Review: Magic Wand Rechargeable

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For a long time, I felt about the Hitachi Magic Wand the way I would feel if I met my favorite movie star in person and he turned out to be a sexist asshole.

It just didn’t live up to its cultish following. Certainly, it’s one of the strongest vibrators you can get, and I guess that’s why so many people like it. But vibration strength cannot be the only thing a vibrator has to offer, just as a good-looking man can’t sweet-talk his way into my pants if he also happens to be stupid and rude.

I developed tricks and techniques to make the wand work for me, but still, it tended to languish in my bottom drawer, gathering dust. Eventually I gave it away to a friend… and then, like a scorned lover who keeps returning to the one who hurts her, I bought another one for myself.

It felt like something I “had to” or “ought to” own, not something I wanted to own or liked to use.

But all that has changed now. The Magic Wand has been overhauled in a major way; dropping the “Hitachi” label is the least of these wonderful changes.

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I first tried the Magic Wand Rechargeable at #DildoHoliday. I borrowed Piph‘s wand and immediately understood her penchant for “casual Hitachi-ing“: this is a toy that lends itself well to idle, lazy, absent-minded usage – say, while reading fanfic or watching porn. The lowest setting is pleasurable but mild enough that it doesn’t act like clitoral novocaine. I can sit with the head of the wand wedged between my thighs while I scroll through Tumblr, check my phone, or hunt through my drawers for a particular dildo. It turns me on but requires almost zero effort or focus. Neat.

You would think, from the fact that it’s called the Magic Wand Rechargeable, that the most notable change to this toy is its rechargeability. And yeah, it’s great not to be chained to an outlet. But what really excites me about this new wand is that it now has four settings instead of two.

This is a Big Fucking Deal. The old Hitachi’s two settings were ridiculous – I would describe them as “jackhammer” and “jackhammer in an earthquake” – so I usually had to use mine indirectly for it to be comfortable. The two new settings introduced in the rechargeable version are a blessing, a godsend, a revelation. (I am making a lot of religious references… #AllHailHitachi!) The first speed is low, but still pretty stimulating; the second speed, however, is my jam. It’s rumblier than the other settings, making for a deeper, bolder sensation that can get me off with alarming consistency.

The upper two settings are roughly the same as the ones on the original Hitachi. I almost never use them. The toy is quite a bit louder on those high speeds (though the sound reminds me less of a food processor now than the old version did), and they’re also fairly buzzy and numbing. You’ll like ’em if you liked the O.G. Hitachi, but I didn’t, so I don’t.

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The wand’s head is now made of silicone. HALLE-FUCKIN’-LUJAH. The old head was made of some gross, foamy, porous material, and I’d read far too many horror stories about it getting stained by menstrual blood and all manner of other things. Sex toys should not be stainable! The new wand’s silicone head is entirely smooth, so if your clit loved the texture on the old one, you might be disappointed – but come on: nonporous materials are always better.

The controls aren’t as simple as the flip-switch on the old Hitachi, but they’re still pretty damn simple. One button turns the toy on and off, one cycles through the speeds, and one cycles through the patterns. Easy-peasy. I don’t love vibrators that make you go through the higher speeds to get back to a lower one, but I’m used to dealing with the We-Vibe Tango so that controls scheme doesn’t bug me too much anymore.

The rechargeable wand has a new “feature” where it automatically turns off after 20 minutes, ostensibly to prevent overheating. Weirdly, overheating is an issue that the old wand had but that the new one seems to lack, so this “safety measure” doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. And, as Piph notes, it can seem almost shaming, as if taking longer than 20 minutes would be taking “too long.” Luckily, you can turn the toy right back on again when it turns off.

I actually haven’t encountered the shut-off feature at all, because a) it usually only takes me 5-10 minutes to reach orgasm and b) I typically turn the wand off and on many times during each session so I can get back to the lowest speed. But, before you decide to buy this wand, you should think about the way that you usually use vibrators, and determine whether a loss of power after 20 minutes of continual use would be a potential boner-killer for you.

