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

My clit is a pretty sensitive creature. You’re going to need to know this going in. Take notes for the final test. When I haven’t had an orgasm yet, I can usually come during one of the lower settings of a vibrator — generally speaking, with good vibrators. I’ve been known to “just get the first orgasm out of the way” during my masturbation sessions; I’ve accepted that I come quickly at the beginning, so I figure, why fight it? The We-Vibe Gala doesn’t even get me there. Even when it’s my first toy of the night. When I haven’t come yet. When I’m watching pretty boys blow each other in a fort or fuck passionately by an outdoor fireplace. It . . . read more

Blink and you might pass right over them. They’re not terribly attractive, not revolutionary in function, not aggressively marketed. These vibrators have no celebrity endorsement or PR campaign behind them, and I’d bet serious money they’ve never been mentioned in any mainstream magazine. You can judge a lot about a sex toy without holding it in your hands, but there’s one thing you can’t predict, and it’s the thing that matters most: vibration quality. This is where the Smooth Operators pleasantly surprised me. The Toyfriend Smooth Operators — Snazzy, Choosy, and Classy — are made by a company named Tickler, and again, you could be forgiven for not knowing they even exist. The Swedish brand tends to lay pretty low . . . 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

There’s a common piece of sex advice, an old sex educator adage usually aimed at people wanting to please vulvas: “consistency is key, especially when someone is nearing orgasm. If your partner implores you not to stop, DEAR GOD DO NOT CHANGE WHAT YOU’RE DOING. NOW IS NOT THE TIME.” You never want your partner to be that guy. But the We-Vibe Wish is that guy. The Wish is the guy who thinks this advice doesn’t apply to him, because he has this one technique that the ladies go wild for, that gives them screaming orgasms 100% of the time, and you just don’t know how good it could be unless he bestows his gifts upon you. You like two fingers . . . read more

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 manufacturing quality products or properly addressing support requests, these prices are hard to . . . read more

I can now say that I own a vibrator engraved with my name. Or, I should say, engraved with the epic sequence of words Exclusively for Epiphora. I didn’t choose that phrase — my brain is nowhere near that swanky — but I like it. And they spelled my name right, which is more than I can say for people who still think I’m “Euphoria.” Unfortunately, I now worry about what this vibrator, exclusively for me and permanently marked to prove it, would do if I tried to give it away. Stage its own personal electromagnetic pulse in revolt? Commit suicide by jumping out the window and into the street? I have to think about these things, because I do not see myself . . . read more

The world of luxury1 rabbit vibes is not an expansive one. Fun Factory has some with varying degrees of success; Cal Exotics is trying really hard with a bazillion styles in their Jopen line; once in a while some moron will release one with dubious “technology” in it. But generally, when someone wants a luxury toy, they think of LELO. The LELO Soraya is sort-of like a mash-up between the LELO Ina and the LELO Isla, two vibrators which caused me immense pain and immense indifference, respectively. I am pleased to report that the Soraya does not cause me any pain, but… I do feel pretty indifferent toward it. Like, I’m mildly pleased with it, but that’s as far as I’ll go. The . . . read more

The LELO Ina is a very divisive toy. Those who love it vehemently love it; others vehemently bemoan its incompatibility with their anatomy. And while Ina certainly is anatomy-dependent (as most rabbits are), a more apt description would be “pain tolerance dependent.” Which sounds scary, but it’s true. I really want to love the Ina because mine is the most glorious, whimsical, succulent shade of lime green EVER, and it also comes in ORANGE (and purple, but who cares). I mean, seriously — LELO fucking rocks for that alone. But I cannot love it — I’m in too much discomfort. Newer LELO toys have different packaging than the old ones. The large black box that holds the toy is less heavy-duty now, . . . read more