Bitchin' Camaro

Her Bad Mother has two blogs. A traditional blog and a blog where people come to anonymously complain about whatever ails them. For the first time ever, Catherine has engineered Betchfest, a glorious time where bloggers swap stories and blogs in a convoluted, no tracking possible manner. Or at least we all hope so! The following Bitch is from anonymous, please shower her with love and affection.

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Sam told me that she is "fairly profane on a regular basis" and so I could betch about anything I wanted to on her blog. So I'm going to betch about sex. Namely, reminding husband that a vibrator is not a fucking light saber. Nice and goddamn easy Mr. Skywalker.

I brought this toy into the marital session because one of the side effects of antidepressants is that you shower. The other side effect is that even though your lady bits smell clean as a whistle you have no desire to use them. So out comes that hot pink, hard plastic vibrator you bought from the mall's gag gift store. (Because if you actually brought out the one that you plugged in husband's nuts would retract.) And you start getting down to business time again.

At first husband's all suspicious of the plastic. Then he realizes that you can now have an orgasm every time that the two of you get it on. Look out. And as time goes by the line between the trembling plastic goodness and his skill as a lover gets blurred. He forgets that it's actually the $14.99 vibe that you got there, and just remembers that you did it. While he was in the bed with you.

Which is awesome. He feels great. You feel great. Everybody feels great. And the neighbors are totally weirded out by the fact that every Friday and Wednesday night this strange vvvvvvvv-va-vvvvvvvvvvvvvv sound emanates from your bedroom window. But then husband's got to get all artsy with the damn thing. Dude. It buzzes. You place it on the spot. Wait a couple of minutes and ba-da-boom. You don't need to twist, jam or rub the thing against my crotch like you're trying to start a fire.

And do you understand how a see saw works? If you press one side down, the other side goes up. So when you see me approaching my wifely moment, throwing your body down on top of me causes the vibrator to lift off of the magic spot. Killing the moment, and making us start over. Then you do it again. So on the third go round I have to pretend like I'm not about to blow when the moment approaches so you don't bruise my crotch bone and stop the fun.

And lastly, additional hands, mouth and so on are more than welcome. I'll bake a cake just to let you know how welcome they all are. But sword fighting the vibrator with your dick is beyond frustrating. I can tell the difference between the vibe and your wiener. Primarily, because as lovely as your cock is, it doesn't vibrate. So trying to pull the old switcheroo midway through isn't going to work. Kay?

This is anonymous right? If you figure out who the author of this sex small talk is, pretty please keep it to yourself. Husband reads email, and reads comments on my blog. If he finds out about this I fear our household will suddenly run out of all AA batteries.

Thanks, and keep on keeping on.