The rechargeable wand lasts forever on a charge: hours and hours, especially if you tend to use the lower settings. You can use it while it’s plugged in, too. Nicely done, Vibratex!

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As with the previous iteration of the Magic Wand, I tend to use this one with an attachment a lot of the time. It focuses the sensation into a more pinpoint shape, so I can get in between my labia and direct the vibration right onto my clit without buzzing the surrounding area.

However, if you like broader stimulation, obviously the Magic Wand can deliver that smashingly well. My inner labia – not normally a major source of pleasure for me – really enjoy the wand’s vibrations from time to time.

Overall, the Magic Wand Rechargeable is the dependable toybox workhorse I always wanted the Hitachi to be. It does the job and does it well. It’s become a bedside staple for me, and I don’t use that phrase lightly. It’s more than double the price of the original, but that price hike is actually justified.

The Hitachi has often been lauded as the “Cadillac of vibrators,” a one-size-fits-all vibe that could satisfy anyone – and while that’s not true of any sex toy, the Magic Wand Rechargeable is certainly a lot closer to that goal than its predecessor.

GJ Reads Grey, Chapter 6 (first half)

Want to go back? Read the previous chapter or the first chapter.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that chapter 6 starts with Christian climbing into bed next to Ana and watching her sleep for hours. Watching someone sleep is the creeper pastime, after all.

I have never slept with a woman. I’ve fucked many, but to wake up beside an alluring young woman is a new and stimulating experience. My cock agrees.

In the morning, he places some orange juice and Advil next to the bed to soothe Ana’s probable hangover when she wakes up, and then leaves to go for a run. Seems like you should stick around if you take a drunk person home with you, so that they won’t be hella disoriented and terrified when they wake up. But then, of course, this is Christian, and he’s bad at everything.

He’s still calling her “the delectable Miss Steele” in his internal monologue from time to time. This bums me out.

I knock on the door and enter. To my delight, she’s sitting up in bed. The tablets are gone and so is the juice. Good girl.
She pales as I saunter into the room. Keep it casual, Grey. You don’t want to be charged with kidnapping.

Totally, ’cause taking a drunk woman back to your hotel room without her consent and taking her clothes off is A-OK. Right, Christian?

“Did you undress me?”
“Yes.” Who else would have undressed you?
“We didn’t – ?” she whispers, staring at her hands.
Christ, what kind of animal does she think I am?
“Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing.” My tone is dry. “I like my women sentient and receptive.”

It strikes me as a form of pre-emptive gaslighting for him to insist to her that he’s not into “animalistic” kinks like necrophilia, when in fact he is going to ask her to enter into a strict BDSM contract without her having any past experience with kink or even sex. He’s pretty self-deluded if he believes that necrophilia is monstrous but dominating someone you’ve manipulated into uninformed submission is just fine.

They engage in more “flirty banter” about the events of the previous night. Christian refers to himself as a “dark knight” and also tells Ana that if she were “his,” he would punish her with a severe spanking for “putting herself at risk” at the bar. I want to smack my head against a wall because Christian is so dense and seems completely unaware of what a hypocrite he is.

An image of her shackled to my bench, peeled ginger root inserted in her ass so she can’t clench her buttocks, comes to mind, followed by judicious use of a belt or strap. Yeah… That would teach her not to be so irresponsible. The thought is hugely appealing.
She’s staring at me wide-eyed and dazed, and it makes me uncomfortable. Can she read my mind? Or is she just looking at a pretty face.

Then he “grants himself permission to touch her,” and after rubbing her cheek with his finger, he tells her, “Breathe, Anastasia.” This is not the first time he has told her this, as if he thinks his mere presence is enough to steal her breath. Arrogant ass.

When I [return from my shower] she’s out of bed and searching for her jeans… She really has great legs. She shouldn’t hide them in pants.

I had a creep literally say this exact thing in a comment on one of my outfit photos. It is so classic male creep to moralize women’s physical attributes, as if we have an ethical and aesthetic obligation to show off our bodies for the benefit of penises everywhere. This is also the same “logic” that’s used to shame fat or “ugly” women into hiding our bodies: beauty and ugliness are reframed as moral issues. Ugh. I haaaaate it.

