At the top of my OKCupid profile, there is a list of 10 things that you should not do when you contact me.

There is also a warning beneath that list:  “Failure to adhere to any of these will have you publicly humiliated on the internet.”

One of these “don’ts” is that one shouldn’t message me if we have nothing in common – “if you only mention hunting, sports, and your fraternity, then I know you’ll bore me.  I didn’t list any of those things in my interests.  Don’t message me to talk about them.”

An enterprising redneck (talks about how he likes hunting and sports in his profile!) messaged me with this gem:

So what are you looking for on here because most the stuff i read is what u dont?

 

Points for having the balls to send that, dude.

 

Subtitle: “The Bigot’s Better Blowjob.”
Sub-subtitle: “Driving You To Drink.”
Sub-sub-subtitle: “Can’t Tell If Trolling…”
Written by the man who has had over 1,000 blowjobs, and counting.

If you want to skip to the drinking game, in which my dastardly machinations promote death via alcohol poisoning, just scroll to the cut.

Jack Hutson e-mailed Epiphora asking her to review his book.  She had heard of his attempts to snag a review, and had also heard that all of her fellow bloggers had either declined or just ignored the e-mail.  Appalled that no one had told him off for being a moron, she said, “Hell to the no.  You’re a sexist pig.”

He then proceeded to solicit every sex blogger that she links to on her site.
I’m on that list.

We knew about Jack Hutson and the book because we’d been ridiculing the site a few months earlier.  “It’s so misguided that it’s funny,” we said.  “It’s gaudily designed! The information is crap!”  We NEVER expected that he’d e-mail us asking us to review it.  I invite you to formulate your own opinions about the site – his marketing method, his design, and the contents of his book cited there!  To my understanding, you can find it by googling it. (At least, that’s what Jack told me to do when he introduced himself and mentioned his book.  If you click the link to Epiphora’s tumblr, you can see the e-mail he sent to all of us.)

Jack Hutson: The Moron Behind the Masturbation

He seems pretty legit, you guys.

We, two 20somethings having relations with cisgender males, wondered, “Are we supposed to take blowjob advice from a poorly-vectored man with a mullet?” The answer is the same that it would be if you replaced “blowjob advice” with “candy”: No.

Instead of curling up in a corner and wailing, “I NEED AN ADULT,” repeatedly, I agreed to review his book because I didn’t really expect it to make me do that.

(Spoilers: Sometimes, it does.)

But really.  Surely I don’t know every blowjob technique in the book.  Surely I can improve.  That’s what I told myself when I responded.

 

Jack selflessly dedicates the book

to women all over the world.  I genuinely want to help them to free themselves, learn how to give great head, and have the best time ever with the men they like.

Jack sells this book hard.  It’s a $47 book that is only available as an eBook.  Jack tells you that “buying this book is probably the best investment you’ve made in the last few months.”  His endorsements read a little bit like something out a pageant, as if he’s hoping to be crowned Miss America: Blowjob Queen.  But the site says it wants to teach you how to be “The One.”  <insert tired Matrix reference here.>

So enter the world of Jack Hutson, the Man of 1,000 Blowjobs.

Jack Hutson writes in a style similar to Tucker Max, who aims to be the 21st century’s Bukowski without wasting his time on poetry.  He thinks nothing will get your man off more than you (an assumed cisgender female) taking your role in the “natural order of things” by being a “submisive slut.”  In fact, in the book and the website, he tells you that if you don’t give good head, your man will find someone who will.  He says most guys will leave you for a girl who gives better BJs than you.  He says his divorce was necessitated by that fact that she gave bad head.  On his website, he utters the “horrible truth,” that, yes – that other person your man could go to might even be a prostitute.  (GASP!

My friend Elle M. summarized it best when she was reading his website, “So if you don’t suck it right he’ll hire a hooker?  And it will be YOUR fault?  HIS DICK WILL PULL HIM TO A SEEDY CORNER OF TOWN LIKE A MAGNET.”

Elle is convinced that the man who drew up a contract of wifely expectations even though there was no consensual master/slave dynamic must have written this.  I agree with this theory, and we intend to investigate extensively.

The biggest thing Jack stresses is “the winning attitude.”  Why?  “You have to be horny if you want him to get horny.”

