Third degree tears.

Shaped like a Y, the tip of which crept up to my sphincter leaving my nether region looking something like this: 

They stitched me up so tight that when I’m 50, my vagina will only be 25.

Needless to say, I waited the full six weeks postpartum and then some to hop back on the bologna pony. And when I did? It wasn’t pretty.

Our little monster was asleep. All was quiet around the house. We took things slow. We dusted off the lube. And then we played a little game I like to call: just the tip.

Because that’s about how far we made it before it felt like I was SPLITTING IN TWO. Turns out there were a couple of issues standing between us and the hot, steamy, belly-free, skin to skin, real. actual. sex we had so eagerly anticipated. First of all, they really down-play that whole “breastfeeding can cause vaginal dryness” thing, and I was kind of blindsided by it. So was Scott. There was chafing across the board. Secondly, I was tighter than my pre-pregnancy jeans.

But we are determined folk. We quite liked our sex life before baby, and we reassured each other that with a little bit of good ‘ol American stick-to-it-iveness, we would once again see a day when a romp in the sack didn’t feel like driving a battering ram through a keyhole.

Still, I ran to my internet friends in dismay.

“OMG. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME? I JUST WANT TO HAVE NORMAL SEX.” I lamented – eager for advice and encouragement.

As always, my girls were forthcoming. They lamented along with me. They e-stroked my hair and promised it would get better. And then I read the three little words that would change the course of history [in our bedroom] forever. It was my dear, brilliant, wonderful, [insert-glowing-adjective-here-because-she-effing-deserves-every-one] well, I won’t tell you WHO wrote these words:

Vibrating.  Cock.  Ring.

Totally helps relax the tight vadge.

Oh, and not the trojan kind. Buy one from a naughty sex toy site. It’s worth it.

I was intrigued. I mentioned it to my hubby, and [after he wiped the kid in a candy store grin off his face] he ran right out and picked one up.

Well…slap my ass and call me Pamela, because that shit WORKED. Loosened things right up, and got us back on the train to O-town (and I’m not talking about the city, or the shitty boyband, ifyouknowwhatImean…) I still pretty much praise my friend’s name on a daily basis.

And yet…there was still one hurdle to be lept. Just beyond my war-torn labia, things remained dry as the Sahara. The generic drug store lube we had wasn’t cutting it. It was time to break out the big guns…So we unearthed the novelty lube from my bachelorette party. It was one of those his&hers combo packs – kind of like that KY Yours + Mine stuff – except not like that at all, because as soon as the “his” met the “hers” it was like someone had LITERALLY LIT MY LOINS ON FIRE. The “chemists” at WET must have gotten a few ingredients wrong, because not only did I shriek in pain, but Mr.HABsorbent did as well. It burned his dick, ladies. We were officially in the market for some new lube.

So when our anniversary came around, and we sent our little panty liner to spend the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s house (I don’t have a clever feminine hygiene related nickname for them) Mr.HABsorbent turned to me with that shit-eating grin and said:

“Wanna go to Le Sex Shoppe?”

Truth be told, I did NOT want to go to Le Sex Shoppe. I wanted to go to Rite Aid, and quietly buy them out of whatever lube they had – well disguised amongst other less incriminating items like diapers and rocky road – before going home to drink some wine, have a semi-painful quickie, and promptly pass out for 10 hours of uninterrupted shut-eye…because despite having no problem airing intimate details of my sex life on the internet, I am kind of a prude in real life.

But my husband has been an incredible sport. So if he wanted to spend our one night off in the creepiest shop in town looking for miracle lube, then so be it.

We entered through the back (where the “violators will be towed” signs have also been amended to advise: “no oral in the parking lot”) made our way past the LolliCocks and Anal Speculum, and up to the display in front where we were greeted by “Rick” who looked like my old guitar teacher, but might as well have been working at The Gap the way he cheerfully greeted us. “Are you looking for something specific today? I’m here if you have any questions!” Much to my horror, Mr.HABsorbent welcomed the opportunity to consult a professional about our situation.

“Can you recommend a really good lube? Something that doesn’t dry up, get sticky, or feel like it’s giving you a chemical burn?”he inquired. [Oh dear god. Just what I need. The dude in the overcoat behind the bondage display knowing the in's and out's of my chafed va-jay-jay. Horrible pun yes intended.] “Rick” was eager to share his expertise. Turns out, he’d been getting lots of RAVE reviews on the KY Yours + Mine. Mr.HABsorbent cocked an eyebrow (oh my god, I can’t stop!) and turned to me – “you wanna try it?”

So there I was. Standing in the middle of Le Sex Shoppe on a Saturday night, with Rick, Trenchcoat Guy, and the mousy-looking Secretary-type who thought she was flying under the radar all staring back at me as I struggled to find a classy (!?) way to say “I have a flux-capacitor shaped scar in my oh-so-tight vagina that I am not looking to have lit aflame again, so no I don’t want to “try it” thankyouverymuch, and since we’re all listening so intently, there is baby vomit between my boobs, I’m covered in stretch marks, and my stomach looks like someone glued a deflated skin-colored beach ball to the front of it. Now who wants to fuck?

What I came up with after what felt like a good forty-five seconds of desperate silence as I tried to get my husband to telepathically understand the above sentiment was: “Um, I think…ah…I don’t think we’re….uh…I think that might be…overly ambitious.”