A boring scene passes in which Ana showers and they eat breakfast together. Christian comments to her, “Your hair’s very damp,” as if he either forgot she just took a shower or is the most boring conversationalist in the galaxy.

“Anastasia, I’m not a hearts-and-flowers kind of man. I don’t do romance. My tastes are very singular. You should steer clear of me. There’s something about you, though, and I’m finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you’ve figured that out already.”

“I’m not right for you. And I don’t want to be with you. But I do! But I don’t. But you should stay away! But I want you. But I’m annoyed by you! But I want to flog you. But…!” Oh, shut up, Christian. Pick a lane.

My mother once told me that if someone warns you to stay away from them, you should listen. HEAR THAT, ANA?

Her hair is beautiful. Lush. Long. Thick. Idly, I wonder what it would be like to braid.

Christian braiding Ana’s hair is one of the moments in the movie that consistently makes me giggle like a loon. I love the idea that such a supposedly macho man enjoys braiding hair.

However, any affection Christian won from me is instantly decimated again in the next scene. Despite having just told Ana he’s “not going to touch her” (not before she signs the BDSM contract he has in store for her), he looks over at her in the elevator, gets hard “instantly,” and then tells her, “Fuck the paperwork” and aggressively kisses her while pinning her arms above her head.

Granted, she seems pretty into it. If he were to ask her afterward whether she consented, I think she’d give a resounding “yes.” But, as we’ve established, Christian’s notions of consent are troubling at best. I don’t think it’s okay to physically trap/restrain someone during your first kiss with them, unless they’ve explicitly told you they want that. If Ana wasn’t into this kiss, how could she escape? She’s in a moving elevator in a stranger’s hotel and her body is immobilized. Dial it back, Christian.

“You’ve brushed your teeth,” I observe with wry amusement.
“I used your toothbrush,” she says, eyes shining.

Oh god. The banter in this book is intolerable.

As he’s driving her home, Christian tells Ana that what happened in the elevator “won’t happen again… unless it’s premeditated.” Okay, good. So he sees why that kiss was problematic, I guess. Although his usage of the word “premeditated” still seems to indicate that as long as a kiss isn’t spontaneous, it’s still allowable even if it’s not mutually consented to. Or am I reading into this too much?

Chapter 6 is a long one, so I’ll be back next week with the second half of it! (Click here to keep reading.)

Porn Review: Crash Pad Series episode 196

I love Crash Pad Series because their porn is obviously made for the non-male gaze, unlike all mainstream porn – but it lacks the frustrating clichés that tend to show up in “female-friendly” porn.

Crash Pad’s founder and director, Shine Louise Houston, understands that just because women may not always like the rough-and-tumble, penetration-focused template of mainstream porn, that doesn’t mean we want our porn to depict only soft, “romantic,” gentle sex. We like rough and kinky sex too – we just want it to be geared toward our gaze.

Crash Pad’s porn is also racially diverse, sexually varied, and features folks from all the way across the gender spectrum. Basically, if you’re tired of mainstream porn’s boring template, by-men-for-men pandering, and racist tropes, you’ll probably dig Crash Pad.

This month I was allowed to review episode 196, which is based on a super interesting premise. Arabelle Raphael and Daisy Ducati are tired and overworked sex workers who have recently spent so much time catering to their clients’ fantasies that they haven’t had much time for the kind of sex they like.

Daisy is wearing the cutest pink sequinned halter dress, while Arabelle’s decked out in leopard print. Their friendship seems very genuine: there’s lots of giggling and finishing each other’s sentences. Arabelle complains about all the cis straight dudes she’s been boning lately, and whines adorably, “I wanna fuck something pretty.” Which, of course, leads to Arabelle and Daisy playfully starting to make out.

