Sadsturbation: Hobby of the Heartbroken and Horny

One night, in the throes of a mind-numbing depression, I nuzzle my nose into my boyfriend’s chest. He tells me he’s feeling out of sorts as well, and sex is off the table tonight. “You are more than welcome to masturbate, though,” he adds.

“Nah, I don’t want to do that,” I reply instantly. I don’t mean it as the guilt trip it probably sounds like; it’s just that masturbation holds no appeal for me now, while sex still does. Partnered sex, when I’m depressed, is like visiting another world – a world where my selfish problems are distant and unimportant, where everything boils down to connectivity and sensuality, and where my pleasure is useful to someone other than myself. Sex is a mutual joy that brings me out of my self-absorbed misery and into the light of another person’s gaze. I can be someone else when I’m having sex, someone who isn’t depressed, if just for a little while.

We don’t have sex that night, and we don’t masturbate, either. We connect physically in other ways – touching, kissing, cuddling – and it feels like almost enough.

In the morning, I hold his hand while we walk dazedly down the street, and I confess I haven’t masturbated in over a week. A long time for me. “I think tonight I’m gonna get high and party down with my Hitachi,” I say, noticing immediately how much the idea does not appeal to me, while also recognizing how necessary it is to my wellbeing.

“I’ll help. I’ll sext you,” my partner replies, and I want to cry because it is the most selfless thing I have ever heard.


Many people report that when they’re depressed, their libido goes away. Mine rarely works that way. It goes deeper underground, maybe, or I get distracted from it for a while – but it’s always there.

But masturbating while depressed is a task and a half. It’s like trying to go ballroom dancing with an anvil chained to your ankle. Sure, you can do it. But it’s probably gonna be fucking miserable and you’re gonna feel exhausted the whole time.

When I’m depressed – whether due to situational factors, biochemical factors, or both – I often think of masturbation as a medicine I must force-feed myself. It won’t be pleasant or fun, in the way masturbation is “supposed” to be. But it’ll shift my neurotransmitters just enough, lift my crushing depression just enough that I can get out from under it for a little while.

The entire process may feel unappealing from start to finish – but at the very least, it’ll remind me that my body is capable of pleasure. Even if the pleasure is muted. Even if I feel undeserving of any pleasure at all.


Sexual fantasies are supposed to be fun. What happens when they aren’t anymore?

What happens when the person who fucks you most reliably in your fantasies is also the person who broke your heart? What happens when thinking about them makes you cry, but you can’t get off without thinking about them? When your precious, elusive orgasms hinge on replaying memories that make you want to weep and hurt yourself and give up on love forever?

Sometimes you find distraction tactics, workarounds. You mentally replace the object of your affections with a beloved celebrity or fictional character: Jim Halpert, John Watson, Rosa Diaz. You seek out new porn or erotica to repopulate your sexual fantasies with people and situations that don’t hurt. You cultivate a crush on a fresh new human, a crush for the sake of crushing.

Other times, though, you wade headlong into your heartbreak. You spritz on the cologne of the person who wrecked your heart, murmur to yourself all the dark hot things they said to you, and try to fuck yourself like they did – in that sweet special way you worry no one will ever fuck you again.

In discussing the ends of relationships, we rarely mention the unique pervy grief of missing the way your lost love fucked you. In losing them, you are also losing that particular flavor of sex you loved so much. Maybe no one else will do those particular things to you ever again – or maybe they will, and it’ll just be different; better, even. But sometimes, for the time being, you just have to mourn melancholically for that particular flick of their wrist, that one thing they could do with their tongue, those magnificent words they knew how to whisper at the always-perfect moment.

Two tools I return to in my saddest masturbation sessions, time and time again, are the Magic Wand Rechargeable and marijuana.

Weed can make me horny when seemingly nothing else can. It lifts the pressure of my sadness slightly, just enough to let arousal flow in. I might still be aware of the heartbreaks weighing on me, but they seem less impactful – like how weed makes physical pain feel like pleasure to me. I am aware that it hurts but, absurdly and blessedly, I do not mind.

The Magic Wand, on the other hand, gives me the distance from my genitals that I seem to need when I’m depressed. When the very idea of sticking my hand into my panties feels distasteful, when even contemplating my own heat and wetness and skin feels unsettlingly intimate, a wand vibe can save the day. I just turn it on and press it against myself through layers of fabric, and it does what it’s made to do – no nauseating touchy-feeliness required.

