Category: Fapping

May 24th, 2018 by admin

male strokerIf you want to get the most out of your masturbation toy you need to know how to use it. These are the masturbation toy tips you need.

How to get the most out of your masturbation toy

Want to really have a lot of fun using your masturbation toy? The first thing you need to do is make sure that you have the right lube. Don’t even try using household products. I know one guy that thought it would be a good idea to use conditioner. The lubrication isn’t how it should be. While it works it just doesn’t allow you to experience the toy the way it was meant to.

In order to find the right lubricant for your masturbation toy check the instructions that come with the product. There are some toys that will only work properly with water based lubricants. Others need oil based lubricants. You want to make sure that you are using the right one. My absolute favorite is the ID glide lube. I like using it because it feels a lot like pussy juice, which is the best lubricant in the world. It is thin, but thick and sticky at the same time. It’s tough to explain, but if you try it you will see.

The next thing you need to know about using your masturbation toy is that you should match up your use with a good porno. I own a fleshlight from the fleshlight girls series. I actually own three, one for the mouth, pussy, and ass. I have a great time working through the scene by switching from one toy to the next based on what I see on the screen. That makes it feel a lot better, because it gives me the feeling that I am going through the experience myself.

There are a lot of other ways to get the most out of your masturbation toy. One thing that I like to do is to use a prostate stimulator, because the resulting orgasm is so much more intense. I know that a lot of guys won’t think about giving this a try, but the few of you who do are going to be super glad that you did. Just get over yourself and realize that it’s not gay to have an amazing orgasm. Then you can have a ton of fun.

When it comes down to it, though, you are the one who determines how you have the most fun with your masturbation toy. When you learn to use it in the way that you like the best you will enjoy it that much more. Make sure you take the time to experiment by buying different lubes and using it in different ways. Put your fleshlight between the mattress and box spring and fuck it doggy style. Why not!? This is all for you.

More male stroker reviews at

Posted in Fapping

August 29th, 2016 by admin
Loving couple holdind on the hands and sunset

Loving couple holdind on the hands and sunset

The first time was a mistake. I swear it. I was young and foolish and I tell myself I didn’t know and didn’t mean it. But he was young and hard and lean and so afraid, dying at the rate of inches or feet per day. You could see the sickening pallor advancing across that beautiful face, his eyes deep and endless in pain and that afternoon fevers took him, his muscles taut and stretched in agony and he called her name over and over but the bitch had already left him, turned away like he was an overripe fruit, an over used thing, or maybe she just couldn’t handle his pain anymore, but he needed her and I was there.

Not like I thought it would be so easy—I accepted everything that could go wrong, irate family members, lawsuits, offspring, being fired—but I was there to give comfort, to help belay fear and prepare the way. I took his hands and guided them to my breasts as I swung my leg over his and straddled him and let him call me Lisa.

A long time after I’d watched him soar and fly and explore I saw him land, and his face, for a change, wore peace. The pain never seemed as bad after that and he lived for three more months, almost pleasant months. Lisa came back in the end, contrite and humbled, and he had it in his heart to forgive her. He never knew she wasn’t the one who had given him comfort, and I never told as I saw him on his way.

He was the first, a beautiful young man, young, as I was at the time, so determined to live and so doomed.

Hospice House is a way station. It’s a place between places and it is not truly of this world. Most people don’t see it that way. For families it is a place of bereavement, a continuation of the process they’ve been fighting endlessly, or at least so it seems. To families and their loved ones who come here—the travelers—it is a place of last resort, and a last place, but it is only another step in the journey.

They call me a care giver. I call myself a guide.


My boss, the indefatigable Meg. Megan, really, but we call her Nutmeg to annoy. Hospice House is a strange and surreal place to work, and we do what we can to get through the days, often as not in honor of those who do not get through the days. It is not a sad place, really. There is often more life here than there is in other places, but it is a frantic, fast burning life, an orchid rather than a hearty rose, something quick and precious.


“Yes, Meg?”

Quiet voices. I am sitting beside Mrs. Petersen for no very good reason. I was reading to her from Dickens when she fell asleep and she is resting easily enough I do not believe she has long. She is peaceful today; perhaps I was only sitting here for that.

Meg holds out her hand and I mark the page in Dickens and slip the book onto her night stand in case she wakes. Meg puts her arm around me and leads me into the hall.

It was in the weeks after the first time that I learned my actions had not gone unobserved. Another young man had come to Hospice House, ravaged, dying, pale and plain and left alone, his family preceded him and his fear was hot and angry.

“Why are you here?” he asked me angrily the first afternoon when I went to see him. Under the fury the fear coiled.
I shrugged at him, careless and unconcerned. “Why are you?”

