Embarrassing Vibrator Story Abroad

April 19, 2012

I was mortified when my step mother recommended I bring a vibrator college.  My mother was equally shocked.  Eventually I acquiesced and we strolled through the aisles of Caldor, the predecessor to the KMarts and Targets of today, leaving with a ConAir personal massager with more attachments than necessary.  Because the vibrator was my first real foray into masturbation I was unable to achieve the same relaxation manually, nor could my paramours.


During my dry spells of college I experimented with the handy toy satisfying myself more than any horny college kid could. And when I was not able to lay in bed and satiate myself for hours on end, I missed the little machine.  One such time was when after graduation I was traveling.  Certainly omitted from the list of recommended items for backpacking abroad was one’s reliable vibrator.  With the different electrical currents and plugs, Asia and it’s room sharing hostels was not ideal for self satisfaction.   


By the time my trip was nearly finished and I was traveling alone, I was horny.  I found myself on the eve of my return home roaming a street sale in Hong Kong.  Amongst all of the knick knacks and crap one considers using was a thumb size mini massager for sale.  I was renting a small cot in a private room at a hostel where the owners spoke only a few words of English. Tonight I could get lucky, or rather relaxed before the flight.  


Being that I was alone and had nowhere to go, I decided to engage the shop owner.  I asked him what the little device did, and why one would own it. With his limited English, he demonstrated how to massage my arm and my back.  I don’t know what he had thought of me, if perhaps he thought some American backpacker really believed he was selling small ineffective personal massagers or if I was looking for a good old fashioned vibrator.  


That evening, as I laid in my cot my only concern was if the noise traveled through the walls.  

50 Shades of Eroticism

April 18, 2012

The most recent book club selection was Fifty Shades of Grey, the amazingly popular soft core porn book that everybody is talking about.  When we first chose it I thought it would be a little steamy, and at the original price of thirty dollars I did not immediately purchase it instead waiting for a friend to finish her copy first.  

The book is hot, no doubt about that. I am sure my husband regrets having to go on a business trip the week I read it and my sister’s husband ever grateful it is a trilogy calls the book literary viagra.  So much of the book is a disappointment as it was not entirely convincing.  Sex six times a day! Even in my prime I did not do that, let alone sex involving all types of submissive behavior, although that does sound highly erotic.  

I was discussing the book with a mom from my son’s preschool and she seemed to have an entirely different take.  She looked at me with skepticism as I said some of the scenes felt repetitive and the writing was poor.  Ten more minutes of discussing our contrasting take, we realized we were discussing two completely different books.  She was reading Between Shades of Gray, about a Lithuanian teenager on the brink of World War One.  

 But now talking about this soft core porn novel is main stream. According to one friend, the book is the most downloaded anything in Kindle’s history.  It even came up with my step mother and sister in law’s mother.  I’m sure my mother in law is not far behind.  Maybe we have been so repressed about talking and reading about sex that a little fantasy of physical repression and unadulterated attraction is all we need. 

Intimate Encounters

April 5, 2011

Before my penultimate vacation I had dinner with the mother of my daughter’s friend. After several drinks we began to share intimate details. By the first glass I learned her husband does not watch porn, the next glass we discussed chaps and wigs and by the third I knew her husband lasted about ten seconds.

Naturally the next day I was ordering leather chaps on line and she was shopping for a nurses costume. We both picked up new bras at Victoria Secret When I surprised my husband with the new purchase (and boy was he surprised) I kept thinking about my friend. After sharing intimate details with someone, then doing said intimate actions with another my mind naturally thought of the first person.

And so it was. I went away without my husband for a week then consummated our reunion, during which thoughts of sex and power immediately brought me back to my dinner. That my husband commented on the mom being smoking probably contributed to me thinking about her during sex.
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Respect the lingerie

January 10, 2011

Have you seen Burlesque?

It is smoking hot. Christina looks great. Cher can no longer emote. The plot is lame, dialogue is weak but the dancing! the choreography! the costumes! It is the most erotic PG-13 film I’ve seen in ages. I smiled through each performance on the screen.