Rick actually laughed out loud. The Hubs, sensing my discomfort, gave me one of his crooked smiles, and dutifully reached for the plain ‘ol Jelly. (Y’know, the stuff they use at your OB’s office. Talk about sexy.) He handed it to Rick. But this party wasn’t over yet. “KY’s tried and true” said Rick, “but if you’re really having trouble getting wet, this Agape stuff rocks my face off.” Kill me. Kill me right the fuck now. Rick’s helpful advice had just expanded to include personal endorsements. He informed us that the best lubes have glycerin in them, which is great for vaginal dryness, but can also lead to yeast infections, and most chicks don’t dig that. As it turns out, Rick is kind of like a lube sommelier. And quite the salesman. By the time all was said and done, we’d ditched the KY Jelly, and walked out of there with [almost no modesty remaining] and two high-end, Rick-approved, glycerin-free personal lubricants. Uh…and also a membership to their rewards program…since we figured we might be back for more of this alleged wonder-lube.

So to tie in my Back To the Future reference and bring this baby full circle? The moral of the story is this: With a little high-octane lube and a vibrating cock ring DH and I were finally able to get my vagina up to 88MPH…’cause where we’re going…we don’t need roads. (What? Roads? That doesn’t even make sense. The lube was awesome. The sex was epic. The end.)

Rick’s Pick’s:

JO H2O Water Based Personal Lubricant

Pink Water Lubricant

Post from: Toy With Me

DOC, ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS SUCKER’S NUCLEAR?

Possibly related goodness:

1. DOC, ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS SUCKER’S NUCLEAR?

Cunnilingus, Eating at the Y, Little Man in the Boat, Muff Diving, Carpet Munching, Eating Out, Giving Face, Eating Beaver, Eating the Pink Harmonica, Eating Clam Dinner, and a personal favorite, Snorkeling for Oysters. Call it what you want, going down on a woman can elicit a wide range of emotions from both men and women. Mention muff diving at a family dinner and you better get the defibrillator for Grandma’s pace maker! It will send your teenage cousin into peals of laughter! Your mother will be grabbing the bar of soap to wash out your mouth and your dad will be clapping you on the back for finally entering manhood. Eating at the Y is not usually dinner time fodder, but today, let’s bust out the good china, polish the silver and crack open the bubbly. Let’s talk cunnilingus!

Pay Attention to the Kitty

Men, I am going to speak to you here. As a woman who utterly would donate a kidney to science LOVES having someone go down on her, I want to take some liberty and give you some advice from my point of view. Hey maybe your woman really enjoys your technique! Awesome! This is a first person observation from one woman who has a vagina and thinks when you pay attention to the kitty; the trouser snake is going to get a hell of a lot more attention from this girl!

Enjoy the Buffett

First, it’s NOT a Pie Eating Contest. For the love of everything that is good on planet earth, learn this lesson! Trust me; racing to the finish line in this act of love is not going to get you any high fives or deep kiss. As a matter of fact, it will get you a “holy fucking hell that hurts!” Take your time. Look, taste, feel, touch, lick, kiss…treat her vagina like a multi layered box of candy! When you view her as a buffet rather than a fast food drive through, your brownie points will sky rocket!

Toe Curling Cunnilingus

Second, I am an ice cream cone, not a bag of chips! Do not munch on me like you are devouring a bag of kettle cuts! Can you remember how much you loved to sit in the sun and just lick and lick and lick that soft serve?? Well honey, think of me as your dairy queen of cunnilingus! Round and round, up and down, in and out. Savor me and make my toes curl.

My Honey Pot

Third, my vagina does not have teeth; she won’t chomp your fingers off if you insert one or more into me while you are having dinner! As a matter of fact, by inserting your fingers while you are eating me out, my senses are heightened, my g spot is jumping for joy and I tend to cum far more quickly! Dip those fingers in my honey pot. Search around, find that g spot and help me out!

Easy There Tiger

Fourth, listen to me! I make noise! I moan when it’s good and I pull away when it’s bad…DO NOT go back to doing the same thing when I have said OW OW OW!!! It hurts, I don’t like it. Just like you don’t want me giving you a blow job like I’m eating a corn on the cob, I don’t want you chewing on my clitoris like it’s a square of double bubble. Stop. Please.

Working Together

Last, let me help! Seeing as it’s my vagina, chances are, I’ve touched it millions of times once or twice and I know just how to maneuver that clitoris into the right spot for that orgasm. If I want to help, take that as a sign I am comfortable with you and that I want to enjoy the experience and help you to be the one I brag about to all my friends. Trust me, the more you listen and follow my signals, the more valuable your currency is in girl world!

Post from: Toy With Me

The Diner Down Under

Women know believe, they know everything about everything.  After all, we are the more savvy sex.   We seem to know that his missing glasses are in the top drawer in the kitchen beside the yellow pencil.   In the same breath, we miss these huge signals from our partner that tell us what they are looking, wanting, and hoping for!

There are VERY FEW mistakes women make, in any room of the house (can I get an AMEN ladies?), but just this one time, I am going to explore the possibility that just maybe, we might not always be bang on when it comes to reading the minds of our male counter parts.  From my research, here are the top three mistakes women make in bed.

Make The First Move!