The ensuing scene is so much fun, and so unstructured, which is one of the things I love most about Crash Pad scenes. It always seems like the performers are just doing whatever the hell they want, instead of following some pre-ordained schedule of events like so many mainstream scenes do (kissing, BJ, 15 seconds of cunnilingus, then fucking in 3 different positions). Both performers alternate between finger-fucking each other, going down on each other, 69ing, using a goddamn leopard-print Hitachi on each other (!!), sitting on each other’s face, and so on. And they seem to do it in whatever order they feel like, for however long they feel like.

Although this clip is femme-on-femme like most mainstream lesbian scenes, it doesn’t feel like those at all. The performers are clearly actually attracted to each other, obviously have experience fucking other women and know how to do it properly, and they do acts that actually get them off (vocally and repeatedly!) instead of trying to make their scene appealing to a straight male eye.

The one mainstream-girl/girl trope that appears here is super-long fingernails, but Arabelle actually refers to hers and makes sure that she’s not hurting Daisy when she fingers her. This is such a nice touch! I am always terrified of the talons that women subject each other to in so many lesbian scenes.

As per usual for Crash Pad, this scene is shot beautifully. The cinematographic style captures the action without being distracting.

Some highlights for me: Arabelle telling Daisy, pre-cunnilingus, “This is gonna fuck up all your makeup.” Daisy going “Yesyesyesyesyesyes!” as she’s about to come. The aforementioned customized Hitachi. Daisy’s curly red pigtails. Arabelle’s backseam tattoos. The performers telling each other, “Treat yourself!” and “This is better than a spa day!” while they lie in the afterglow.

Episode 196 is damn cute and I think it could entertain and arouse anyone who’s a femme, a sex worker, or both. It’s incredible to see folks on screen who actually represent you and the sex you enjoy having, and that is something Crash Pad Series does exceptionally well.

GJ Reads Grey, Chapters 4–5

Want to go back? Read the previous chapter or the first chapter.

As if Grey hasn’t been enough of a nightmare already, chapter 4 begins with Christian having a nightmare.

I’m smothered in sweat, with the stench of stale beer, cigarettes, and poverty in my nostrils and a lingering dread of drunken violence.

Christian has some fucked-up classist notions, of which this sentence is just one example. “The stench of poverty”? Earlier in the book, he also remarked to himself that both Ana and Kate looked privileged and spoiled. It seems that Rich Boy was unaware of how ironic it is for him to feel that way about anyone. He’s got issues around money, to say the least.

After he wakes from his poverty nightmare, he ruminates on how he kinda regrets rejecting Ana. He mentions that his psychiatrist is on vacation in England, which makes me wonder if this entire disastrous relationship could’ve been avoided, had Christian been able to talk with a mental health professional about his predatory tendencies before acting on them with Ana.

He hears someone talking about Jane Austen on the radio and it gives him the idea to send bookworm Ana his first-edition copy of Tess of the d’Urbervilles. The way he talks about it, though, it seems less like a romantic gesture and more like a contemptuous act to prove to Ana that he’s not as vapid as she seemed to think.

Christian goes to work at his company, where one of his assistants asks him about “the Darfur project” (what does Grey Enterprises Holdings even do?).

“Would you like milk [in your espresso], sir?” Andrea asks. Good girl. I give her a smile. “Not today.” I do like to keep them guessing how I take my coffee.

Yes, this seems like a good use of your work time, Christian: guesspresso games. I can see why you’ve become so successful in your field, whatever it is.

Christian calls up the private investigator who did the background check on Ana before, and asks him to find out when her last exam is. Increasingly, Christian is doing things that would cause me to call the cops on him if he did them to me IRL. He has zero chill.

We see him interact with his “number two” and a couple of female assistants, and he’s categorically an asshole to all of them.

He chooses a quote from Tess of the D’Urbervilles to inscribe on the notecard he’s sending Ana along with the books. The quote is essentially a warning telling her to stay away from him, or at least guard against him. I wish she would listen, but I know she won’t. Sigh…

 

As chapter 5 begins, Christian gets a phone call from his brother, Elliot, who says, “Dude, I need to get out of Seattle this weekend. This chick is all over my junk and I’ve got to get away.” Don’t you love when middle-aged British ladies try to write like twenty-something American jocks and fail spectacularly?

