On the Fucking of a Malachite Dildo

My cousin – and bless the fellow outcasts of my family for being as weird and perverted as I am – shared this with me this morning. As with most sexual weirdness-tangentially related things, I immediately wanted to share it with you, dear readers.

tl;dr: A series of science reporters, everyday dildothusiasts, mineral lusters and a lone, shockingly thorough rogue biologist who knows enough to warn people that a flared base is necessary for butt play weigh in on a serendipitously-shaped malachite stalactite.

(original source is Tumblr, but this is where my cousin found it)


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1-900 Siri?


This just in: water is wet.

In a revelation shocking to no one except diehard under-rock dwellers, men have apparently been using the A.I. iPhone assistant Siri to engage in dirty talk. I suppose it’s a cheap form of entertainment, but it strikes me as an advanced (and expensive) version of putting in initials like A.S.S. or T.I.T. in arcade video game high scores some three decades ago. If you’re going to use your own mind to try and trick your libido into stimulation, why not just straight-up fantasize? Or, yanno, look up porn?

I shouldn’t be so quick to judge, I suppose. Maybe they’re holding out for a fake girlfriend like me.

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Schrodinger’s Romantic Partner

When is a girlfriend not a girlfriend? When she is actually a conglomeration of countless freelancers that exist, hive-like, to draw out the banal narration of a day’s worth of your texts. Ditto for boyfriend in this brave new world of ours, and it’s surprisingly easy to tapdance between purported genders when smalltalk is the order of the day.

What the hell am I talking about? The fact that I’m standing in as someone’s Canadian Girlfriend for the low, low price of a nickle. I am a transparent partner, bringing love, companionship and credibility to faux romances through crowdsourced texting conversations.


It’s gonna take a lot of sweet nothings to afford this goddamn coffee.

The internet has allowed us to live and love in ever-more-complex ways, from shelling out hard-earned money for fuckable feet sex toys…
A vagina AND a butt in the severed ankles! It’s 2016, baby!

…to courting individuals on super-niche dating sites catering to clowns, farmers and even fellow gluten-free dieters. But until recently, these all required either a physical connection or corresponding at least partially on someone else’s whims. Then someone had the bright idea of combining the conversational equivalent of a sex doll with the 4G coverage of Verizon and…voila…my part-time gig was born.

Not only does the website offer a Mad Libs-style (shoutout to 90s kids) fill-in-the-blanks relationship origin story, it provides this weirdly poignant canvas for a chorus of total strangers, all pretending to be your girlfriend or boyfriend, to wear like a coat as you project needs, desires and inadequacies onto them. Some users clearly use the algorithm suggestions to call up ho-hum backstories of running into one another at a party, or a coffeehouse, but some spin elaborate tales, dotted liberally with their personal preferences.


Just Text “SoulM8” to WISHUWERE

The saddest are the chaste flirtations with the (theoretical) members of the “same sex.” I am just as happy to be their interested how was your day, dear? styled text-lover as I would be for the “opposite sex” role, but some are clearly – and heart-breakingly – acting out a love they likely can’t explore beyond a smartphone. I’m willing to bet that closeted gays and bisexuals dominate the client roster here, as personal experience has always shown those to be the elaborate backstories that come with actual first and last names for my “character” to use, likely drawn from the actual object of their affections. Additionally, fetish-oriented tales come up often, from extremely specific impossibly-large-breasted clown porn to overbearing bosses that need to teach their client/employee a particularly sexy lesson.

I feel like this is a highway-wide stripe of grey area. Am I encouraging unhealthy behavior by “becoming” these named backstories that could be based on real people? Am I preventing someone from becoming their true selves by offering a same-sex “easy out” for their needs? Am I stunting someone’s emotional growth by being so agreeable and kind…because I’m paid to act that way? I couldn’t say. I don’t make much from working on this crowdsourced, texting expression of “fake” love in 2016, but I continue to do it for the right to peek in at the weird world of the heart-driven, tech-wired unconscious.

