Satisfyer Pro 2: A Review

Some time ago, there was a post about sex toys and the conversation turned to some gizmo that was making waves (of the orgasmic caliber) a few hours south of here. Now, back in the day, I used to write sex toy reviews for AVN under a different pseudonym, and I’d NEVER had any experience with any device that would get me from zero to orgasm in less than 30 seconds, as the folks down south had been suggesting.

My curiosity was piqued.

So, last week, when my partner sent me a link to the amazon listing for the Satisfyer Pro 2 with the words, “just sayin’…” I used the power of Prime to have it delivered and charged up before he walked in the door Friday night.

I deemed it the “edging machine.” Within SECONDS I was in the state of physical bliss that my longtime favorite, the Doxy, would take an average of five to six minutes to get me to. The difference is – where the doxy takes me from that edge to full blown orgasm in a matter of seconds, the Satisfyer Pro 2 might be capable of keeping me on that edge INDEFINITELY.

I didn’t have a good and proper full-blown orgasm with the device until the following evening,….

Holy Fucknuts.

It wasn’t just the orgasm that was delightful, it was the extended LIFE of the orgasm that blew my mind. Minutes after I’d removed the device from my clit, I could still feel it reverberating in my netherbits.

I did it again later that night. AMAZING.

And then….twice today. I’m looking over at my doxy like “i’m so sorry….” but….damn.

The Satisfyer Pro 2 definitely satisfies. It took me longer to cross over from edge to orgasm than it does with your standard wand device, but the ride is delightful the whole way. Also, added bonus of not having that shooting pain from my wrist up my arm from adding pressure to the heavy wand in just the right spot. (Early carpal tunnel syndrome, perhaps). With the Satisfyer Pro 2 all you do is place it over your clit, turn it on and leave it in place. No need to wiggle or move or add pressure.

The squishy head piece is easily removed for cleaning and sanitation, and the doodad comes with a USB charging device that connects via magnets on the bottom.

There are two buttons. One to turn the device on or off, and the other to manage the intensity. I’d say I liked it best at the 4-5-6 intensity levels. Any more than that and I start to lose the edge.

Nobody has paid me for this review. I paid for the danged thing out of my own pocket. So….I’m just saying: If you’ve got $45 laying around. Give this a shot.

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What’s next?

He’d been driving at least an hour to get to my house. He’d told me before he left that he’d want a shower upon arrival, so I responded that I’d wait to take mine with him. He also usually wanted a drink, and sometimes a smoke. And at some point, we were going to have to eat.

And fuck.

“What would you like to do first?” I asked, after kissing him hello

“Pee.” He answered.

“Okay,” I answered, smiling and stepping aside so he could move past me and toward the bathroom.

When he emerged, I was waiting for him in the living room. I inched closer to him, staring into the deep blue pools of his eyes. “What would you like to do second?”

What started as a soft kiss quickly escalated. His hands were everywhere: around my throat, in my hair, clawing at my breasts and thighs. I gave him what I could, and what I couldn’t he took from me.

I paused to catch my breath. “I still need a shower,” I whispered. He chuckled, “So you’re saying you’re a dirty whore, right now.”

He spun me around and held me tightly against him with his forearm across my chest. “Yes, Sir,” I answered.

Then I was bent over a chair, my skirt hiked up. I could hear zippers and rustling. When I looked down on the floor I saw his shadow cast from the lights behind him. He’d undressed. He was walking toward me, carrying something.

I feel the first strike of the belt across my ass.

By the fifth or sixth they were making me jump.

He’s fucking me. My god, it feels amazing, but my leg is cramping up. I try to shake it out, but my calf is seizing. I tell him so.

He drags me by the hair up to the bed.

I’ve come more times than I can count. We’ve reached the point where I’ve stopped asking for permission to come and I’m growling at him, “I want it. It’s mine. I want it, now!”

I explode. I can feel him starting to twitch. He surprises me. In a flash, he’s pulled out, flung the condom off and he’s coming on me. A drop lands directly in my mouth, the rest on my neck, chest, and belly.

It takes a few minutes to regain coherent speech.

“What do you want to do third?” I ask.