As I already said, how you feel is how he will feel.  So, let’s recap – you have to change

“He should be happy that I made the effort to be on my knees and suck his dick, I hate doing this”
Into >>>
“I looove sucking his dick, mmm, it feels so good, I love the taste of it, I wish I could keep on sucking it forever, God, I’m so happy he let me suck on it, it’s the most beautiful thing on Earth, Aaaah”

I am giving him head”
Into >>>
He is giving me incredible pleasure from letting me suck his hard, tasteful cock”

Okay, y’all.  Here’s the thing.  I don’t hold back.  I go down there without asking.  I voluntarily stick my face down his pants when I’m ready to roll.  And yes, he is letting me suck his cock, and yes, I am getting pleasure from it.  But let me be totally honest.  While I care for my partners, and find them sexually appealing, the opportunity to put a cock in my mouth isn’t exactly a privilege that I had to pry from his cold, dead fingers.  Sure, he’s letting me administer fellatio, but it’s not like I had to beg him for the chance to make his eyes roll back in his head.

 

Jack admits that he’s homophobic, sexist, and generally an asshole.  (I haven’t even scratched the surface in that list.  He’s a bigot in all ways, and this book is one entire cissexist tirade of crap.)  He’s actually kind of proud of it.  That just makes you want to punch him more.  When he says that it’s hard to get STDs from giving a blowjob and says he never got anything from getting blowjobs from hundreds of different girls?   I want to spit on him for thinking he’s the authority on this.  He tells you to know who you’re dealing with, make sure he’s clean or make him go get a test, and don’t swallow his load if you’re not sure he’s clean.  WHAT ABOUT CONDOMS, JACK?  He has a section on how important it is for you to look good.  He has some sections on… oh, fuck it.  You don’t care.  Neither do I. Let’s just cut to the chase.

If you buy this book, you’re basically paying $47 to hear one guy talk about what he likes to see in porn and what he looks for in a woman (winning attitude!  submissive and gentle in all ways!  feminine!  slutty!  swallows unless it’s a facial!).  I only recommend making “the best investment that you’ll have made in the last few months” if you intend to find Jack Hutson and convince him to marry you so that you can kill him and inherit all the stuff he’ll leave in his mom’s basement.  (If that’s your plan, I apologize that you’re that hard-up.)

I’d like to share some of my favorite gems from the book:

Blow jobs are in some way a method to convey male dominance over the female.  It is natural for a man to be dominant in sex, and by giving him a blowjob you are showing ultimate submissiveness – and thereby giving him ultimate pleasure.  Remember girls – this is NATURAL, that’s the way it should be by nature.  So forget about feminism when giving head.

You’re right, Jack, I’ll just put equality out of my mind while I’m sucking dick to promote the “natural order” of the world.  After all, anthropologically speaking, blowjobs are a much stronger human biological imperative than penile-vaginal intercourse.

And be feminine… you have to be a real woman, not some feminist. I don’t know how a lot of you girls got the impression that guys love tough, dominant chicks – no, we don’t. And the guys that tell you that only tell you so you’ll think they’re nice. These guys make me throw up.

Because real women can’t be feminists.

No, we don’t want a manly woman; we want a woman to be a real woman, feminine, gentle and loving – and most importantly, sexually submissive to her man.

Oh good, I’ll keep that in mind when my boyfriend is begging me to tie him up, sodomize him, and call him a little slut.  Sorry if  we made you barf a little, Jack.

You can also have great sex with soul and r’n'b music – I love music made by black folks, they really have a sense for music and they know how to make really good grooves for sex.
what.

If you really master giving blow jobs, all doors will be open for you.  I can’t even explain how many girls suck at giving head – just by being better than them, you are in a major advantage.  Sex is important, and sex without blow jobs is like driving a car that has really small space for gas.  It gets boring to go to the gas station every five minutes – so sooner or later, that guy will want to buy a new car – a car that has A LOT of gas space.  Funny example, but that’s how it is.  I never cheated on girls that gave amazing head – because all my needs were satisfied – so I didn’t even need to think about cheating.  I broke up with them for different reasons, and it was always hard for me to leave those girls – because a good blow job is hard to find.

So is a good blowjob instruction manual.

