Author: Kate Sloan

On a Sex Blogger’s Desk: A Sexy-Weird Mini-Altar

Kate Sloan

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I have long been obsessed with totems: physical tokens which represent, and remind you of, a mental or emotional idea. I believe you can invoke magic, meaning, passion and purpose through the use of these small symbols. Magic, the way I see it, is a blend of attitude and action: when you’re reminded of your intentions all the time, they stay in the forefront of your mind, making it likelier that you’ll take small (and big) steps toward them every day.

A totem, the way I view it, can be any item that reminds you of something you want to feel or something you want to accomplish. Lately I’ve been enjoying the process of maintaining an altar of sorts: a collection of these totems, grouped together in one place, to remind me of what I’m trying to bring into my life.

My little mini-altar is a grey stone bowl that sits on my desk, perched atop a piano-shaped music box. It’s positioned to the left of my computer, so its presence looms lovingly over every moment of work I do at my desk. It’s filled with objects that keep me on-task and feeling good whenever I look at them.

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Central to my altar right now (it changes frequently) are two vulvas: a custom-made vulva ring I commissioned from CatStache Accessories, and a turquoise silicone vulva cast that was a gift from Colin at Hole Punch Toys. Obviously, sexuality is central to my work – especially the encouragement and validation of the sexuality of female-assigned-at-birth people – so these vulvas act as a daily reminder of the Power of the Pussy! Colin also gave me a cast of a butthole, so that’s in there too.

I bought a quartet of beautiful dice at a Long Island nerd shop last time I was there visiting Bex. They viscerally called to me when I saw them in their display case, even though I don’t play Dungeons and Dragons or do anything else that would necessitate me owning dice. I think I was drawn to their nerdy-fun energy: most of the people I’ve ever been attracted to are nerdy enough to participate in stuff like D&D with great enthusiasm. (Cough, the McElroy brothers, cough.) The presence of these dice in my altar reminds me of the type of romantic and/or sexual partner I’m always trying to attract into my life, and they also remind me of how much I love nerds in general. Sex nerds are my ideal readers here; I connect so deeply with nerds’ extreme enthusiasm and obsessive love of their interests.

Last week I went out dancing at a bar with my friends Dan and Sarah, and drunkenly bought an expired vintage-looking condom from the vending machine in the bar bathroom. It’s in my altar now because it makes me laugh (“Do not use as a substitute for a condom,” the packaging dares you in a distinctly 1970s-looking font), but also because it reminds me of how absolutely crucial sex education is. There are people in the world who wouldn’t know how perilous it could be to use an expired, “for-novelty-use-only” condom, and that kind of gap in knowledge is part of what I’m working to eradicate with my sex education work!

When I had coffee with Kidder, my sex-positivity hero, he gave me a box of gifts, including a signed copy of his book, a new-in-the-box copy of a sexy card game he developed when I was but a youngin’, and a silver coin emblazoned with the “Sex is Fun” logo. That coin holds a place of honor in my altar, because it reminds me that my heroes are people too, and that maybe someday I’ll be somebody’s hero the way Kidder was for me.

Tucked into the top of my altar is a white index card folded into an origami heart. Periodically I like to write down my current hopes and wishes and do some kind of magic ceremony with the piece of paper to release my wish to the universe, whether that be burning it, shredding it, or just folding it into a meaningful heart. I don’t even remember what’s written inside this particular heart, but the sight of it makes me happy.

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I own lots and lots of crystals. Like a lot of magical items, I’m not 100% convinced of their ability to make magic in the ethereal sense of rearranging the universe and attracting specific things into our lives, but I do think they serve to remind you of what you’re trying to achieve, and that’s always a useful thing. Each crystal in my altar was chosen for a specific purpose; some of my favorites are my rose quartz wand (for encouraging self-love and compassion), a chunk of labradorite (for quelling anxiety and overwhelm), citrine (for prosperity and higher self-esteem), and amethyst (for increased creativity and intuition). Sometimes when I meditate about my hopes and dreams, I like to clutch a rose quartz heart in one hand and a carnelian heart in the other; those are the love and sex crystals, respectively, and it feels divinely right for me to combine their powers and use ’em together.