He looked at me as if I were an idiot. “Because I’m dying.” As if it would shock me. As if I would back away in confusion.

“And that is why I’m here,” I said. “I work with the dying. You’re at Hospice House, do you know that?”

He looked at me with disgust. “I’m dying,” he said. “I’m not stupid.” He turned and faced the wall and I waited but he beat me that day, kept his head turned for so long the shadows grew deep and at last he slept and I pulled away. But the next day’s pain led him to accept the drugs I brought, and as his strength failed he grudgingly allowed me to bathe him. He was a plain man, with light hair and dark eyes but a beautiful body, alive and wanting and savaged by disease, by pain and need. There came a day when the loneliness fed him and the fear, and the anger fell away. When I came in the afternoon he asked for a neck rub, nothing else, but he had never asked for anything before. I had never before touched him that way, only with comfort, professionally given, to bathe or feed or give drugs. Today my hands were free to linger, to make contact. Neck and traps and shoulders, the muscles and tendons that lead up to the lizard brain and that tighten so hard in response to fear and pain and oncoming loss.

He talked while I worked on him and I understood his anger. He was a quiet man, had never expected much, but what he’d been given seemed unfair. His wife had died in a car accident a year earlier, his parents preceded him, dying of old age and indecision from the sound of it, and his sister lived on the opposite coast with an abusive husband she was too afraid to cross to come out and see her brother. She called often but the conversations were one sided, sounded more like his attempts to placate her guilt at not coming to him as they did about her comforting him.

I molded his muscles to fit my hands, warmed flesh the fevers had left icy. Traps smoothed down to broad, capped shoulders, lats led from a wingspread down to a tight waist and the Christmas tree muscles at the base of the spine were fine and tight, corded muscle on either side of the spinal column. I dug my fingers in and he groaned against me, I smoothed my palms over and outward and he sighed. I worked down again, following his spine, shifted until I was straddling his legs and kneaded his fine, tight ass. Muscle tight and hard and he stilled and stiffened for a moment, then went slack, a sigh of pleasure but I could see his eyes still open and questions forming there.

I rose up, kneeling, and urged him gently to turn, began to work traps and shoulders from the front but his hands came up to my waist and his eyes met mine. I smiled and leaned down, allowed him to decide. He didn’t hesitate, but leaned up and his lips met mine, a sweet long kiss. My hands worked down his belly, flat, hard, six-pack abs but when I worked lower he was already hard against me, wet with a drop of excitement at the tip of his cock. My hands kneaded briefly and he arched and watched me and his hands held tight to my waist as if he could not let go.

I slid my dress up, just a frock, almost no one here wears medical, the people who come here are tired of it, and I no longer wore much of anything underneath, it just got in the way. A fumble with a bit of latex and the fever in his eyes was not illness. He sank into me hard, thrust upwards as if he wanted to split me in two, but it was need, not anger, and his energy couldn’t last that way. We fell to a slower rhythm, both of us moving gently in the afternoon shadows and when his hands finally came away from my waist, it was only to take my hands in his, our fingers woven together as we strained against each other and slowly I saw him begin to see it: the path, the shining path that leads onward, the flowers, the trees, deserts and lakes and all of that could be nothing more than eidetic memory but not the feeling, not the rush of anticipation rather than dread, the Christmas morning anticipation, held breath and the freedom to want and the excitement of new, the promise of different, of days out of time, a place that is not a place, a time that is not a time, between the worlds and beyond—a feeling of a sandy beach on the Pacific, golden sunlight and the tide and nowhere to be or a time to be there but the feeling deep inside that when you do go the time will be right and the place will be perfect.

The sounds are of wind, or purring, or contented children or quiet Sunday afternoons.

The smell is fresh, of wind, of rain.

The feeling is not peace. The feeling is imminent. The feeling is excitement. The feeling is impatience, is now.

He came with his head thrown back and his mouth open as if in a silent yell or perhaps in surprise, but even in his own pleasure his hands moved, one thumb finding my clit so I tumbled over with him and trembled and lay across his body, one hand on his chest where his heart thumped hard and certain, one of his hands playing idly with my hair. He did not sleep and his face did not look peaceful, rather determined and angry in the way of someone stuck at a red light on an over-booked day.

The French call it the Little Death—a mystery presupposing the mystery to come. I cannot accompany them on the actual journey. But I can give them a map, and company at the start.

At last he stirred and kissed my hair and whispered thank you. And later I heard him calling his sister and he said “I don’t care” many times to whatever foolish excuses she had made and by the end of that week he had checked himself out of Hospice House and was gone.

I heard he lived, past all expectation of such a thing, he beat his illness and he lived.

