Even before my appointment as the campus’s sex captain, I’ve always been one of the most devoted members of TMI town’s neighborhood watch. As a result, I am now everyone’s go-to resource to alleviate bottled-up, repressed horniness.

Much like those little free libraries in suburban cul-de-sacs (but sexier), I’m always happy to lend any of my (well-used) toys after a wash and a quick dusting of cornstarch — as long as you have no qualms about the fact they will have been imbued with the powerful spirits of masturbation sessions past. Just don’t use any of my pussy products for ass application.

While I am a fervent proselytizer of sex toys, it wasn’t through the divine gift of Eros that I acquired my dildo knowledge. Much like the hilariously erroneous study from Times Online, I too once believed the G-spot was a myth. While I now know that the G-spot becomes more sensitive with clit stimulation, sadly, in my youth, the content I was consuming for sexual enlightenment was badly written fan fiction and a lot of tentacle hentai.

The former came from an echo chamber of virginal preteen writers who parroted the terminology of other, slightly older virginal preteen writers. I thought that dicks “wept precum” and that saliva was more than adequate lubrication for surprise anal. My torrid affair with the latter only makes me say “octopussy” a lot. This ilk of content wasn’t exactly the most educational, but considering I grew up in the censor-dome that is mainland China and went to a conservative British international school, it was better than nothing.

Consequently, my humble sexual beginnings started like most people’s: shoving random household items on or near my horny bits.

While Stats 20 has taught me that experimental data is the only data from which you can draw causal conclusions, in this case, this was, and still is, extremely unadvised — please stick to observational examinations. I hope you can learn from my adolescent mistakes and educate yourself on obtaining high-quality sex toys that won’t result in funny X-rays.

Jumbo Yellow Glue stick, Comix: 0/10

Age: 11

I attempted to shove the glue stick up my butt dry, after watching poorly animated anal on funnygames.biz/adult. I had waited for the flash animation to load for a good 40 minutes, and I guess the characters seemed to like getting their butt plowed? When I realized the glue stick was too large for my puckered sphincter and pulled it out, the glue stick cap got stuck in my ass.

I had a panic attack at 1 a.m. on a school day as I squatted, strained and whimpered like a constipated labradoodle to get it out. My life briefly flashed before my eyes as I imagined having to go to a Chinese ER only to be called out as a juvenile sexual deviant.

The cap did eventually come out. I, luckily, did not have to go to Gay Baby Jail for Uncooperative Comrades.

Rounded Black Whiteboard Marker, Generic: 2/10

Age: 12

I left this in my vagina overnight because of my continued abysmal preteen knowledge on how sexual pleasure works. I couldn’t fit it in all the way, so the cap made a lump in my panties and made me look like I was constantly in the middle of shitting myself. My corrosive vaginal juices dissolved the text on the marker shaft by the next day. The marker still worked afterward, though, and I’m sure my cervix appreciated the company.

Pro tip: your cervix position shifts depending on where you are in your menstrual cycle and also how turned on you are. When you’re fertile or just feeling frisky, the cervix goes into prime dick-down mode, receding back to accommodate dicks of any size (no more painful cervix cock-ups). Though this now makes me realize that if I had been aroused, my vagina would have probably consumed the entire marker.

Hummingbird Flosser, Oral-B: 9.5/10

Age: 13-16

The usage of this product highlights the renaissance of sexual understanding in my life: Clitoral stimulation was where it’s at. This humble flosser’s description proudly states that its “simple push button activation system delivers soothing and controlled vibration.”

The only reason why it wasn’t a perfect 10/10 was because I needed to hold onto the button to maintain the vibration. As I annihilated my clit with other high-velocity objects such as shower head jets, my hands would cramp up more and more as I desperately waited for my climax. This little jury-rigged vibrator served me well over the years. I abused this dental hygiene tool to the point where the circuitry became exposed and frayed, which definitely added a spark to all my masturbation sessions.

So, if my dentist asks: Technically, yes, I do floss.

There isn’t a neat moral to these little vinegar-stroke vignettes, but I highly, highly recommend that everyone try out sex toys instead of popping a condom on a cucumber in the dark at home. I’ve been happy to see carefree propagation of sex toys by femmes, but why stop there? It would be awesome to also decrease the stigma for cis-guys and penis-wielders, who are frequently shamed as losers who “can’t get a real hookup.”



Let us live in a wonderful, destigmatized world where no one feels any shame when purchasing the patented “GuyBrator” or a 3-hole blow-up doll. You can also literally nut in an egg — the sky’s the limit, so power your JO crystal with no shame.

Michelle Zheng writes the Tuesday column on sex. Contact her at [email protected] and follow her on Twitter at @thezhenger.