I own a lot of jewelry, some of which I keep in my altar because it holds specific meanings for me. I have a rose quartz point necklace, to (again) evoke self-love. (Never enough rose quartz!!) And I have three rings: an emerald and diamond ring given to me by my high school girlfriend (to remind me I’m capable of being loved deeply), a ring my late grandmother willed to me that features a panther with glowing jade eyes (to remind me of my inherent feminine power and bravery), and a blue topaz heart ring I bought myself (to increase my writerly powers). Sometimes I stack them all on my fingers when I leave the house, on days when I need cheerifying and emboldening.

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There are a few things my altar is missing, that I’d really like to find for it:

• A penis, or at least some kind of phallic symbol (other than the semi-phallic rose quartz wand up there). There’s a lot of vulva-energy in this spread and I wanna balance that out. A miniature dildo would be ideal!

• Something that reminds me of Bex. They’re my best friend, my romantic advisor and my favorite shoulder-angel. I want a little symbol that basically functions as a reminder to ask myself, “What would Bex do?”

• Something kink-related, like a tiny handcuffs charm or a heart-shaped lock. Kink is an important part of my sexuality and even my spirituality; it’s odd that it isn’t represented here.

• Maybe some specific mementos from happy past sexual experiences. A receipt from a drinks-date. A matchbook from an illicit hotel. A chocolate wrapper from a romantic weekend. I think these things are imbued with colossal positive energy and we can always use more of that!

Do you have any kind of altar-like space in your home? How about tokens that serve to remind you of what you want? What are they?

I Stuck a Shoe in My Ass So You Don’t Have To (Unless You Really, Really Want To)

Kate Sloan

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When you’re known as a femme sex blogger, people constantly send you links to sexy femme things. Rhinestoned vibrators. Penis-shaped lipsticks. And – most intriguingly to me – leather pumps whose heels are butt plugs.

I’ve been mutual Twitter followers with the proprietor of Ainsley-T for a while, and earlier this year, they offered me a pair to review. My approach to sex toy reviewing lately is based more on what I think’ll be weird than what I think’ll be good, so of course, I said yes immediately. Not too long thereafter, a package arrived in the mail for me containing what is now, no doubt, the oddest pair of shoes I own. (And I say that as someone who owns heels with cartoon duelling snakes hand-painted on them.)

My Ainsley-T Plug Pumps are black, sexy, and powerful. The heel itself is glossy, while the shoe’s upper is a more matte calfskin. I requested a European size 39 for my U.S.-size-8 feet, and they fit well: not so loose as to slide off when I walk, and not so tight as to pinch.

Despite my other femme proclivities, I am not a “heels person.” Wearing heels for any length of time annoys the shit out of me. I can hobble around in my Sofft T-straps or padded Naturalizer pumps for a few hours if need be, but I’d rather not; stick me in some harness boots or leather flats and I’m a happy, comfy, ambulatory little princess. So I wasn’t expecting to like the Plug Pumps as actual shoes, and I don’t. The heels are perplexingly, fetishistically high – 5.9 inches, with a 1.8-inch platform – and walking on them makes me feel like I’m teetering on some very kinky stilts. I’m also not particularly a fan of the severe square toe – give me almond-toe or give me death!! – but I can see how others would be into that aesthetic.

So, since wearing these shoes on my feet isn’t an appealing option, obviously I shoved one in my ass.

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Let me be clear. I did not shove the whole shoe in my ass. That would be quite a feat (heyooo, see what I did there?!). But even taking the heel of this pump proved to be quite a challenge. Luckily, I’m a sex toy reviewer – I’m used to sticking strange things in my holes.

I started my testing session with the Plug Pumps by watching a porn scene in which a deliciously femmed-up Tina Horn dominates a pathetically trussed-up Danny Wylde. I chose this because I happened to have it stored on my phone and was feeling lazy, but it proved to be an ideal choice: Tina towers over Danny in high heels throughout the scene, allowing me to fantasize about mean, toppy femmes as I proceeded with my masturbatory adventure.