I am a guide. I have no preconceived notions as to which direction I should lead those trusted to me. But I was glad for him.

In the hallway Meg tells me about the new patient. His name, his illness, his condition. He was alert and aware, Nutmeg said, and had a long time to go most likely.

“Then why?” I asked. To keep him company, yes, to give assistance and aid. But that was not what Meg was asking and it was early in the game for such measures and I was so tired. Every day for the last month it seemed, dragging myself out of bed and working in a trance until it was at last time to go home and sleep again.

Meg’s face was quizzical and owlish and she kept touching my arm as she spoke. She seemed truly not to know why she wanted me to go to him now, only that she did.

Something in her eyes bothered me, a look I’d seen on many family members as they tried not to know what they already knew and I pulled away from her and went to see for myself.

He was sitting up when I got there, at the window of the little nun’s cell of a room, and sunlight lit his hair almost like a halo. I blinked, and the illusion was gone and he turned to greet me.

“I thought they’d left me all alone in this place,” he said and smiled to take any sting out of the words. “Please, sit. For some of us, talking is akin to living.” And he gestured at the other chair in the sun and I sank, having no response to his statement, only suddenly blindingly exhausted again. “Would you like some tea?” he asked, and produced a jar of sun tea and a couple glasses like a magician doing a hat trick and I watched while my heart thudded uncertainly and accepted the tea. We talked of little things, then—the business he ran, the wife he loved, the children he’d raised and set free on their own.

Why am I here? I thought. To be sent by Megan as if he were one of the ones, as if he needed a guide when I could feel nothing from him that said he did. Whatever ill he had, he’d almost certainly beat it. He wasn’t scared or sad and hadn’t lost everything or anyone, and while this was my job—my job and my love and my life and my career- this was not My Job and I did not understand.

We talked while the afternoon waned and the sun beat harder on his southwestern wall and the room grew warmer. He opened the window and the air smelled wonderful, fresh and clean and like late summer; the bird song was clear and sharp. When I finished another glass of tea and glanced at the clock and thought I should go, he stood and moved behind my chair—and really they were the most frightfully uncomfortable chairs on a tired body—and his hands came soft on my shoulders. I leaned back into the embrace, into the massage of sure fingers that stroked away the exhaustion and kneaded and smoothed and worked their way downward and I leaned forward so he could reach my lower lats and he said, “You might be more comfortable on the bed.”

Sunlight on the bed, golden glow I closed my eyes against and the heat of it on my hips and thighs and lower back and the feeling of him working my shoulders, kneading my spine, dip to the bed when he brought one knee across my hips but nothing in me fought, nothing said No or Move or Please or More, just that building excitement, like a surprise you know is coming, something to open and explore, like Halloween night when the full moon lights the wicked trees and a fast eager breeze sweeps crackled leaves in ominous, tempting circles of fury and electricity.
That Christmas morning feeling.

My clothes had shifted. His had gone. Had I slept? I’d never noticed. But I lay face up and he lay against me and slid his length inside, the whole of him thick and hard and moving inside me and I felt anticipation and joy and smelled the wind and tasted ocean spray against my lips. I smiled even as I knew, even as I wrapped heavy tired arms around his waist and pulled him to me and he whispered, “I’ll be there for you when the time comes,” and I felt my face go soft with peace.

Posted in Fapping

Sliquid Swirl Green Apple
November 11th, 2014 by admin

Sliquid Swirl Green Apple is a flavored, water-based lubricant available at EdenFantasys that is intended to make oral a sweet treat, without completely taking over the experience. I love Granny Smith apples, so I was expecting something sweet with a crisp tartness to it. Maybe a little weird for some for oral, but it sounded good to me.


EdenFantasys always ships discreetly in plain boxes with the return address labeled as “Web Merchants”. I can’t say much about the packaging of the bottled version, since I only received the sample packets, but they do have the standard amount of information, and are easy to tear open and use.

The Sliquid Promise

Our product are always FREE of DEA, gluten, glycerine, glycerol, parabens, PEG, proplyene glycol, sorbitol, & sulphates…

100% Vegan Friendly

And then it has the ingredient list and company contact information.


Purified Water, Plant Cellulose (from Cotton), Cyamopsis (Guar Conditioners), Green Apple Flavoring, Aspartame, Potassium Sorbate, Citric Acid

Yes, it’s glycerin-free, paraben-free, and gluten-free, but I do still take issue with the ingredient list. You see, aspartame just doesn’t agree with my stomach. It’s also gotten some pretty bad publicity, despite EWG Cosmetics Database listing it as a level 0 health hazard. If you Google aspartame, you’ll see what I mean.