When is the last time you dragged your man by his cock tie to the bedroom, tore open his shirt and climbed him like a jungle gym?  Men love it when the women in their lives make the first move!  They want to feel like we are powerless in their presence and our panties fall to the floor when we are near them.  Even though men want to be the masculine one in the relationship, after all no one wants to be pussy whipped, they do want the love of their life to be lusting after them.

The very best sex I ever had was when my partner and I had been out for party at a friend’s house.  I don’t know what it was about him that night, but he looked so HOT, I just couldn’t keep my eyes off him.  I wanted to literally grab him and tear his clothes off in the guest bathroom!  I made some spectacular lame excuse for us having to leave early.  When we arrived home, I grabbed him by the waist of his jeans and pushed him against the fridge.  I grabbed his shirt, I pulled his hair.  I took charge!  We literally had sex right up against the fridge!

It was AH-MAZING!!!  I made the first move.  I took the initiative to get the sex started. He loved not having to guess whether or not I was in the mood.  Men are not mind readers, we all know that.  We think we are sending off signals that are clear and concise, but the reality is we don’t always come across that way.  Once in a while, it’s good for us to take charge, be the one pursuing and be the one who pulls out the whip first!

Open Your Mouth!

Ladies, we need to give up this crazy idea that good girls don’t make noise.   We need to enjoy the sex and make sure our partner knows we are having a good, nay, GREAT time!  I am not talking about an Oscar winning performance here.  I am talking about a woman who is truly having fun between the sheets or on the kitchen table as the case may be.  Those moans, groans, sighs and OH MY GAWDS are exactly what he wants to hear.  This isn’t about lying to him and putting on a performance.  It is about giving your partner clues and indications that what he is doing is pleasing to you.

Many men love to hear their partners talk dirty in bed too.  He isn’t looking for you to rival the local truck stop lunch hour, he’s listening for you to let go in the moment and to just say what comes to mind.  If you need help with the lingo, here is my best suggestion. Watch a steamy movie.  Observe your partner.  When he leans forward in parts of the movie, pay attention to what they are saying to each other, then adapt it to your style and personality.  If you want to just wing it…a well placed “fuck me!” goes a very long way in the bedroom, am I right guys?  Remember, no one is an atheist when it comes to GREAT SEX.  “OH MY GOD!” is the top phrase shouted out in the bedroom.

Along with opening your mouth in bed, is also the talk about giving head.  Yes ladies, blow jobs, hummers, singing to the one man choir, sucking cock.  We are talking penis in mouth here.  I  learned early on that a great blow job can and will get you many things from your man, including RECIPROCATION!  How many times have you heard women say, he wants it, but won’t give it back? The truth is if you aren’t willing to give it, you probably won’t have much luck getting it back.  Try viewing his penis as a mini version of him, you might have an easier time.  Think of it this way, he truly is a larger extension of his penis and really, the penis rules the rest of him.  So, like it, love it, put a hat on it.  Whatever you do, learn to give a toe curling, mattress gripping blow job.

Never Underestimate the Power of Panties!

Remember how you felt that last time you put on an outfit that you KNEW you looked incredible in? Remember how your heart beat faster, you had a spring in your step?  Now transfer that feeling to what is under your clothes!  I am not saying you need to go out and spend hundreds of dollars at the lingerie store.  I am saying that you should have something in your undies drawer that makes YOU feel great when you put it on.  Men LOVE….hear me here…L.O.V.E. to unwrap the gift that is their woman!  When you show a peek of something sexy under your clothing, he is immediately beginning to plan how he is going to get you OUT of it that night.  Let him know that you have something fun on under your jeans and t shirt.  Send him a picture on his phone…as long as it’s not a work phone…trust me on THAT one!   Stash a pair of panties in his pocket, or briefcase to find later on during the day. Chances are he will not be staying late for the office meeting that night.

So throw away the old, stretched out, stained and torn undies ladies!!!  Hit your local big box store and pay a buck a pair if you need to.  Choose something that fits well.  Remember there is nothing sexy…AT ALL…about picking underwear out of your ass, so be sure to choose underwear that is flattering and fits well.  Then gift wrap your body, not only for your partner but for you as well.  You are an incredible creature. Why not gift wrap that up with something that makes you feel as spectacular as you are? Go, right now and find something that makes you feel amazing! I guarantee you, you won’t regret it!

Post from: Toy With Me

3 Mistakes Women Make in the Bedroom!

Third degree tears.

Shaped like a Y, the tip of which crept up to my sphincter leaving my nether region looking something like this: 

They stitched me up so tight that when I’m 50, my vagina will only be 25.

Needless to say, I waited the full six weeks postpartum and then some to hop back on the bologna pony. And when I did? It wasn’t pretty.

Our little monster was asleep. All was quiet around the house. We took things slow. We dusted off the lube. And then we played a little game I like to call: just the tip.

Because that’s about how far we made it before it felt like I was SPLITTING IN TWO. Turns out there were a couple of issues standing between us and the hot, steamy, belly-free, skin to skin, real. actual. sex we had so eagerly anticipated. First of all, they really down-play that whole “breastfeeding can cause vaginal dryness” thing, and I was kind of blindsided by it. So was Scott. There was chafing across the board. Secondly, I was tighter than my pre-pregnancy jeans.

