One day my husband traveled home from San Francisco with a vibrating dildo (including battery.
He packed it and proudly gave it to us as a gift. -
My first personality toy
Dildo is about 6 inch of the smooth plastic, one end is tapered and the other end is the variable speed control knob.
Did I mention I hate hot pink.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not picky about sex toys.
(Well, maybe a little bit when they're big, anatomical right, and have names like "hot rods", "Butch" and "Randy.
") I don't have time to go shopping at all.
If I did, I wouldn't have bought an oversized lipstick that looks like Walgreens.
But I'm the only one.
So here I am with a hot buzz
A pink love given by a husband eager to help me reach a new height of sexual ecstasy.
I tried it as a good sport.
But the toy doesn't match me very well.
Yes, the color of girlie is a mistake, but so is the overall effect.
It looks cheap, cheesy and unreliable.
When I use it I feel like I'm at a low
Budget porn, most of the action takes place on faded roses
The printed sofa with sea view is bent over it.
Variable speed control is a joke.
I found that the best way to reduce the speed is to turn it on and let it vibrate on the bedside table for a while until the battery is low.
Apparently, my frugal husband turned down the luxury model and chose the cheap "starter" dildo instead.
Or, most likely, he dug it out of the sales box.
It didn't take long for the pink toy to end at the back of my bedside table drawer.
Because it's a gift. -
With the sweetest intentions-
I can't throw it away.
It seems inappropriate to give it to a friend.
So many people in Deere lived quietly behind my drawer for years until one night in November.
We got home and found our front door opened.
We immediately ran to the next door to call the police and the police warned us not to go in until they showed up and made sure the scene was safe.
Two policemen arrive in a few minutes. -a no-
Nonsense woman about my age
In my 30 s) and a bald old man like my fatherin-law.
After the police checked all the rooms and closets, we were called in to assess the damage.
What I care about most is our two cats.
They seem to be shaken, but they are not damaged.
Our stereo, along with some other items, was taken apart by the back door and stacked neatly.
The police officer pointed out two huge sets of footprints in the snow in the backyard, and the thief fled there in a hurry.
"You must have scared them away when you drive up," she said . " I suddenly felt uncomfortable.
Then my husband and I went through the rest of the house.
Walking into our bedroom, I saw underwear and T-shirts.
A shirt hanging from the side of an open, looted drawer.
There, lying alone in bed, in all the hot weather
My penis is the glory of pink.
My face, neck and chest are warm.
I knew I was just getting red.
My first thought, so to speak, was to hide the evidence.
But the police have seen it.
Also, we are instructed not to move anything.
So I sneaked back into the living room to avoid eye contact with the male police, smiled humbly at the policewoman and muttered that the thief found my sex toy.
She still grinned, I'm sure. Being a worst-
Case scenario thinker, I was awake for a few hours that night and considered various possibilities.
What kind of information did the thieves give me, showed dildo in bed, and maybe they planned to come back for the "party ".
"Yes, that's it.
Soon, they'll take a look outside my house at the sexy babe who plays cheesy pink vibrato toys.
They will tell them about me to those dirty criminal friends, and soon my address will be scribbled in the booth of the men's bathroom.
I'm obviously in danger.
Obviously, I need a Dubin.
I feel less vulnerable during the day.
After all, I told myself that when they found the fake penis, these guys might laugh quickly, maybe even get excited for a while, and then move on to the task at hand ---
Look for cash and pass on heir jewelry.
(Oh, guys. . .
We don't even have a TV or CD player to offer.
) Over the next few days, my paranoia subsided due to newly installed safety lighting, front door alarms and stronger bolts on the door hinges.
Still, I'm looking for a strange man lurking behind the pole or walking too slowly on our sidewalk.
When I told my female friend to rest
Their almost universal response is, "you must feel like you 've been violated.
"I nodded coldly and changed the topic.
Because I don't feel a lot of aggression. -
Yes, be more vigilant and cautious;
Yes, very angry.
But I feel like any violation is focused on that damn dildo.
In our lives, we all have something hidden behind the drawers, not necessarily because we are ashamed of them, but because we value our privacy and secret lives.
Or because we don't know what else to do.
But the two men found some secrets about me and let me know about it.
What bothers me is that they don't know I hate pink.
They didn't know I would never pick this cheesy toy for myself.
They didn't know that dildo slept in my drawer for two years.
Why do I care what these guys do or don't know about the people who bugged me.
Of course, the thieves violated my privacy, but not much ---
On my sex sonar screen, dildo is just an interesting, experimental spot.
It revealed more about my husband than I did.
However, the feeling of false statements remains.
The burglary did bring a good thing: the criminals gave me a good excuse to throw it away.
My husband understood that I could no longer enjoy the beating pink color of the crowbar and broken door hinges, ransacked drawers and frightened cats without considering it.
So I wrapped the toy in a brown paper bag (didn't want the tooling to find it) and threw it in the trash ---
Its battery was dead long ago, and its harmless hum disappeared forever.