Let me strip the shit I slogged through down to advice that you could have paid a psychic hotline for:

  • Men like foreplay too.
  • Men generally prefer that you enjoy administering oral sex rather than acting grossed out or unenthusiastic.
  • You can suck cock in more than one position.
  • Your sex life will be more interesting if you’re relaxed and open about your sexuality.

 

The cool thing is that when you empty out all of your “fun” money for the week to buy his book, you also get a REALLY long FAQ.  In the post-script after he finishes the text of the book, he tells us that the FAQ is BETTER than the book, and more than worth reading.
Then why the fuck did I just buy the book, Jack?
He also states that he’s writing “a new book about sex, anal, talking dirty, and other kinky shit.”

Oh please god no.

 

While reading this, my brain actually needed something to do.  (That tells you how much brainpower the text required.)
I’m not a big drinker, but this book made me want to pick up the bottle… and smash it over his head.

Instead, I proudly present to you the Jack Hutson Drinking Game!

Continue reading »

 

One of the most important people in my life, the slutling, is taking a haitus from school, and we’re also taking a hiatus from our relationship (for other reasons).  These two events were pretty much independent decisions, but the end result is about the same: I’m single.

So naturally, now that I’m single, every rock-hard infinitesimal cock with an ego the size of my ass is messaging me on OKCupid.

The A&F Chubby Chaser mailed me, and I was immediately skeptical.  We had a 58% match percentage and his profile included information saying that he was s student, an Abercrombie & Fitch employee, as well as a day trader.  It also said that he was good at sports and”schhol” (sic).  The six things he couldn’t do without were “God. money. women. my friends. clothes. and i guess more money” The most private thing he was willing to admit?  “umm… your ugly.”

So clearly, we were going to be a good match.  But you know, despite how poor his profile was, he had impeccable spelling and grammar when he first messaged me… so we exchanged a few messages.  He pretty clearly had a one-track mind.  He went from asking me why I was up so late, to saying he liked me because I was different, to asking if I liked weed, if I liked threesomes, and if I had girlfriends to play with.

Then he asked to swap nudes.

Sorry dude, I mean.  My naked body is on the internet, but I’m not handing that shit to you within five minutes of messaging.

“Well I would eventually like for you to place foreign objects in my ass and spank me like a naughty toddler. ”

Well, I mean… I’ve done that before.

“Do you have a phone number?”

“Of course I have a phone number. How else would my parents contact me?”

Clearly, my values weren’t getting through to him, because he then sent me his number, and told me to text him.  There was no way in hell.  After ten minutes with no response, he said, “I, ned [sic] you to make my penis orgasm.”

And that was that, and I thought that chapter was OVER.

Apparently not.  I got a message from him three or four days later (last night) that said, “Stick a finger in your butt.”

TAKE A HINT, DUDE.  I realize that you’re probably very popular with women because your neck is as thick as your head and you work at a store that won’t even let me take two feet inside without all eyes falling on me, but if I have stopped messaging you, we are done talking.  If I did not give you nudes or swap texts with you, it’s not going to happen.  Moreover, I keep getting an increasing amount of anecdotal evidence that for some men, working at Abercrombie & Fitch correlates with being a chubby-chaser… and believe me, while I only want to fuck someone who is aroused by the very sight of my voluptuous frame, there’s something about a chubby-chaser that I have nothing in common with contacting me that pretty much tells me that he just wants to fuck me ’cause I’m fat.

Did I mention his profile says he’s looking for women ages 18-99?

IF YOU’RE WARM AND WILLING, MY BODY IS READY.

 

I don’t sleep.  I also don’t get to jack it while I sit awake at 6 AM.

To explain this unfortunate phenomenon, and what college sex is like for me in general, allow me to present

Sugarcunt’s Dorm Sex Flowchart.

Go ahead and click that shit so you can actually read it.  And read the line key!

 

I know this blog is about dating, kinky shit, putting things in my vagina, and gender (when I get around to it), but there’s also something very distinct in my life that I make sure to mention in my descriptions, and that is totally relevant to my sex life, my sexy outfits, and my gender identity (and social, body, and gender dysphoria): that I’m fat.