But we are determined folk. We quite liked our sex life before baby, and we reassured each other that with a little bit of good ‘ol American stick-to-it-iveness, we would once again see a day when a romp in the sack didn’t feel like driving a battering ram through a keyhole.

Still, I ran to my internet friends in dismay.

“OMG. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME? I JUST WANT TO HAVE NORMAL SEX.” I lamented – eager for advice and encouragement.

As always, my girls were forthcoming. They lamented along with me. They e-stroked my hair and promised it would get better. And then I read the three little words that would change the course of history [in our bedroom] forever. It was my dear, brilliant, wonderful, [insert-glowing-adjective-here-because-she-effing-deserves-every-one] well, I won’t tell you WHO wrote these words:

Vibrating.  Cock.  Ring.

Totally helps relax the tight vadge.

Oh, and not the trojan kind. Buy one from a naughty sex toy site. It’s worth it.

I was intrigued. I mentioned it to my hubby, and [after he wiped the kid in a candy store grin off his face] he ran right out and picked one up.

Well…slap my ass and call me Pamela, because that shit WORKED. Loosened things right up, and got us back on the train to O-town (and I’m not talking about the city, or the shitty boyband, ifyouknowwhatImean…) I still pretty much praise my friend’s name on a daily basis.

And yet…there was still one hurdle to be lept. Just beyond my war-torn labia, things remained dry as the Sahara. The generic drug store lube we had wasn’t cutting it. It was time to break out the big guns…So we unearthed the novelty lube from my bachelorette party. It was one of those his&hers combo packs – kind of like that KY Yours + Mine stuff – except not like that at all, because as soon as the “his” met the “hers” it was like someone had LITERALLY LIT MY LOINS ON FIRE. The “chemists” at WET must have gotten a few ingredients wrong, because not only did I shriek in pain, but Mr.HABsorbent did as well. It burned his dick, ladies. We were officially in the market for some new lube.

So when our anniversary came around, and we sent our little panty liner to spend the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s house (I don’t have a clever feminine hygiene related nickname for them) Mr.HABsorbent turned to me with that shit-eating grin and said:

“Wanna go to Le Sex Shoppe?”

Truth be told, I did NOT want to go to Le Sex Shoppe. I wanted to go to Rite Aid, and quietly buy them out of whatever lube they had – well disguised amongst other less incriminating items like diapers and rocky road – before going home to drink some wine, have a semi-painful quickie, and promptly pass out for 10 hours of uninterrupted shut-eye…because despite having no problem airing intimate details of my sex life on the internet, I am kind of a prude in real life.

But my husband has been an incredible sport. So if he wanted to spend our one night off in the creepiest shop in town looking for miracle lube, then so be it.

We entered through the back (where the “violators will be towed” signs have also been amended to advise: “no oral in the parking lot”) made our way past the LolliCocks and Anal Speculum, and up to the display in front where we were greeted by “Rick” who looked like my old guitar teacher, but might as well have been working at The Gap the way he cheerfully greeted us. “Are you looking for something specific today? I’m here if you have any questions!” Much to my horror, Mr.HABsorbent welcomed the opportunity to consult a professional about our situation.

“Can you recommend a really good lube? Something that doesn’t dry up, get sticky, or feel like it’s giving you a chemical burn?”he inquired. [Oh dear god. Just what I need. The dude in the overcoat behind the bondage display knowing the in's and out's of my chafed va-jay-jay. Horrible pun yes intended.] “Rick” was eager to share his expertise. Turns out, he’d been getting lots of RAVE reviews on the KY Yours + Mine. Mr.HABsorbent cocked an eyebrow (oh my god, I can’t stop!) and turned to me – “you wanna try it?”

So there I was. Standing in the middle of Le Sex Shoppe on a Saturday night, with Rick, Trenchcoat Guy, and the mousy-looking Secretary-type who thought she was flying under the radar all staring back at me as I struggled to find a classy (!?) way to say “I have a flux-capacitor shaped scar in my oh-so-tight vagina that I am not looking to have lit aflame again, so no I don’t want to “try it” thankyouverymuch, and since we’re all listening so intently, there is baby vomit between my boobs, I’m covered in stretch marks, and my stomach looks like someone glued a deflated skin-colored beach ball to the front of it. Now who wants to fuck?

What I came up with after what felt like a good forty-five seconds of desperate silence as I tried to get my husband to telepathically understand the above sentiment was: “Um, I think…ah…I don’t think we’re….uh…I think that might be…overly ambitious.”

Rick actually laughed out loud. The Hubs, sensing my discomfort, gave me one of his crooked smiles, and dutifully reached for the plain ‘ol Jelly. (Y’know, the stuff they use at your OB’s office. Talk about sexy.) He handed it to Rick. But this party wasn’t over yet. “KY’s tried and true” said Rick, “but if you’re really having trouble getting wet, this Agape stuff rocks my face off.” Kill me. Kill me right the fuck now. Rick’s helpful advice had just expanded to include personal endorsements. He informed us that the best lubes have glycerin in them, which is great for vaginal dryness, but can also lead to yeast infections, and most chicks don’t dig that. As it turns out, Rick is kind of like a lube sommelier. And quite the salesman. By the time all was said and done, we’d ditched the KY Jelly, and walked out of there with [almost no modesty remaining] and two high-end, Rick-approved, glycerin-free personal lubricants. Uh…and also a membership to their rewards program…since we figured we might be back for more of this alleged wonder-lube.