Elliot sleeps most of the way to Portland. Poor fucker must be fried. Working and fucking: that’s Elliot’s raison d’etre.

Do you pay any attention to your own life, Christian? Literally all you do is work and fuck, too. (And hike, apparently.)

After a day of bro’ing out – mountain biking and watching a Mariners game – Christian and Elliot are hanging out at the Heathman hotel when Ana calls from a bar. She’s drunk… because she’s an adult and can decide to drink if she wants to.

Anxiety blooms in my gut. She’s a young woman, drunk, somewhere in Portland. She’s not safe.

This guy knows that bars in Portland (hell, bars everywhere) are filled with drunk young adults, right? That’s kind of how bars work.

“What’s the problem?” Elliot calls over from the sofa.
“I’ve just been drunk-dialed.” I peer at him and his mouth drops open in surprise.
“You?”
“Yep.” I press the callback button, trying to contain my temper and my anxiety.

When Christian shows up at the bar to “save” Ana from her own drunkenness, he spots her being accosted by her friend, José. This is one of the only instances (maybe the only instance?) in the book where Christian seems to understand the importance of informed, enthusiastic, level-headed consent. He can comprehend that Ana is incapacitated and José is taking advantage of her and advancing on her in a way she doesn’t want. Why can’t Christian apply this understanding to his own behavior?

I seem to remember that in the movie, this altercation involved Grey punching José. In the book, he just says, “I think the lady said no,” and José backs off. It’s unusual for Book Christian to be a better dude than Movie Christian; this is one of the few times that’s the case.

Then José says “Dios mío,” which is essentially his catchphrase, because E.L. James doesn’t know how to write non-white characters without being shitty about it.

I grab her hair and hold it out of the way as she continues to throw up everything she’s had this evening. It’s with some annoyance that I note she doesn’t appear to have eaten.

Oh god, I love that Christian apparently a) studies Ana’s vomit closely here and b) can diagnose her recent eating and drinking habits from reading her vomit like tea leaves. Amazing.

“It’s about knowing your limits, Anastasia. I mean, I’m all for pushing limits, but really this is beyond the pale. Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?” Perhaps she has a problem with alcohol. The thought is worrying, and I consider whether I should call my mother for a referral to a detox clinic.

Are you fuuuuucking serious. She goes overboard on one night of drinking and you automatically assume she’s an alcoholic who needs to go to rehab? Without even knowing her?! Aaaargghhh, Christian. (Also, for the record, this is literally Ana’s first time being drunk. Of course she didn’t know her limits yet.)

Let me take Miss Drunk Bookworm home, but for some reason she seems reluctant to go.

Could it be because she’s drunk, has just learned that awful men will try to take advantage of her when she’s drunk, barely knows you and has no reason to trust you? Could those possibly be the reasons she’s hesitant to go back to your hotel with you, Christian?

I know I should take her home, but it’s a long drive to Vancouver, and I don’t know if she’ll be sick again. I don’t relish the idea of my Audi reeking of vomit. The smell emanating from her clothes is already noticeable.

It is a mystery to me how anyone reading this book could possibly think Christian cares about Ana, let alone loves her.

After Grey undresses Ana (!) and puts her to bed at his hotel, he contacts his private investigator again to find out whether Ana’s friend José has a police record. I feel conflicted about this. One dude with problematic ideas about consent is trying to keep another dude with problematic ideas about consent from enacting those ideas…

Then he emails his driver, Taylor, with a detailed list of clothing items he wants Taylor to buy for Ana: blue jeans (size 4), pretty blue blouse (size 4), black Converse (size 7), socks (size 7), underwear (size small), and bra (“estimate 34C”). I know this is supposed to seem sweet, but it’s just creepy.

I text Elliot. “Ana is with me. If you’re still with Kate, tell her.”
He texts by return. “Will do. Hope you get laid. You soooo need it. ;)”
His response makes me snort. I so do, Elliot. I so do.