No, I really am.  I’m not “model fat,” where I’m actually average (between US size 10 or 14) and Torrid is using me to promote a site geared toward people who are actually plus-sized.  My body is strangely-proportioned.  I’m 5’ tall, with enormous hips and thighs, a big, round ass, a short waist (or maybe it seems that way because of my hips), and broad shoulders that accompany not-overly-generous breasts.  (I’m a strangely-shaped C-cup.  It’s not an impressive cup size for a female-bodied person of my body shape.)  I’m literally somewhere between “pear” and “hourglass” shaped… hourglass because of my shoulders, though – not that you can tell much about my waist under my clothing.  My hip measurement is twenty inches more than my waist measurement.  I buy the biggest panties that Lane Bryant offers, and they do not all fit equally or ideally.  Most sites, when they offer underwear catering to anyone that’s actually my size, strictly offer tummy-sucking, high-control, high-waisted underwear.  Plus-sized clothing companies, especially anyone producing lingerie, believes that the women they’re actually building for are over 5’6 and have little-to-no hip span, and no ass.  They also believe, for the most part, that the bigger we are, the more we want to suck and tuck so that we look as smooth and tiny as possible, rather than wear something that lets us get naked and bone the nearest thing with legs.

Are you beginning to detect that I have a problem with this?  You can read much, much more below.  Or you can ignore the text below the cut and wait until I post about sex again – that’s your prerogative as the reader.

Continue reading »

 

I’m sure that I’ve been deeply missed since October, but some personal business put the blog on an extended and unexpected haitus.

Fear not!  I’m back, still alive, and more importantly, still having sex…. with myself, especially.

Until I’ve got some new reviews up for you (and believe me, I have a stack of things piling up - Courtney Trouble’s Live Sex Show, Tristan Taormino’s Advanced Guide to Anal Sex, Wet For Her’s Toy Four, a bevvy of products from Good Vibrations and Babeland, and tons of sexy books), let me post about something you might have missed: My affiliation with Jiz Lee’s Karma Pervs.

You’ve probably heard me gush (no squirting pun intended) over Jiz Lee countless times – possibly my favorite gender-queer porn star of all time.  Jiz’s porn career is a hobby, and they’re quite the philanthropist, since they’ve used their porn star cred (can I trademark that?) to launch a fundraising program called Karma Pervs.  Karma Pervs is a membership deal on Jiz’s site that offers unique, fun, artsy (and above all, sexy) photosets that are only available through membership, as well as extra blog posts and a few other neat little extras.  Where does your membership money go?  To awesome charitable causes!  To quote the site:

Past organizations include STOP AIDS Project, Center for Sex & Culture, St. James Infirmary, San Francisco Sex Information, and Lyon-Martin Health Services and many others.

The most recent organization is Service Workers In Group (SWING), which supports sex workers in Thailand.  Syd Blakovich is also a longtime supporter of SWING, and because of that, the photo set released while Karma Pervs raises money for SWING is a bundle of unreleased photos of the two of them.

So really… while you’re waiting for all the sex and snark of my posts, you should go check out Karma Pervs.  It has a Facebook page, and a Twitter account (@KarmaPervs), and the cheapest membership is only $10 for a month!

Only $10 for delicious, sexy philanthropy.  You can’t get much better than that.

 

317881_208193362586591_137192986353296_511743_2115253234_nRight on the heels of International Fisting Day comes Asexual Awareness Week!  This entire week (October 23rd through the 29th) is devoted to celebrating asexuality, raising awareness, and educating the community!

I find, in the Gender and Sexual Minority (GSM) community, that asexuality is one of the least-acknowledged and celebrated minority orientations, next to intersexuality.  In fact, the I and A in LGBTQIA+ get left off of the acronym on a fairly regular basis, which irks me to no end.  (#BloggersWhoBitchAboutSeeminglyUnimportantThingsThatAreReallyImportant)

You’ve probably got a vague understanding of the word “asexual” from lessons about asexual reproduction in biology… and then you probably also have some ridiculous assumptions, imagining all asexual people as antisexual, anti-breeder prudes who choose to die alone.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

An asexual person simply doesn’t experience sexual attraction toward other people.  Asexual people may still have sex drives, may choose to masturbate, are not inherently sex-negative at all, and may choose to engage in sex with another person, although their reasons for it may not be the same as your own.  They aren’t “broken,” and they don’t need to “find the right person.”  Telling an asexual person they haven’t found the right person is about the equivalent of telling your “gold star” lesbian friend (the “gold star” rant is reserved for another day) that she “just hasn’t found the right man.”   Asexual individuals are capable of leading perfectly happy lives and engaging in enjoyable and functional romantic relationships, though it can be difficult to navigate the issue of sexual relationships with a partner.

