The Palimpsex

Category: reflection

On the subject of sponsorship…

introduction, reflection, relationships, review, sex toys, sexuality, storytelling

Phew. So March was a doozy of a month, usually one I’m not particularly fond of for many reasons anyway, but mother nature made it her business to really dig around for the rest of my spoons and leave me flailing on autopilot. March is the time of the year I lost all of my grandmothers, the time of the year my poly triad began falling apart, the time of the year I asked Mike to move out, and also my birthday, which contrary to what you might think, is not the happiest of days. March also decided to pack in Easter at its tail end, which was a nice punctuation to begin April anew with cherished friends, family, and happier traditions (like our yonic/phallic bunny ear candle centerpiece).

This particular March also displaced me from my home four separate times after power outages lasting sometimes up to a week. It put my job in jeopardy and reminded me of how desperately I need to move out of my once beloved apartment in Long Valley. I can’t hide in the woods forever, and I’ve avoided much of social media (at least more than usual). Mike and I are seeing less of each other due to our busy work schedules, and I am constantly having the existential crisis of “what the fuck am I doing with my life?”

From my workshop series at the NJ Center for Sex Therapy.

Running group psychoeducational sessions twice a week, I often hear clients ask me why I don’t do more with my Masters’ Degrees and seasoned experiences in the field of sexuality. I don’t know what to tell them. I’m stuck? I’m not reaching out? I’m not pushing myself hard enough and getting my name out there, showing the world what I do and the wonderful things I’m capable of? I remember when I first created my Trans and Gender Non-Conforming group sessions at the NJ Center for Sex Therapy and my mentor, Dr. Christine Hyde, told me that by not charging enough, it comes off as though I don’t value my work. Even now, one of the biggest struggles we have at Masakhane is how much to charge for our workshops when we’ve spent 10 years offering them for free. And like I tell Stephanie, it’s time to monetize.

This blog started on the basic principle that I wouldn’t affiliate or ask for sponsors. Not because I was better or different than paid bloggers, but because I honestly didn’t want to make the effort. I’ve all but alienated a lot of my sex blogging community and although I promote my blog, it’s often as an afterthought to the other things I do in sex education. I just downloaded JoEllen Notte’s “Will Work For Sponsorship” class and holy fuck am I overwhelmed. I remember when I took her and Epiphora’s Business of Blogging class I felt electrified, motivated to write with a new force and intention, soaking up the material like a sponge. It’s what I do: I learn and retain, I teach and interact.

Needing a little bit of this.

But I am incredibly shitty at promoting. Seeing how complicated sponsorship can be (at least for my brain-thinking), I’m left struggling, wanting someone in the community to hold my hand, tell me this is still worth doing and that it is absolutely worth getting paid for. I used to be elated to get free toys, telling myself that a free toy in exchange for a review was compensation enough. But it’s not. It’s not feeding my cat. It’s not paying my rent. An orgasm is great and toys are transformative, but they are not going to cover my health insurance. Some days I look up the ladder and see how far I need to climb before I feel established in my various fields of work. Some days I look down and see how far I’ve come, how many years I’ve put into this evolving field and how many amazing people I’ve met along the way.

Side note: I still have two extra unopened Satisfyers if anyone’s interested.

I’ve delayed writing reviews lately. Different companies provided me with free toys of my choosing and have been checking in to ask when my reviews will be up. Combining my paid job of teaching wellness with the volunteering hours I put in at Masakhane, PLUS the demon month March has been, reviewing toys has been hanging over my head as an unchecked obligation. It’s beginning to seem unrealistic to continue reviewing toys for free. I cherish my collection and out of ethics, there are definitely companies I would happily endorse in activist solidarity…but I know someone out there must want to buy my reviews.

I still remember the day Joan Price tweeted about the quality of my writing. How two sentences validated so much. One, that yes, my writing IS fucking good and it had better be because I’ve gone through two Masters’ degrees, various honor societies, AND been published, but two, that she’d only just heard of my blog. I know I’m no social media maven; most of my Instagram posts are of cats and food. Twitter gives me straight up anxiety, and with the shadowbanning and increasingly shitty state the country is enduring, I find more self-care in avoiding Twitter altogether. It’s a dilemma for sure. I know I need to put in the effort for the sake of my own visibility and support others in the process, but I also fear for my own mental status.

I can’t seem to find a balance, even if my personal life is just now beginning to find its own equlibrium. I know none of it is separable, and I wonder how much energy I’ve actually spent trying to parse it all out. I know I need some form of organization to manage my goals, but I haven’t figured out exactly what that looks like for me. So now, with all that being said, the post below is a review which I’ve been meaning to get to for months, and in a way, it has inspired me to get my ass in gear. Maybe this year I go back to Woodhull. I think it’s time.

