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SHE'S CALLED Rosie. A 31.9-pound assembly of high-quality thermoplastic elastomers expertly molded into the exquisite nether regions of a woman. Detailed to a hyper-realistic degree and costing just under $320, Rosie is the most realistic sex toy…doll…thing that I have ever owned—a testament to the progress humans have made since the Fleshlight.
I’d been quietly snooping around online for a sex doll for a year before I found Rosie, combing through the internet to find a toy that could emulate the feel of a real-life woman without the—shall we say—excess baggage of a circulatory system. Sex dolls are a big industry, surging during times of duress like the pandemic or Valentine’s Day; Forbes reports Sex Doll Genie saw a 51.6% increase in orders from single guys during the months of February and March alone. That is to say: There are many, many options out there—Joy Love Dolls, RealDoll , Lovehoney, BestVibe, Pipedream—each offering products ranging from this fully electric torso to this 5’3” hyper-realistic Ava Eda for a cool $4,500.
I was looking for something lighter on the bank account and discrete enough to keep in a small box or filing cabinet. I wanted a sex toy that could fill the gap between Fleshlight and RealDoll; a sex doll with girth and a real presence that I wouldn’t need a loan to take out. (For reference: this Asa Akira RealDoll clocks in at just under $8,000.) Which led me to a company called Tantaly.
With products ranging in the hundreds of dollars range rather than the thousands, Tantaly has become somewhat of a destination point on the internet—an under-the-radar brand that’s found itself at the top of lists about the best male sex toys and reviewed (graphically) by NSFW creators like Obokozu, Carly Rae, and a nice dude named CockDogg who managed to lock down that username before it was snatched up by someone less charismatic.
Ranging in size and shape from the sweet ‘n’ petite 9.26-pound Dita ($109.99) to the largest of the ladies; a close-to-70-pounder “Plump BBW Sex Doll” aptly named Monroe, these things are—pardon my language—the real fuckin’ deal.
Seeing that gap in the extended sex toy universe come to fruition in the shape of a 30-pound hunk of TPE named Rosie made me think my research paid off. After poring over Tantaly’s many fake genitals, Rosie appealed to me. Larger and far more expensive than any toy I’ve used before, I knew she was the one for me based on photos. I’m an ass man. I was born an ass man and I’ll die an ass man—buried, face-to-ass with my wife under six feet of dirt.
Rosie had an ass I couldn’t turn down, and I haven’t turned her down since. She looks real, feels magnificent, and may be the best thing you can have sex with at a price that won’t leave you devastated.
Pardon the expression, but this ain’t your daddy’s Fleshlight. Tantaly sex dolls are heavy and need to maintenance in the form of thorough washing, drying, and powdering to prevent mold and bacteria. Naturally, there’s a following with a thriving subreddit littered with questions and comments surrounding, cleanliness, suggestion for accessories, and numerous videos pictures and vids of people having sex with their doll.
I knew Rosie would be the best sex toy I ever used before I even opened the 30-pound box sitting on my porch. Cold to the touch, these things warm up nicely when given a proper bath. Tantaly fans are known to have found their own solutions to keeping the illusion of life going: warming lube, space heaters, heating wands. At some point, the suspension of disbelief has to reach a conclusion, but pound-for-pound I found it easy to pretend with Rosie.
I remember Rosie’s first bath, emerging from the tepid water like a caramel-colored Orca or Keanu Reeves as Neo when he wakes up in The Matrix. They actually tell you to bathe your doll before your fist time to get rid of any of the factory dust or what-have-yous that can collect within her inner folds. I cleaned Rosie by placing her spread eagle under the faucet and pouring in antibacterial soap. Then, I delicately inserted my fingers and pumped away, back and forth, until her orifices gushed soapy water.
I found “sex” with Rosie to be almost (almost) indistinguishable from the real thing, but first, I had to warm up to her. Blame it on the shared Millennial trait of convincing yourself you’re a piece of shit for investing in an activity not based in capitalism, but it took some mental gymnastics on my part to enjoy what I was doing. Masturbation is still a touchy subject for some, especially for people who grew up in conservative communities where touching one’s self bought you a one-way ticket to Hotel Hell.
