You Won’t Guess How I Use A Magic Wand…

Yes I photographed my new magic wand on a friend's patioI just ordered not one but two Magic Wands, the workhorse dependable of the sex toy set, one for me and one for a friend. There’s some standards you get used to, the rabbit (really not very trendy anymore), the Aneros, a bullet vibe, a vibrating cock ring, the CB(whatevernumber)000 in all its ugly clear plastic glory. But, if I could only have one famous sex toy it would be the Magic “stop calling it a Hitachi” Wand. The Magic Wand is just so standard it would be hard to have modern sex and not be aware it exists.

In makeup, they make a big deal about products that get branded “holy grail” or “ride or die” or whatever hyperbolic nonesense you want. The video game version is calling things iconic. Sex toy review haven’t as obviously come up with a cliche for that (although the intelligent snark in the blog genre is well worth a read, I’ve scattered the end of the post with a few who’s whos and invite you to share your favourite reviewer in the comments). In the sea of items that humans have created to get off with, The Magic Wand just is. It’s a platonic ideal of a sex toy, so standard and effective that even porn uses them with a more casual attitude than lube.

But after all that puffery: They don’t really work for me as a sex thing, but I use them happily with partners. I could skip them in the bedroom.

So, let’s review this supposed miracle of plastic and wire!

Allegedly the vibrator is one of the oldest patented electric appliances, which is unsurprising. The tech is simple, an electric motor and a mechanism to transmit the vibrations. A washing machine would give you that effect unintentionally.  Although I tried a washing machine and alas, no dice, although I have good things to say about the right shape of a chair and the seam of a pair of jeans, albeit only vaguely pleasant. But I digress…

The Magic Wand is ugly. White that can eventually age a bit, with a big chunky control switch and meaty head, if it didn’t have such a legacy as a sex toy, it would look just like the vintage wellness appliance it was created to be. Hitachi’s little embarrassment, its popularity is such that they have a love/hate relationship with their product. On the one hand, incredibly profitable, on the other hand, even to this day Hitachi is synonymous with vibrator the way that Kleenex is with facial tissue. Since people are understandably shy about sexuality, wanting both money and anonymity, their subsidiary Vibratex took over.

Aficionados tell me the Magic Wand got a slight change for the better during this period, more strength, with a lighter body. These improvements are welcomed, but are about the only updates it has received since its debut in 1968. There are great grandmothers (and great grandfathers) extant who got a good buzz out of this toy, but it generally is considered to sit at perfection.

Instead the market is full of knock off and imitations of the design. Most of these are disappointments, except for augmentations like the “Doxy”, which simply blows its muse out of the water for pure power, and is the pounding vibration favourite of many. But if you don’t have almost a hundred or so extra dollars to throw on the earthshaker version, you can get the Original Magic Wand for about $60 US.

Everybody has heard of a Magic Wand, reviewing it feels almost redundant.

The Magic Wand is so common, if you want, you can buy special nubby hats that go on the meaty bit, from a wide bunch of manufacturers. I wouldn’t bother, the Magic Wand’s main strength is that it turns virtually anything else into a vibe, from his thigh (straddle!) to the butt plug you have poked into him just so.

For me, the biggest payoff of having a Magic Wand around is using them on other people. Whether causing a friend to have her eyes roll like a slot machine, or taking a handjob up to the next level, it’s a sensory play toy for anyone with nerve endings.

If you are going to share it, the plastic head of the Magic Wand is probably one of the draw backs- it’s not going to give you cancer, but not only does it yellow a bit over time and take smudges (the worse being when I used one to vibe a steal cock cage- lesson learned, although the guy came because cock cages are not very effective. Put a large sized condom on it and laugh at how silly it looks. Phhhppppplllllttttt!

I, alas, can’t get off from vibrations. An up/down motion does it for me with very firm grinding, so while I have used them as a sexual enhancement, alas I remain bitterly jealous of all the cooing women who touch it to their clits and BLAM, orgasm. All I get is sensation, followed by numbness.

On other people. >:)

The place this toy shone for me is discovering how much of a cheat code it was with partners. Lube up his dick, cup in in your hand and rub it up and down the shaft. Boom, ropes of milky come everywhere. At a play party? Press it to her crotch through her panties and have a couple of friends hold her arms. Whee!

Is use on penis having people is a dearly neglected part of the value of the toy, so if you are into teasing and getting guys off as part of your femdom, and it hasn’t occurred to you, try bringing it out of the toy box to try on his squirmy, bound body.  Degender your sex toys.

Then, when you’re done, swab it down with a bleach wipe like it’s a piece of gym equipment. It sure looks ugly, but boy does is do the job it is supposed to (on most people). Heck, be a sex party hero and throw and extension cord into your bag.

I use the Magic Wand for its original intended purpose…

I hate to be NLOB (not like other bloggers) but this guy will never, ever be my own personal orgasm factory. Despite this, I had to get it.

I get migraines about monthly, biweekly if I am not taking good care of myself. They range from merely obnoxious, giving me days of fuzzy headedness, to accute, evening long sessions of screaming pain where I end up in the bathroom completely helpless. Over a lifetime of dealing with them I’ve learned tricks- advil or muscle relaxants at the first symptoms, dark rooms, gentle exercise if they go into a lull. All this is blissfully complimented by jamming a Magic Wand against the sinus under my eye and letting it buzz the pain right out of me.