318673_2295631905084_1077677816_32571436_740924411_nThis is the point where I differentiate between sexuality and romanticism.  While many people just assume that your sexual orientation means that you only fall in love with the corresponding gender (or lack thereof), technically, sexual orientation is only meant to categorize sexual attraction to people.  Asexuals still may experience sexual arousal, but simply generally are not inclined to have sex with someone.  Romanticism, on the other hand, indicates your romantic attraction to certain individuals.  Aromanticism, homoromanticism, heteroromanticism, biromanticism, and panromanticism are all very real things.  One of my closest friends often uses the umbrella term of “queer” to identify himself in the community, but is, technically, a homoromantic asexual.

It is also worth noting that there are varying shades of grey among the spectrum of sexuality, with asexuality on one side, and sexuality on the other.  Some people are generally asexual, but that many not always be the rule.  Demisexuality, a term that I identify with, indicates that an individual does not experience a sexual attraction to other people until they have formed a strong emotional connection with them.  The term “grey-A” is used to indicate a variety of lifestyles between sexuality and asexuality.

I encourage you to go out and learn more about it!

Have some resources:

AVEN (The Asexuality Visibility and Education Network)

AVEN Wiki

The Asexual Awareness Week Website has a fantastic FAQ about asexuality listed under the “What Is Asexuality?” link.

Asexual Awareness Week on Facebook

Once you’ve read all these links, you should go hug your asexual friends.  They deserve the show of support, affection, and respect.

 

I’ve been browsing around for new lube, since I’ve chewed through a bottle of Astroglide in a ridiculous amount of time.  I also never intend to use Astroglide again, because my bottle of Astroglide smells like bubble formula.  Things that smell like bubble formula do not belong in my vagina.

Wet Synergy Lubricant is a hybrid of silicone and water that does not smell like a children’s playground.  Something like that shouldn’t earn it points in my book, but it does.

Synergy is thicker than any other lubricant that I’ve tried (Astroglide, Wet Platinum, and some lube from Tantus), and even though it’s a hybrid of water and silicone, it doesn’t start to feel tacky like water-based lubricant does.  It maintains the satin-like texture that I associate with silicone lubricant, and has a relatively comparable staying power to silicone lube.

The thickness of Synergy has made it very useful for anal play, and has been an absolute blessing when it comes to lubing up toys.  Silicone lubricant tends to piss me off because it drips off my toys instantly, making an unholy mess.  No more, I say!

However, this isn’t the perfect lube.  It’s good, but not perfect.  It’s supposed to be hypoallergenic.  I can verify that it certainly hasn’t irritated my skin, but I’m not particularly sensitive.  However, it does contain glycerin, which is a nightmare for people that are prone to yeast infections.  It also made my partner’s urethra burn when I slathered it on him to use for a handjob.  Does that have to do with the glycerin?  I don’t know… but I made sure never to put it on his cock again.  His ass has no problem with it, though, and lube is far more essential to a proper anal experience for him than it is to an enjoyable handjob experience.

It isn’t especially pleasant-tasting, either… it has that artificial-tasting sweetness that is common among most lubricants.  I mean, it isn’t bad.  It’s not like licking rancid ass.  But I don’t particularly like it.  That suits me just fine, since I won’t be using this on the slutling’s penis.

Can you use it with silicone toys?

Good question.  Because this lube contains silicone, I generally don’t, unless I have the toy secured by a condom.  As with any silicone lube, you would have to ask the toy manufacturer about the toy’s compatibility with the lubricant.

Ultimately, I’ve enjoyed the addition of Wet Synergy to my toy bag.  In my bedroom, its benefits have far outweighed its few downfalls.  I wouldn’t recommend it to people who are irritated by glycerin, and I wouldn’t use it in acts such as sounding, or handjobs.  However, it has been an excellent lubricant for use with my toys, and in anal play.

Thank you, Goodvibes, for providing me with the Wet Synergy Lubricant!  Without it, I would definitely be fucking myself a lot less… and let’s be honest, no one wants that.

