Thoughts On Sybians

(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.)

As with all my crazy-sexy essays, given that my sexuality’s in a bit of a state of flux (as chronicled here), I’ve posted this one on FetLife.  The obligatory excerpt:

I was talking to LucidMoon the other day about Sybians, the Death Star of sex toys. Supposedly you mount the most frigid, repressed, born-again woman on one of these babies for ten minutes and she’ll stagger off of it with her hair down in tangles, shuddering with delight, having renounced Jesus for the joys of electricity and kinky goddamned science.
I’ve thought about getting one myself, and unfortunately I am in the middle-class financial value of “It’s not that you CAN’T afford it, it’s that you SHOULDN’T.” I mean, I could shell out $1400 for what looks like a gymnast’s horse designed by horny satyrs… But should I? Would we use it enough? Would my wife divorce me, figuring that the hobby horse of doom is a lot cheaper than I am and more satisfying to boot?
And really, where would we put it when the kids came by? It’s hard enough hiding the whips and chains in our closet in a box marked “YAHTZEE.” They’ve gone to play a board game before, and discovered what Mommy and Stepdaddy like to do, and been scarred.
But no. The real reason I want a Sybian is….

Anyway, you know where FetLife is if you wanna go look.

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