The Fleshlight: A Review

(NOTE: Based on time elapsed since the posting of this entry, the BS-o-meter calculates this is 16.884% likely to be something that Ferrett now regrets.)

On Friday, I posted a link to the Zombie Fleshlights, and in the comments a number of people asked, “I mean, how good can the Fleshlight be, anyway?”
I figured I might as well tell you.  I mean, I do own one.  I don’t use it much, but you should know why.  So, as with most sexy things I’m doing these days, I posted an essay over at FetLife (the Facebook for kinksters!) that you can go read, assuming you want a surfeit of personal details.  Here’s the opening, if you’re curious:

If you’re looking for a vagina in a can, the Fleshlight allows you to pork your portable pussy in a properly perky procedure. But it’s not until you explode into delight into an artificial mouth that you realize just how convenient it is having an actual girl attached to the vagina.
Because the thing about having sex with a girl is that when you’re done, she nips off to the bathroom to tidy up, and then all of those helpful organs and biological processes take care of the rest. The Fleshlight, being an inert mass of food-grade (GAH!) polymers, merely sits there, leaving your semen to a) drool back out onto the floor, or b) sit inside its enfolded interior until it congeals, rots, merges with a new form of germ to gain sentience, and then slither up your cock the next time you stick it in side to lay eggs and give birth to the new army of manborg sex toys. Awkward.

Anyway, if you want to see it, signing up for FetLife is free, and as an added bonus, you can friend Poppy Z. Brite over there and see his writings, which are phenomenal.  Just make sure to tell me where you know me from if you friend me, so I can associate LJ names with Fet names.  Danke!


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