 

I straight-up love fisting, you guys.

If you just winced, give yourself a slap on the wrist.  Two, maybe.  And don’t you dare enjoy it.  This isn’t sexytime-slapping.  This is shame-on-you.  No, this shame isn’t sexy either.

I know that there’s a pretty big stigma against fisting because people are sexually uninformed.  (Do you like how I took the gentle route there and didn’t call them idiots?  I’m trying not to alienate potential members of my audience by slinging around the I-word.)  They’re convinced that a whole hand would never fit up there, and that they’d have to be super-loose to take it, and it would never fit because they prefer two fingers, and “couldn’t possibly” take more.  Here’s a non-hostile article about why talking about being “loose” because of the frequency and size of an insertion is stupid.  (Seriously.  The vagina is a muscle.  Try kegels if you think you’re lacking.)

People also seem to imagine that fisting is forced, violent, and is meant to be painful.  It’s kind of like applying the original connotation of “fuck” to fisting.  I’m not sure where it got this reputation, since it’s hardly mentioned in popular culture, but it’s a completely unwarranted reputation.

 

Fisting isn’t necessarily cramming your entire hand into someone’s cunt.  Technically, it’s just four fingers and a thumb inside.  The slutling’s entire hand doesn’t fit inside me in the duck bill position; I’m not even sure he can get past his knuckles.

I suppose I should make myself look human for a moment by admitting that when I was in high school, I too winced at the idea of being fisted.  In fact, I didn’t think my ex would ever be able to put more than two fingers in me.  His fingers were enormous, I never got very aroused, and I was never very well-lubricated with him.  I couldn’t even fathom the idea.  Even after we broke up, I didn’t say, “Let’s see if I can find someone to wear me like Lambchop!”

Photo courtesy of Xmech

In fact,  I was fisted for the first time on a whim.  The slutling was fingering me (wearing gloves, of course), and it felt fantastic, so I asked him to insert another finger… and then I asked him to make the “duck bill” shape (shown here at the right, from Beyond Xs and Ys) and use his thumb. Oh my god.  It all happened very naturally, and I was absolutely shocked that there was no pain.  There was some gentle movement, but none of that hardcore thrusting that people assume fisting involves.  (Hint: it often doesn’t.)

Fisting is now a semi-regular part of my sex life.  The only time I enjoy having my cervix touched is when I’m being fisted, and I absolutely love the sensation of fullness that fisting provides.  Being my boyfriend’s hand puppet is an incredibly unique experience for me, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Basic fisting guidelines:

  • Make sure your nails are trimmed!
  • Use gloves!  (This will prevent concern about your nails – gloves are great for hot, safe hand sex.)
  • Use lubricant!  There’s no such thing as too much lube, but there is such a thing as too little.
  • Communication is absolutely necessary.  Go slowly and listen to your partner.
  • Be ready to have your mind blown.

In this interview (which features one of best fisting pictures in the world), Courtney Trouble describes fisting thusly:

Fisting is simply four fingers and a thumb sliding into a vagina (or ass, for those inclined and well-lubed). The hand then slips delicately inside the hole, past the knuckles and anywhere along the palm of the hand, even up to the wrist. It’s basically allowing the vaginal muscles to decide how little, or how much, the body wants to take in. The fistee is left feeling full, and often times the fister can feel the beating of the heart, muscle swelling, and the walls of the vagina moving up and down the hand. There’s a misconception that’s it’s forced in, when most fisting is initiated entirely by the person getting fisted. In fact, it’s usually the vagina itself that will decide to just swallow a hand entirely.

Once the hand is fully inside, it generally stays still, allowing both parties to experience that connection. Some movement is natural, and after a while, light thrusting may or may not happen. Every once in a while it might be faster or harder, but in general, fisting is all about a hand and a hole listening to each other very closely. It’s one of the most beautiful, intimate sex acts I’ve ever experienced. It’s sex positive and builds a deeper connection between sex partners. It’s encourages deeper communication. And most people who have been fisted will probably tell you, it’s one of the best ways to orgasm in the whole wide world.

Word, Courtney.  Word.

Educate Yourself

Fisting Day Tumblr

Babeland’s Fisting Instructions

  • (The instructions are sound, despite the fact that the post is a bit rooted in gender binary.)

xMech’s Fisting How To

Fisting Basics by Scarlett Chaos at the Crash Pad Series blog.

