"The toy definitely gives new meaning to the term 'fuck like a rabbit,'" says Madison of her new pet.
Guest Toy Reviewer
Madison Gives Her Rabbit a Hand
Meet our first-ever guest toy reviewer, Madison. She, along with
our male reviewer, Ross, won our "Be a Toy Reviewer" contest, so
they're here to give you the lowdown on which toys get them off! We'll
rotate their columns so you get a fresh perspective, and to give them
time to play with their toys. With no further ado, here's Madison, with
her take on the Rabbit Vibrator.

BUY NOW!The day the
Rabbit Habit arrived on my doorstep, I was having a little conversation with my right hand.
"You love me, don't you?" she said, her fingers stretching seductively.
"Of course," I said. "You're the best I've ever had."
"What if I wasn't the best? Would you love me then?" she asked.
"Ssshhh," I said. "I think I hear the mailman."
Moments
later, shreds of discreet brown packaging littered the floor. And there
it as—the cream of the crop, the legendary, the original
Rabbit Habit. "Don't worry, love," I told my hand. "I'll still need you...to press the buttons."
The
Rabbit Habit, of course, is the elaborate Japanese-style vibrator
recently propelled to a level of fame most sex toys can only dream
about. The Rabbit's reputation for extravagance is well-deserved.
It comes fully loaded with a twirling shaft, a belt of tumbling pearls,
and its namesake—a clit-tickling bunny rabbit appendage. The shaft and
the bunny are controlled independently by two sliding switches on the
base. And unlike its cousin, the
Rabbit Pearl, this wascally wabbit has no cords to get tangled up in the action.
As one Sex and the City babe discovered a while back, the
Rabbit Habit
is, well, habit-forming. Getting off has never taken less effort. I
reach for the Rabbit whenever I want a quick, easy treat. Too tired to
move? Simply cuddle up and enjoy. Bad day? The Rabbit is
all ears. Just lube it up, slide it in, and let this marvel of
engineering spin, tumble and flutter you into oblivion. Who knew that
"fucking like a bunny" could be so relaxing?
Sure, I had my
reservations. First, there’s the sticker shock. For what this baby
costs, you could put a bullet vibe in every bodily orifice and still
have money left over for ice cream. Then there’s the fear—not
entirely rational, but still unsettling--that sex with a rubber rabbit
is just the first step on a road to some really serious
depravity. (As a vegetarian who eats animal crackers, I've
experienced this kind of moral dilemma before.)
And then
there’s the problem of my jealous right hand. Thanks to the Rabbit’s
endurance, coordination, and finesse, she’s left with little to do but
change its batteries and wait despairingly for the day the motor gives
out.
Last night, still clutching the
Rabbit
in my left hand, I began to drift off into a post-orgasmic
slumber. I was awakened by my right hand exploring the folds of
my pussy. "I'm still the best," she whispered in the dark.
"Maybe," I said. "Let me try that Rabbit one more time and I'll
get back to you."
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