Review of Simply Elegant Glass’s Tentacle Dildo

geekery, introduction, music, reflection, review, sex toys, sexuality, storytelling
…
Spoons have been so painfully low lately.  Life is stressful but somehow I’m jerking off way more than usual.  Sometimes I convince myself to do it because I know it will give me some good chemicals, and sometimes I do it because it’s the only way to incorporate exercise into my otherwise busy schedule.  Stationary bike or a vigorous session of orgasms on my knees?  Tough choice.  I still have so many toys to review, but I’m noticing a theme when it comes to the toys I actually review.  The newest “gets” are always fresh in my mind/body, so they tend to get documentation priority.  Which is a slippery slope, really, because a lot of the toys I intend on reviewing are pretty fucking amazing and still get frequent use, but the novelty has worn off a little.
Glass by Woozy
And when it comes to shiny, glittery tentacled fuckable art…it feels almost instinctive to write about it.  I acquired a girthy piece of glass shaped like a dichroic tentacle through a r/sextoys sale…completely unopened and in pristine condition.  I’ve always wanted a piece by Woozy aka Simply Elegant Glass, and I wouldn’t have cared even if it had been used because hey, boil, bleach, good to go.  I’ve been really curious about textures lately, particularly after my squishy corn cob experiences, and wondered how it would feel to use a heavily textured dildo with more firmness.
Glass by Woozy
Can’t really get much firmer than glass, and I love glass dildos.  So it really checked off a lot of “wants” for me, from the rainbow and blue color scheme to the amber/purple suckers.  I’ve always been a sucker myself for glass between my plug collection for my ears and my pipe collection for my pot.  This is definitely a dildo I would want in any form, even if it was a fucking paperweight.
Glass by Woozy
The handle, albeit much smaller than I had anticipated, is shaped perfectly for various grips…I can slip a thumb through it or just grab the whole thing since it’s molded into a loose coil.  Plenty of options for thrusting, although after insertion I didn’t really do much of that.  The combination of the dildo’s girth and the hard suckers was enough stimulation on its own.  In fact, I found that moving the dildo around too much while inside me was a touch uncomfortable.  Those suckers actually suck; their concave array opposed to some of Woozy’s more bubbly dildos gripped at my g-spot for dear life.
Glass by Woozy
It felt sort of alien, inorganic and medical, which typically are all positives for me, but combined with the effect of glass it just squicked me.  As long as I left the dildo inside while using a vibrator, it stayed put (probably because of the suckers) and I was able to orgasm relatively quickly.  The suckers, like some of my other textured toys, were great little receptacles for coconut oil, but I found myself needing more lube than usual despite the slickness of the rest of the dildo.
Glass by Woozy
It didn’t affect my grip of the handle, and I think I’ll probably use this dildo more with my partner than solo.  I love roughing up my g-spot, but for some reason when I do it myself I’m less comfortable than having someone do it for me.  I don’t really understand the psychology of that, since when I stimulate other folks’ g-spots I am not shy about it.  Either way, this piece is absolutely visually and physically stunning, even if it takes some getting used to.  Now that I know Woozy’s work is even more beautiful in person, I’ll be sure to pick up a few more pieces.  So here it is, your moment of “zen.”

Review of GespenstsFantasyGear’s Farmer’s Delight

introduction, reflection, review, sex toys

MORE CORN!

I’ve been fascinated with food-inspired sex toys ever since I saw Epiphora’s color-changing corn dildo from Self-Delve in Germany. Some of my toys were already food-themed i.e. Damn Average’s Valentine’s Day Chocolate Lumpy and Funkit’s Almond-Pumpkin-Carrot creation. I’m super glad more companies are getting foodie, albeit bitter-sweetly nostalgic. I’m hopeful that I can now amend any mistakes I made as a know-nothing teenager using food really inappropriately for penetrative purposes. I remember an adolescence where my front hole was a chamber of culinary experiments, eventually learning from a very young age that no, candy canes don’t go there nor do empty Corona bottles.

corn dildo

If you’re cringing, there’s definitely good reason. Young me could DIY my own vibrations from the shower-head to a Squiggle Pen, but I could never find anything appropriately penetrative. The internet was just barely in AOL-56k-Chatroom-cybersex mode and my sex ed wasn’t pleasure-based, so any tips on condoming a cucumber just didn’t exist (I’ll always think of Ducky Doolitte’s “Not In Your Butt” video when it comes to using veggies for penetration).

corn dildo

I’m also a devoted splosher, a kid who orchestrated epic food fights and one day dreamed of being saran wrapped under piles of loaded nachos. Food and sex have always been like peas and carrots to me, whether that cake scene with the Merovingian in Matrix Reloaded or the melting Popsicle scene in A Clockwork Orange. When something goes smoothly into my butt, I tend to say I “ate” it. I’m not really surprised that I’ve taken a new fascination with foodie sex toys. That strawberry butt plug from Lovecrafters Toys may be getting purchased soon.

corn dildo

2017’s Black Friday was spent buying a ton of sex toys which I have yet to review, but I wanted to get around to GespentsFantasy Gear’s Farmer’s Delight as soon as possible because it’s such a unique dildo. The soft and squishy density is unlike the medium firmness of Self-Delve’s corn; the Farmer’s Delight is now officially the softest dildo I down. It flops around so much I could easily use it for a pack-n-play, and the base still has enough firmness that it stays put in an o-ring. Lately I’ve learned to throw out all my expectations when it comes to new toys, so when I saw how soft and deeply textured each bump was, I kept curious instead of doubtful. I think this needs to be my new approach to toy testing, to be completely honest.

corn dildo

The Farmer’s Delight felt amazing, every piece of corn distinctly rubbing against my insides, long enough for the pointed tip to reach my A-Spot and girthy enough to fill me without collapsing in on itself. Gespent’s signature is lightly etched into the base, and the way he hand-molds his work gives the corn such a unique feel. It’s not perfectly uniform in shape, it flops to one side when stood up, and even the tip is organically uneven. Which feels really appropriate considering this dildo is meant to look like corn, and while there is symmetry in nature, nothing is ever perfect. The corn aesthetic is truly spot-on.