Which I guess is part of the challenge with sex writing, as it’s so damn personal. In a world of gspot orgasms and squirting and people who like being rope bunnies, there’s so much yum that feels ubiquitous but when you look up close is a lot more custom to the person.

I will probably never get off from vibrations alone, my tiny clit doesn’t like that kind of lovin’.  But I think, as this blog suggests, that my approach to my sexuality will be as unorthodox as it is honest, that there is no one wrong way to do it and not having a migraine is well worth the sticker price.

Yeah there’s an affiliate link here. Yes, I tried and tested the product in question. I like it so much that I bought it.

Here’s a list of bloggers who are better at talking about sex toys than me:

First Month In Vancouver

Meanwhile in Vancouver. The weather is perfect, days of clear sun or misting rain while the east coast gets hammered in snow. I fight off either a tail of a head cold or pollen allergies and try to be good about job hunting on a borrowed couch. I research about wrestling holds for a story commission, chasing my muse to corner it. This is important. I can barely write lately, stringing words together is a chore, but I’m making myself sit still and type this as a warm up.

Weekends I steal away to screw myself silly, passport in hand, jumping on the dick of an American. He looks at me wistfully and checks if all he is to me is sex.  No, but it sure helps, as I have a cunt-hunger that I try to respect. Fuck me. I told him that, fuck me properly and the rest would work itself out.

He’s cute and funny and handsome, and I like playing pretend with him. I also want him between my legs, slim hips driving piston style. I want what I want, and Brick does it.  Trophy boyfriend, handsome enough random girls ask to snap a picture of him with them.

The condo where I am staying has a little gym in the basement (it also has a sauna) and as my breathing lets me (damn cold/pollen) I’ve started awakening myself from the uncomfortable slumber of my limbs.  My body is less than thrilled to be roused, like all living things it prefers to conserve calories.  That’s my goal for 2018, to take opportunities when they are offered- as long as there’s a free treadmill in the basement there’s no excuse not to go.

My limbs are now unhappy at the joints, but my brain is clearer. Up here the air tastes clean and sweet and when I crest a hill, suddenly radiant grey-glow mountains, luminous and white capped. It feels silly, like someone put a matter painting up on a set. Eventually I will need to get closer ot one of those and prove it is real.

I have a reasonable level of stress for a person who has upended their life, but not so much that I feel rash. A little overwhelmed and concerned I could push myself harder, as well as grumpy at losing days to sleepiness (yesterday demanded and extra 2 hour nap out of nowhere) but also immensely happy to be having an adventure.

On fetlife I poke at the kink scene, but I haven’t yet had the free time to make it worth looking into.

#EuphOff2018: The Semi-Moist Treat Stick Edition

In which I enter a bad sex competition. Wish me luck as I try to pack the most cringes into a sub 500 word story, in my chosen genre.

Worst Intentional Femdom Story of 2018!


She was not like other dommes. Of course she charged hundreds of dollars to provide intimate and erotic control, accepting the gift of cash as a part of the sacred gift of submission. But she was a nice normal girl who was only doing it to pay her way through college. Not like that competitive jerk who was her age but much more unhinged and also working at the dungeon.

Mama Mistress had mentored and trained her, and matched her with the hunky Mediterranean millionaire she was now training. He was a captain of industry who needed to let go, that’s why he paid thousands of dollars an hour to have a stunningly (conventionally) attractive woman play out his exact and detailed fantasy.

“Oh, Mistress,” he moaned. “Only you know how to get inside my head and know how fragile submissives are.”

“That’s right, mon cherie,” she injected, her french accent thick on her tongue and as natural as that yellow scurf that adults who don’t drink enough water get. “Give yourself to me wholy. Open your heart and soul as you have opened the cleft of your tushy”

Of course because she was not like other dominas she wore white leather, her angel hair a halo around her head like her crimson lipstick on her lips, mimicking the lurid red of the buttholes she stuffed to only pay the bills, and not because she liked it. She had a little brother she was supporting. Her mother had died while she was in college. It was the only way.

She would show up that competitive jerk in a whip off on stage tonight, which would prove who was the best dominatrix, but first she must drive Shlmo Abdel Nour deep into subspace. Only the strongest, European house trained d0minants could unlock a submissive’s true potential.

Shlmo looked over his shoulder at her, ass open to receive the full girth of her turgid buckle falsie, needing only the slightest touch of spit from his mouth to fit. So deep was he in submission already that this sacred rite had made him have a ruined orgasm. His body was smooth with a special cream that not only perfectly depilated him, but made the hair never return and also made him more sensitive and lusty, like a goat that had been raised in Plato’s dark shadow cave, only to be finally released to an Elysian field of real live nanny goats.

She lingered for a moment behind him, semi-moist treat stick held steady in her hand before she began to slowly plunder his crevice-swirl.

“Ah! Ma pet! Ma Cher!”

The squelching of his eager yielding sucked all eighteen inches deep inside him. She could feel the thrusting deep inside her clit as she drove him to a crescendo of ecstasy. But something was different. Their connection transported them to a world of pure submission based simultaneous orgasms.

With a noise not unlike the Tardis sound effects being played in reverse, she collapsed on top of him, utterly spent.


Writing intentionally badly is an art form in and of itself. OtherLivvy has carried on the annual tradition of the #EuphOff and you have until March 30th, 2018 to get your contribution in.