Fleshlight Musings

You probably don’t own a fleshlight. You possibly don’t even know what one is. First and foremost then, let’s clear that up: a fleshlight is a synthetic vagina in a tube, used as a masturbation aid by anyone who has a penis. I’d include a picture here, but there’s really no angle from which a fleshlight looks anything other than awful.

But that, for me at least, is part of the appeal.

Take a fleshlight. Uncap it, and you’re confronted by a cunt. Just that. On most models you can even remove it from the hard plastic casing with a little squeeze and some gentle rotation. What flops out into your hand when you do so resembles an apple core of flesh – a lurid, vulgar roll of synthetic skin.

A fleshlight is fake sex organs isolated from a body, from a personality, from any meaningful humanity. It’s a toy that seems to imply that all of those things are unimportant; that what really matters is not the person, but the hole into which you stick your dick.

Which is, of course, eye-rollingly crude. But which also speaks to the part of me that’s heavily into objectification. And sadism. I’ve shown Zero the fleshlight before. Taunted her with it. Made her hold it while I fuck it instead of fucking her. I’ve compared her to it, in the moments when I want to make her squirm. I’ve told her that she’s no better than it. That I prefer it.

Which is all untrue, of course. But extremely powerful when set alongside the sheer functional grossness of a fleshlight. The way in which it (and many other male sex toys) seem designed to appeal to some dumb, horny animal. The ways in which they objectify bodies, commodify body parts. No elegance, no design, no thought: just a cunt in a can.

There’s probably something quite problematic at the root of male sex toy design. But anything that is made for one purpose can be repurposed for another. And I choose to repurpose my fleshlight as a tool for sadism, humiliation, and a more complex sexuality.

And sometimes just for a wank, too, when I’m in the mood.