I began by trying the heel in my vagina. With no added lube or protection of any kind, I slid it in. You probably shouldn’t try this at home, kids. The Ainsley-T site specifically says, “We recommend the use of a condom if the footwear is to be used for anal or vaginal play,” because the heels are made of a lacquered ABS that’s presumably not as orifice-safe as, say, silicone or steel. My contact at Ainsley-T told me the finish isn’t porous, but that he wanted people to be able to use the shoe “without requiring excessive bravery.” So, wrap that shit up, friends.

The heel didn’t feel like much in my vag. I wouldn’t expect it to; it has a diameter of just 1.4″ and my vagina is on some next-level shit. But it was a good warm-up while I got myself turned on with porn and a vibe, and it gave me more confidence in my ability to stick the heel in my ass next.

I lubed the heel and went to slide it into my butt… which was more difficult than anticipated. You don’t fully appreciate ergonomic butt plugs until you’ve tried to insert a plug that has a fucking shoe attached to it. Each time I inserted or re-inserted it, it took me several tries to get the angle right – and once the heel did find its way inside me, holding and thrusting it by the vamp was awkward-bordering-on-impossible. Plus, the toe and platform rest right over my clit when the plug’s all the way inside me, making added clit stimulation difficult. Eventually I flipped the shoe around so the toe was closer to my tailbone than my clit – that gave me more room for vibes or fingers, and the shoe was easier to maneuver that way.

Now, keep in mind, this shoe wasn’t designed for masturbation. I get the feeling the target audience is dominant femmey types who want to fuck their subs’ asses and/or engage in general shoe worship, at least judging by the promotional images on the product page. But I told the Ainsley-T dude I’d review his shoes the same way I’d review any sex toy, so that’s what I’m doin’.

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My usual lying-flat-on-my-back position doesn’t work great for butt stuff, and even with my Jaz under my hips, the shoe was too awkwardly large to use the plug that way. For a while, I sat perched on the edge of my desk chair, knees bent high for better butt access, but that grew uncomfortable too. So I settled onto all fours, the shoe’s sole resting on my lower back while its heel was buried in my ass.

Grinding my clit against my Magic Wand in this position, everything actually started to feel pretty good. I made little mewls of pleasure while fantasizing about Tina Horn shoe-fucking me (or… shoe-Horn-ing me, if you will). The heel’s moderate diameter felt just right, and the narrower shaft below the plug’s swollen middle gave my butt muscles something pleasant to clench around. I began to think I might actually have an orgasm.

But then… the heel slid out of my ass. I squealed “Noooo!” and grabbed it up again, re-lubed, and re-inserted. This kept happening, though. I don’t know if a wider diameter would help or hinder this problem. In any case, like I said before, most people using this product will have another person’s foot/leg/body holding the shoe where it’s supposed to be, so I can’t fault the heel for repeatedly falling out of me.

I eventually MacGyvered a system where my face and arms were braced against my Liberator Wedge while the sole of the shoe was settled flat against my Jaz. This worked brilliantly for me, but, y’know, that’s a lot of expensive positioning equipment and you could probably replicate the effect with a plethora of firm pillows. With the shoe securely pressed against my Jaz, I was able to wriggle and gyrate against it while I buzzed my clit with the Magic Wand, and that gave me the sensation of actually being fucked. (It helped that the only time I’ve actually been fucked in the ass, I was in the same position, using the same vibe. Hellooo, fantasies about handsome gentleman fuckpal.)

Some minutes later, I had an orgasm, and it was loud and weird and good. But my hips tilted forward to make firmer contact with the Hitachi, and this allowed my pelvic muscle contractions to eject the heel from my ass at top speed. It was as if the shoe was crying, “Finally! I can go back to just being a shoe!”

