Don’t buy it! 2017 summer special – Part 1
My most faithful readers know that among my questionable habits there also is that of saving in a special folder the links to the most bewildering sex toys I encounter in my study of unusual sexualities. When there is enough of them I then share the horror in a series of articles named after the folder: Don’t buy it!
This time the selection contains over thirty thingamajigs from all over the world – plus a final bonus that’s even supernatural. All of them guarantee permanent psycho-sexual traumas and the certainty of getting instantly dumped by any partner you show them to, but above all they suggest a question.
I mean: producing any object has costs. You have to design it, make casts, find the materials, prototype it, patent it, deal with a factory to have it manufactured, invest in packaging design, devote time to set up a distribution network, take care of logistics, marketing and more. So, this being the situation, who the hell is the lunatic who puts themselves so much into producing stuff like the items I am about to show you?
Oh well, I guess some questions are meant to remain a mystery forever. Instead of hurting our brains over these ontological doubts, let’s start with the first part of our sex shop horrors assortment instead…
A fascinating characteristic of the sex toys industry is its obsession for reproducing anatomical parts which are already comfortably available on any averagely intact body. The packaging of this tongue to be puppeteered with your finger claims that the point is ‘to be able to keep licking when your tongue is tired’. If they say so. The raised little heart is a nice touch, however.
That’s not a typo: the capitalized ‘O’ is supposed to be a classy reference to the awesome orgasms this item would be meant to give… as soon as you stop sneering at the sight of someone coming into bed with a pair of vibrating mustaches, of course.
Those who actually tried them say they tend to impede nose breathing (the mouth should be otherwise busy), that they are especially uncomfortable when they set your chopper’s gums into resonance and – just for completion – they are highly flammable.
Juliana breast +
I don’t want to sound too localist here, but whenever a sex toy is only sold in Swiss sex shops I kinda take it as a warning. Turns out that Mrs. Juliana is more or less the summarization of a woman according to Donald Trump, but you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover! In fact, hidden within the thermoplastic rubber boobs there are two… er… vibro-rotating beady blender-like things, apparently. They are supposed to massage whichever appendage you choose to penetrate the bust with – entering from the sternum. Oh, come on: no, that’s really beyond appreciation.
Why discriminate against necrophiles and Walking dead fans? As the picture plainly show (sorry, I couldn’t find any tamer ones), there also is someone who thought of creating the official rubber dong for zombies, adequately half-putrified and flesh-stripped and yet a splendid promoter for rigor mortis. In the case you feel thrilled by it, you’ll be glad to learn that there are also revenant mouths and vaginas – not to mention further versions inspired by the Frankenstein monster and other horror creatures.
Mr. Marcus London is a British porn actor famous for his skill in making his screen partners squirt. The fact that the latter is almost always his wife Devon Lee, who in her solo videos easily squirts almost without even touching herself anyway, should give some food for thoughts and yet London monetized his Skene’s glands manipulator’s fame with this techno-watch for spurting champions.
The device contains speed and acceleration sensors, and must be worn on the arm you are using to penetrate the lady. The concept is that the gizmo will analyze your movements and suggest how to proceed via a series of red, yellow and green colored lights – a bit like a traffic light. If you are getting interested, please keep in mind that Marcus himself says it is «more of a party trick than anything else» and that the reviews give wildly differing opinions on its efficacy. Oh, and it doesn’t even show the time.
Once upon a time, when parents didn’t treat their children like they were made of rice paper and let them play outside, it was rather common to see hopper balls, or whatever they were called in your area. The principle was to sit on them, hold the large handle and happily bounce away… two or three times, until you flipped over into a ditch filled with fragmented glass, onto extra-sharp gravel or straight teeth-to-ground down, procuring yourself a multiple cranial concussion. What can I say? We were easily entertained.
Or more easily than with this lewd reimagining of that toy, which just like its ancestor looks a lot of fun until you consider the effect of a dildo bouncing full-speed against your cervix or sigmoid colon. After which you flip over like you did as a kid.
My true fans will remember how we had already met something similar to this disembodied head. In that case too the manufacturer inexplicably suggested to attach it to your shower tiling, a bit like The Ring’s Samara coming out of the fucking walls. Besides now being a blonde, this new version introduces a variation: the whole head is hollow and works pretty much like a hot water bottle, cork included. You basically fill it with not-too-scalding liquid, then you go for a thermo-enabled choker. The trick lies just in not getting distracted by the slightly terrifying expression of the girl…
I found this charming item directly on its manufacturer’s website, which doesn’t give the retail price for it. That’s a pity, for I am sure people would have gone all iPhone on it and queue outside the stores just to be able to buy this penis sleeve allowing to transform any mundane erection in a sort of tunnel boring machine.
If you are wondering what the hell went to the designer’s brain, I invite you to read the explanation kindly offered by the company who makes such a horror: ‘for those who wish for unique and exciting fun; for those who ejaculate too fast; for those who are lack of confidence because of the size; for those who feel trouble to go to the hospital’. There you are, mystery solved. Kinda.
Let’s go back to the land of Japan, where everyone goes crazy for onaholes, that is soft rubber blocks with a more or less evocative shape on the outside and a rigged-ribbed hole on the inside where to slide you chinko in as you imagine to be the protagonist of one of those cartoons full of tentacles and giant-eyed little girls. This one in particular represents a futanari, meaning a female-breasted creature sporting male genitals – a relatively normal thing so far. But then you look a little closer at the packaging illustration, down in the lower left corner, and you find that the idea would be to penetrate this microdoll… in the urethra. Silly me for not having immediately thought of that.
Let’s make an experiment. Please go to the official Heeldo website and tell me if it doesn’t look impressive at first sight. If however you wait until the end of the first panoramic porno shot you will notice that the point is to sell a strap-on harness… to be affixed to your heels, thanks to fancy straps that remind me of those I had to wear when I sprained my ankle while rollerblading. Straps that in my case, truth to be told, were not available in fluorescent pink and leopard animalier print too.
Let’s analyze however the banal issue of the angles involved in using this object: am I wrong, or it looks like it has a dangerous tendency to make the dildos go in a slightly different place from that presumably intended by its designers?
Let’s end the first part of our journey with the purest symbol of sexual misery: the Sure Fuck cologne. Now: please concentrate and picture the kind of man who can buy such a thing – and seriously convinced that it will be the magic potion that will allow him to finally fuck. Aw.
Let’s quit here for the moment. See you in a few days with the second part, where I promise to show you the fellow we were just talking about.