A Sort of Shamed Review of the Fleshlight.
Sex shops are a curious destination for somebody like myself, because despite my insatiability when it comes to sex, somehow sex shops are relatively taboo. When I go to a sex shop I feel tempted to wear sunglasses and a trench coat and park a few blocks away so that nobody can track me, but I'm afraid the shop may misconstrue this behaviour as the foreshadowing of a flashing/robbery.
Between the massive, unrealistic dildos with baseball bat handles on them and rubber crotches with doll hair on them, I found the fleshlight; a toy designed to look like a flash light, lined with "cyber skin" to simulate a vagina. I am young, lacking in impulse control and my palms were growing callused. It only seemed rational to take the fleshlight home.
I don't see why people pretend that the fleshlight actually looks like a flash light. I don't find myself accidentally jamming my dick into my flash lights and saying "Oh jeez, I could have sworn this was the right one." The intent here has not been met. At best, with the lid on, the fleshlight looks like a prop bottle from the Fifth Element with its retro-future look that could only possibly look cool in the 90s.
Uncapped, it also doesn't quite look like a real vagina. It was the first time I had ever encountered the uncanny valley in relation to a crotch. That said, it looks and feels closer to the part when you warm it and slide yourself inside.
I found that for a person like me, who enjoys to be on top and perform with my hips and legs, what worked best for reaching climax was placing the fleshlight on a flat surface, securing it in place and ramming it angrily. Surprisingly, it felt close to the real deal, and my purchase was very much justified.
It's just a shame it's so hard to hide this thing.
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