Guest Review: Cry Baby - Remote Control Bullet Vibrator

Author: by Ross Lambert

It’s a super new toy with a very strange name.  The Cry Baby is a short and stout insertable vibrator with a wireless remote control that lets you select from a multitude of settings, ranging from a soft purr to hard and fast blasts. My girlfriend and I were skeptical about this vibrator because of its name, but after putting this Baby through the paces, my partner and I were spoiled rotten.   She and I tried to come up with as many scenarios as we could in which we could best take advantage of Cry Baby’s unique features.  Here are our faves:


Shopping
—The stereotype goes like this:  a woman gleefully peruses the shops, trying on clothes and buying a few things while her man is demoted to the role of bellhop, burdened down with her bags, pretending not to be resentful.  If you find this cliché is even remotely true (pun intended), then the Cry Baby is made for you.  My girlfriend and I decided to make a recent trip to a high-end department store more interesting by adding the Cry Baby to the mix.   She wore the vibrator while trying on a variety of slinky dresses.  Meanwhile, I kept the remote control close at hand, letting her know my opinion of each outfit by the intensity of the buzz I sent her.  She started with a simple black evening gown, low cut and form fitting.  I responded by selecting “1” on the remote, giving her a low, steady purr between her legs.  The next dress was a tight, red number that showed off her fabulous hips, which bucked forward slightly when I turned up the remote to “2”, sending her a stronger buzz.  She raced back to the changing room for the third outfit: a vintage green and gold beaded dress open down to the small of her back.  She was so stunning that my mouth fell agape, and for a moment I forgot my role. 


“Well?” she asked, waiting for my electronic reaction.  I skipped “3” and went straight to “4”, a rapid-fire series of buzzes that made her wobble back to the stall and latch the door. 

“Give me the dress,” I said, not intending to let that be the only time I saw her in it.

“Give me the remote,” she replied.  


Watching TV
—My girlfriend isn’t big on porn, so when she suggested we rent the 70’s adult classic The Opening of Misty Beethoven, I raised an eyebrow.  “I have an idea,” she said.  “Trust me.”   That night, she set the stage by lighting candles around the living room, pouring us each a glass of wine, and changing into her silk pajamas.  I started the movie and settled into the couch.  She moved in, sitting between my legs, her back against my chest.  Once the on-screen action began to heat up, she took hold of my left wrist and guided my hand over her breast.  After letting me massage her for a while, she moved my hand down between her legs, and I could feel the steady vibrations of the Cry Baby inside her.  She kept my hand pressed against her pussy and said, “I want to show you what I like in a porn.”  She kept the Cry Baby remote close by, changing the settings to match her arousal. As the movie progressed, I could literally feel which scenes were having an effect on her. But when we got to the pivotal moment in the film where the title character is attempting to make three men come simultaneously, I felt the Cry Baby surge into a staccato rhythm like a machine gun, and she ground her hips against my hand until she reached orgasm.   We then retreated to the bedroom to create our own happy ending.


The Numbers Game
—Luckily for her, my girlfriend has never been good with numbers.  Even so, she was more than willing to give my new game a try once I explained that there was no way to lose.  First, I blindfolded her and removed her clothes.  Then, I helped her onto the bed and had her get on all fours.  With the Cry Baby nestled deep inside her, I turned on the remote and clicked through the remote’s ten settings before randomly stopping on one.  “Which number is it?”  She was quiet, feeling the vibrations for a moment before guessing, “Seven?”  “No,” I said as I gave her ass a firm smack with my hand.  “That was five.  Try again.”  For every wrong answer, she got a spanking.  For every right answer, I rewarded her by pressing our Hitachi Magic Wand against her clitoris.   After a good ten minutes of this torment, she couldn’t take any more.  She tore off the blindfold, grabbed two fistfuls of my hair, and pulled me down between her legs.  Taking the remote from me, she cranked the Cry Baby all the way to “10”, and let me do the rest.  Within seconds, she was thrashing and kicking and screaming obscenities on her way to an explosive orgasm that looked remarkably like an unbridled temper tantrum.  And it was then that I finally understood why it’s called the Cry Baby.


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