vibrator

Vibe Diaries: My Vital Vibrator Memories

Kate Sloan

New Year’s Eve 2007. I am 15 years old. Do they even let 15-year-olds into sex shops? I’m panicking and pacing outside my local feminist vibrator vendor. “Do they even let 15-year-olds into sex shops?” I ask my friend, who has brought me here today.

She shrugs. “I’ve been in before and no one said anything to me about age restrictions.” I gulp and follow her into the clean, quiet little shop.

After much deliberation – and, inevitably, too much giggling – I pick out a rubber duck vibrator and pay for it at the cash register. It’s not a great toy, or even a good one, not by 2018 standards, but teenage-me loves it. She takes it home, nicknames it Olivia (after Olivia Wilde), has many orgasms with it, and keeps it hidden in a pink hatbox beside her bed like a secret pleasure relic.

But first, she goes to a New Year’s party, gets drunk, and announces to the whole room of near-strangers that she just bought her first vibrator. What does it mean to be 15 if not to make an ass of yourself in public?

Spring 2008. The close friend who’s soon to become my first friend-with-benefits pulls me aside at a party. “Here it is,” she says, and hands me a plastic grocery bag containing a purple rabbit vibrator.

I asked her to bring this vibe tonight, because ever since she bought it last week, I’ve been curious as hell about it. Dual-stimulation? A twisting shaft, rotating beads, and buzzing bunny ears? Ever the burgeoning sex nerd, I gotta try this thing out for myself. And luckily, my friend is willing to let me give hers a test drive. What a pal.

I abscond to the bathroom and shove the thing into myself, unlubed and unaroused – so it’s no wonder I instantly hate it. “I don’t think it’s really my thing,” I tell my friend later when I return the vibe to her after cleaning it. Dual-stimulation vibes, still to this day, don’t do much for me – but I wonder if I’d like them more if my first foray into that category had been a bit more ceremonious.

Summer 2009 (ish). Having grown ever-so-slightly more discerning with age – not to mention braver – I wander back to the sex shop with a modest budget and a mission. It’s time for a vibrator upgrade.

After testing every single vibe on my hand, I settle on the Slimline G. Considered a “beginner-friendly” classic for a reason, it’s remarkably powerful for its price point, and made of hard plastic so it won’t burn your innards with phthalate fumes.

It’s also rumblier than the rubber duck, a concept I don’t yet have language for but can feel when I touch the toy to my skin. At 17, I don’t know about motor mechanics; I just know my new vibe triggers orgasms more easily and more pleasurably than I’m used to. I nickname this one Gavin, after an androgynous crush from Flickr. My sex toy collection is still small enough that I can individually name each toy, like they compose a happy family living in my hatbox.

Winter 2010. I take a sexually inexperienced friend to a sex shop – that same shop that was my first, so many years ago. She does a thing I no doubt did when I first came here, but didn’t realize, until now, that I’d probably done: she whispers. Like we’re in a library. Or a vibrary, I guess you could say.

“What does this one do?” she asks in the meekest little voice. “Isn’t this one a little big? How do these even work?”

I find myself feeling breezily confident as I answer her questions; my courage flows to complement the way hers is ebbing. We eventually settle on a bullet vibrator that meets her specifications.

When I see her at school the next morning, she’s glowing, grinning, a changed girl. “That vibrator is really something,” she announces, not whispering at all. I smile back at my dear friend.

Summer 2011. I’m dating a cis man for the first time and I just… can’t figure out this whole penis-in-vagina-sex thing. How do people do this? Why do people enjoy this? How do people get off from this?!

My partner wants nothing more than to make me come this way, however, so I give it a shot. I supply my own “extra” external stimulation during the act, first with my hand, and later with a clitoral vibrator. It takes focus, and effort, and determination, but eventually – with him thrusting inside me and me white-knuckling a vibe against my finicky clit – I come, and it’s quite unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

I wipe the sweat off my brow and announce, “We did it!” My boyfriend just laughs and keeps fucking me. He’s well-accustomed to what a weirdo I am by now.

