet® stamped onto a sex toy box or printed in marketing materials, the toy’s made by BMS. Counter-intuitive . . . read more

The SenseVibe, much to my dismay, is not a fortune-telling sex toy. It can’t give you the weather forecast or lift your mood. It cannot intuit what your vag or clit wants. It is, despite the enigmatic name, merely a rechargeable dual vibrator from a newish company named SenseMax. I know what you’re gonna say. “Piph, you don’t even like rabbit-style toys, why would you want to try this one?” AN ASTUTE OBSERVATION, my friend, because yes — I am normally highly averse to dual vibes. They are very anatomy-specific, significantly less likely than other types of sex toys to properly align with genitals. They make grand promises of all-in-one stimulation, promises that often prove empty. They condition consumers to expect . . . read more

“Buzzy” and “rumbly” are words you’re bound to encounter if you spend any time in sex toy circles. These words, popularized by bloggers and educators such as yours truly, refer to the quality (not intensity!) of vibration, with buzzy characterized as a higher-frequency, surface-level vibration and rumbly as a lower-frequency, more robust vibration. I’ve long posited — and, to be honest, stated as fact, because I’m just that presumptuous — the idea that rumblier vibrations are deeper and more penetrating. Well raise your glasses, mofos, because now I have SCIENCE and VIDEO to prove it! Below are some video clips made by Jeff Spitzer, a former aerospace engineer who spent over 30 years designing airplanes, engines, and scads of other . . . read more

Doxy Don (left) and Doxy Die Cast with Nuzzle Tip attachment (right). Put it on my clit. Now. That’s what ran through my head the first time I held the Doxy Don, standing in the hallway at a conference with it reverberating in my hands. I’d never seen or heard about the product in my life, but in a split second I wished it upon my genitals. Although I often make snap judgments about toys, they’re usually negative ones based on stomach-turningly buzzy vibrations. This was the opposite: the vibrations were so deliciously rumbly, so promising. I’d never tried a toy from Doxy before, and I knew The Don had to be my first. But I couldn’t rightfully review only The Don, considering Doxy’s reputation as manufacturers of the much-loved Doxy Massager. Somehow, . . . read more

FINALLY. Fucking finally. I’ve been waiting years for LELO to upgrade their humble little clit vibe, Siri. While they were off dilly-dallying with weird oral sex simulators and pretentious cock rings, I was over here drumming my fingernails on my desk, condescendingly clicking my tongue, wondering if the almost-great Siri would ever get an upgrade. The sex toy landscape was different when I reviewed the original Siri back in 2010. Pickings were slim when it came to rechargeable clitoral vibrators, and I was less jaded. I liked the cute, egg-shaped Siri. It wasn’t terribly strong, but it was rumbly, and it was enough. “Is it the clit vibe to end all clit vibes?” I wrote. “Not quite — it would need to be waterproof . . . read more

The Lovehoney Flash (left) is a buzzy vibrator. The Doxy Don (right) is rumbly. Perusing the sex toy exhibitor booths at AVN, turning on and off strange vibrators from no-name companies, one word kept flittering into my mind: buzzy. Ugh, too buzzy. What a shame. The design is cool, but it’s so fucking buzzy. Nope. I even met an avid reader of my blog who works for an up-and-coming sex toy manufacturer. Their flagship vibrator intrigued me with its peculiar manta ray flaps and vibrant shade of turquoise silicone. But I turned it on and could not hide my disgust. “It needs a better motor,” I sighed. “Oh, I know,” she said. “I knew you’d hate it.” A sex toy could do literally everything else right — ergonomic shape, body-safe . . . read more

[L’Amourose shut down, sadly, but the SenseVibe is similar to the Rosa.] It’s not often that a new sex toy company comes out of the woodwork with a product that immediately garners critical acclaim — but that is exactly what happened with the L’Amourose Rosa. Reports of deep, rumbly vibrations echoed through the blogosphere. My eyes narrowed. My fingers tented. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, a challenger had appeared to rival my all-time fave, the LELO Mona 2. The Rosa comes in two versions: the original ($180) and the Rosa Rouge (a heated version — $240). First notable thing: these toys are really fucking expensive. $180 for a rechargeable insertable toy is unusual enough,1 and tacking on $60 for the heating element is nearing highway robbery. With no track record of . . . read more

I have now formed a conditioned response whenever I hover over a link and see the URL indiegogo.com. It’s a mixture of terror, disgust, and exasperation, which, upon clicking, either bubbles into rage or fizzles into mild interest, depending on the product advertised. The Minna Limon fell into the latter camp, but my initial thoughts were still mostly negative: Are we going to have to crowdfund all our vibrators now? Goddamn. “No cumbersome speed settings” — OH, OKAY. Is there some sort of rule that if you have a crowdfunding campaign for a vibrator, you must show it in a glass of water? Then I found out it was only coming in pink and teal, and despite my intense love for teal, I was like “really . . . read more