The Greatest Vibrator In The World: A Love Story
by Vanessa Kass
I am no stranger to self-pleasure toys.
I use that term to encompass all items that help you achieve an orgasm on your own. Whether it goes in, on, or around. Whether it has batteries, a charging cord, or solar power. Whether it looks like a flower, a wand, a bunny, a rubber ducky, a dolphin, an actual penis.
Of course you have this one. Everyone has this one. This one is the OG of personal orgasms. If you do not have this one for some reason, remedy that. ASAP.
But. I wanted more.
I have tried them all. And it’s been quite a learning process. Maybe you like the feel of intercourse, so a phallic-shaped dildo is for you. My god, I hope my father does not pick this article to read first. I tried it. It wasn’t for me. I will also tell you, I have no concept of size. So the one I ordered was massive and terrifying when it came out of the box. It was also mortifying to have to throw the box away. Garbage? Recycle? Burn in the fireplace? That last one won in my house. But ever the good student and miser, I put in the batteries and tried it. Nope. No, thank you. Not for me. Next. Want to know what’s even more mortifying than throwing away the box that a giant dildo came in? Throwing away the dildo. Let me just say that I am glad that plastic bags were not yet banned. I wrapped that thing up like I was trying to get rid of a dead body.
So I learned that inserting a toy for self-pleasure was not my thing. Ok. To be honest? It proooooobably isn’t your thing, either. Not in terms of enjoyment, no. But in terms of actual, physical orgasm. Because as we all know, the organ responsible for a woman’s orgasm is the clitoris. This is why you can get a mindblowing OOOOOHHH from petting and a meh oh from intercourse. Only 25% of women get consistent orgasms from intercourse. Why? The clitoris needs direct pressure. Armed with this new knowledge, I changed my search settings and set off to find a vibrator.
Initial attempts were good. I learned where my clitoris was, how much pressure I liked and the type of self-pleasure toy that works for me. Great. Now to explore innumerable options. I got big “massagers” that could be plugged in and charged. They were also bulky, awkward, and very loud. Nothing like trying to relax with a quick midday orgasm while listening to a plane take off under your sheets. Next was a delicate vibrator shaped like a flower. Touted as powerful but also something you could leave on your dresser, as objet d’art! Nobody will know! No, thanks. Plus it was hit or miss, orgasm-wise. Next.
A second go ‘round of filters and I settled on smaller vibrators. Ones that could fit into my hand. Small enough to be easily maneuverable and apply pressure where and when it was needed. Quieter. These were good. But something was still missing. I often needed more than one orgasm to feel satisfied. Additionally, I tended to need some help. Be it a video, a trashy novel or a narratively well-developed fantasy. But sometimes I don’t want my other hand to be on my phone or laptop or book. Maybe I want that second hand to be helping me out. Or maybe I don’t want to focus on anything but the task at hand (too much? Meh. Keeping it.). I don’t hate these discreet toys. I even kept one after I discovered my holy grail. But still, I wasn’t satisfied.
Enter Instagram. And an influencer. I rarely buy things from influencers or brands touting which things are the best. Except of course when The Candidly tells me to buy something ( I swear I wrote that on my own and they didn’t pay me to say that), as I sit here in my cozy sweatshirt, drinking water from a straw with my skin all glowing from this micellar water I had never heard of but now can’t live without. But that’s because I know these women, and their tolerance for bullshit and pandering is non-existent. So I know that when they say something is the best, it’s the best. But other than that, I see an insta ad and think – nope. I don’t know you. We are not friends. Why should I trust you?
Except this ad. This ad made me stop.
Maybe because the woman was being honest about sexual health, desire, needs and orgasms. Maybe because this is the first of this type of toy I had heard of. Maybe because I was desperate. Who the hell knows? But the ad worked, because I bought it right then and there.
I got it, I charged it and, holy hell, it worked. The ad AND the toy. Not that I want to continue to bury the lead, but the branding on this toy is, well, hideous. Truly terrible. First off, it’s branded as a sex toy. Sex toy? Not really. I am not whipping this thing out during sex. Maybe one day. But not yet. This sucker (pun intended) is all mine. It isn’t a dildo. We’ve discussed those. It isn’t a vibrator. Been there. So I don’t know what it is. And I haven’t found a better category yet. Second, its name. Names of this type of tool are categorically heinous. This one is no exception. But if you can look past this one, it is so, so worth it.
Based on an instagram ad from a lady I don’t know, I bought Vush’s The Empress.
Let’s begin with the things we have to get over. Empress. Fine. I get it. Queen. Royalty. Sophisticated. But also, ew. The names are all the worst. Besides the name, we also have to get over what it does. It is a VACUUM CLITORAL SUCKER. Those caps are not mine. Those are right from the site. I know. But I need you to let that marketing snafu go. Because this thing? This sucker (pun still intended) is now my travel buddy. This delightfully powerful and quiet (really, really quiet) toy is, truly, ahhhhh-mazing.
So how is it different? Glad you asked. This little compact thing of beauty concentrates only on the clitoris. That’s all it does. It focuses on the place that, scientifically, causes a woman to orgasm. And only that place. No frills, no bunnies, no giant wand to wield down there. It just sucks. In the best way. But, wait, there’s more! It has not one, but EIGHT levels of suction, easy to find controls and an efficiency and consistency that makes me give it heart eyes when I grab it. Suction, you say? Like…sucking? Sort of. More like…a tiny, powerful vacuum hose. You are definitely going to hold your finger on it to see proof. It’s fine. Everyone does. I did. More than once. It took a single session for me to figure out how it works. I don’t need anything else to help me, no video, steamy book or well-worn fantasy. Just this. And. AND!!! One orgasm and I am done. Frankly, you may be so sensitive after your orgasm that you can’t even touch your clitoris. You are not broken. Don’t worry. This thing just delivers. Over and over again.
Now, some of you may be asking, what about my husband? Does he know? Does this render sex immaterial?! First, my husband does know. We talk about it openly. Masturbation is not a secret. It is not cheating or uncool or not allowed. It does not impact our sex life in a negative way. It does not impact my self-esteem. It was a part of our lives before we were a couple and it remains a part of our lives now. Secondly, our sex life is very good. I am a satisfied lady. I have no complaints and receive both emotional and sexual satisfaction when we are intimate. Third? We are currently staying safe at home with three kids. During this time of unrest, my kids need me more than ever. So heading upstairs for some afternoon delight is a no-go. Additionally, whether out of fear or uncertainty, we have at least one kid in our bed at night. Tiny interlopers. So there is no hanky-panky happening. I don’t need to add walking in on my parents having sex to the list of coronavirus trauma for my kids. But sexual health is part of mental health. So, a few times a week or so, I need five minutes. That’s it. I can head upstairs with a wink and my husband can corral the minions. Or if he lets me sleep in, I treat myself before I start my day. It’s another way we are taking care of each other.
I used to be so embarrassed when I started out on this journey that I had one of girlfriends buy me my first vibrator. But now? Nope. Learn from my many, many, many attempts at no thanks, so close, almost there, BINGO! The Empress? It arrived, it charged, and a week later I threw all but one of the others out. It’s that good. Would I have named it something else? Sure. But ask me again after using it and I will tell you, I don’t give a good goddamn what its name is, leave me alone, there’s something I have to do. Again.
Price: $160
Vanessa Kass is a writer, teacher and mindset mentor. She lives in Connecticut with her three children, husband, and menagerie of animals. You can find more of her articles here.