Its squish makes cleaning super easy; I can stretch and bend this dildo in any way I wish to get soap and water into and out of each crevice. Boiling is also great because the corn can bend to fit in smaller pots. My partner said it was easy to use on me and that the base and texture gave him enough grip no matter how slick things got. Despite being tacky to the touch, the Farmer’s Delight doesn’t collect dust as much as some of my other squishies like BS Atelier’s Bingo or the Vixen Tristan 1. Its vibrant yellow makes it a wonderful addition to my rainbow of sex toys and I’m overall really pleased with this purchase.

Review of We-Vibe’s Nova

introduction, reflection, review, sex toys, storytelling

So!  It’s been a while!  I have a metric fuckton of toys to review, including a rocket ship, a corncob, a twisty NoFrillDo, a paddle, a glass double-sider, and this ridiculous pink wand I got for free and am surprisingly in love with.  But TODAY!  Today I review the We-Vibe Nova.  I spent the last week visiting old friends, family, and my former apartment in Oakland, eating endlessly and riding the nostalgia wave.  I initially went with two promises to myself, 1.) I would not step on a scale the entire time, and 2.) I would not create a concrete itinerary.  The flexibility of my week set a tone that would be much needed as my time there waned, from my first experience of an earthquake to my cancelled flight (thanks “bomb cyclone!”) which landed me on the scariest red-eye of my life.  I needed that flexibility to remind me that my trip was all about necessary indulgences, from sunny french-drip mornings under the orange tree to spliffy evenings with friends and film.  A distinct “California-Bay vibe” sifted into me, making me wish I took that job at the Emeryville Lush in 2013 and stayed in my adorable studio off Lakeshore.  The regret was bittersweet, and I left promising myself that some day I’d be back for good.

Cancelled flight? Favorite beer ever should take care of that

A post shared by Avery (@thepalimpsex) on

My favorite experience and by far most surreal was on New Year’s Day, the day California legalized recreational cannabis.  Legalization is problematic in so many ways.  Folx who have been unfairly convicted in the past may be pardoned, but that doesn’t erase the complex traumas of arrest.  Taxes have gone astronomical on cannabis products, making it less economically feasible.  The biggest question I heard most was whether rich white men were to benefit most as distributors and dispensary owners.  In the Oakland subreddit, someone commented on a post saying that despite the instated Equity Permit Program, the “blue oasis called California [has] red pockets running deep.”  I was once a former medical cannabis patient at Berkeley Patients Group and have always appreciated their philanthropy as well as community initiatives, so I wasn’t surprised when they announced that Berkeley’s mayor would be showing up to the New Year’s Day legalization opening.  I walked back into my old facility via a lime green carpet and velvet rope, a DJ blasting sick mashups, free massages with CBD cream, and a fucking VENDING MACHINE for those who didn’t/couldn’t wait in long lines.  Huge balloon arches hung over San Pablo in celebration.  I still had seven dollars worth of BPG points on my old member’s card, which I put towards sore throat lozenges and Sleep Cream.  I’m currently enrolled in New Jersey’s medical cannabis program despite the potential legalization by Phil Murphy come March, but the cost of enrollment and hoop-jumping in NJ has been really debilitating on so many levels.  I wish they would get their shit together like California, or at least start asking the right questions.

I had also visited my former Good Vibrations on Lakeshore a few days prior, dizzying my childhood best friend (and even stumping some of the employees) with toy musings.  My friend is my DDD twin and our fucked up backs both appreciate giant wands for pain relief more than masturbation.  I made a mental note of her interest in the Magic Wand, and after visiting BPG on New Year’s, I zipped a block down on San Pablo to one of Good Vibes’ other locations.  With a shopping bag of cannabis in one hand and a Magic Wand in the other, I decided it was going to be a self-care day and looked at the We-Vibe Nova with confident determination.  After some great conversation with GV’s employees about blogging and sex education, they blessed me with amazing discounts and free swag.  I told them I’d give a shout-out, but I wish I could do so much more.  Thank you so much, Berkeley Good Vibes, for the pleasant company, resounding support in this industry, and making this review financially attainable.  That Wonder Woman Wand keychain was just the cherry atop a wonderful shopping experience.

I waited to get back to NJ to try out the Nova but charged it while I was on the West Coast.  My friend got a chuckle out of seeing it on her counter top and accurately noted that this was probably just an everyday task for me.  The flightmare from hell and an 8 hour Sleep Cream nap left me nestled in bed, curious about the Nova.  I wanted to wait until I saw my partner to use it, but I also knew an orgasm would help my headache and lethargy.  One thing I also found interesting was how sure I was of this orgasm.  The Nova looked so similar to my treasured Vr6, similar vibrations, silky texture, proportionally alike…my only question was about its most renowned feature: the bendy arm.  The Vr6’s arm has a little bit of bend but enough firmness to put pressure where I need it.  I worried the flexibility of the Nova’s arm wouldn’t hit me as hard or directly.  I was pleasantly wrong.