So to tie in my Back To the Future reference and bring this baby full circle? The moral of the story is this: With a little high-octane lube and a vibrating cock ring DH and I were finally able to get my vagina up to 88MPH…’cause where we’re going…we don’t need roads. (What? Roads? That doesn’t even make sense. The lube was awesome. The sex was epic. The end.)

Rick’s Pick’s:

JO H2O Water Based Personal Lubricant

Pink Water Lubricant

Post from: Toy With Me

DOC, ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS SUCKER’S NUCLEAR?

Possibly related goodness:

1. DOC, ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS SUCKER’S NUCLEAR?

I’ve been around. Not around around, but I’ve been sexually active long enough to figure out how to give a decent blow job and to acknowledge that MOST (even though I’m tempted to say ALL, but not to pigeonhole I’ll stick with: MOST) guys love them — probably more than the Super Bowl and/or life itself.

Traditionally, cliche has claimed that the road to a man’s heart is via cuisine. Possibly True. Mastering the art of cooking may well ensure your guy comes home after work. Unless you’re dealing with a metrosexual who is obsessed with garlic,  enjoys inventing marinades and experimenting with exotic spices and can cook way better than you because he’s like a reincarnation of Georges Auguste Escoffier or his mom happens to be Paula Deen and it runs in the genes. Or maybe he grew up in the South and you didn’t — and well, you just can’t compete with that. So now you’re screwed. And since this isn’t the 1950s and equal opportunity often means shared responsibilities – domestic and work related – chances are your man can cook anyway.

So the question remains, What unique skill are you going to bring to the relationship to keep him engaged?

He loves me because…(name whatever makes you feel good. I’m creative. I’m hot. I’m smart. I can play the piano. Blah, blah, blah — insert hand jerking image). And CUT TO: He loves his penis. Guys LOVE to get off. Point-blank, or rather POINT AND SHOOT. It’s how they were created, it’s how they are designed. They wake up in the morning and the first thing they do is check that their penises are still intact — then they usually proceed to jerk off. So if you want to remain the focus of your man’s thoughts, give him a good blow job and well, your job is done.

Now I’m not reducing the intellect of man. Or disregarding the fact that man is responsible for building bridges, roads and the Notre-Dame, but I suppose maybe that’s why historically they’ve earned their right to a decent blow job. And I’m not disregarding regular sex, but if you’re not in the mood and looking for a short cut or if you’re currently fertile and not looking to get knocked up – the BJ is your blessing in disguise. The BJ can be performed in a relatively short amount of time, it’s not going to get you pregnant and it’s a good preventative measure against your boyfriend slash husband cheating on you. It also takes less effort than sex. And you can always ask for the same oral action in return. Everybody wins.

On another note, if you are knocked up, performing BJs during pregnancy may reduce the risk of miscarriage and pre-eclampsia, particularly when semen is ingested. See, it pays to swallow. INTERESTING FACT: Semen has also been linked to cancer prevention, particularly breast cancer and may possibly act as an anti-depressant during intercourse (COURTESY Wikipedia). I wonder if that just inspired women all over the world to get busy — if it hasn’t, what are you waiting for?

Now I realize some ladies don’t like giving blow jobs. You’re dealing with pubes and really there’s nothing attractive about a ball sack up close. Sometimes you feel like you’re choking or if you’ve ever tried bulimia, like say in high school (not a good idea) it may give you unnecessary flashbacks, particularly if you’re going all out with the deep throating technique. I totally understand. I do recall being drunk in college and throwing up on my boyfriend’s thing. Totally gross. I was 18, so stop judging me people. But seriously, I was wasted, what was he thinking sticking it in my mouth while I was on the toilet trying to pee. And what was he doing in the cubicle with me anyway? SERIOUSLY: My parents can never read this. EVER. (SIDE NOTE: It’s amazing how my alcohol tolerance level has dramatically improved since then).

Anyway, it’s taken me years of gagging, choking and regurgitating to get it right. Listening to instructions such as, “Twirl your tongue around the knob. Use your hand. Increase your speed.” FUCK! Why don’t you do it yourself?! That’s right…you can’t. Eventually it became instinctive and I even discovered little tricks, such as moaning even if you don’t mean it. TIP: Just fake it so he thinks that you think, “Agh, this is way better than ice cream” and usually that accelerates the process.

Now I’m not discounting that some women may feel they have surpassed the age or reason of giving blow jobs. WARNING: The repercussions may be disastrous. A blow job is what led to Bill Clinton’s impeachment. Hillary possibly felt she was too good to perform fellatio on her husband — or maybe just plain lazy if her efforts as Secretary of State are anything to go by. So my theory is: poor Bill had too much pent up tension, broke down and gave into a blow job from the intern. Next thing you know he’s the center of a national crisis and all of America is discussing his penis. Seriously Hillary, all you had to do was give the man a BJ. Five minutes of your time. Talk about NOT being a team player.

What Hillary failed to realize is that giving a BJ gives you power. SUGGESTION: If you stop right before he’s about to get off, this is the perfect opportunity to ask him for money or bribe him for a Louis Vuitton bag. HOWEVER: If you’re in politics, this is probably your chance to prevent a nuclear disaster or resolve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (HINT: Hillary, it’s not too late to make up for past mistakes. Also a good opportunity to get even with Bill).