As I lay there in a sweaty heap on top of my Liberators, a lube-drizzled pump beneath me and a vibrator tucked in the crook of my arm, I reflected on what a weird life sex toy reviewers lead. In no other line of work would anyone be expected to stick a piece of footwear in their butthole and then write about it in salient detail. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Thank you so much to Ainsley-T for sending me these gorgeous shoes, and for having a terrific sense of humor about me wanting to review them as a sex toy. It’s companies like this one that make toy reviewing such a fun endeavor, I tells ya.

My Favorite Toys For Brain-Melting A-Spot Orgasms

Kate Sloan

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Sometimes people ask me why I don’t do much in-person sex education work – workshops, motivational speaking, and so on – and the reason is that I don’t feel I’ve really found my “niche” yet. My oeuvre doesn’t have a central focus within the sexuality field, the way, say, JoEllen writes about sex and depression or Drew talks about sex and disability.

However, if there’s one niche topic I’m uniquely known for, it’s the A-spot. I get tweets, comments and emails from people all the time, telling me I helped them identify that strange spot deep inside them that brings them so much pleasure. The A-spot barely gets any hype compared to its shallower neighbor, the G-spot – and yet, my interactions with readers have shown me that it’s a highly erogenous zone for a lot of people. I’m happy to be a one-woman PR machine for this underrated spot if it means getting the word out and bringing more pleasure to the world!

The number-one question I get about the A-spot is, “What are the best toys for finding and stimulating it?” So I’ve put together this guide to A-spot toys, because dammit, you guys deserve terrific orgasms.

General Shape and Size Considerations

So here’s the deal. The A-spot is waaaay deep inside the vagina, right in front of the cervix. This means that, as with G-spot toys, you’re going to want something that curves forward/upward, toward your belly button – but A-spot toys need to be longer, since your G-spot’s usually about 2-3 inches past the vaginal entrance and the A-spot will typically be another 2-3 inches past that (depending on arousal level, where you are in your cycle, and how high or low your cervix is generally).

The depth of the A-spot also means it responds best to toys with a gentle or small curve, not a drastic one. G-spot toys like the Pure Wand can’t do double-duty as A-spot toys, because they curve so intensely that they can’t get deep enough inside the vagina.

Additionally, because the A-spot is tucked away in front of the pain-sensitive cervix, you’re generally gonna want something with a narrow or tapered tip that can slide up in there. A toy that’s too wide will bump into the cervix and/or stop short of the A-spot. So, even if you’re ordinarily a girth enthusiast, you’ll want to size down somewhat if you’re seeking your A-spot.

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Silicone Toys

Edited to add (Dec. 6, 2021): A lot of the toys featured in this post have since been discontinued. My updated recommendations for the best silicone A-spot toys are the Easy A (which I designed), the Uberrime Night King, and the VixSkin Bandit.

The Tantus Tsunami will hold a special place in my heart forever, because it’s the toy that first introduced me to my A-spot. It has a slight curve right at the tip, which enables it to curl up in front of my cervix without bumping it. It’s also relatively slender at the tip and thicker through the rest of the shaft, which means the rest of my girth-loving vagina doesn’t have to go unsatisfied.

I also occasionally like realistic (read: cock-like) silicone dildos for A-spot purposes. The important factors are (as stated above) sufficient length, a slight curve, and a tapered tip. My faves are the Tantus Pack ‘n’ Play #1 and VixSkin Mustang. (The Mustang is also a killer G-spot dildo, when thrusted a little more shallowly, so it gets my Multi-Talented Toy seal of approval!)

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Glass & Metal Toys

Edited to add (Dec. 6, 2021): A lot of the toys featured in this post have since been discontinued. My updated recommendations for the best glass & metal A-spot toys are the Njoy Eleven, the Crystal Delights Star Delight, and the Icicles #53.

As with most internal erogenous zones, my A-spot likes a relatively firm touch, so glass is a good material for stroking it. The Fucking Sculptures G-Spoon is one of my all-time favorite A-spot whisperers: the slight curve at its tip lets it meander past my cervix just right. If you buy a G-Spoon for this purpose, make sure to order a medium or large one, so it’ll be long enough to get deep inside you.