 

This post was generously sponsored by the folks at The Adult Toy Shop. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Review: Cowgirl

Kate Sloan

What kind of person would spend $2,000 on a sex toy?

I kept wondering this whenever I would read about the new rideable vibrator from Alicia Sinclair (of b-Vibe and Le Wand fame), the Cowgirl. I just couldn’t figure out what would motivate someone to drop that much money on a sex toy. A friend of mine once spent $956 on a Venus for Men, but that’s a basically automated, hands-free blowjob-in-a-box. I would consider buying a toy that pricey if it would essentially give me effortless orgasms, too, if I could afford it.

But there is nothing effortless about the Cowgirl.

Based loosely on the infamous Sybian, the Cowgirl is a vibrator roughly the size of an ottoman. It’s heavy as fuck – 28 pounds out of the box – so I had to get my mom and brother to help me transport it from my parents’ house (where I had it shipped) to my apartment across town. Fortunately for me, my family is chill as hell.

The Cowgirl is marketed as essentially a slicker, more luxurious update to the Sybian. Alicia Sinclair has a habit of doing this: she previously called her Le Wand “a refined classic wand massager with upgraded features and gorgeous design,” despite it being a buzzier, louder, reskinned Magic Wand Rechargeable. I will admit, however, that the Cowgirl does indeed have some advantages over the Sybian. It’s covered in soft, luxe leather, making it more comfortable and more aesthetically pleasing than its predecessor. It has handles, making it more portable than the Sybian (well, as portable as a 28-pound, 16.7” by 13.4” by 10.9” sex toy is ever gonna be, anyway). It has fewer attachment options available – just two, an external one and an insertable one, versus the 17+ different attachments Sybian currently offers – but the all-black attachments are more aesthetically harmonious than the Sybian’s, and are also made of 100% silicone, a claim which only a few Sybian attachments can make.

I’ve only tried a Sybian once – three years ago, at my friend Epiphora‘s house, while eating pizza and watching Fifty Shades of Grey with a bunch of sex bloggers – so I can’t give you an in-depth comparison of the two, sensation-wise. However, I seem to remember the Sybian being buzzier (i.e. possessing higher-pitched vibrations) than the Cowgirl. Both are embarrassingly loud, especially at the higher speeds. Both create what I can only describe as weird intestinal feelings as I get into the higher settings – not exactly a sexy sensation for me.

The Cowgirl is a few inches bigger than the Sybian in all dimensions, which would, I suppose, make it more comfortable to sit on for certain kinds of bodies. However, for mine, it’s definitely less comfortable. I have a hip condition which makes it painful for me to spread my legs wide, especially if I’m putting weight on my knees at the same time. My knees themselves also have some mobility and chronic pain issues; keeping them bent for long periods can be agonizing. So, as you might imagine, rideable vibrators aren’t exactly my favorite thing. The Cowgirl requires my legs to splay wider than the Sybian does, so it gets painful more quickly for me. There’s been many a Cowgirl testing session when I’ve climbed off the toy only to collapse in pain, needing to stretch out my hips and knees for long minutes before I’d feel normal again. What could be a sexy foreplay toy or even the “main event” for some people is so physically debilitating to me that I usually can’t do much of anything after using it.

Theoretically, if you, too, have trouble with the straddling position, you could lie on your back and tilt the toy toward you, like the Sybian FAQ recommends doing. But the Cowgirl is bigger and heavier than the Sybian so this is trickier to manage.

In addition to its corded remote control (which is blessedly easy to use and plays nicely into my vibrator-as-hysteria-treatment fantasies with its vaguely clinical aesthetic), the Cowgirl can also be controlled either locally via the company’s own Bluetooth app, or long-distance via a different app. (Consolidating these two would’ve been way better…) The app setup is so complicated and labor-intensive, however, that even my app-developer boyfriend was like, “Nah, fuck this.” My kingdom for a We-Vibe-esque plug-and-play ease of use.