I’m kind of convinced that regular BJs helped Kennedy put an end to the Cuban Missile Crisis. I mean the guy was dealing with major Cold War threats and he always came off as relaxed. Like post-BJ type relaxed. Kudos to Jackie — or Marilyn. And I truly believe a solid BJ could’ve persuaded Lyndon B. Johnson to put an end to the Vietnam War. It’s kind of obvious. I mean the last two initials of his name are the acronym for blow job -  Baines Johnson. (CONSIDER: A BJ could’ve spared thousands of civilian and military lives). Nixon, on the other hand, with that whole Watergate scandal– well, he probably needed a threesome, in addition to a BJ every hour on the clock. I doubt a quickie could’ve distracted him from his ego. But that’s a separate topic all together. And I could go into what a blow job (and a dictionary) could’ve done for George Bush and the American society, but I’m tired.

So the moral of this story is: BJs are a good way to distract, persuade, bribe, keep man satisfied and be healthy (unless there are STDs involved). So ladeeezzz, next time you’re bored and thinking, what can I contribute to mankind? Or, how can I help humanity? — Just Give a Dude a BJ. Together I truly believe we can better the world one blow job at a time. Or like totally prevent World War Three. Whaddaya think?  Now that I think about it, we could probably even take over the world and create our own one world order society — but let’s not use our powers for evil now. Or let’s. I’m open.

Post from: Toy With Me

Save The World – Give A Blowjob

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Well, Toy With Me-ers, it’s been a hell of a lot of fun working with you guys on the site. I can’t believe I’ve actually been writing here for a year and a half, but time flies when you’re having fun with your vagina. And fun was had by all. This, I regret to inform you, will be my very lastest column over here.

Please, wipe up your tears of sorrow (or joy, as the case may be) and let us think back to a time in our lives when we were young and just starting out in the bedroom; a time before we were the gods and goddesses – wielding our sex toys like weapons – of sex that we are now. Here, my friends at Toy With Me are the things that I wish I’d known about The Sex when I was starting out.

Being safe is hot. Practicing safe sex is much, much hotter than, well, not. It may seem like a bummer at the time to stop and put on a rubber or take a pill in the morning, every morning, but it’s a hell of a lot better than venereal disease. Because if you think, “hey put on a condom” is tricky to say, imagine the “hey, I have VD” conversation. So get equipped and stay that way.

Mood music is always a good thing to use when trying to cover up the sounds of The Sex. Not only does it cover up the “stirring macaroni and cheese” noise that the sex act itself creates, it can also mask some of the louder, environmental noises (squeaking beds, moans, farts, you know, all that good stuff) that might otherwise alert parents, siblings and roommates that there is a whole lotta humping going on. The downside is, of course, it also masks the sounds of an approaching parent or other type of mood-killer. Also: it may be well near impossible to settle on some getting it on music with your partner (thrash metal, while a total turn-on for some, will be nothing but pants-buttoner for others).

Teenage boys are horny beings. They’re pretty happy to hump most anything that walks which is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing when it’s you, total curse when it’s your best friend.

Teenage boys also have no stamina.

While you may be inclined to make sweeping statements like “teenage boys have no stamina,” there are plenty of grown men without stamina, too. When an overly excited dude blows his load on your kneecap, just try and reframe the thought, “I’m going to punch you for not getting me off,” into “wow, I must have been hot enough to make him blow his load like that.” It helps soften the blow, if only slightly.

You should always pay top dollar for sex toys, even if you have to skimp on the number that you can buy. Quality, in this case, over quantity. Only the very best for your vagina!

Which is what you should remember when picking a lover: only the very best for your vagina. Lovers are fairly easy to come by (there’s a fucking sweet pun there) but the good ones aren’t the ones that will object to wearing a condom or otherwise disrespect your vagina. The vagina is to be respected, yo!

Sex gets better as you get older. Probably because your lovers get better (see also: respect) but also because you learn what you want. Knowing what you want and feeling empowered is key to getting what you want in the bedroom. And really, anywhere else.

Guys like a chick who can crack a good dick joke.

The Wet Spot should always be contained on his side of the bed so as to not be forced to sleep on Lake Spoogekins all night long. Because that makes for a squishy, sticky, and otherwise unpleasant night stuck to the sheets. Best to make that his problem.

Good underwear is a must. A matching bra and underwear set is debatable, but good underwear is important as hell. So never, ever, ever, skimp on that.

Also on the list of things never, ever to do: never, ever buy a Cosmo to make you feel better about yourself. It will invariably remind you of everything you do not have: from a mind-blowing orgasm technique to fifty beauty must-have’s, the magazine is not designed for women. Or, at least, women that like themselves or other women.

Learn to give a good blowjob. While you’re at it, learn enough about sex to feel like a sex kitten in the bedroom. No boyfriend will ever appreciate you calling his penis “your thing” or “Mr. Cuddles.” It’s creepy and juvenile. May as well learn your way around a penis without blushing madly every time you see one.

Also: testicles are kinda funny (in an awesome way). But you know that. Everyone knows that.

G-Spot orgasms are quite possibly the best thing on the planet and should be experienced whenever possible. The first one will be a religious experience.

Writing a sex column will introduce you to some of the nicest, kindest and most full of the awesome people on the Internet.