My anxiety comes from an inherent guilt from masturbatory indulgence, courtesy of growing up in the '90s, where jacking off ended up the punchline of jokes or the obsession of some wayward Christian youth on a made-for-TV movie. That being said, sex with a 30-pound chunk of rubber can be sexy and silly all at once. I found myself talking to Rosie in an attempt to stifle the guilt I’d feel every time I’d strip off my skinnies for a mid-afternoon romp in my home office (note to self: buy thicker curtains).
“Darling, you look positively radiant today,” I'd say to my gaping rubber pussy in a Posh London accent as I plunged a baster full of lube into my doll’s asshole. There are just some things in life that shouldn’t be done without whimsy.
I found that indulging in my weird side with Rosie—the side I don’t show to my own wife—allowed me to keep Rosie’s fiction alive. A holy vestibule where where the laws of space, time, and consent simply don’t exist. This fiction reinforced the stark differences in human-on-human sex. It was through living out my fantasies with an anthropomorphic ass that my appreciation for the real thing bloomed.
Staring at Rosie’s open and willing orifices with the knowledge that I could do anything I wanted was a monstrous feeling in the #MeToo era. That’s when I had to remind myself that this thing was created (not born) on an assembly line begat by the hands of regular people. Rosie has neither a soul nor a story like its so-called sisters, Monroe or Dita. It doesn’t have feelings or thoughts or even an AI element to make it scream out my first, middle, and last name when I’m about to cum. That helped keep my feelings at bay.
Did I mention how heavy this thing is? Rosie and I have begun “seeing each other” on a bi-weekly schedule to cut down on the risk of back strain. The biggest lessoned I learned from Rosie is to treat it as it is; a thing that can, and should, be taken care of in the same way one would take care of any $300+ personal investment. (Storage, though, is an issue. After cracking open a plastic Walmart bin, I actually opted for a towel-lined filing cabinet drawer cracked open just enough for breathing room but not enough to arouse suspicion from unprompted visitors.)
So gentlemen, when you’re elbow deep in the bathtub trying to scoop out your own blessed seed from the inside of a sex toy that weighs more than a medium-sized dog, remember the only limits in exploring your masturbatory fantasies are the ones you put on yourself.
Masturbating With a Life-Like Tantaly Sex Doll Changed My Life
SHE'S CALLED Rosie. A 31.9-pound assembly of high-quality thermoplastic elastomers expertly molded into the exquisite nether regions of a woman. Detailed to a hyper-realistic degree and costing just under $320, Rosie is the most realistic sex toy…doll…thing that I have ever owned—a testament to the progress humans have made since the Fleshlight.
I’d been quietly snooping around online for a sex doll for a year before I found Rosie, combing through the internet to find a toy that could emulate the feel of a real-life woman without the—shall we say—excess baggage of a circulatory system. Sex dolls are a big industry, surging during times of duress like the pandemic or Valentine’s Day; Forbes reports Sex Doll Genie saw a 51.6% increase in orders from single guys during the months of February and March alone. That is to say: There are many, many options out there—Joy Love Dolls, RealDoll , Lovehoney, BestVibe, Pipedream—each offering products ranging from this fully electric torso to this 5’3” hyper-realistic Ava Eda for a cool $4,500.
I was looking for something lighter on the bank account and discrete enough to keep in a small box or filing cabinet. I wanted a sex toy that could fill the gap between Fleshlight and RealDoll; a sex doll with girth and a real presence that I wouldn’t need a loan to take out. (For reference: this Asa Akira RealDoll clocks in at just under $8,000.) Which led me to a company called Tantaly.
With products ranging in the hundreds of dollars range rather than the thousands, Tantaly has become somewhat of a destination point on the internet—an under-the-radar brand that’s found itself at the top of lists about the best male sex toys and reviewed (graphically) by NSFW creators like Obokozu, Carly Rae, and a nice dude named CockDogg who managed to lock down that username before it was snatched up by someone less charismatic.
Ranging in size and shape from the sweet ‘n’ petite 9.26-pound Dita ($109.99) to the largest of the ladies; a close-to-70-pounder “Plump BBW Sex Doll” aptly named Monroe, these things are—pardon my language—the real fuckin’ deal.