The arm is now my favorite part of the Nova.  Sure, the G-Spot angle is harder and more direct, but it’s also just a touch less girthy than my Vr6.  It still fills me nicely, but the arm is really where the magic happens.  No matter how I move the Nova, no matter how hard I thrust or which way I turn the handle, the arm finds its way to a happy place.  Its flattened structure consistently distributes major rumbles, and though the motion appears clumsy, the feeling is spot-on.

The Nova has a lot of bells and whistles, like We-Vibe does best.  Tons of features, vibration patterns with cute names like “Echo” and “Tide,” Bluetooth compatibility, a unique magnetic charger…it’s all well and good but coming from someone who enjoyed the two-button simplicity of the Vr6, it’s really not necessary for me.  Unlike the We-Vibe Tango, the Nova’s magnetic charger stays put, plugging into a USB port or computer for power.  The buttons are a little complicated, but I really only use the increase/decrease strength anyway so I basically ignore half of the control pad.  The silicone has a nice drag to it, keeping the toy dust-free.  I even like the color!  Me!  Member of the anti-pink patrol!  It’s a neon pink, close to a fuchsia, and like the Vr6’s neon purple, it gives me some rad 90’s nostalgia feels.

So I basically love this thing.  It’s no better or worse than my Vr6, just a bit different.  Orgasms come easily, and although I’ve only used it solo, I’m super excited to see what my partner thinks of it.  My guess is he’ll be relieved that the buttons aren’t as susceptible for accidental pressing like the two bumps on the Vr6, and I’m betting he’ll like the arm range as well.  Will keep you updated!

 

Hello subspace my old friend…

reflection, relationships, sex toys, sexuality, storytelling, Uncategorized

So I retract my previous blog statement about finally finding a water-based lube that doesn’t irritate me.  Maybe it’s because I only used a little of it once or twice without issue but right now I am typing with an angry yeast infection and its best friend, Diflucan-induced diarrhea.  My partner and I had what felt like a 3 hour kink-a-thon yesterday and copious amounts of lube were used.  We tried the water-based lube as the toys got larger, but when it came to fisting, we went back to good old coconut oil as the lube was starting to burn.  Between gentle fingers and soothing coconut oil, I felt much better until later in the evening when the itch began.  It’s just as well…I don’t know why I felt I needed to stray from coconut oil, maybe the sheer determination of finally finding my perfect water-based lube.  If only I had enough money to invest, I’d totally just create my own.  No aloe, no glycerin or parabens, no citric acid, no propylene glycol, just basic BASIC shit.  And if that means it dries up quickly, so be it.  I recently started using these baby wipes that are literally just water and cloth…my nethers have never been happier.  I’ve also had a bidet on my wish list for a few years, but Jersey winters would make that water shockingly cold on my butthole and the hot water option is much more expensive and difficult to hook up.  Anyway, ramblings as I was up on a Tuesday morning, glancing longingly at my coffee knowing it’ll just cause further diarrhea.  Basta.

Last night was, unf.  While Mike and I have always had our kinks, last night was sort of a “no-holds barred,” “try anything” situation.  Spitting in each other’s mouths, biting, choking, jerking off each other and cumming on each other, the whole thing was just bliss.  I’ve never really been topped by Mike before, and although I am switchy, it was such an out-of-body experience.  Like, not just my usual subspace (although is there ever a “usual” subspace?) but a subspace where I was kind of co-topping myself WITH him.  I don’t know if that makes any sense.  It just started as one of those clean slate nights, sort of “I’m going to close my eyes and I want you to choose one toy that vibrates and one that penetrates,” and letting him do the rest.  I was so tickled that he immediately went for the Tails and Portholes Leviathan…something in him must have known I wanted to be stretched out.  But the Leviathan was squishy and cumbersome for him to thrust, so he went for the NS Novelties Rainbow Pride dildo.  This was definitely an improvement, as well as the Prism he gave me for vibration.  But I kept wanting bigger and bigger, finally realizing I didn’t want a dildo at all.  I didn’t want vibrations.  I wanted his hand.  So fisting away we went, fisting led to fucking…there were so many orgasms for both of us I can’t even count.  Again, a total primal subspace.  I squirted with the Prism, then squirted on him with the Vanity Vr6, lapped that up, and we just kept going.