So, Toy With Me-ers, what do you wish you could have told yourself about The Sex when you first started out? (or were you always this perfectly expert?)

Also: so long, Toy With Me, and thanks for all the vagina. A good vagina is hard to find.

Xox,

AB

Post from: Toy With Me

What I Wish I’d Known About Sex

It has come to our attention over at Toy With Me that perhaps we do not talk about how much we like The Sex enough. This tickled my wee funny bone, because perhaps I haven’t conveyed properly that one of the things I like most in the world (besides Diet Coke and napping) is The Sex. It’s just not very interesting to say, “I like The Sex” for fifteen paragraphs, so I tend to mix it up with personal anecdotes. You see, Toy With Me-ers, Your Aunt Becky would have The Sex many times a day if given the opportunity.

Now that we’ve cleared that up, I’d like to get into the thick of it. This is a topic that we all can use a little refresher on, and hopefully a topic where we can all learn something from each other. Let’s talk about how to have better sex.

*Get into the mood. I know that most of the world doesn’t walk around with their sexual engines running high, ready to hump at any given moment and sometimes it takes a little preparation to get in the mood to have The Sex. That’s perfectly okay. There are plenty of things to get you into the mood, and you just have to find the things that work for you.

1. Flip on a porn. Sometimes the very act of watching other people engaged in sexual activity will be enough to get you in the mood. If you’re not into the whole, “watching porn people” because it looks a little contrived (really, having sex with the pizza guy? AGAIN?), there’s always YouPorn, which has amateur porn. There’s plenty of gems in there.
2. Slip into something more comfortable. Or…nothing at all. If that’s not going to help, or if wearing crotcheless underwear is going to make you feel like a royal asshole, don’t do it.
3. Lock the damn door. Especially if you have kids. The last thing you need to be doing when you’re trying to get into the mood is to worry about Little Timmy wandering in, looking for a refill on his juice cup.

1. Light some candles if you like that kind of thing, just don’t go burning your hair off or anything. Because there’s nothing sexy about singed hair. NOTHING.
2. If you’re planning The Sex hours in advance, you can always send each other some dirty texts. Just make sure you have the right phone number. You don’t want to accidentally send Aunt Mildred a text that says, “I can’t wait to see your hot dick,” or something. Because that’s going to make Christmas WAY awkward this year.

*Learn your favorite sex positions. Now, like everything else with The Sex, favorite positions aren’t going to be a one size fits all sort of thing. Your Aunt Becky? Well, I don’t like to be on top. I know this dispels all myths of women everywhere, but it’s just not comfortable for me. I’m not very coordinated and I always end up falling off onto my ass which really is a mood-killer for us both. And really, if I’m not comfortable when I’m having The Sex, how could I possibly be enjoying it? (answer: I’m not). So forget what other people tell you that you “should” like, and try them all out for yourself. Find what works for you.

*Learn your sexual anatomy. Women can have what is called a “blended orgasm,” when they are stimulated via the g-spot AND the c-spot. Trust me when I tell you that you need to learn how to do this. Also, ladies, practice your Kegals. They’ll crank up your orgasms to mind-blowing.

Women (and men), there are many, many tutorials for how to give a better blow job, and I suggest you find one and learn all about it.

*Get over the idea that other people are having better sex than you. Because really, who gives a shit what other people are doing between the sheets? Unless, of course, they’re in bed WITH you. Keeping up with the Joneses should be kept out of your bedroom.

*Never be afraid to try something new. Variety in the bedroom should always be encouraged, so long as you feel comfortable with what you are doing. There are any number of new sex toys, lotions, potions, creams, outfits, and playthings that are constantly being released. Some of them you will hate. Some of them you may love. You won’t know until you try them.

That said: you should never, ever be pressured into trying something you’re not comfortable with in the bedroom. Ever. Sex should be full of the awesome and never, ever painful, humiliating or degrading. (unless it’s consensual of course)

*Confidence is sexy. Being confident in the bedroom, especially when you’re trying something new is kind of hard. I always fake it until I make it, because eventually, it pays off and I’ve forgotten why I felt so stupid in the first place. Sometimes, it’s easier to pretend to be someone else at first if you’re feeling a little silly about whatever it is you’re doing. Once you get into the throes of passion (I’ve always wanted to type that), you’ll stop feeling self-conscious. I think everyone feels a little silly sometimes. Sex is vulnerability at it’s finest, and sometimes you have to get out of your head to enjoy it. And you will.

*Be honest about what you want. This can be a tricky one to do, I know, because sometimes it’s a little embarrassing to be all, “I want you to mush my face and pull my hair,” but in the end, it’s the communication that will ultimately make your sex life better. It’s best to be satisfied and have the kind of sex that makes you fulfilled, isn’t it?

*Everyone feels self-conscious. Everyone looks weird at certain angles. It’s okay. You’re beautiful just how you are, and sex feels just as good no matter how wobbly your bits may be.

So, Toy With Me-ers, how do you propose that we have better sex? Certainly, you all must have some tips and pointers to share with us.

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Post from: Toy With Me

My Take On How To Have Better Sex

For someone who lives in the Internet and writes a sex column, it’s pretty rare that someone actually asks me anything sex-related. Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in the City must have ruined that for any future sex columnists. Bitch.