You don’t see any more skin than you would at the beach, but the scantly outfits are beyond smoking. And after telling my husband how turned on I was leaving the theater…mid afternoon on Thanksgiving day and driving home with his parents, he gave me permission to buy anything I wanted from the film. Only that pearl number that was removed with a simple slip of the hand on stage was not for sale on the internet.

While waiting for my pseudo stepfather at Bloomingdales the other day, I slipped down to the lingerie section to see what was erotic and justified paying retail. I beelined it to the Agent Provocateur department. While few items titillated my fancy, I was aghast at some of the prices. I did manage to find a fantastic discounted number in my size. A black lace bra with a zipper in the center and two gold buttons, and a matching thong (they were out of my size in the coordinating boy short).

Despite the chronic pain in my back, I could not resist showing my husband, then modeling it with the tags still on. Things heated up. The candle helped. And when my husband wanted to pull the bra to the side enjoy my embarrassingly shrunken breasts, I reminded him this was new lingerie and he had to be gentle. I did try to unzip the center but it was stuck on a seam.

He held the candle by my body, pouring hot wax on my body. As erotic and excited as I was, this was my first set of Agent Provocateur lingerie and I did not want to ruin it before I even had an opportunity to remove the tags. Even though I was blindfolded, every time he tipped the candle pouring the hot wax on to my body, I reminded my husband my body was his, the lingerie was not.

I had to trust him. He is my husband. And I was blindfolded. And worrying about the state of my underwear during intercourse is a real buzz kill.

An amateur porn film later, I took off the bra and thong and saw wax! Brand new wax hardened on my mesh Agent Provocateur set. I love my husband very much and as fantastic as the sex and foreplay was, I was furious. I wrote a note telling him he had to remove the wax.

Ashamed as i am to admit, I even considered returning it to Bloomies as it still had the tag on. What would I say, “I didn’t notice the wax when I bought it?” I could blame it on my husband, who upset at being accused of breaking the one forbidden act in bed, told me to buy a new set.

After seething, I opted to do nothing. The set lays in his drawer. He can try to remove the wax (I’m reluctant to ask my nanny to help) or not. He can break out the set one night when he feels horny and wants me to feel sexy. I am trying to be zen about the entire affair, take deep breaths, remember that it is just lingerie and replaceable at that. Although, i’m not inspired to replace it with an equally smoking coordinating outfit. Should my hubby try to surprise me…well I won’t argue. Although maybe I’ll pour hot wax near his crotch.

While the husband is away…

November 11, 2010

My husband left for Europe Tuesday afternoon and returns on Friday evening and I welcome his departure, although I do wish he told me where the new vibrator is hidden. It’s not the type of question one might ask of a government regulated employee whose emails are monitored for compliance. I did, however, ask him last week on the phone where the painkillers were, leaving out the word Percocet as I could hear the subtle *beep* on the phone signaling our call was being recorded.

Since I threw my back out on Halloween, six hours on the floor complete with spasms which led to an ambulance ride to the local hospital, I’m reluctant to pick up the children. Not that whiny toddlers who shed real tears when they do not get what they want the moment their heart desires should not be carried as a consolation. While I feel fantastic, as if the *back incident* never happened, I worry about making the same mistake again resulting in even more time writhing on the floor with the bad pain.

At my husband’s insistence with nominal objection my part, I have full time help this week which means I have not done a dish and should probably get a manicure.

Now I have to make it out to buy a discounted Halloween costume and wig to surprise my man when he returns.

Reunion Arm Candy

May 17, 2010

Leading up to my husband’s 20th high school reunion, I asked if he wanted me to wear something special. “Don’t you want to be the one with the smokin’ wife?” I asked.
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See Mom Run: Side-Splitting Essays from the World’s Most Harried Moms

January 4, 2010

For the NYC Moms Book club, I read See Mom Run, a collection of essays by contributors to the parent blog, Silicon Valley Moms. This book once again, assuaged some of my insecurities about my writing.
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