Clitty Twister

The Clitty Twister's box copy promises to "rock you like a hurricane." Upon reading this, I was taken by a jarring flashback, snatched back 15 years to the prime of my callow and pungently misspent youth. The Scorpions. A backyard in Pacoima. Bad pot. A sweaty Mexican boy in tears. The glorious emergence of my sadistic side.

Having been jerked along down memory lane like a bad poodle on a choke chain, I was suddenly (and not quite unaccountably) in the mood to masturbate. The Clitty Twister's forte is suggested rather unequivocally in its name —a knob atop a shortish shaft works madam's joy button with a nice circular motion until she's jist about ready to explode. My Twister got a weekend-long workout, and performed brilliantly.