Could YOU be a “transparent partner”? Why or Why Not? Comment below!


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Dessert / Sex Toy Slashfic? Jello + Sex Toys + Slow Motion

I had to share this nifty video with you guys because it’s honestly a pretty intelligent way of conveying the feel of something you might not be able to touch, but may want to buy. Mashable put a bunch of waterproof vibrators into Jell-O molds to set, then let the plucky little guys free themselves.


Also, this happened and it made me laugh.


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The Fleshlight Vagina – In the…Flesh?

You’ve likely seen or experienced the vagina Fleshlight firsthand. It looks something like this:

Yep. That’s a vagina alright.

Fleshlights, once removed from their plastic casings ala a hermit crab seeking a new shell, are similar. The “front orifices” in many popular fleshlight models are famously molded off of adult film stars, but what of the original – the Pink Lady Fleshlight model?

Well, she exists and she’s gorgeous.

She’s so damn cheerful about the whole weird experience that it’s hard not to grin. Also, “wageena”. You’re adorbs, Eufrat – thank you for offering up your wageena to satisfy the masses. ❤

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Fellatio Had The Night Off…

Cheers to the woman who got hers onstage via oral sex at the Dead Kennedys Concert. There’s a whole lot of surprise (exhibitionist) fellatio in the world but not a whole lot of the other way around.

(This is assuming everything was cool and consensual, of course. There are conflicting reports on whether the servicer and servicee knew one another.)

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The Lovechild of a Sex Worker and a Vending Machine

Like many of China’s technological marvels, the sperm extractor is well-designed, efficient and aesthetically pleasing. Also, you can shove your cock in it.

Oh, and the height’s adjustable. Did I mention that?


(Am I the only one that thinks that “Sperm Extractor” sounds like a particularly sexy Lucha wrestler?)



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Vibration, Concentration, and Women Having Fun

Unfortunately, I practically need to be in a sensory deprivation chamber to get off. ToySir has an upper denture plate (car accident) and can take his teeth out for some ridiculously good oral sex and still – if the dog’s barking, my train derails. TV on? Forget about it – my transcription training kicks in and I start neatly arranging real-time words to correspond with that episode of Chopped. That’s why I marvel at women – beautiful, open-minded, exhibitionist women – that aren’t afraid to do some concentration-oriented things and attempt to (usually laughingly) retain composure. Here are a few of my favorites:

Aren’t their smiles beautiful? I’m so glad these ladies invited us to see them in a private moment – and most of all, that they all seemed to have fun with it!

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A Teensy, NSFW Reason to Smile

Perk up, Toychicks! It’s hump day. 🙂

A cute cartoon walking penis

“Don’t Mind Me” by Lizcakes, via DeviantArt

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Praying (Mantis)

So I’ve been furious.

Oddly enough it isn’t over any of the million things – women’s healthcare, proposition 1 in NC, the persistent belief that there’s only one right way to do things – that I could be angry about, it’s just an atomic level of frustration and irritation at the way things are going. I’ve gotten to near desk-flipping rage before 9 am consistently the past week, and everything from PDF contract file snafus to money issues have touched me off. Comfort food, meditation and even snuggling with my much-loved polydactyl boycat has failed to send these blues (reds?) away.

My husband’s also been hitting it on the regular, and I’m starting to wonder if that’s what’s bringing up these bouts of she-hulk-like rage. We have sex, I pass out for at least 2 hours, and I wake up like someone smacked me awake in the middle of the afternoon. Even the sex is angry, though I keep that under wraps so I don’t kill my awesome spouse. I have, however, left dents in the paneling and mussed up the sheets with my nails. I want to hurt things, even while I’m having amazing sex. I don’t get it, really – I tend to be very even tempered, if tilted toward easy annoyance, the vast majority of the time. This run of rage is very outside of normalcy for moi.

Part of me wonders if we’ve succeeded in creating ToyChicklet Mark 2, but the tests have dashed my hopes where that’s concerned.

Has anyone else ever experienced unsourced fury of this variety?