Me + Sandra from SheVibe + a hotel room with vulvaesque wallpaper + a phone camera + wine = this rollicking good time of a video! Easily, one of the highlights of Woodhull’s Sexual Freedom Summit this year was spending time with Sandra, Thor, and Alex from SheVibe. I’ve hung out with them before at conferences past, but this time I was reminded once again why we are a match made in sex toy heaven. How, I wondered, could I convey their in-person awesomeness to all of you? That’s when I decided to corral Sandra into my room for a live Periscope video chat. Answering questions from each other and the audience, we spent an hour talking about dream vibrators, vulva kayaks, our shared love of . . . 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

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 masturbating sitting up, at my desk, eyes glued on the naked bodies . . . read more

It’s still surreal to say. I’m published. My name. Epiphora. On the pages of a book. Followed by my words — about dongs, no less. It’s not something I’ll be showing to my high school journalism teacher at his retirement party next month, but that doesn’t make it less meaningful. In fact, this book is a special sort of validation of my work as a sex writer. My mom already made me order a copy for her — and sign it. Best Sex Writing of the Year, Volume 1 was edited by Jon Pressick, whom interviewed me flawlessly for his Sex City Radio show last year. I submitted several pieces for consideration: “The 2 Weeks of My Sex Life I Lost to Zoloft,” “My Vagina is a Black . . . read more

Enjoy: bloopers from my April Fool’s Day video review: I had many ideas for April Fool’s Day this year, but the idea of a sex toy video review was solidified one night when I realized I could craft a video which began well but devolved into a pile of shit. It would start out great, with an awesome theme song and me being my charming1 self. Then there would be strange cuts. Bad lighting. I would say weird shit I wouldn’t normally say. But it would happen slowly, so that for as long as possible, the illusion of sincerity would remain. Then at the end? The same theme song, performed horribly. Even with this idea, I knew it would be hard to fool . . . read more

[This toy really is the worst, but this is mostly an April Fool’s joke.] In the past month, I’ve lost the ability to form full sentences. My fingers have forgotten how to type, settling only for clicking and dragging while I hold my breath. My eyes have been replaced with cameras, my legs with tripod attachments. But it has been worth it. Because now, finally, I can show you my first ever video review. I’ve dabbled in the video arts over the years, but this is a new level because it involves more than simply painting my nails. Written reviews are not going away — there will just be video reviews sprinkled in every once in a while. For this video review, I . . . 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

[This case is no longer available, but you can browse other sex toy storage options. Also check out my sex toy storage tag for more info on how I store my toys.] It pays to be on the computer 24/7, and to have Twitter updates popping up in the corner of my screen as they happen. That is how I acquired my wonderful Big Foot case from For Your Nymphomation — their owner, Vera, tweeted that she wanted some sex bloggers to review the brand new Big Foot. I leapt on the opportunity, then proceeded to use the case for months without reviewing it. Today I received some lace gloves in the mail, so I decided to gussy myself up with them and . . . read more

Sheets of rain were coming down outside. It was about 7:30 p.m., completely dark, and I assumed it was too late for mail delivery. But the doorbell rang, the cats scattered, and standing outside my door was a man holding a package and an electronic signature device. It only made sense that heightened drama surround the LELO Bo. It’s the world’s first rechargeable cock ring, after all, and — gasp — it’s made of hygienic materials (plastic and TPE1). The generous people at LELO sent it to me after I admitted to being wary of its clit-hitting abilities. They dared me to try it for myself; how could I resist that offer? Although the package was dotted with wetness, everything inside . . . read more