The night was wild, and again, we have our kinks, but this pushed it ever-so-slightly out of his comfort zone and I am very grateful for his consent and enthusiasm.  When he went to go clean the toys (I don’t know why but I find it so endearing when he does that), I snuck a stainless steel gemmed butt plug in between my cheeks before we hopped in the shower.  It was a great surprise when I told him that he forgot to clean one last toy and just pulled it out.  His face lit up and he just smiled this gleeful smile, like I’d just played the most adorable yet sexy prank he’s ever seen.  I love that he’s always willing to try new things and keeps such an open mind about our sexualities and identities.  I love that we continually discover new shit we like but don’t pressure every sexual interaction to be an epic journey…

I think we appreciate all the connections made during sex.  Speaking for myself, they don’t really fit into rankings, they’re all just different…but when we have sessions like last night, there’s just a sense of complete fearlessness unlike anything I’ve experienced at even my kinkiest play parties.  I don’t need marks for good impact, I don’t need my hair pulled to control my movement.  Time and time again I’ve been told my kink is through energy-exchange (grow up with an ancestry of witches and who’s surprised?), and Mike is very similar.  I like our kink a lot.  It’s very unique to our chemistry and filled with love.  In a time where it feels like the world keeps giving up on folks, it’s nice to know we haven’t given up on each other.  And that extends from the simplest gestures of a morning kiss to the depths of soiled sheets and pruned fingertips.

Review of Funkit’s Pumpkin Almond

introduction, reflection, relationships, review, sex toys, storytelling, Uncategorized

It’s 6:30am and I’m wide awake. I typically have my clearest moments in the morning, and I’ve been in hypomanic for a little over a month now. But, almost like overcaffeination, the mania keeps me productive in some areas and completely avoidant for most of the truly important stuff. I’ve been spending money like it’s my job, to the point where I just saw Amazon is having their Black Friday deals and almost clicked off this post to fall into a capitalist K-Hole of nonsense and Himalayan Salt Lamps. It’s a friend’s birthday today as well as my second tattoo appointment of the week, and yet I find myself far more excited to go use Bed, Bath, and Beyond coupons on a gift she’s likely not going to need than getting my tattoo.

foot tattoo
Post/Post Edit: maple and oak (oak freshly done).

Wednesday I got a maple leaf on my left foot and today I’m going to a different artist to get an oak leaf on my right. The two have been symbolic of my past and now current relationship: alas, I have gotten back together with the boy. Our oak and maple penny necklaces sat blessed by moonlight during a good six months of no contact. Along with a “Dazzling Red Maple” Yankee Candle and a 3-year-old love note, I was able to reach out to him on what would have been our anniversary in September. Things have been wonderful since. Call it a renegotiated limerence or renewed relationship energy; we don’t want to jinx it and taking things slowly has been much more productive for better communication. Anyway, that’s the short version of my relationship update.

I know. We’re gross.

What has also changed dramatically is my sexual appetite. I actually HAVE one now. One by one, the toys are getting less dusty with usage, some orders have arrived, and I almost forgot how electric it is to self-lubricate again. As in, I can so much as hear him breathe in a certain way and I know we’re both in tune with whatever level of arousal we’re at, even if it’s just sitting on the couch. It’s like music. Sex with Mike is like music. I don’t know why I should be surprised, if I am at all, considering his natural musical talents and my tendency to synchronize energies during sex. But in the words of the ever-classic Celine Dion, it’s all coming back to me now.  Especially now with Kenton’s amazing deals.  Who could resist?

I’ve also finally found a water-based lube that doesn’t irritate me, one that I’d sold for years and never actually tried. I’m still a dyed-in-the-wool coconut oil fan, but on cold, solidified days when the dispenser doesn’t want to work, this Slippery Stuff really hits the spot. Another review on that later. Jesus, I actually have stuff to review now! I recently acquired a “pumpkin” butt plug from Kenton at Funkit Toys, an item that explicitly states it is NOT a carrot. Whatever…carrot, pumpkin, almond, it all works suitably considering my butt has been insatiably hungry lately.

I was even able to handle the Tristan 1 the other day, a notoriously challenging plug for me because of its squish and wide neck. With firmer shore, a narrower tip and a much more gradual bulb, the Pumpkin Almond looks great from all angles. The colors are skillfully poured and the signature suction base known to Funkit Toys made me so proud to own another one of Kenton’s creations. I even liked the subtle ridges from top to bottom due to the 3-D printed mold. Surprisingly, I could actually feel them upon insertion and they were really stimulating.

Butt Plug
Ridges are visible here. Also, sorry to future CVS customers who buy these almonds.

When I say “all angles,” I didn’t realize the Pumpkin Almond is not perfectly symmetrical. Which makes sense, because Kenton’s website description literally says “lateral ridges and a slight forward bend.” The bend isn’t created so much as a tilt or curve, but because one side of the Almond is a little rounder than the other. This creates a slight dorsal ridge on each side, you know, like an actual fucking almond. Initially assuming it was completely round, I met a challenge upon insertion as I realized there might be more optimal methods of using the Almond aside from just sliding it in willy-nilly. I needed to find which way to put it in that felt most comfortable.

Butt Plug
Not perfectly round. Y’know…like an almond.

Again, another teachable moment about my body: where I thought inserting the Almond with a horizontal orientation would feel better, the vertical actually worked more. I figured a side-to-side stretch would give me more feeling of fullness, but turning the plug so the wider part pressed against my tailbone and front wall brought me to orgasm almost effortlessly. I tried double-penetration with my Jopen Vanity Vr6, my go-to when it comes to DP testing, and it felt perfect. The squishy flared base of the Almond was unimposing but present and it didn’t get in the way. The one thing I did notice, which has become standard for most of my butt plugs, was that the Almond shot right out of me during orgasm.