Fucking Sculptures also makes the Double Trouble, arguably my favorite dildo of all time. Its thinner end hits my A-spot more consistently and pleasurably than any other toy in my collection. This is something of a mystery to me, since the Dub Trubz is super girthy (Sunny Megatron calls it “Fisting Lite“) and theoretically shouldn’t be able to slide past my cervix – and yet, it unmistakably strokes the fuck out of my A-spot. Something about its shape and angle just makes it inexplicably perfect for this task – provided you, like me, can handle its size.

For a cheaper and less dicey glass option, I recommend the Icicles #53. It has a tapered, slightly tilted head that can zero in on the A-spot with ease, and it retails for under $30. While it isn’t as luxurious as Fucking Sculptures’ artisanal offerings, it is simple and gets the job done.

Positioning

It can be tricky to reach the A-spot, whether you’re doing it yourself or having a partner do it for you. I’ve recently become obsessed with the Liberator Jaz as a solution to this problem. Slide it under your hips and it’ll elevate your butt and pelvis just right – not only for A-spot exploration but also for G-spot play, PIV sex, butt stuff, or pretty much any other precarious genital maneuver. (A pillow or two can achieve a similar effect for cheaper, but Liberator products hold their shape better than pillows and just do a better job overall, so I’d recommend ’em over pillows if you can afford it.)

Similarly to G-spot play, you might find you get a better sensation if you angle the base of your dildo downward (toward your butt) so that the tip makes better contact with your spot. I find it’s easier to have a partner do this than to do it yourself – plus it’s sooooo fun when someone is fucking you with a dildo and they find the perfect spot and get all excited about your sudden moans/screams/eyes rolling back in your head. (Umm, it’s possible that A-spot stimulation turns me into Regan MacNeil.)

Other Tips

Betcha could’ve guessed I’d recommend you use lube, huh?! “MORE LUBE” is basically the battle cry of the sex educator. But seriously, it helps. The more lubrication there is inside your vag, the more room you have to move around and the more comfortable you’ll tend to be.

That said: I’d also recommend you try A-spot stimulation sans lube at least a couple times, just to see if that feels different/better for you. I tend to skip lube when I use my Double Trouble because the presence of a little friction allows it to “pull” on my vaginal walls in a way that’s really pleasing to my A-spot. (Errr, this is a difficult thing to explain in words. Just trust me, sometimes strategic dryness is a good thing.) Extra lubrication is also a known effect of A-spot play, so don’t be alarmed if you find yourself juicier than usual when touching this spot.

The cervix is like the socially awkward friend who the A-spot brings to parties and sometimes has to babysit all night. Which is a roundabout metaphorical way of saying: unfortunately, your cervix has to be in a good mood for your A-spot to have any fun. For certain people, there are times in their hormonal cycle when their cervix might dip particularly low and/or be particularly sensitive to pain, and those times might not be ideal for A-spot play. It’s okay; you’ll just appreciate the pleasures of A-spot stimulation extra hard when you can experience them again.

When using toys on my A-spot, I tend to use small in-and-out motions, rather than big sweeping thrusts or scooping/rocking motions. However, as always, your mileage may vary, and you should experiment with different modes of movement to see what feels best for you.

I highly recommend incorporating clitoral stimulation when you play with your A-spot. These two things feel excellent separately and that excellence increases exponentially when you combine them. Like many people, I can’t come without clitoral involvement, so when I say I have “A-spot orgasms,” what I really mean is that I have blended clitoral/A-spot orgasms. And they are my very favorite orgasms my body is capable of. Unf.

Finally: please don’t feel bad if, despite knowing all this stuff and trying it out, you still don’t really respond to A-spot stimulation. Like any other erogenous zone on the body, it can be amazing for some people and totally “meh” for others. You are not broken or weird if your A-spot doesn’t respond to touch, or even if you actively dislike being touched there. Pursue what actually gives you pleasure, not what’s “supposed to” give you pleasure!