Besides its bulkiness, heaviness, unreasonable noise level, unreasonable price, and overcomplicated setup, my other main grievance with the Cowgirl is its name. It’s 2018; there is no longer any excuse for making a toy for people with vulvas and telling consumers (even implicitly) that it’s only for women. When companies do this, they alienate potential customers who have vulvas but are not women, they alienate women who don’t have vulvas, and they proudly show off how behind-the-times they are in their understanding of gender. I brought this up with a PR rep for the toy and she told me, “I’ve definitely been thinking about gendered branding… and I’m sure it’s a conversation we’re going to continue to have here,” which is nice, I guess, but feels pretty empty. We shouldn’t need to point these things out to companies at this point; they should know these things by now.

Is there anything I like about the Cowgirl? I guess. It’s pretty to look at (depending on your tastes), relatively easy to use once you’ve got it set up, and has vibrations strong and rumbly enough that they can probably get you off, if you can comfortably maintain the position the toy demands of you. I might be able to recommend it if it was less shockingly loud, or more comfortable to use, or less prohibitively expensive, but alas, it isn’t. I asked my boyfriend – with whom I’ve tested this toy a few times – what he likes about the Cowgirl, if anything, and he replied, “I like that it’s black, and I like dials.” Not exactly a rave.

If you have $2,000 to drop on a sex toy (?!) and want one that’s sure to impress and confuse, maybe you need a Cowgirl. But maybe, instead, you just need a Magic Wand Rechargeable, a Stronic Eins, and an uncomfortable chair to sit on. The net effect would be about the same.

 

Thanks to SheVibe for letting me try the Cowgirl!

Review: Sistalk Doctor Whale

Kate Sloan

Friends keep asking me what the deal is with the little stuffed cyclops-whale displayed in my room. “It came with a Kegel toy I’m reviewing soon,” I always say, which is a strange sentence. #SexToyReviewerLyfe, amirite?

Sistalk recently sent me their Doctor Whale vibrating Kegel exerciser – and that accompanying Doctor Whale stuffed animal. (I don’t know what he’s a doctor of, nor where he got his medical degree.) It’s a cool idea: an insertable vibrator equipped with pressure sensors, so it can vibrate your G-spot pleasurably while also guiding you through a Kegel exercise regimen and sensing how well you’re doing on your workout. The toy is controllable via an app called Monster Pub, which is also where you can set up and track your Kegel exercises. You can use Sistalk toys as regular wearable vibrators as well, controlling their vibrations via the app.

Sistalk designed this product well in some ways: its silicone is smooth and soft, it’s easy to insert, and it’s comfortable to use. The whale’s tail sits against my clit but doesn’t really vibrate it, so I’ll never have an orgasm from this toy alone, but that isn’t really its aim. The whale’s body is big enough that I can feel it when I squeeze around it, but not so big that it’s uncomfortable. To my surprise, the motor is quite good: rumbly and strong enough to please my fickle G-spot. Physically, the toy is well-thought-out.

But problems arise once you get into the Bluetooth connectivity and app-controllability. The connection between the toy and my phone is always tenuous at best, usually disconnecting after a couple minutes if not sooner. Other reviewers have experienced this issue too so I know it’s not a fluke with my particular toy. Needless to say, it’s hard to focus on a Kegel exercise routine when you’re concerned the vibe will disconnect at any moment, which it inevitably does.

The app itself is too busy, bursting with options. I’ve dated enough app developers to be able to hear their tut-tutting in my head as I flip through this app’s overburdened menus and screens. There’s also a language barrier which makes many of its instructions confusing or downright hilarious (I’m still gigglin’ about the Kegel exercise narrator telling me to squeeze my “vageena” tighter).

