The Cone Vibrator

As an occasional reviewer of sex-related products, I sometimes find “surprise” packages at my front door. Two weeks ago I received a nondescript cardboard box, but the content was anything but ordinary. What did I discover when I rummaged through the tissue paper? The cone vibrator.
Now the cone has been around for a while but this was my first chance to test-drive it.

If you haven’t seen you to know three things. First of all it’s big, measuring 7 ” across the base and 5 inches tall. (Men, you all know what six inches looks like, so just use your imagination.) It features a souped-up 3,000-rpm motor so you can pretend you are diverting traffic AND operating a jackhammer simultaneously. And it is PINK. I’m talking make-your-teeth ache-Pepto-Bismol pink with a chaser of cotton candy,
When I first saw this his and/or her vibe, I was not bewitched, just bothered and bewildered. Did I really want to turn my tender tarmac into a construction zone? No. But my honest opinion was required, so I reluctantly put my snarky thoughts aside and tried it on for sighs. Consulting the instruction manual, I discovered helpful illustrations of recommended positions–all hands-free! Unlike every other vibe on the market, (i)conic coitus involves resting or sitting on the vibe.
As I began perusing the possibilities, I noticed one glaring oddity– every illustration prominently featured reading material.
Were the figures reading the instructions, perusing racy porn, or checking on the correct way to assume the down dog position? Apparently, having both hands free allows you to multi-task in ways I’d never thought possible.
The On the Way Out variation allows you to achieve the big “O” while “drying your hair or applying make-up. Pop it on a chair, lower yourself down and enjoy the sensation, as you get ready for your day. Perfect.” Come again? Who the Hell wants to focus on applying foundation when you’re trying to raise the rafters with a roaring orgasm?
But maybe I just lack an adventurous spirit. If you read the customer reviews on the cone’s website, the conversations women have with this inanimate object can get pretty animated. Hearts pound, pulses race and the explosions sound worthy of a supernova!
So I decided to get back up on the um… horse. Discovering that the lunge is one of most popular positions, I decided it would be the logical next step. How very wrong I was. Because you hold your intimate hovercraft over the cone, the hamstring strength required to maintain this position is only possible for the genetically enhanced. As my thighs do not bear any resemblance to Popeye’s forearms, they began to shake after a minute. By minute 2, the inevitable happened: The cone turned on me. I fell off and it ricocheted off the bed frame.
After all of this “C”-list battery buzzing, my poor Little Bo Peep felt like a swollen vending machine. Instead of choosing the sensible path to pleasure (immersing myself in a sitz bath for hours), I decided to take another whack at the sit spins. This time, however, I tried The Wall.
Recommended for more adventurous customers, The Wall enabled me to give my quads a rest and paint my toenails at the same time (I make up for in flexibility what I lack in lower body strength. I was voted “Most like Linguine” in High School.) While this position gave me much needed support, it rendered a small but pivotal part -the control switch, inaccessible. The cone comes with 16 built-in programs ranging from subtle vibrations to blast off. Fumbling for the all-important orgasm button between my legs proved “pointless.” The dimpled button that guaranteed a predictable Doppler effect from this up vibe was always just beyond my reach, and I couldn’t see under the hood. Maybe I shouldn’t have let my subscription to Contortionist Illustrated lapse.
Anyway, I was bumping and grinding away when the soles of my shoes began sliding on the hardwood floors, my orgasm hanging precariously in the balance. At that point, thoroughly bored with the cone (and I mean that in both senses of the phrase) my eyes fell on one of the random reviews that now littered my bedroom floor.
Great Sex Toys for Hiding Out in the Open. I slowly lowered myself to the floor and began to read. The Cone, it seems, is being touted as a Vibe “you can leave out for guests to appreciate your art collection!” Then I spotted another: “The funky, contemporary style means you don’t need to hide it away in the bedroom drawer.”
First of all, you’d need a steamer trunk not a drawer, and second, “Who wants a pink cone in their living room.” Maybe if you’re living in Barbie’s dream house or like to display oddities among your odds and ends, this makes sense. But for people who don’t consider random neon-bright shapes postpostmodern sculpture, it’s unfathomable. Sure this piece of “tramp art” is less benign than a diving dolphin, but why would anyone want to test the limits of their personal sphere of privacy with a vibrator? Keep them in your secret stash where they belong and put this pleasure dome away.
Bottom Line: for the maladroit I give it only 1 star, and while I’m at it, a double thumbs down, which I can do because both hands are free.