Butt Plug

The taper-ratio is pleasurably gradual for insertion and it stays in place for DP, but once my muscles contract for an orgasm, it just won’t stay in on its own. It’s fine, since I think out of my twelve butt plugs only about three of them stay put during orgasm. As long as I keep one hand securing the base, my orgasms with the Almond are really satisfying. Cleanup is simple, and despite its glossy appearance, the Almond is not a complete dust magnet. I’ve noticed this with the Crista, too…something about Funkit’s silicone really stands up to the “Cat-Hair” challenge.

Butt Plug
Signature base with Funkit’s logo.

Which is great, because they’re two of my favorite toys to show off when visitors curiously enter my bedroom and are drawn to the toy shelf. I’ll be interested to see what boy thinks of it, so this post might get updated soon. Or, y’know, as an addendum in future reviews. My sexual hiatus is finally over. And I am SO glad the Pumpkin Almond got to be a part of that reawakening.

Review of the Crave Flex

introduction, reflection, relationships, review, sex toys, sexuality, storytelling, trans*

Well, I’d say it’s been getting easier because it probably looks that way from the outside, but it really isn’t.  Every day is sort of a literal/figurative rinse, lather, and repeat with different Lush products to make it seem less repetitive, but it’s still the same process.  Running trainings for Planned Parenthood employees, biking 23 miles, somehow managing to visit friends at RennFaire three times… I’m active and it’s valuable but it also distracts me from the biggest realities of missing my ex and wondering what the fuck happened to my sex drive.

 

I’ve still got it in my head that there’s a purpose for not wanting anyone else, and I think that might be a good move for different reasons, but why the hell can’t I bring myself to jerk off?  The times I do, I end up in tears before orgasm, and if I do have that rare orgasm in between, it’s filled with emptiness and dissatisfaction.  Have I become one of those people who replaces sexual release with exercise?  Someone I thought I’d never be, not because I judge “that person,” but because I never believed I could enjoy exercise.

Crave Flex vibrator
The buttons look deceivingly simple.

The only times I do come are in the shower, rocking 5 minute wall sits until my quads are on fire with the shower head pulsing away at my parts.  My skin is so hungry, and yet I get nauseous at the thought of anyone touching me.  It also doesn’t help that I was just recently diagnosed with Interstitial Cystitis and kidney stones, so my body and mind are all over the place.  I recognize the dissonance and contradictions in all the circles of my sexuality right now and yet feel completely helpless to do anything.  I even tried buying a Crave Flex since I liked the Vesper so much and grew increasingly frustrated at my body’s response.  Something didn’t translate, whether it be the silky silicone and bendy tip or the dulling effect the vibrations had as I tried to press them harder onto my parts.

Ghosts can like bendy tips too!

The modes seemed excessive and where I’m at mentally, the process of having to skip through to find the strongest constant vibration was (and is) enough to lose my build.  At this point, something so simple as a truck driving past my window can carry away any tenuous desire I have for an orgasm, so the process of experimenting with new toys is just an investment I can’t emotionally or physically handle right now.  I’ve had one orgasm in the 5 or 6 times I tried the Flex and it required me to be on my knees, squatted over my Shilo, again becoming increasingly frustrated that here I am, fucking my own dick and trying to pretend it’s his, wishing I at least had him to help me thrust the Shilo.  It wasn’t until the burning of my quads kicked in that I could get back into my body and appreciate the increase of heartrate long enough to let go of thoughts and just come.

Crave Flex vibrator
USB chargers make life so much easier.

The Flex is probably amazing for folks, between the multiple vibrations from tip to base and its attached USB charger (so all you need to do is find a laptop or wall outlet without bothering with wires).  It’s really nice to look at and still somewhat in the same price range as the Vesper, but something about having the sheer metal and temperature change of the Vesper gives me truly pinpoint stimulation without any power diffusing through silicone.  I’d still recommend it, and maybe someday I’ll be able to pull out of my funk enough to truly enjoy it.

Where am I?

reflection, relationships, sexuality, storytelling, trans*

Drenched in sweat, starfished on the kitchen floor, the dehumidifier blowing musty air in my face as I come back into my body… it’s the closest I’ve been to anything like an orgasm in what feels like ages and it’s tachycardia. I’ve just installed a new bike seat on the vintage Schwinn my landlord gifted me a month ago, lime green with a hole cutout in the middle, a reminder of yet another accommodation for what’s between my legs, but at least I get to make it green to compliment the purple bars of the bike, a genderqueer tribute to my dysphoria. Biking surprisingly doesn’t hurt my discs, and while the soreness of my groin is the closest I’ll be to a hard fucking in a long time, I lost most desire for sex since my breakup anyway.

I need the new seat otherwise I can’t handle the freedom and endorphins of the 11 mile trail I’ve been blessed with outside my home. Although I loathe the 90 degree weather and humidity signature to Jersey summers, I’m completely claustrophobic with the contexts of this particular July from academic to personal obligations. My mental health is rapidly deteriorating to the point where I don’t even know what self-care looks like anymore. Today it looked like a new bike seat and a quick ride to test it out, but it also neglected hydration and included caffeine; it forgot that I took a Vicodin for my back last night after 10 days of classes sleeping without an actual bed and how opiates trigger my SVT episodes. So my last mile push home included palpitations, followed by a half hour sweat-out on the kitchen floor, my only space left in this apartment currently to sprawl in semi-privacy.