 

Those of you who have discovered the wonders of the A-spot: what are your favorite toys, tools and techniques for making your spot feel good?

 

I’m an Obsessive, Intense Weirdo and I Wouldn’t Trade It For Anything

Kate Sloan

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Today as I write this, my body is heavy with depression. My thoughts feel foggy and it’s been hard to move all day. It took enormous energy just to write to my best friend and tell them what was going on with me, and their gentle prodding from afar was the only thing capable of rousing me from bed. I slogged to a café, ordered something peppy to counteract my sluggishness, but even robust espresso can’t shake my sads off. I have bipolar II and this is how my depressive episodes are, sometimes: a deep and inexplicable sadness I feel in my mind and my body, and just have to ride out.

When I ask myself how my life would be different without mental illness, the temptation is to think: “I would be so much happier and more productive!” And while that might be true, I also wouldn’t wish my bipolar disorder away. Because the manic episodes are worth the depressive ones for me. My occasional mania is key to my personality, a perky prism through which I sometimes view the world. Most of my best ideas, my finest work, my biggest contributions to the world, originated in mania. It’s my superpower.

Back when I was in high school, and hadn’t yet been diagnosed, my emotions confused me. It always seemed that I felt things more deeply than the people around me. When I was sad, I wept for hours and journaled endlessly about my feelings. When I was happy, I giggled hysterically, distributed hugs freely and couldn’t keep a big dumb grin off my face. I noticed details more than other people seemed to, fixated on them for longer, and remembered them more clearly. When I liked someone, I really, really liked them.

This is still how I am now. Getting a diagnosis gave me some answers, but it didn’t really change anything. I still seem to experience emotions more strongly than most people I know, and that can be very isolating – especially romantically. I get addicted to and obsessed with people in a way that’s supposed to be special and rare, but is just par for the course for me. If I’ve ever been romantically or sexually interested in you, I guarantee there are pages upon pages about you in my journals, dozens of complimentary musings about you in my chat histories with friends, and elaborate fantasies about our future married life floating around in my brain.

Media narratives tell me that this kind of fixation occurs only when you’re deeply, truly in love with someone – but that’s not consistent with my experience. I obsess over potential beaux regardless of the longevity or validity of my feelings for them. It’s like I’m drowning in a sea of New Relationship Energy, except it happens with everyone I’m interested in, whether or not they’re new to me or we’re actually in a relationship.

As you might imagine, this brain problem makes it hard for me to engage in casual sex, or to approach romantic encounters with any degree of “chill.” When I had casual sex for the first time last summer, I journaled lengthy missives about the dude’s perfect dick and top-notch sense of humor, complained to friends about how he would never be my boyfriend, and then wrote a song which contains the lines, “I don’t have the strength/ to keep you at arm’s length/ I fall for all callers to my bed.” And, truth be told, I didn’t even like the dude that much. After he’d left my life and the dust had cleared, I saw that we’d never been that compatible. (He openly hates puns and musicals, and loves sports. I mean, really!) I’d seen him through rose-colored glasses, because my brain is addicted to romantic and sexual stimuli. Dick, any dick, lights up my neurons and makes me feel desperately out of control of my emotions.

Writing this is embarrassing. I am sitting in a coffee shop and cringing as I type these words, because I know someone will read them who I wish wouldn’t. At least one person reading this right now, inevitably, is someone on whom I have turned my laser-focused headlights of infatuation at some point. Maybe they are recoiling in surprise and fear, shocked to learn how deep my feelings went – but it’s more likely they’re just nodding in recognition. I am not good at hiding my feelings. Faced with a crush, I dissolve into a blushy, giggly, dorky mess. It is not subtle and it is not “cool.” Sometimes folks are okay with it, and sometimes they’re not and I scare them away. Either way, I am always profoundly embarrassed by how strongly I feel my feelings. There are times when I wish I could shut down my heart, so I could, at last, become chill and detached like everyone else.

