The latest sex-cessory by “Crave” is a necklace that gives new meaning to “ribbed pleasure”
Because while you wear it over your ribs in public… you pleasure yourself with it in private:
(Is it just me or does the peripheral view of this thing look kinda like where its meant to actually go?)
Indeed. This Valentine’s day, your soul mate and potential father of your children (though you may not be inspired enough for him to help you conceive if you’re putting this thing to work all the time) can buy you a wearable sex toy. It’s shaped like a bullet (I suppose a Polly Pocket sized turgid and veiny dildo replica was already copyrighted by someone else). And it comes in stainless steel with silver, rose gold, or even 14K gold – giving “Goldfinger” a whole new meaning since this is kinda like the hidden-in-plain-sight sexy equiv of Bond’s wristwatch.
And the prices range from around $70 to $149
._______.
Really, though, it’s not that bad, is it?
The author of the article I saw this in originally said: “Don’t touch anyone’s Crave necklace! You don’t know where it’s been!” First of all – what kind of a weirdo just touches someone else’s necklace? That seems a bit invasive. And, yes, I do know where it’s been. Thanks to the article I just read that you just wrote. It’s been probing for flesh pearls. I just hope you’ve washed it. And when you think of it that way, it’s really no different that those’a us who just kick it old school, low five style. I mean don’t we shake eachother’s hands all the time when god knows where else you’ve been shaking that hand? Or what on? Around? Or inside of? Or if you so much as Purelled your paws before touching them to mine? In a way, this lady bullet’s nothing compared to the one in the chamber of the socially acceptable Russian roulette palm greeting. So how bad could a platinum vibrating tampon applicator draped across the clavicle be? It even has a sort’ve modern look to it – like it could almost be your lover’s car part and you wearing the necklace is the grown up equivalent of when skater chicks would wear their boyfriends’ gauge around a ball chain necklace in eighth grade. Right? It’s kinda classy, even! Like something you might find at Tiffany’s.
“Why, dahling, ah’ve just the thing for you to engrave…”
So, you might be wondering – after ardently supporting women wearing sex toys: do I want one?
And the answer is: no, dipshit. Obviously not. It’s a disgusting joke.
Because any vibrator whose battery dies in just 40 minutes is a disgusting joke. And a tease.
#chickblueballs