I’d cry if I had the tears, the heart-rate, the spoons, the understanding of what I should mourn first. The cats who aren’t even my cats came to lick the sweat out of my hair as I nudged them away, reminders of what I can’t handle. I looked to the ceiling fan, a snakeskin lightning bolt charm hanging from a chain reminding me of power symbols as I tried to focus my eyes and breath to cut the palpitations. I meditated and affirmed myself as best I could, prayed nobody came into the room and the cats could give me some peace.

As the 180 finally went back to 60 bpm, I opened my palms to the ceiling and noticed my right arm had been touching my No-Face backpack of books the entire time. At first I went to push it away with disdain and then recognized the conflict of this action. How my academics are the source of my frustration and strength, how my love and hate and fear and insecurity are all blended together through my journey and academia is what taught me to blend my heart and my brain. How appropriate I chose No-Face as my bookbag for all the character represents and how placeless I feel in life all the time, how dependent I am on others for my own existence, how the familiarity of this hard kitchen floor brings back the warmth I felt sleeping on wood during my stay in Philadelphia and how I thought my self-care this week would include solitude but it really requires comfort around positive people.

I still firmly believe my heart thrives in nature, that I cannot handle living in a city for all the infinitely unique thoughts of people buzzing directly around me, but right now I feel so ungrounded. My skin hunger is nauseated but present, my boundaries of self-in-world are blurring, and there is so much I want to do but here I am: starfished on a kitchen floor trying to figure out my next move.

Mental Check-In and Review of Tantus’s ProTouch

reflection, relationships, sex toys, sexuality, storytelling, Uncategorized

Ohhhh yes.  My upcoming summer semester (and hopefully final semester at Widener) is quickly approaching and I’ve just begun plugging my due dates into Google Calendar…this one is going to be a doozy.  Three courses wedged into the entire month of July, class nonstop from the 8th to the 16th, papers galore…I may have bitten off more than I can chew when I said I needed more of a challenge at this school.  We shall see.

What it has done is given me a swift kick in the ass to get my writing flow back into gear, which is a bonus.  I’ve basically spent the last two weeks getting back in touch with my roots, revisiting parts of my identity I had once abandoned with shame and regret.  A trip to Aruba spent solely with Mom and Dad, a weekend of Punk Rock Bowling with a best friend, videogames with Steam friends…I needed the familiarity of these things accompanied by a deeper introspection of what they have meant historically to me through the years.  How many times I’ve enjoyed the company of friends on my Aruba trips only to later make enemies with them, how many punk buddies I’ve pushed away never to speak to again, how, even now, I am constantly navigating the paranoia of annoying my Steam friends and sometimes I intentionally “fall off the map” because I think I’ve been a burden to them.

I was diagnosed with BPD in 2010 only to later be dually diagnosed with Bipolar II three years ago.  Meanwhile, I’ve had one or two exes who have armchair diagnosed me with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, something I’ve mentioned to every psych professional I’ve seen since undergrad and has been consistently shot down…so who knows.  I overproject intellectualism, have an ever-escaping self-awareness of my neurodivergences, and I’m definitely insecure… Probably going to delete all of this anyway because why on earth would anyone want to read something this personal in someone’s sex blog?  Wouldn’t you rather read about handjobs or my gag reflex?

PURSEonal stuff first. OHHHH the puns.

I guess the point of this reflection is that I’m trying not to be scared of looking back at who I was or being open about it to anyone (and I mean anyone).  The 25 years spent chasing iguanas by the beach, the 15 years making out with sweaty folx in mosh pits, and now the recent years finding a community who shares my same love for gaming.  I’ve fucked up a lot of it, but it’s not all bad, and neither am I.  I NEED to start believing this.  If I keep wasting time shitting on myself, I’ll never get back to blogging from a positive headspace, I’ll never learn how to love other people the way I want to be loved, I’ll never take the time to appreciate the world outside my head, beyond anything I could ever imagine.  The whole concept of self-love terrifies me sometimes, because deep down I don’t think I really understand it, and I’m scared I never will.

This post was ACTUALLY supposed to be a review, believe it or not.  I had every intention of getting punnily detailed with my recent usage of the Tantus ProTouch, a versatile toy I’ve been promoting since my days at the porn store but never actually tried.  I opted for the Grab Bag version and ended up with literally the SAME fucking color (like a more translucent version of “wine”) it comes in normally (I swear to goddess, I have the worst luck with Tantus Grab Bag colors).  I got so bitter about it I never ended up using the fucking thing.

ProTouch by Tantus

Yesterday I finally had my first masturbatory release in months…a little Nine Inch Nails and a Wartenberg Wheel was enough to get me going.  My butt just kind of wanted everything on the shelf.  I went for each anal toy I could find, starting small, eventually working my way up to an Echo Handle.  It was an intense afternoon and I direly needed it.  But the ProTouch surprised the hell out of me.  I was expecting the curve to be painful, uncomfortable, anything like any other curved butt product I’ve used before.  It wasn’t at all.  Sure, it’s made with the same shore silicone in most Tantus products, but maybe because of the hollow middle (which is meant for a vibrating bullet though I left it empty), it had some squish.