Sometimes my third go-to when cryin’ and jerkin’ it is reliable porn – reliable in the sense that it almost always turns me on and helps me get off. For me, this category is basically limited to Heather Harmon‘s POV blowjob videos. But even Heather, in all her dependable beauty and skill, sometimes makes me sad when I’m sad already. I contemplate the rumors that she divorced her husband, which would prove once and for all that even terrific sex full of care and love cannot always save a relationship. Or sometimes I just stare jealously at Heather and Jim’s sexual rapport, profoundly bitter I’ve never felt as connected to anything as Heather seems to feel to her husband’s dick.

Look, porn is great, but sometimes I just need to turn off my brain and focus on the vibrator thrumming against me. Orgasms don’t have to be about anything. Sometimes they can just happen, unmoored and isolated from any mental stimulus. Sometimes that’s the exact type of orgasm I need, or the only kind of which I’m capable.


Though my partner’s explicitly offered to help me get off by sexting me, I’m too anxious to ask directly – knowing he’s not in the sexy headspace that could make sexting a fun thing for us rather than just for me. I ask for it in a way that feels safe. “If you felt inclined to tell me some hott things to help me in my quest, I would be amenable to that,” I hem and haw.

“Has your quest already begun?” he asks, and we’re off to the races.

He guides me through a sext-a-thon that feels more meditative than sexy – like when a yoga teacher asks you to visualize a waterfall, an ocean, a bold white light spreading through your body from the inside out. “Imagine me putting my hands on you, kissing you,” he texts. He doesn’t need to describe how he would kiss me if he was here; I already know. “I’m going to slide my hand between your legs, over your panties. I can feel you getting wet already.” He’s right. I am.

In sext-land, he chokes me, fucks my face, pushes his fingers inside me. I can see it, feel it, and it’s some semblance of something I deeply need. Hot tears drift down my cheeks and dry on my lips as I pant and moan. He is so sweet and selfless to type these words of salacious encouragement into his phone for me, when I know he doesn’t feel like it. He understands that this sexual interaction is more than sexual to me; it’s life-affirming, mood-lifting, intimacy-building. It’s a “sexual favor” in the sense that it’s sexual and a favor, but it’s so much more than that.

“I know you’re going to come for me like a good girl,” he writes. “Turn that toy up higher.”

I crank the wand. I’m surprised at how close I am, in almost no time at all. For a week, arousal’s felt like a jewel in a locked treasure chest – and here he is, handing me the goddamn key.

“I’m so close, daddy,” I tell him.

“I want you to come for me, princess,” he writes back.

I do. It’s delicious and deep. I feel something shift in my brain – something small but important.

“Mm, I did it, daddy. That was really nice,” I type. “Thank you.”

Good girl,” he responds, and for the first time in days, I feel like I might actually be a good girl. A girl whose brain isn’t swimming in depression. A girl who believes in herself, and can accomplish things. A girl whose daddy wants her to be happy, and who can therefore soldier on.

I set my Hitachi down, put my phone away, wipe off the tears half-dried on my face, curl up contentedly, and go to sleep. Maybe I’ll be okay after all.

10 Fun Ways to Indirectly Stimulate the Clit

You know that OkCupid question that’s like, “How much communication is ideal during sex?” and two of the answers are “A lot!” and “Just enough to get things right”? This question always throws me for a loop, because for me, “enough to get things right” is often “a lot.”

My clit, you see, is a diva, a snob, a picky toddler throwing a tantrum. It requires things to be just so. If you were to count up the words I’ve expended on instructing sexual partners over my lifetime, I’m sure at least half of them would be clit-focused. “Higher, please.” “A little softer.” “Can you go slower?” “Here, let me move your hand…”

The problem is that my clit is exquisitely sensitive – too sensitive, some might say, though I’m usually quite happy with its sensitivity level. But many of the cis men I bang, being accustomed (one can assume) to their own less-sensitive sexual response, go straight for my exposed clit like it’s a button they can mash until they win the game. They mean well, but they lack the nuanced know-how to please my delicate clit without overwhelming it. And I know I’m not the only one this is happening to: I’ve commiserated with many vulva-having friends about men whose clit-stim techniques are more painful than pleasurable.

