Author: Kate Sloan

Review: Orchid G-spot vibrator

Kate Sloan

I bought the Orchid a few years ago as my first foray into G-spot toys. At only $28, it was a steal for a toy with such a delicious-looking shape. When I found out I could get in turquoise (as opposed to dark purple), that clinched it – it had to be mine.

The Orchid is made of hard plastic, which some find too rigid for their pleasure, but I’m a fan of vibrators that don’t give at all – they give my clit the pressure it needs.

The Orchid has an egg-shaped head that’s made to press nicely against the G-spot. It does, once it’s in, but the entry is a bit of a bitch – that bulbous head never seems to agree with my vaginal opening. Lube helps, but it still feels weird initially.

The other major downfall of the Orchid is its very narrow neck. The toy is recommended by Good For Her staff as a great pick for beginners, but it’s not the best choice for intermediate to advanced G-spotters who may prefer a more filling sensation. The Orchid’s rigid, narrow body doesn’t satisfy my vagina, even while its head is doing a sweet number on my G-spot.

But – BUT! – the Orchid is great for clitoral stimulation! In fact, for at least a year, it was my primary clitoral stimulator. Since its vibrations are designed to penetrate thick vaginal walls, they are very strong and rumbly, just the way my clit likes ‘em. The head is a nice shape for sitting on top of the clit and curving around it a little bit. At its highest setting, the Orchid is more than strong enough to bring me to a roaring orgasm. I wish the toy’s control dial was easier to reach with one hand – I always end up having to use two hands to manage the Orchid, because I like to turn up the power throughout my use of it, which makes it difficult to handle a dildo at the same time.

This toy takes two AA batteries, which go into the twist-off battery chamber at the base. There’s a little rubber strip around the chamber which makes the Orchid totally waterproof – fun times in the bath, anyone?

Overall, I would recommend this toy to someone who wants to begin to explore their G-spot, or someone who likes a fair bit of power on their clit. It’s certainly not a perfect toy by any means, but it gets the job done, and it comes in pretty colors.

Sexamples #001: New Mattress

Kate Sloan

I’m in the midst of upgrading to a new bed. Today the mattress was delivered, but due to some mistakes made by the bed company, I don’t have a bedframe or a box-spring yet… just a bare mattress, hanging out awkwardly on my bedroom floor.

The boyfriend and I, naturally, decided we needed to immediately christen this new piece of furniture. We sprawled across the mattress, which was still wrapped in plastic. And exchanged sexual favors. And then lay together smiling, having adequately welcomed the newcomer to my room.

Getting Over Penis Terror: A Triumphant Tale

Kate Sloan

Once upon a time, I was a little queer girl who had never touched a penis.

Admittedly, I had never touched anyone else’s pussy either. But I’d previously been in a sexual relationship with another girl for a year and a half, and I’d been skilfully managing my own pussy for almost two decades, so there was no intimidation there.

Single but desperately ready to mingle, it dawned on me that a huge part of my issue was my fear of penises. It dominated the shadowy back room of my brain, threatening to burst through and cause major anxiety. I’d think about a cute guy, fantasize about kissing him, maybe contemplate his tongue on my clit, but as soon as his dick became part of my visualization, I felt sick and confused.

Not to get all hippie-dippy on you, but I am certain that the universe sensed my penile apprehension, and that that’s why my romantic life was such a disaster during that time. I longed for my (safe, reliable, non-terrifying) female ex, and wrote her pathetic love songs, which freaked her the fuck out. I dated a guy who was entirely wrong for me and ended up dumping me so he could fuck four other girls at a party. I spent all my time wishing for a boyfriend while unconvincingly sidestepping what I knew was the real issue.

Men wrote to me on OkCupid, men of two different varieties: those who propositioned me for casual sex, and those who seemed genuinely sweet and interested in dating me. The former, I ignored, or occasionally wrote rude replies to; the latter category of men, however, were more difficult. I strung them along, convincing both them and myself that we would eventually meet, even just for coffee, but as soon as that possibility became real, I panicked and ended all contact. All because of that looming, impending penis that gnawed at my composure.

That didn’t change when I first started going out with Jeremy*, but I did like him more than I’d liked anyone in a long while. We went on cute dates to tea shops and bookstores, and while I giggled and gallivanted with him, I secretly dreaded the moment his pants would inevitably come off.

I let him touch me – over the shirt, under the bra, over the skirt, under the panties. I let him do all sorts of nice things to me, all of which he (thank god) loved doing. Sometimes I would be overcome with guilt that I hadn’t reciprocated his sensual touch yet, and I would burst into tears while lying with my head on his chest. He’d hold me and tell me it was okay, I could go as slow as I wanted, and he’d be willing to wait forever for me. But I didn’t want him to have to wait forever.

It was a combination of attraction, mild cajoling, and plain courage that finally got me to touch his penis for the first time. He said, “You don’t even have to do anything to it. You can just put your hand on it.” So I did.

It wasn’t so bad. Soft and sensitive, just like my girly bits. Lightning didn’t strike me dead; I didn’t faint from terror. It was just… fine.

After a couple minutes of gentle, idle touching, I withdrew my hand and he let me watch him jerk off. I snuggled up to him and cast my gaze on the way his hand worked his foreskin up and over the head of his cock, again and again, alternately concealing and revealing that moist, pink surface. That night, I wrote in my journal, It was actually kind of gorgeous.

*Name changed to protect the cocks and egos of the innocent.