Seeing that gap in the extended sex toy universe come to fruition in the shape of a 30-pound hunk of TPE named Rosie made me think my research paid off. After poring over Tantaly’s many fake genitals, Rosie appealed to me. Larger and far more expensive than any toy I’ve used before, I knew she was the one for me based on photos. I’m an ass man. I was born an ass man and I’ll die an ass man—buried, face-to-ass with my wife under six feet of dirt.
Rosie had an ass I couldn’t turn down, and I haven’t turned her down since. She looks real, feels magnificent, and may be the best thing you can have sex with at a price that won’t leave you devastated.
Pardon the expression, but this ain’t your daddy’s Fleshlight. Tantaly sex dolls are heavy and need to maintenance in the form of thorough washing, drying, and powdering to prevent mold and bacteria. Naturally, there’s a following with a thriving subreddit littered with questions and comments surrounding, cleanliness, suggestion for accessories, and numerous videos pictures and vids of people having sex with their doll.
I knew Rosie would be the best sex toy I ever used before I even opened the 30-pound box sitting on my porch. Cold to the touch, these things warm up nicely when given a proper bath. Tantaly fans are known to have found their own solutions to keeping the illusion of life going: warming lube, space heaters, heating wands. At some point, the suspension of disbelief has to reach a conclusion, but pound-for-pound I found it easy to pretend with Rosie.
I remember Rosie’s first bath, emerging from the tepid water like a caramel-colored Orca or Keanu Reeves as Neo when he wakes up in The Matrix. They actually tell you to bathe your doll before your fist time to get rid of any of the factory dust or what-have-yous that can collect within her inner folds. I cleaned Rosie by placing her spread eagle under the faucet and pouring in antibacterial soap. Then, I delicately inserted my fingers and pumped away, back and forth, until her orifices gushed soapy water.
I found “sex” with Rosie to be almost (almost) indistinguishable from the real thing, but first, I had to warm up to her. Blame it on the shared Millennial trait of convincing yourself you’re a piece of shit for investing in an activity not based in capitalism, but it took some mental gymnastics on my part to enjoy what I was doing. Masturbation is still a touchy subject for some, especially for people who grew up in conservative communities where touching one’s self bought you a one-way ticket to Hotel Hell.
My anxiety comes from an inherent guilt from masturbatory indulgence, courtesy of growing up in the '90s, where jacking off ended up the punchline of jokes or the obsession of some wayward Christian youth on a made-for-TV movie. That being said, sex with a 30-pound chunk of rubber can be sexy and silly all at once. I found myself talking to Rosie in an attempt to stifle the guilt I’d feel every time I’d strip off my skinnies for a mid-afternoon romp in my home office (note to self: buy thicker curtains).
“Darling, you look positively radiant today,” I'd say to my gaping rubber pussy in a Posh London accent as I plunged a baster full of lube into my doll’s asshole. There are just some things in life that shouldn’t be done without whimsy.
I found that indulging in my weird side with Rosie—the side I don’t show to my own wife—allowed me to keep Rosie’s fiction alive. A holy vestibule where where the laws of space, time, and consent simply don’t exist. This fiction reinforced the stark differences in human-on-human sex. It was through living out my fantasies with an anthropomorphic ass that my appreciation for the real thing bloomed.
Staring at Rosie’s open and willing orifices with the knowledge that I could do anything I wanted was a monstrous feeling in the #MeToo era. That’s when I had to remind myself that this thing was created (not born) on an assembly line begat by the hands of regular people. Rosie has neither a soul nor a story like its so-called sisters, Monroe or Dita. It doesn’t have feelings or thoughts or even an AI element to make it scream out my first, middle, and last name when I’m about to cum. That helped keep my feelings at bay.
Did I mention how heavy this thing is? Rosie and I have begun “seeing each other” on a bi-weekly schedule to cut down on the risk of back strain. The biggest lessoned I learned from Rosie is to treat it as it is; a thing that can, and should, be taken care of in the same way one would take care of any $300+ personal investment. (Storage, though, is an issue. After cracking open a plastic Walmart bin, I actually opted for a towel-lined filing cabinet drawer cracked open just enough for breathing room but not enough to arouse suspicion from unprompted visitors.)
So gentlemen, when you’re elbow deep in the bathtub trying to scoop out your own blessed seed from the inside of a sex toy that weighs more than a medium-sized dog, remember the only limits in exploring your masturbatory fantasies are the ones you put on yourself.
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