ProTouch by Tantus

I’m not usually a fan of the freebie bullets that come with Tantus toys anyway (kinda weak), and the depth of the hole inside the ProTouch is too shallow for the WeVibe Tango.  Besides, it actually made it more grippy for me because I could just stick my finger inside it while I hooked the flare with my thumb.  Regardless, the curve of the ProTouch conformed nicely to my body and was actually relatively comfortable.  My other surprise was that I could actually feel all the textures of it in the best ways possible.  I went back to the ProTouch after using the Echo Handle and the ProTouch still had quite a…how shall I say…presence?  The curves were stimulating enough to remind me it was inside, but not too scrapey or pinchy.  So I’ll be damned.  That thing has been sitting on my shelf for months now and I’ve just discovered I actually rather like it.

The ProTouch by Tantus
Little grippy ribs in the middle, good for bullets, also great for my lubey fingers.

Sometimes I learn a lesson or two about myself when it comes to toys.  I’ve been thematically discovering through blogging how the toys I think I’ll like, I don’t end up enjoying very much and the toys I don’t expect to like, I do.  Or the toys I’ve loved for years suddenly don’t do it for me anymore, that my body and mind can change, that pleasure isn’t linear or orderly…it doesn’t obey any logic or mapping and what feels right to me one day might feel absolutely backwards the next.

Shelf all cleaned and reorganized.

I’m looking at my shelf and getting a little weepy now.  These toys have taught me a lot.  I cherish them.  Beyond pride, beyond memory…there’s a little bit of magic in each of them and I don’t think it’s something I’ll ever understand.  Maybe that’s what makes reviewing them so exciting.  Because who knows?  Two years from now, my body might be able to tolerate Aloe, and I might actually dig soft silicone.  These reviews aren’t just unique to us as individuals, but unique to our place and time in life.  It’s the futile but delicate attempt at grabbing a bit of eggshell through the yolk…always almost there but always slipping away.

Audre Lorde will always guide my spirit.

I think about Audre Lorde’s “Poetry is Not a Luxury,” and how she spoke of words, how “Possibility is neither forever not instant,” and yet there is always a validity in her phrase “it feels right to me.”  Each toy has its purpose, its opportunity to “feel right” for someone, as does each review.  Maybe a time in my life will come when things begin to holistically “feel right,” maybe not.  So for as disjointed and (perhaps inappropriately, to some) unsteady this blog post may seem, I think I’ll actually leave it as is, consciously unedited.  I suppose it just feels right to me.

…with your own understanding of what it means to suffer.

music, reflection, relationships, storytelling

I keep thinking in lyrics lately, sometimes verses that will play over and over in my head until I realize what their repetition means.  I think the universe has been trying to talk to me lately through the arts. I’ve been drawing all sorts of genitalia for more inclusivity in our Sex Ed Manual at Masakhane, doing puzzles with friends, sewing, discovering new music, redecorating…but I haven’t been writing. I cannot bring myself to write these days. I wish I could say I don’t know why, but I do.

I can think of so many reasons whirring about, sending me into a panicky malaise when it comes to approaching a blog post. From the ending of an intense semester to the ending of my most serious long-term relationship, I’ve been drained of all desire to speak, wax poetic, theorize…things that typically drive my posts. I’ve also all but completely lost my sex drive to the point where masturbation renders me to tears as I get so caught up in my thoughts and completely dissociate from my body. I find myself attracted to other people, but when it comes to wanting a sexual experience I cannot help but ache for my ex. Breakups, man.

I keep thinking, “Pick a toy, use it, review it, BOOM…content!” and then I also think “Don’t write if your heart’s not in it.” I’m not afraid of showing vulnerability in my work: it’s been one of my greatest strengths and weaknesses in all areas of my life. Those flickers of emotional nakedness where I worry whether I’ve said too much and if it will push people away. That balance, the social cues, the honesty with my fears and passions…they leave me constantly paranoid that people dislike me. And then when a breakup happens, especially a rough breakup, the paranoia seems justified and I just flail.

I oscillate from the need for self-love and reflection to complete isolation and loneliness. I’ll reach out to friends, family, familiar faces for validation and then come home to an empty bed, feeling sick. This weekend I decided to clean all the dust off of my dildo shelf…all the toys that hadn’t been used in months and are unlikely to be used anytime soon. I still don’t have the heart to throw away his Tengas. They’re just sitting in my closet in case I decide to “science” them. I had just bought him a new Fliphole in silver to replace his worn-through white one and I’m pretty sure he never even used it. Looking at my Tantus harness, I think about how excited we were to try it and now it just sits there hanging in wait.

As the moon wanes I want to bless these shelves, make them mine again, reaffirm what they mean to me…but I feel like there’s so much work to do in so many other facets of my life. Ideally my collection would be an arsenal of identity, but right now I feel lost. The least I could do was verbalize where I’m at right now for the sake of transparency. The anniversary of my blog’s creation is this month and I want to do something really special. But again, spoons. My love goes out to those reading this and those who aren’t. Comfort is something I took too much for granted during my almost 3 year relationship, and a redefinition is in due order.

 

Wishing comfort for everyone…
Avery