I think this line of toys has a lot of potential; the designers just need to fix the connectivity issues, tighten up the app, and maybe construct a more stimulating tail for this li’l whale. Until then, I recommend the We-Vibe Sync if you’re looking for an app-controllable vibrator, and a good old-fashioned pair of Kegel balls if you want to work on your pelvic musculature. Hopefully Sistalk works out the kinks with their products so lots of folks can enjoy these adorable, health-promoting monsters!

 

This review was sponsored, and as always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Review: Doxy Die Cast

Kate Sloan

When Doxy gifted me a Die Cast, I heard proverbial angels singing from heaven. Because I knew orgasms aplenty were on my horizon.

See, if one thing is true about Doxy wands, it’s that they are strong. I’m not the ideal person to be reviewing Doxy wands, in fact, because I’m so sensitive I barely use the power for which they’re famous. My Die Cast is the only toy in my regular rotation that I always wish had a lower speed. I turn it on and think, “This can’t possibly be where we’re starting. This is a higher speed than most of my vibes end at.”

But don’t get me wrong: it gives me orgasms nonetheless. Lots and lots of ’em.

The Die Cast is an updated version of the original Doxy Wand. While it’s hard to find fault with a strong, rumbly wand vibe, I have a couple quibbles with my original Doxy: the buttons sometimes get stuck and skip speeds, and the squishy PVC head makes the vibrations feel somewhat buried. Both these issues are fixed in the Die Cast, so I use it far more and enjoy it more when I do.

The Die Cast’s head is silicone, so it’s non-porous and easier to clean. It also transmits vibrations better than the PVC did, so it feels even stronger than the original wand. The head is “double-weighted,” too – a technology that is supposed to make the Die Cast’s vibrations feel rumblier. When I use the original Doxy, I only go up to the second speed; with the Die Cast, I literally only ever use the first one. (I know, right?!)

This is, if anything, my one major complaint about the Die Cast: I wish it had some lower speeds. While using it, I’ve often had the thought, “This thing is like the belt sander of sex toys.” True, I can hold it on my outer labia so it only stimulates my clit indirectly, or use it through clothes, or employ other techniques I’ve developed for dealing with overzealous wand vibes, but I would rather not have to do all that. If it’s been a few days since I’ve used a vibrator, often the Die Cast will feel alarmingly, almost uncomfortably strong, prompting me to grab a weaker vibe to use as a warm-up until I’m ready for more.

The Die Cast’s body is made of a titanium/aluminum alloy. It feels super sexy and sensual – and I love the glittery texture of my red one! – but it makes this wand heavier than the original. I only tend to notice this when I’ve been using it for a while or when my chronic joint pain is flaring up. If you have strength or mobility issues, you’ll want to go with a lighter wand.

Like many powerful vibrators, the Die Cast is lovely for forced-orgasm play. At my request, a partner cuffed me into my under-the-bed restraints and then held the head of the Die Cast in his palm, pressing it against my clit while he pushed two fingers inside me and muttered filthy shit in my ear. After I came so hard I practically ascended to heaven, my beau grinned and said, “Are you glad you asked me to do that?” and yeah, I really, really was. However, like I’ve said, the Die Cast is somewhat heavy, so it’s not as well-suited to forced-orgasm scenes as something lighter like the Magic Wand Rechargeable.

The MWR also has the benefit of being cordless, while the Doxy wands are corded. This doesn’t bother me when I have the space and forethought to leave my wand plugged in, but if it’s a choice between standing up to plug in an unplugged wand and just grabbing my MWR, usually my lazy ass will go for the MWR.

Noise-wise, the Die Cast is comparable to most other electric vibes of this power level: definitely audible if you’re in the room with it, but probably undetectable through walls and doors.

On the whole, I’ve still been reaching for my beloved Tango and MWR more often than the Die Cast, because I like their wider variety of gentler speeds and that they’re lighter and easier to hold than this big heavy behemoth. But if you need power, and want it to come in an absolutely stunning package, I can’t recommend the Doxy Die Cast highly enough. It’s gorgeous, well-made, and does the fucking trick.