 

Other Fisting Day Posts

The Truth About Fisting by Courtney Trouble

 

Gone Fisting at Crevice Canyon

Fisting Day at Aag Blog

The Incredibly True Tale of the First Time I Was Fisted at Fleshbot

It’s National Fisting Day at True Pleasures

What About These Clenched Hands? at A Bedroom Blog

Today is International Fisting Day! at the SheBop Blog

Fisting Me Gently by Curvaceous Dee

 

 

“…do I actually have this on my crotch?  Yes.  Yes, it’s definitely touching me.  And I’m definitely holding it in the general region of my clit, but… is it on?  Of course it’s on, I can hear it.  I.. I think it’s touching my clit.  WHY CAN’T I FEEL ANYTHING?”

That’s pretty much everything you need to know about the Kiki Vibe from PicobongPicobong is a new, more affordable line from LELO, and so I expected… something from this toy.  Something other than what I was given.

I was excited about it, at first.  It’s cute!  (Look at the nubby shape!  The colors!)  It’s small!  (About as long as my palm.  In fact, that image beside you, courteously provided by Babeland, is about to scale, if you hold the product up to your monitor.)  THAT IS ADORABLE, right?  The outer shell of most of the vibrator (save the battery cap) is silicone. The entire toy is waterproof.  And while you may not have noticed this initially (as I didn’t, until the product was in my hands), the P and B are the + and – buttons.  That blew my mind.

I swear to god, I thought this thing was going to rock my world.  Just looking at it was like finding out that you can hold the shower head against your genitals.

So, I tore the Kiki out of the box, rinsed off the smudging that occurred from the black cardstock-like paper that held it in place, and hit the + button.  I was greeted by a vibration speed that I will dub, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I hit the + button a couple more times.  Nothing happened.  I held the + button down, and the vibe began speeding up.  That was more like it.  Sort of.  I was having some trouble figuring out the vibration patterns, though.  I figured I’d just give it a test run anyway.

It comes with a manual.  Just read the manual, you guys.

For starters, the manual says that rechargeable batteries result in reduced vibration intensity.  After I took the Kiki on its test run, I read that warning and I was like, “Oh, THAT’S my problem!”  But no.  No, that wasn’t my problem, because I wasn’t using any of my rechargeable AAAs in the Kiki.  It was made this way.  The flaw is not in my battery choice.

The second thing you’ll gain from the manual is the knowledge that you have to hold down the + button for about two seconds to change the pattern settings.  The Kiki boasts twelve modes, which contain a decent amount of variety in the patterns.  One of them is even kind of… musical.  I thought that was cool.  I don’t own a single vibrator that has as much genuine pattern variety as the Kiki!  But with a motor that could lose a race against a slice of bread, there isn’t enough power available for me to ENJOY those settings.

Finally, Picobong boasts that the Kiki is near silent.  While it is a relatively quiet vibe, you’re going to be relatively quiet too… because it probably isn’t going to get you off.

Oh!  And one last complaint… more of a pet peeve, really.  Picobong’s box (and their site) says that the Kiki is great for C-spot stimulation.  Where the hell is your C-spot?  Can you show me?  I’m pretty sure they mean the clitoris.  That is not a “C-spot.”  It is a clitoris.  STOP, Picobong.  Stop that.   I hate that term.  “C-spot?”  It’s not a spot.  My vulva is not a Dalmatian.  It’s a clitoris.  It’s filled with twice as many nerve endings as the penis.  It is not a “spot” like the coin-sized G-spot.  It’s more of a nub shape, at best.  And it has a name.  The clitoris.  Don’t try to change it.  Next you’re going to be selling me dildos and telling me they’ll stimulate my “v-spot.”

Also, they say you can put the Kiki inside yourself to stimulate the vaginal opening.  Don’t make me laugh.

I spend my nights turning the Kiki on and off, switching between different settings, and dreaming about what sort of bliss my clitoris could be experiencing if this vibrator could plug into an electrical socket.

Thank you, Babeland, for providing me with the Kiki to review.  I KNOW I’m going to write a positive product review for you guys one day.  You’re a fantastic store with awesome products.  This just was not a fantastic vibrator.

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