Here, then, are some methods of indirect clit stimulation. Try them on your partner(s), or yourself, if a super-sensitive clit is part of your sex life. As with any new sexual exploration, be sure to communicate, check in, and adjust your touch according to its recipient’s wishes. And for the love of god, don’t skimp on the lube.

Dry-humping. Unf. Is there another sexual act so underrated as this one? I looove the process of getting turned on together by grinding body parts against other body parts while kissing, groping, and giggling. This endeavor is the sort of thing that often falls by the wayside as relationships become more established, but if I had my way, dry-humping would be a part of my sexual repertoire forevermore.

While makeouts and other fun things are happening, you can tease a partner’s clit by grinding your thigh, hip, or boner against it, while naked or clothed. Some people can even come from this friction alone. If spanking’s on the menu, the over-the-knee position is fantastic for indirect clit stim: your sub can writhe against your lap while you spank them, making them the filling of a delicious pain/pleasure sandwich. *sexually frustrated sigh*

Rub it through the hood. This has been my standard, go-to, failsafe masturbation technique for over a decade, so it seemed almost too obvious to include – and yet, many men I’ve been with have found this notion confusing, so I’m including it just incase.

The clitoral hood functions much like the foreskin of an intact penis: it serves to protect the underlying structure, keep it moist, and assist in frictionless pleasure. Like rubbing the foreskin up and down over the head of the penis, rubbing the clitoral hood over/around the clit stimulates all those yummy nerve endings without being as overwhelming as direct touch would be.

I like to have little circles rubbed on my clit hood; some people like up-and-down or side-to-side motions, or some combination thereof. Some people have a particular side of their clit that likes to be touched more than the other. Experiment, communicate, and see what works.

Squeeze the outer labia together. Using two or more fingers, do what Reid Mihalko calls “the Vulcan”: sandwich the clit between the two outer labia. From there, you can apply gentle pressure, squeeze your fingers together, roll ’em around, and so on.

This stimulates the head and shaft of the clitoris indirectly, and also puts pressure on the clitoral legs, an oft-ignored portion of the internal clitoris. This can be a fantastic warm-up/foreplay technique before you move on to more direct forms of stimulation, or it can be a delight all on its own.

Rub the mound. The pubic mound is the fleshy part above the clit. Rubbing this area – especially the spot toward the bottom of it, where it dips and starts to turn into the clitoral hood – can be a great way to stimulate the clit super indirectly. I like mine rubbed in big, firm circles with the flat of a partner’s palm, maybe while the heel of their hand is digging into my external G-spot. This makes a lovely warm-up for more intense stimulation.

Squeeze the inner labia together. You would think this wouldn’t feel all that different from doing the same with the outer labia, as mentioned above, but it can feel much more intense and targeted. Gently squeeze-‘n’-roll the shaft and head of the clit between the inner lips. Vary the pressure and location of your touch. See if you can feel the legs and bulbs of the internal clitoris under the skin.

Rub the vulval vestibule. The vestibule is the part of the vulva in between the clit and the vaginal opening. I just think of mine as the underside of my clitoral shaft. Know how blowjob guides always say that the underside of the shaft is the most sensitive part of a dick? Yeah, that’s true for many clitorides as well.

Very important: because this area is extremely sensitive for many folks, I would recommend using a lot of lube and a very light touch. I like mine stroked in a gentle, slow, up-and-down motion. Also make absolutely sure your hands are clean before attempting this, because the urethra is in this area and you do not want to get bacteria in there.

Jack it off. This technique can be affirming for folks who have vulvas and don’t identify as female, so I’m told. As for me, I just like it because I like clitoral shaft stimulation. Gently hold the shaft of the clit between your thumb and forefinger (this is easier to do when the clit is already aroused and engorged) and move the labia and hood up and down over it like a little foreskin on a little penis. Keep in mind that you probably don’t need to use as much pressure as you’d use on a penis, though, as always, check in with your partner if you’re not sure.

I’ve had some partners manage to jerk off my clit between two knuckles while they also had two other fingers inside me at the same time… but that takes some next-level coordination and dexterity. Practice and maybe one day you’ll get there!

Palm it. Lay your whole hand flat over the entire vulva. You can experiment with placement as per your person’s preferences, but I usually like the heel of the hand to rest just above my clit. Deep pressure in circular or up-and-down motions feels really good here; I find the warmth and weight of a partner’s hand on my junk both sexy and comforting.

