Nerdist was started by Chris Hardwick and has grown to be a many headed beast.

Sex Nerdist Review: The Crab Hand of Doom

by on July 1, 2010

My saga of the Leo Ina is one of bold vision, poor execution and a possible conspiracy theory.  Sit down with me a spell while I tell my tale…

It all started innocently enough. A workplace toy raffle, a winning hand. I was the envy of all the girls as I left that day, my purple prize clutched to my bosom. Home I went to honeymoon with my precious.

THE VISION:

Lelo Ina comes from a proud Swedish lineage. Like her forebears, Ina is rechargeable, quiet and lovely.  Her playful end is coated in non-toxic, non-porous silicone. But what makes Ina different from all her older sisters is her dual stimulation.

Mmmmmm… dual. Friends, when it comes to satisfaction, there are two kinds of women in the world: Outies and Innie/Outies. The first group can make due with a little pocket rocket or silver bullet, but the second group, well… they prefer a hearty filling to meet minimum standards. I belong to that greedier category.

So Lelo was everything, and a bag of chips. The chips being eight variable throbbing patterns and at its zenith, the “Circular Mode.” It revs inside and out, back and forth, “tantalizing her user before delivering the most prolonged satisfaction, time and time again.” The toy copy alone is foreplay enough. This, I knew, was it. The toy I had been waiting for. My Magnum Opus.

So I get home and in my most inquisitive Sex Nerdist state immediately  break open the box, stopping only a moment to admire the beautiful packaging before ripping her from her sheath. Boom. Let’s dance.

EXECUTION:

Owning Ina was a magical experience. Up until the moment of insertion. Then everything went to hell. I didn’t know my love button could be bitch slapped. Ina taught me this and other things.

She taught me that the distance between my g-spot and external vulvular parts is farther than I thought. She taught me that if something hurts the first time, it won’t hurt less the second. She taught me to distrust Europeans.

As Melody from Michigan writes, “I am not sure why it hurts so much on insertion and removal… This gadget will make you orgasm. But try to remove it: ouch again.” Melody, why did you still give it 5 stars? I’ll never know.

Of course, I’ve read other reviews online and many seem to like it. They like the crustacean death grip this pleasure object provides. Considering the space allotted for the pelvic bone and surrounding tissue, plus her negligible wiggle room, I have not recommended her since.

CONSPIRACY THEORY AFTERMATH:

Defeated, I banished her to my bottom drawer, wrote my op-ed piece for work and sorely settled in for the night feeling truly violated. But a growing doubt began to form.

How could they fail me? Lelo is the Apple of sex toys! Is there something I’m missing? A secret that dare not speak its name?  And then the jigsaw pieces clicked into place. If I pivot this bad boy around, the itty bitty end would go right into my (gasp)… No!

And suddenly, I knew. Ina was no Muffin Mistress. Au contraire! Ina is more like an Ass Master. But who would test this hypothesis but yours truly?

Yep. I took one for the team.

It took a lot of praying and soul searching. I was scared. Sure, I’d taught hoards of souls about backdoor basics. But this crab hand of doom, this clenching clam… this sex nerd may have met her match. I had to do it. For science.

So we sat there, her and me, eyeing each other suspiciously. A little lube, a little patience, a deep breath later and… huh. What a shocker! Everything matched. It was gonna be okay. I was going to be okay. Those sneaky Swedes.

She gripped the perineal sponge perfectly! This erectile tissue between the female orifi is rich with nerve endings. Some would call it the second G-spot. And if I had actually been aroused at this point, well, I would have been smiling a bit more than than I was. But I was still suffering from post-traumatic stress.

CONCLUSION:

So should you or your loved one try this little shellfish? Perhaps. If a clamp-of-death clitgrip will relieve your carpel tunnel, give it a whirl. If someone’s PS-spot is yearning for some extra attention, put a bow on it.

As for me, next time I’ll order the rabbit.

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