This is the first product I’m reviewing for Babeland and I feared, a true perfectionist, that I wouldn’t know what to write or what to say as I cast my sex-toy- review virginity out the window. Luckily, there’s a lot to say about the Isis, even if it may well be the smallest vibrator you’ve ever laid eyes on. I decided to review this vibrator because I’ve seen similar over-the-finger style vibrators before and have always been curious about them, but more in a novelty way than anything else. In short, I’ve always doubted their ability to get me off. I blame this initial doubt on my early lesbian years. A time when I had a lot of awkward girl-on-girl sex with first-timers. To say the least, there was a lot of one-finger probing, pushing, and pulsing that got me nowhere except for frustrated and, sometimes, sore. Years later, obviously still scarred from these experiences, one-fingered anything piques my curiosity, but more in the “How can that work?!” kind of way.
I’ll put all my cards out on the table right away: the Isis, as I suspected, didn’t get me off. It got me about halfway there and then I realized my mind was debating whether or not to reach for my tried and true, no-frills vibrator or abandon ship altogether and go watch Jeopardy. The reason for this is because with only one speed, it was too much intensity for starting off and then too little as I got more and more warmed up thinking about a handsome butch and a NYC, New Years Eve rendez-vous (stories to come later, readers!). I will say, in defense of Isis’ somewhat lackluster performance, I am a person who requires a good deal of pressure on her clit if the aim is for me to orgasm. Isis, in that case, might be better suited for those who require less intensity or who are very sensitive. I also imagine that combined with vaginal stimulation of your choice, it might be a nice added touch. Especially for twosomes, threesomes, and thensomes.
Aside from the crucial point that Isis did not manage to make me wake the neighbors, there are still a number of really good things to say about it. For one, it is so incredibly small and discreet; it measures in at only 2.5″ total and can easily be tucked into a purse or pocket. It’s also relatively quiet. Throw a comforter over yourself and the only one who will know what’s going on is you. In fact, first-time, college lesbians who are fans of the aforementioned one-finger stimulation? This is a toy you could easily use on your girlfriend when her roommate is passed out on the other side of their dorm room fast asleep after Friday Night’s Dyke Row frat party. She’ll never hear a thing. Just saying.
All kidding aside though, the thing that most impressed me about the Isis is that it is a really quality toy. It’s made by Emotional Bliss, a U.K.-based sex toy company and it is obvious, from the moment you open the box that arrives from Babeland, that you’ve purchased something that is truly well-made and well-crafted. It’s smooth, sturdy, and the pieces that fit over your fingers, that come in three sizes, are made of strong plastic. No part of this toy is flimsy. It comes charged and ready with an A/C adapter that is equipped to run with both U.S. and European electrical adapters, a U.S. adapter for a standard two-prong outlet, two 1-oz bottles each of Emotional Bliss water based and silicon based lube (which is also really nice; not sticky or gummy at all), and a glossy 30-page catalog of their products that includes a personal note from the co-founder and ideas for “Setting the Scene”. Emotional Bliss seems to be a pretty pro-woman, feminist kind of company, too; their tag line is “Every woman has the right to experience sexual happiness in their lives!” This enthusiastic message, while feminist is, of course, very far from gender neutral or all-gender inclusive, but it’s also a far cry from a friend’s new dildo I saw just last week (purchased from some grimey, roadside sex toy shop) that came in a box covered in scantily-clad cartoon girls with word bubbles above their heads that were drawn shaped to look like blobs of jizz. Fail.
Overall, the Isis was a disappointment for what it did not deliver physically and for the fact that it managed to further bolster my fear of one-fingered stimulation encounters. That being said, however, it really impressed me in terms quality and craftsmanship; two things the sex toy world could use more of.
Also, did I mention you get 2 free oz. of really nice quality lube with the Isis?! Call me easily impressed. I’m new at this.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: fucking, love, lust, memory, sex, writing
you are quiet like cedar forests when you fuck me. the noises that permeate my bedroom walls and travel down hallways are only my own. low moans and gasps when you press into me with all your weight behind you. the creaking and snapping of my bones like branches when you turn me onto my hands and knees and pull me onto you.
i was thinking of the last time you had me. your mouth covered my body in ripples and skipped like stones over the slight raise of my ribs. you were hasty with kisses, blatant in your want to have your hands and mouth at the core of me, but i resisted. redirected your mouth to my own. slowed it down. made you feel me feel you and the width of your shoulders, the strength that radiates from your muscles there, the heat. and the only sound was of me whispering aloud, “baby, baby, baby…”
i remember when i released your body, hard and fervent, to find its way into mine, you broke the silence then. a grunt of satisfaction. arrogance somewhat. of delighted disbelief at the honeyed smoothness with which four of your fingers could slide up into me with such ease. i turned my face from you to hide my smile and breathed in the scent of us from my pillowcase – woodsmoke and clovers.
Filed under: butches, dreams, fucking, lust, sex | Tags: butches, crush, dreams, fucking, lust, sex, writing
with a stinging on the outer curve of my right shoulder, i awoke to the burn of your teeth planted firmly in my soft, languid, waking skin. a dull, lingering ache lay atop the left one, too – the place where your teeth had sunk into my flesh moments prior.
with your teeth gnashed against my bones and their freckled sheathing of epidermis, your body moved against mine, for the first time, fast enough and hard enough to make your knees buckle to the point where holding yourself upright required you to hinge the solid, smooth enamel of your incisors into the give of my skin. this is the yielding of me to you.
alone in my bed, pillows damp with their cases wrinkled and askew, i open my eyes remembering what it felt like in that dreamland to have your fingers three deep inside of me while your teeth fought deliberately at breaking skin, at breaking me.
the visceral early morning memories of you: the sweat gathered around my hairline and the slickness of wanting between my thighs, serve as daily guilt-stricken reminders of how she got to you first.
Filed under: exes, fucking, love, lust, memory, sex | Tags: butches, dynamic, exes, femmes, fucking, love, lust, memory, sex, writing
friday night i’m with you and you’re fucking me in ways that make my stomach first and my heart second, feel like they are being pulled down from their place high up in my body cavity, out between my thighs. every time there is the slightest retreat in your touch or in your thrust my body tenses with the fear that you will stop and break this chain you’ve created that links all of my important organs – brain, heart, gut, cunt – with all of yours – brain, heart, gut, cunt, fist.
we’ve been fighting for weeks now over stupid shit because you can’t recognize what love and care looks like. or maybe you’ve just got an unquenchable thirst for it; for playing games, for mindfucking. you’re losing me now and you know it. this is irreparable. you’ve waited too long without giving me much. you’ve waited too long to fuck me heart-to-heart like this.
and, for a second, i think i have it figured out. i think that i’ve wound up on top in all of this because i’m realizing these things even while my whole body is beating around the hand you still have inside of me. but i can’t see that you’re also thinking beyond the fucking and the grunting right now too. you’re not processing shit the way my sweaty, little head is doing while mashed against my pillows and headboard. no, you’re still trying to figure out your next move in this long drawn out game of “who do you love?”
then you do what i fear most, but what i least expect – you pull your hand from me quick and cruel, causing me to gasp at the contrast of going from full to empty in less than a second. i hear conceit, a tonal snicker to your words, as you throw yourself down next to me and say low, a threat for my ears only, “i wanted you to feel me leave you.”