Also, what’s weird is that the ingredient list for this on EdenFantasys’ product page doesn’t match up with the ingredient list on the sample packets (which is good since the ingredient list on the sample packets doesn’t have DMDM Hydantoin, which releases formaldehyde. I’ll just save my Monte Python “I’m not quite dead yet!” reference for later reviews. Hopefully, I’ll never need to use it.)

This lubricant is safe for all toys and latex condoms.

Texture / Consistency

This clear lubricant has a smooth texture and a consistency sort of in the middle of a gel and a runny lubricant. It takes about 9 seconds to drip off of my finger, which is pretty good. It doesn’t feel sticky at all, even when it starts to dry.


For an oral lube, it lasts for a good amount of time. The taste helps to trigger salivation, which keeps this water-based lubricant from drying out.

As a lube for vaginal intercourse, it does its job just fine. We haven’t had any issues with it drying out or getting sticky before the deed is done. However, be aware that there’s a good chance you’re going to smell like green apple candies for a while after.


The smell is definitely a candy version of green apple, but it’s not overpowering either. During use, I can smell it, but it’s not as in-your-face when I’m using it, compared to when I just sniff it on my hand.
My husband seems to think it smells more like candied fruit than green apple.


The taste is very close to green apple Jolly Rancher candies, but I can taste the artificial sweetness of the aspartame, too. Both my husband and I notice a bit of a funky aftertaste from the aspartame. I’m not really too big on the taste.


I’ve had no issues with this lube staining or leaving any residue anywhere, as I would expect from something that is water-based. Cleaning up is quick and easy.


Well, I’m still a little iffy on that ingredient list. If they’d replace the aspartame with stevia, then maybe I’d like this lube more. Having an allergy to aspartame, though, and given all the bad publicity about that ingredient, I can’t really give this stuff a glowing review.

Posted in Fapping

Bad Dragon Cum Lube
March 3rd, 2014 by admin

As a nice little surprise with my last purchase of a cum tube-enabled Razor from Bad Dragon’s Adoptions Page, I also received a bottle of their Cum Lube. It’s a water-based lube that is specially formulated to be viscous and replicate the look and feel of real cum, only stickier and easier to obtain in quantity. It comes in either a clear or white-tinted formula, and in 250ml (8oz) bottles.


Water, polyethylene oxide, titanium dioxide, propylparaben, methylparaben

For more information, you can click on any of the green-colored ingredient text.

Unfortunately, EWG Cosmetics Database does not have any information on polyethylene oxide. Titanium dioxide is an opacifying agent, and gives this lube its opaque white color. EWG lists it as a 1-3, which classifies it as a moderate health hazard, depending on usage. Both propylparaben and methylparaben are listed as 5, meaning a moderate health hazard. They’re used as preservatives, but are also suspected to cause breast cancer, due to the fact that they mimic estrogen.

Those who are allergic to parabens, I strongly caution you to stay away from lubes with them in it, even if you don’t plan on ingesting them. Just using this lube vaginally made my body react in the same manner it would if I had taken an item with parabens in orally.

Texture / Consistency

This lube is very slick and really is fairly close to actual semen, and even my own vaginal fluid. It doesn’t feel sticky, but it does produce a spider web of strings, if you touch it and pull away. Below is my hand after I covered it in Cum Lube with my fingers together, then spread them.

This can make it a little difficult to prevent lube from stringing out and getting on other things, when trying to pull away from a toy or something. After a session with this in my Anthro Dragon Dildo, I made a bunch of strings, which wafted in the air and got on more of the sheets and floor than I had wanted to. Have towels/paper towels/toy wipes/whatever on hand right next to you after your session to avoid a mess.


I’ve had no issues with this lube drying out or getting tacky. It even holds up well in water. I figured I would just rinse the excess off of my hands. Wrong! It took some rubbing for about 10-15 seconds under running water to get it off.

Smell / Taste

There’s not smell at all. Even with my nose right up to it, I don’t smell anything.
Since I have allergies to parabens, I had my husband taste test this. He says it tastes like absolutely nothing, and has the consistency of the play slime you’d get in the quarter machines at the grocery store as a kid.


It’s best to use soap and water. Since it’s so viscous, it doesn’t just rinse or wipe off. Be careful about trailing strings of lube, too. I’ve had no issues with it staining. I had a huge mess on the bed after playtime, and it came right out in the wash. I did the laundry immediately after playtime, though.


This stuff is great, but my body just can’t handle the parabens. And aside from that, I’m just not too hip on the ingredients of this lube in general; too many moderate health hazard classifications from EWG. If Bad Dragon were to reformulate it to something more body-friendly, I wouldn’t mind trying another bottle. As it is right now, it’s great for vaginal penetration, and would also be great for anal, but those ingredients…

Posted in Fapping