I have a lot in common with today’s guest blogger, Livia, namely that I fucking love sex tech and I really want to get my hands (and vagina) on a We-Vibe Sync. We chatted a while ago about app-controlled vibrators, and I told her if We-Vibe were up for giving her one, I’d be delighted to post her thoughts on it here. And I’d be doubly delighted if she could seamlessly entwine helpful-review-type-info with filthy-hot-sex-details. I hope you’ll agree she’s done a magnificent job.

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I like things that are new and different, and sex toys that do stuff I haven’t felt before. That doesn’t mean that all those sex toys will get me off: if I wanted a reliable, functional, powerful wank then I would never deviate from my Doxy. But I like sex toys that make me feel new things. The Queen Bee is one of those sex toys, and thanks to the fact that I work with the company, I got to play with an early version and then write about it before other people get their hands on one, so I am going to grasp this opportunity with… well, with one hand. The hand I am not currently using to hold the Queen Bee to my clit. Let us commence.

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The first sex toy I ever owned was a rabbit vibrator. I started getting sexual soon after Sex and the City had made rabbit vibrators cool, and my boyfriend bought me my first one in the days before you could properly shop on the internet. I’m sure I’m not the only person of my generation whose first sex toy experience involved running into Ann Summers, grabbing The One That Everyone Said Was The Best, and then rushing home to try it out.

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Sex toys for men: I love them, some people hate them, but every sex and relationships columnist has to have an opinion on them. And some of those opinions are bullshit. While I’ll often get very shouty about facts, very rarely would I tell someone that their opinion is bullshit, but in the case of male sex toys I am comfortable doing this. Because if you think that sex toys for men are somehow less acceptable than sex toys for anyone else, chances are you’re doing this based on either bad facts or an incomplete grasp of the benefits of sex toys. Not only are you catastrophically wrong, you’re also doing an entirely unnecessary harm.

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There are two threads to the story I want to tell today. The first thread is so obvious it feels almost trite to mention it: I want to tell you about a particularly brilliant g-spot dildo, which stimulates me in a way not many others do. The second thread is about being hand-fucked. Not ‘wanked off’, not ‘masturbated’: being hand-fucked. Sometimes I write fucking stories that are about speed or enthusiasm or energy. I’ll tell you that this or that fuck was intense, or fun, or orgasmic. This fuck, though? This fuck was thorough.

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