Depending on the placement and size of your hand, you may also be able to penetrate the vagina with a few fingers while you do this, resulting in some great blended stimulation and maybe even a blended orgasm.

Vibrate it through clothes. This is my go-to recommendation whenever I talk to someone who owns a Magic Wand (or another super-powered vibe) and finds it uncomfortably strong. Each layer of clothing adds a little insulation between the vibrations and the nerve endings of the clit. If I’m wearing jeans or underwear with a defined seam up the centre of the crotch, applying vibration to that seam can feel direct and focused without overwhelming me with sensation. Plus, hey, there’s something satisfyingly lazy about not even having to disrobe to get off.

Vibrate beside it. If you place a decently strong vibrator on the pubic mound, vaginal opening, or one outer labia, the vibrations will stimulate the clit indirectly while also rumbling the parts of the internal clit that reside under whatever part you’re vibrating. It’s a delicious way to build arousal and engorgement in the area, and to tease a partner before giving them what they really crave.

Have you been with (or been) a person with a super-sensitive clit before? What are your favorite methods of indirect clit stim?

7 Ways Weed Boosts My Libido

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My relationship to marijuana has been a journey. There was a time, years ago, when I was “straight-edge,” but now I firmly consider myself a member of the #StonerFemme contingent. Weed helps me on a near-daily basis with my anxiety and depression, my chronic joint pain, and – yes! – my libido.

I get a lot of questions about this whenever I mention it on Twitter, largely from people who are confused because they haven’t experienced this effect from marijuana. I can’t really explain it; I’m sure it depends on your body chemistry, your method of consumption, and what type of weed you’ve got. As for me, I find that sativa-dominant hybrids work best if I’m trying to amp up my libido, but really, almost every strain I’ve tried has made me feel this way. (The first Leafly review for my favorite sexytimes strain just says “Yo I was vibrating and shit,” so apparently I’m not alone.)

Hopefully I don’t have to tell you that intoxicants can complicate consent. If you need a refresher on that, read the first four paragraphs of this article I wrote. But with that caveat, I want to tell you today about the seven (!) key ways that marijuana helps raise my libido and my enjoyment of sex and masturbation…

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Arousal. Oftentimes, when I go several days without masturbating, it’s because it just feels like too much work. My sex drive is more responsive than spontaneous, so if I want to jerk off, I have to spend some time warming myself up and getting turned on: watching porn, reading erotica, and/or gently touching myself in places that aren’t my genitals until that area is ready to be touched. That process is lovely when I’m in the mood for it, but sometimes it just feels like an extra barrier to entry that isn’t worth the hassle. So I skip masturbation entirely.

Weed, amazingly, helps me circumvent the arousal process. If I smoke up, I’ll reliably get turned on within about 10 minutes, without having to actually do anything to make that happen. My genitals start to feel all warm and engorged like they do when I’ve been engaging in foreplay for several minutes – except I haven’t. It’s brilliant.

I remember one time, I smoked some weed at my then-boyfriend’s house just before leaving to head back home. On the walk home, I felt my own wetness start to drip down my leg. That’s a level of lubrication I usually only reach after, say, an hour of teasing and edging and fucking with someone I find colossally attractive. And weed made it happen without any effort or work at all. Strange and lovely!

Sensitivity. There is science to back this up: weed increases our capacity to feel physical sensations. Whether it’s a partner’s fingertips trailing along your spine, someone’s soft lips pressed against yours, or a vibrator nestled against your clit, sensory information tends to feel amplified when you’re high.

I wouldn’t say that weed makes my orgasms come more quickly or easily – I’m still a tough nut to crack, even when I’m stoned – but the lead-up to orgasm does feel better than it normally would. It’s as if I’ve never felt those exact sensations before, and my body and brain are experiencing them anew. It’s pretty magical.

Worth noting: this increased sensitivity isn’t always a good thing. When I had anal sex for the first time, my fuckpal – a seasoned stoner – advised me not to smoke beforehand, because anal penetration is already an intense sensation and weed could make it so I’d feel every bump and vein. I’m glad I listened to him. But for less overwhelming sex acts, that boost in receptiveness can be positively delicious.

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Tactility. So, yes, weed makes me more physically sensitive, and it also makes me more excited about the whole notion of touching people. Or touching myself, as the case may be.