9 things we rarely admit to loving

1. The first shit you take after anal. ¬†Come on.¬† You know it’s true.

2.¬† Peegasms.¬† I’ve mentioned these before and I know not everybody gets it, but for those of us who do – you know, that feeling you get when you gotta pee but you hold it in?¬† It’s like a little orgasm. It’s fucking good, yo.
3. Finally plucking that one stubborn hair. ¬†Whether it’s on your chin (grrrr) or elsewhere, there’s that one that keeps slipping past your tweezers, but you can still FEEL it.¬† Then that moment you get it, finally GET that little fucker….bliss.
4.¬† When your cat tickles your bare back with his tail. You’re laying naked on the sofa, eating out of a jar of peanut butter and watching the latest episode of Dancing With The Stars when your little kitty decides your back, or your butt, or your thigh looks mighty comfortable.¬† It’s a little wiggy at first, ’cause you’re naked and his cat-litter paws are treading directly on your skin.¬† Especially when the kneading starts and those little prickles have you questioning whether your’e a masochist or a moron.¬† But then, the tail swishes.¬† You freeze.¬† Maybe he’ll do it again. ¬†Swish.¬† Oh yeah, baby. Now we’re talking.¬† You try desperately not to disturb His Royal Catness so that he may continue to swish his tail over and over again.¬† Meanwhile, you haven’t even noticed how much cat hair is on your peanut butter spoon.
5.¬† A teensy, tiny hint of gaminess. ¬†Not the full-on, wallpaper-peeling gnarliness from a partner who hasn’t showered in days, but that “I’ve been working all day, but I totally showered this morning” musky aroma (and taste, if you’re lucky) of a partner’s netherbits right up in your face.¬† That’s it.¬† Inhale.¬† Take it all in.¬† Then….yeah.¬† Take it.¬† All.¬† In.
6.¬† Being right. ¬†I think it might be one of my favorite feelings, after orgasms, making someone else feel good, a warm bubble bath, and having my hair played with.¬† Being RIGHT feels so good.¬† Especially when it’s acknowledged by others.¬† It feels so good that I’ve just gone ahead and made it a habit to be right as often as possible.
7.¬† Being lazy. ¬†There’s a framed quote in my house by John Lennon: ¬†“Time you enjoy wasting was not wasted.” ¬†But these days it seems like admitting that you love being lazy is frowned upon.¬† Fuck it.¬† I’ve had lofty aspirations of this or that project that I’d do during my time off from work; like set up a garden or clean out the garage, or do the laundry – and you know what I end up doing all day long?¬† See #4.
8. Farting. I mean, we might not like the aromatic effects of it or the acute embarrassment if someone else smelts what we’ve dealt, but when you’ve got a horrid stomach cramp and then all of a sudden, PFFFFPPPPFBBBBBBBFFFFTRRRRTTTT.¬†¬†Ahhhhhhhhh.
9. When you wake up thinking it’s 6am and it’s not yet midnight. ¬†Oh yes.¬† That thing that happens when you wake from sleep thinking you have but minutes before your alarm goes off telling you that you should probably get out of bed (except you don’t for another half hour because you finally got comfy), but when you look over at the clock, it’s still only 11:45pm the night before.¬† WTF! You were just about to get up and go get ready for another dreadful day – but what’s this?¬† EIGHT MORE HOURS OF SLEEP IN THIS COMFY POSITION YOU’VE JUST DISCOVERED?¬† Fuck yeah!

No, No, No….Yes.

The orgasm had been building. I was at the edge. He was above me, looking down. Those details don’t matter. That’s not what this is about.

I was wearing those clamps. The clover clamps.

The orgasm had been building.

“Yes,” he said, answering the question asked wordlessly with my eyes and a whimper.

My eyes closed. I didn’t see it coming.

The orgasm exploded, followed by the burning, searing pain of my left nipple’s release from the clamps I’d all but forgotten were there. My eyes shoot open. His eyes, staring down at me, drinking of my reaction.

I can feel it now as I recall it. Fuck.

Fuck.

And then he moved his hand to the second clamp, still secured to my right nipple.

“No, No, No…” The words came out and I knew I didn’t mean them. Still riding the wave of that orgasm, I wanted the pain. I craved it.

I saw his hesitation. I don’t say “no.”

My eyes locked on his.

“Yes. Please.”

Fuck.

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A lesser man would have used the word “brat”

I have a hard time with the term “brat.” ¬†I also have a hard time observing “brats.” I’ve written about this issue before (on fetlife), but suffice it to say – “Brat” is a trigger for me.

But I’m not a pushover. I’m not a door mat. ¬†And partners in the past have made the mistake of thinking that if I’m not one, I must be the other.

But, not this partner.  He gets it.

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The Mindgasm

She stood fully clothed, feet firmly planted on the ground, arms crossed. He stood a few feet away, leaning on the counter. They’d been talking for a while and he’d said it somewhat as a joke:

“Oh you’ll fuck whatever cock I tell you to fuck.”

The moment he’d said it, she felt the wave of energy wash over her and her eyes widened sightly as she took a gasp of air. Had he noticed? He might not have noticed. Perhaps it would pass.

After all, he’d meant it as a joke. But as soon as she’d heard it, she knew.

She would.

It wasn’t passing. She kept hearing him repeat those words, over and over in her mind. Every time she’d try to pull out of it, it would drag her back under until it was beyond the point of hiding it on her face.

He noticed.

“You want to come, don’t you?”

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“Ask for it,” he demanded.

“Please, Sir….,” her short gasps were coming more frequently now as she pushed back the overwhelming emotion that was threatening to take over.

He watched, somewhat awestruck – but with all the authority in his voice he granted her permission.

It wasn’t particularly loud, but it was intense. Intense enough that she had to lean forward and hold on to the table for balance as the orgasm ran through her and escaped through deep sighs and measured breaths.

After it was over, she pulled a chair out and sat down. “Woah,” she exclaimed.

“No shit. What was that?”

She looked up at him. “It just, sort of, happened.”

“But why? I wasn’t even touching you or anything.”

“No, you just…,” her voice trailed off. This wasn’t part of the arrangement they had.

“What?” he pressed.

“No, it’s nothing. You just said something kinda hot and it got me all …you know.”

“No, no. It was more than that. What did I do that made that happen?”

She shook her head.

He brought out his authoritative voice again. “Tell me.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she looked into his eyes with her own, pleading for him to let her keep her secret. An eyebrow raise from him told her that would not be an option.

“You made me feel owned,” she admitted.

“And that made you come?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

He paused for a minute. The tension in the air was thick.

“Do I own you?” he asked.

That was the opening she needed to break the tension. With a smirk, she looked up again. “Not if you have to ask, you don’t.”