 

Thanks very much to Doxy for supplying me with this wand to review! You can buy the Die Cast at Peepshow ($200 USD), SheVibe ($190 USD), or Come As You Are ($236 CAD/~$190 USD).

Review: Fun Factory Laya II

Kate Sloan

How does that saying go? “Be careful what you wish for; you might get a less-good version of it”? Yeah, something like that.

I tried the battery-powered Fun Factory LayaSpot back in 2013. In my review, I wrote: “The vibrations are too weak and surfacey to get me off… I really wish they would overhaul this vibe as a rechargeable, because I would buy the shit out of that.” Lo and behold, four years later, Fun Factory came out with the Laya II, a rechargeable upgrade on the LayaSpot.

This new model has the exact same shape and dimensions as its predecessor, so devotees of the classic will dig it. The Layas’ shape is one of the things I like best about them: the rounded tip can dig into my clit with the moderate pressure I like, and is broad enough to cover the whole head of my clit but pinpoint enough to stimulate only where I want it. It feels comfortable in my hand, which wraps around it ergonomically such that my index finger can rest over the controls. It’s really quite a well-designed vibrator, shape-wise.

Motor-wise, though, not so much. The reason I wanted a rechargeable version of this toy is that Fun Factory is known for their fantastic rechargeable motors. Their other rechargeables, like the G4 Patchy Paul and G5 Big Boss, are remarkably strong and rumbly – but they’re all big enough to be used internally, and I wanted a li’l clitoral vibe, since I use vibrators externally almost exclusively. The Laya II does not have the signature bomb-ass Fun Factory motor; it has, instead, something weaker, buzzier, and disappointing.

It’s possible they did this because of size constraints – you can’t fit the same mechanics into something little like the Laya II that you could fit into a bigger, penetrative vibe – but other companies have managed to make powerful, rumbly clit vibes. (The We-Vibe Tango, VeDO Bam, and Swan Wand Mini come to mind.) I believed that if anyone could make the next truly great clit vibe, the one that would rival the Tango at long last, it would be Fun Factory. I’m kind of bummed that that isn’t the case.

Don’t get me wrong: the Laya II’s motor is fine. It can get me off. I’d rate it as a 6 out of 10 on the buzzy-to-rumbly scale – not awful, but not my favorite. And any level of buzziness grates on me these days, frankly. Like my friend Epiphora says about rumbly vibes: “My clit perks up, longing for orgasm, becoming an active participant in the process. Using a buzzier vibe, my arousal level is more stagnant, less dynamic, and the masturbatory experience is just not as fun.” The Laya II’s vibrations feel great for a couple minutes, but then their buzziness numbs my clit, so I have to move the vibe around, thrust my accompanying dildo faster, and/or crank the power. That buzzy quality would be understandable in a $50 battery-operated vibe like the LayaSpot; it’s less reasonable in a $120 rechargeable like the Laya II.

These vibrations are also loud. They make a high-pitched, jangly clattering noise that reminds me simultaneously of bees and snakes. And they numb my hand. Like it’s been stung and/or bitten by a bee and/or a snake.

To add insult to injury, the Laya II has a super unintuitive controls scheme whereby hitting the “plus” button again after the third steady speed turns the toy to a vibration pattern. This has tripped me up multiple times: I keep thinking I can increase the vibration speed further (because my clit’s so numb that I need mega-powered vibrations at that point), but then accidentally switching to a pattern and fucking up my impending orgasm. Aaaargh!

It’s just so frustrating that Fun Factory put such a sad motor in a toy as otherwise lovely as the Laya II. It makes me want to crack this vibe open and replace its motor with one from the We-Vibe Tango. You know, if I knew a damn thing about electronics and could do that. Which, alas, I don’t and can’t.

 

Thank you so much to Fun Factory for sending me this toy to review! You can shop their toys at SheVibe, Peepshow, and Come As You Are.