But, deep down, I know I would never do that, even if I could. My strong feelings are what make me me. When I write corny love songs or impassioned blog posts, that art stems from my bottomless well of emotion. If I’ve ever written anything about desire or heartbreak that you found relatable, it’s only because I’ve been flooded with those feelings so completely for so long that I know them inside and out. My heart is in a constant cycle of passion, joy, desperation and despair, and though I’ve been down this road a thousand times, it hasn’t gotten any easier. But that intensity makes my life exciting, my art compelling and my world vivid as hell.

Maybe one day I’ll get tired of it. But for now, after 24 years of living inside this crazy roller-coaster brain, I’m still pretty at peace with it. At least, as much as you can be “at peace” with anything while riding a roller coaster.

Review: Lelo Mona Wave

Kate Sloan

There are a number of missteps that get sex bloggers up in arms. Conflating vulvas with vaginas. Sexist or racist toy marketing. Medical misinformation. We hate all of those things, but if you really wanna set off sex blogger tantrums galore, try telling us sex toys are a substitute for a human partner. Oh, we will flip our wigs.

So, what I’m about to say is somewhat sacrilegious, but: the Lelo Mona Wave is a sex toy which makes it glaringly, dishearteningly obvious that I am fucking a sex toy and not a person.

Normally this wouldn’t bother me. I’m under no illusions about sex toys needing to feel like real dicks, or mouths, or what have you. I know that human partners edge out toys in terms of spontaneity, excitement and responsiveness, but toys usually win when it comes to intense G-spot stimulation, hyper-efficient orgasms, or multi-tasking. But there’s something about the Mona Wave that routinely makes me sad it’s not a person. Like, deeply, disproportionately sad.

The Mona Wave is basically Lelo’s answer to Fun Factory’s Stronic line: automated thrusting for lazy masturbators comme moi. But while the Stronic thrums back and forth like a thrusting cock, the Mona Wave curls up and down like the come-hither-ing fingers of a G-spot-savvy lover. If that lover was extremely stoned or had just taken an elephant tranquilizer.

See, the Mona Wave’s motion is slooooow. There are two movement speeds, and they might as well be called “leisurely” and “tortoise-esque.” And that slowness is what makes me wish the toy was a human. It tries to directly imitate something humans do – that intense finger-curling that pleases so many G-spots the world over – but it does a bad job at replicating this act. If the Mona Wave were a human, I could sit up, give it a slightly exasperated look, and chirp, “Faster, please!” But it’s not a human, so I can’t do that. And it makes me feel… weirdly lonely.

Getting finger-fucked is one of my favorite acts. I fantasize about it frequently, and it’s often the way I get off with partners, their thick fingers stroking my insides as I hold a vibe to my clit. But what makes it exciting for me is the dynamism. It’s electrically hot to feel someone’s fingers quicken inside you when they sense that you need that, or ramp up the power of their thrusts as they feel you getting close. A well-attuned partner might slow down as you descend from the peak of your orgasm, or keep pounding at top speed if you prefer that. The Mona Wave doesn’t do any of these things, or even approximate them convincingly. And I know a toy isn’t a person, but it feels like Lelo has sent me a toy to do a person’s job.

Aside from the lacklustre motion settings, there’s not a whole lot to say about the Mona Wave. It vibrates, too, but as other reviewers have noted, the vibrations are disappointingly weaker than those on the standard Mona 2. I can rarely get off with the Mona 2 anyway – its vibrations are rumbly-ish but still just a liiiittle too buzzy for my demanding clit – so the Wave’s non-motion modes aren’t terribly exciting to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had several wonderful orgasms with the Mona Wave. But the G-spot stimulation is so tantalizingly slow that it feels like a partner is trying to keep me on the edge without letting me go over. If you’re into that sort of carefully meted sensation denial, you might enjoy the Mona Wave‘s lackadaisical stroking. But if your G-spot needs speed or pressure (and most need both), I’d recommend a Stronic thruster instead, or any decent G-spot dildo you can thrust by hand. You deserve better than a toy that almost gives you what you want.

Thanks for sending me this toy, Lelo!