I once smoked weed with a beloved fuckbuddy while at a party, and when it hit me, I became obsessed with his arm hair. We were standing close together and I kept brushing my arm against his, sloooowly, to feel his comforting hairiness slide against my porcelain smoothness. It felt shockingly intimate and sexy, despite the fact that we were fully dressed and not even looking at each other – he was absorbed in conversation with someone else and I was pretending to listen to that conversation, too. But my attention was reduced to just those few inches of skin on skin, and how fucking delightful he felt against me.

This obsession with tactile information also means that oral sex on weed is a damn good time. You know what they say about “the munchies”…! When I’m high, I’m equally thrilled if there’s a Reese’s cup in my mouth or a dick in there, and for roughly equivalent reasons.

Visualizations. I wrote about this a bit when I had my first stoned orgasm. Weed isn’t a full-on psychedelic, in the sense that you’re probably not going to have a spiritual breakthrough or an LSD-esque “trip” on it, but it can create some visual and sensory hallucinations sometimes.

For example: once, Bex was sexting with their long-distance Sir while high, and when the topic of a blowjob was broached, Bex says they could actually feel their Sir’s cock in their mouth. I’ve had similar experiences when I’ve combined weed with fantasies, sexting, or porn: I become very suggestible, such that the mention of, say, a fist in my vagina can create the sensory illusion that there actually is a fist fucking me. When I try to sexually fantasize while sober, my mind often wanders and I can’t focus enough to get a vivid fantasy going; weed makes that process a lot easier and more fun.

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Disinhibition. Much like alcohol, marijuana can loosen your inhibitions so you don’t feel as self-conscious. For an anxious person like me, this is a godsend. Anxiety triggers my sexual brakes, making it hard for me to get turned on and relax into the moment. Weed lifts the oppressive weight of anxiety off my shoulders, so I can be in the moment and quit worrying about shit that doesn’t matter.

While this effect is, like I said, similar to the disinhibition alcohol can facilitate, weed is physiologically a far better pre-sex choice than alcohol. Due to how booze affects the blood vessels, being drunk stunts our sexual sensitivity, our capacity for orgasm, and our ability to maintain an erection (penile or clitoral). They don’t call it “whiskey dick” for nothin’!

Joy. Gala Darling has written that regular exercise creates “a constant undercurrent of joy” in her life; I feel similarly about marijuana. It melts my stress and transports me to a place of childlike delight, where I can see the present moment for what it is: an opportunity for happiness, growth, and play.

There is certainly a time and a place for sex that is emotionally intense, focused, and serious. But that type of sex is a rare craving for me; what I want, far more often, is the goofy, giggly, relaxed kind of sex. I firmly believe that sex is grown-up playtime. I’m happiest in my sex life when I remember that and take it to heart. Weed makes that even easier to do.

When I’m depressed, or recovering from some kind of heartbreak, I often find it difficult to get turned on, because my sexual thoughts and fantasies just make me sad instead. Weed helps with that: it puts me into a happy-go-lucky brainspace where even people who’ve hurt my feelings can’t really bother me. So I can fantasize about them to my heart’s content.

Ecstatic pain. This one is weird, and I don’t have a scientific explanation for it, just firsthand experience to draw from: marijuana sometimes makes me experience pain as pleasure.

I first noticed this years ago when, stoned at a party, a friend and I began doing sun salutations. I noticed immediately that the stretching of my muscles – usually an intense, slightly uncomfortable feeling for me – felt almost orgasmic. I moaned aloud as I moved through the poses, pushing my body farther than I normally would, because the more I pushed, the better it felt.

It took me a few years to figure out how best to use this effect to my advantage: kink! I looove getting spanked, slapped, bitten, and scratched when I’m stoned. It all feels so fucking good. When I’m in that headspace and someone really skilled is spanking me just right, sometimes it even seems like I could get off from that alone. That hasn’t happened yet, but I’m still holdin’ out hope!

 

How do you find marijuana interacts with your libido, sensitivity, and enjoyment of sex? Got any tips, tricks, or favorite strains to share?

I Masturbated With My Best Friends and It Made Me Smile

My two closest lady-friends are two of the most sex-positive people I know. One of them is poly and does feminist porn; the other was raised in a kink-positive lesbian household and comes with me to Pride every single year. Obviously, I have good taste in friends.

