The iBuzz vibrator kit did not make a good first impression on me. Considering I spend nine hours a day plugged into my mp3 player, I was excited about attaching something of vibrators to it. But it proved impotent, and I felt the same disappointment that creeps over me staring at a soft penis while my flesh is begging. I just could not get it to work. The independent settings hummed happily, but despite every possible connection, reconnection, powering orders, button pressing, shaking, it would not respond to my mp3 player.

The iBuzz seemed poor quality. The plastic looked and felt cheap. The cords fit loosely and unreliably in their ports. Any movement jostled them free and killed the vibrator. The cock ring that accompanied the toy snapped when stretched ever so slightly. I do not think the cock ring would have been too fun for me and my partner considering only one of us could listen to the headphones, but we never got a chance to try.

Frustrations flooded over me. I had to set down the iBuzz and walk away to prevent myself from breaking it. I wanted a music inspired orgasm, and shattering the toy would have been counterproductive. Instead, I waited for my partner to make it work. With some electronics magic, he quickly brought it to life.

I finally had it functional and had it to myself. I had to crank the volume all the way up to get any substantial vibration from the small bullet. There was no way I could slip the headphones into my ears without deafening myself, and I did not want to include my FM transmitter. There were more than enough cords involved already. I placed the headphones near my ear so I could hear as I scrolled through songs to find the right pulsation.

Once I was settled with the cumbersome setup, I was able to try and focus on the sensations. I pressed the bullet to my clit, and my nerves lit up along my body. The dual stimulation of sound and touch tantalized my mind in new avenues of masturbation.

Some songs emerged as perfect, providing an orgasmic staccato rhythm. The most surprising genres and artists mingled unexpectedly with the self-sex. However, some songs proved tedious. If the song was intense or had a strong rhythm and melody, the iBuzz simply dissolved it all into a boring, constant vibration.

The bullet itself was quite loud. Since I could not have my headphones inside my ears, the sound of it competed with the music. Yet it was weak. I could not increase the volume; it was as loud as my player would permit. The vibration was just enough to tease my nerves into a begging fury without pushing me over that blissful edge. I waited song after song, scrolling to find one with adequate pulsation, rolling and clenching my body trying to elicit that explosion.

When the orgasm finally forced itself out, it was soft and gentle, weak even. The combination of the music I love with the massaging of my clit was new and enticing, but I needed it to fuck me harder. Perhaps another model of mp3 player (an iPod, for example) in conjunction with other vibrator kits could unleash more intense pleasure.