I know he’s not going to attack Ana while she’s sleeping, but… I still wish I was there and could tell her to get the fuck out of this dude’s hotel room.

Stay tuned for the next chapter; I think it’s the one where Christian non-consensually bites Ana’s toast. Riveting stuff, people!

 

Review: Tantus Uncut #1 (+ GIVEAWAY!)

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When I give sex advice to youngins, one of the things I always tell them is, “You might think you know what you like and what you want, but once you actually start having sex, that might change completely.”

I say this because it’s a lesson I’ve learned countless times in my journey from virgin to pervert: don’t knock anything until you try it.

A particularly salient example of this is my attitude toward realistic dildos. When I was 15, 16, even 18, and the only sex I’d had was of the lesbian variety, I scoffed at cock-like dongs. I thought of penises as a necessary evil in hetero sex, a means to an end, an accessory to the main event. I got off most easily from a tongue on my clit, and figured that I’d just have to suffer through the other components of straight fucking. And part of me believed that all women felt that way. So who would ever need or want a realistic dildo?

Wow, how my opinion changed. Sometime around my 19th birthday, penis-in-vagina sex entered my sexual repertoire. And while there was definitely a learning curve, once my partner and I had figured out each other’s bodies, our PIV sex became fucking stellar. I still couldn’t (and can’t) get off from penetration alone, but it hardly mattered to me. I began to crave cock, just as I’d thought I never would.

All this to say: the Tantus Uncut #1 is the kind of dildo I would have hated at age 17, but that I absolutely love now.

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The first time I put the Uncut #1 in my vag, I noticed that it felt a bit like my beloved Mustang – i.e. soft, squishy, but firm enough to please my G-spot. I’m not the only one who’s made this comparison. Tantus’ flexible dual-density O2 silicone pairs beautifully with the big juicy head on the Uncut #1, making for a dildo that feels real enough to indulge my PIV fantasies while also still feeling, y’know, like a great dildo.

Once, after a long wank sesh with the Uncut, I slid it out of me and fondled it, and I was amazed at how real it felt when it was all warm and wet. The skin-like texture and fleshy squish of this dildo make it one of the best nonporous realistic options on the market, right up there with the VixSkin line.

Dimensions-wise, the Uncut #1 is a bit strange. Its 1.75″ girth is perfect, but it has an insertable length of 7.45″, which is… excessive. Luckily, you don’t have to use the whole length (I never do, because I physically can’t), and those extra inches will be a blessing if you use this dildo for strap-on play, since harnesses shorten dildos’ useable length.

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The shaft of the Uncut #1 features lots of veiny texture. I have to use more lube than usual for it to be comfortable, but then, I’m not much of a texture fan. Occasionally I get that “vaginal rugburn” feeling once the lube dries down a little, but usually at that point I’m halfway to orgasm and the pain mingles with pleasure so I just feel properly fucked rather than sore.

I don’t find that the Uncut targets any particular spots inside me. Its coronal ridge slides over my G-spot deliciously with every thrust, and it’s long enough that I get a little A-spot stimulation if I shove it in as deep as it’ll go, but neither spot gets a lot of stimulation from this toy. It’s more of an all-over sensation for my vagina – which still feels pretty excellent.

Overall I’m dazzled by what an excellent realistic dildo Tantus has created with the Uncut #1. I initially wanted it for the novelty factor – foreskins, yay! – so I didn’t expect it to be this terrific. High five, Tantus!

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Now, here’s some exciting news… I am giving away an Uncut #1 to one lucky reader!

The lovely folks at Tantus gifted me two Uncuts, identical except for their color, and I decided to keep the mocha one – so the cocoa one is up for grabs! See the Rafflecopter widget below for deets on how you can enter.

Just so you know: this was a sample piece, so it won’t come in plastic packaging. (But don’t be alarmed: it hasn’t been used, obviously.) This giveaway is also only open to readers age 18+ from Canada and the U.S. Sorry, international friends!

a Rafflecopter giveaway