Not too long ago, we were having a “girls’ night in,” as we often do, but things were just getting… raunchier than usual. Maybe it was the wine and rum we were downing, or maybe it was just one of those hot summer nights that makes you want to be sleazily open-minded. Either way, it was a rather sexier evening than I was used to spending with these ladies.

First we were chatting about porn; next we had taken off our clothes; shortly after that, we started photographing each other’s naughty bits on my instant camera; and sometime after that, it was suggested that we masturbate side-by-side.

The only folks who’d ever seen me jerk off were lovers of mine and strangers on the internet (who never even saw my face), so this was a new and ever-so-slightly intimidating prospect for me.

We drank a little more, turned the lights out, laid on our backs on the floor of my friend’s basement, and got down to business.

At first, I was unsure if I’d be able to reach orgasm. I didn’t have any toys with me, and it’d been a long while (as in, several months) since I’d gotten myself off with just my hands. My fingers felt fumbling and inadequate.

However, then one of my friends started having an audible orgasm just a few feet away from me. I have always found “sex sounds” to be the biggest turn-on – bigger than visuals, sometimes bigger than actually being touched – so this helped a hell of a lot. I found myself spilling over the edge of orgasm within thirty seconds or so.

That same friend came again a couple minutes later (which I listened to with jealous ears, being pretty mono-orgasmic myself). As for our other friend, it turned out she had fallen asleep. I guess she’d had a long day. And also was extremely drunk.

At some point, one of us said, “We should do this again soon, but with toys.” And then someone else said, “This is like… the culmination of our entire friendship.” It’s true, it kind of was. It’s surprising that it never occurred to us to do this before, actually.

So, I had a fun group masturbation experience and I’m looking forward to doing it again!

Have you ever masturbated with friends/non-lovers before? Did you enjoy it?

Photo by Keith Hamm.

How to Use a Hitachi Magic Wand Without Hating Every Minute Of It

I’m not the biggest fan of the Magic Wand. The vibrations are too strong, too sudden, and too surface-level. Many, many people rave about the famous Hitachi, and I am not one of them.

However. There are ways to adapt the Magic Wand to make it friendlier for people with vulvas like mine – people who prefer stimulation that is less numbing, less broad, and/or less jarring. Here are some tricks I’ve learned that work for me.

1. Warm up. You have to do it when you use big dildos so it makes sense to do it with powerhouse vibrators too. Try using a smaller vibe until you’re very turned on, and then switch to the big guns.

2. Use a fabric barrier. I usually use my Hitachi through my underwear and sometimes through my yoga pants too. Hell, if I’m on my period, I can even use it through a menstrual pad – it’s that strong. Stick some fabric between you and your wand and you may find it a lot more manageable. You can always remove those barriers later if you want a more direct sensation.

3. Get a penetrative attachment. Vixen Creations makes a beautiful silicone one, but it’s pricey, so you might want to start with a cheap porous one to make sure you like it. These attachments can be used for penetration, sure, but they also transform your Hitachi into a more pinpointed clit toy. You can focus the vibrations right onto your clit instead of having them spread over your whole vulva, and that might make it easier for you to get off with your wand.

4. Experiment with pressure. Some people need to press the wand hard against their vulva to feel anything at all. Some may have a better time if they hold the toy very, very lightly so it’s just barely grazing their genitals. Try out different amounts of pressure and see if you can find a way that works.

5. Experiment with placement. My favorite way to use my Hitachi, which I only just discovered a couple of weeks ago, is to hold it on one of my outer labia, so my clit only receives vibration via the skin next to it, and not from the wand directly. This feels really great and allows me to avoid a lot of the numbness I used to get from my Hitachi. Try positioning yours somewhere other than the place you’d normally put a vibrator; you might find a goldmine.

6. Use a dimmer switch. I do not officially recommend this, because the Hitachi isn’t meant to be used with a dimmer so you may experience electrical shorts or even electrical fires if you try it. But many people say that they wouldn’t be able to use their wand pleasurably if not for their dimmer.

7. Keep it moving. Leaving the Hitachi in one spot for too long can cause numbness. If you move it around your vulva – maybe in circles, maybe up and down, or maybe in a sporadic and unpredictable pattern of your choosing – you may escape most or all of that numbness.

What are your best Hitachi tips?