But, Toy With Me-ers, I was actually asked something that I was specifically asked to bring to you and discuss! I pretty much peed all over myself when a friend of mine gave me permission to take a conversation we’d had onto my column, because normally people are all, ‘YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BLOG THIS, ARE YOU, AUNT BECKY?’ like I’m some useless jerk who only hangs out with my friends so that I can rifle through their brain cavity and steal their stories. Which is pretty much the truth, but let’s keep this between us, shall we?

Her Man Has Low Sex Drive
My friend mentioned that she’d been having some trouble in the bedroom with her husband. Not, perhaps, like you’d expect, with Mr. Happy performing, but because her husband wasn’t as interested in The Sex as she was. This was very troubling to my friend, who had always thought that men were supposed to be these virile creatures, chomping at the bit to have The Sex with Their Women anytime they could. When she was met with the “not tonight, honey,” from her husband, she was, at first, taken aback. When it happened again, she was hurt. When it continued to happen, she was baffled and more than a little bewildered. Was he having an affair? Why wouldn’t her husband have The Sex?

I did a little Dr. Googling for her, and it turns out that according to WebMD as many as one in five men reported having such low sexual desire that they would rather do almost anything else besides have sex. That’s one-fifth of all men! Men with low sex drive are one of the dirty secrets in America, according to another article.

Not All Men Are Horny Sex Creatures
Thanks to the stigma of the man as a potent sex god, what man wants to come forward and admit that hey, you know what? Sometimes, I’m just not in the mood. And that’s okay! Women, too, didn’t want to admit that they were being denied sex by their husbands for fear that it really had something to do with them. That being repeatedly turned away from sex meant that they were unattractive, ugly and really, the problem was not with their partner having a low sex drive, but something to do with them. And with a society that promotes men as such a horny creature, how could women like, my friend, not see it this way? My friend was constantly worried that she was bad in bed, that he was having an affair or worse, that he might be gay. She had no issue with gay men, of course, unless she was married to one. Talk about a slap in the face.

Maybe Men Actually Do Have Feelings
As a former nurse (stop shuddering, Toy With Me-ers, I no longer hang bags of vodka instead of bags of ringers lactate), I knew some of the reasons for a low sex drive in men were physical. The anti-depressant medications, like Prozac, Paxil, Lexapro and Zoloft, were a huge culprit in decreasing libido, as are some of the drugs taken to reduce chronic high blood pressure. Some of the other reasons are exhaustion, which, of course, was one of those stereotypical excuses women used, but my friend and I admitted was true. If we were tired, it was pretty hard to want to get in the mood. Stress is another libido-killer, although, I always found the endorphin rush to be the perfect stress BUSTER, but we all know that I am perhaps not the judge for normalcy for anything. The most surprising thing I found that probably shouldn’t have surprised me at all was this: one of the reasons men don’t want to have The Sex with their partners is because they are angry with them. The same reason that women often don’t want to have The Sex with their men. Hm. So maybe men have feelings too, ladies.

The first issue with dealing with a low-libido is this: realizing that there is no “national average” or “normal” for men. Once you get rid of that notion that men are sex-crazed bulls who will hump anything in a skirt that walks near them, you’re dealing with a real person who has real emotions, real desires and real turn-ons. Assuming a man will want to have The Sex simply because it’s offered isn’t always fair. Certainly, there are men like that, but there are women like that, too.

Figure It Out
Then, you must get to the root of the underlying cause for the low sex drive, if, like in the case with my good friend, it’s something that’s causing discord in your relationship. If sex isn’t a focus in your relationship for either of you, well then, there’s no issue. If the underlying cause is related to something hormonal or biological, like medication, talk to your doctor. If your male partner is refusing sex because he is angry with you, perhaps it’s time to speak with a marriage counselor. Or, at the very least, spend some quality time talking about your relationship in a non-threatening way. Accusing your partner of not wanting to have sex because (insert reason here) may only drive the wedge in further.

And after those issues have been treated, or if it’s none of those things, and your male partner is simply one of those people who just isn’t very interested in sex, and well, you are, perhaps he needs to look at it from a different angle. Perhaps your partner needs to think of sex as giving a gift to you. It’s something he can do for you, even if it’s not something that is as exciting for him. Like anything else in a relationship, it’s all about give and take, right? And who knows. Maybe once he’s actually in the middle of it, he’ll actually start to enjoy it.

Sex is an integral part of a relationship for many people and problems in the bedroom can certainly lead to all kinds of problems in every other part of the relationship. It’s one of those things that must be addressed before something more drastic than some hurt feelings happens. And in the end, it doesn’t matter how much sex anyone else is having, so long as what you and your partner has is good enough for you both.

So, my friend, I wish you luck, and I’m glad you gave me a chance to talk about this. I only hope that you’ll still take my calls. What are your experiences with this, Toy With Me-ers? What advice can you give my friend about this incredibly tough situation?

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Post from: Toy With Me

Low Sex Drive In Men

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We’ve all heard that calling out the wrong person’s name during Sexy Time is a major faux pas in the boudoir, and we’ve probably even made stupid jokes about it more than once, but that’s not the only boudoir faux pas there is, Toy with Mes.  There are lots of them!

First up, we have The Gas.  The Mister and I are actually pretty lucky in this department because neither of us have any flatulence problems, but some folks are not quite so blessed and so farting during Sexy Time is a real problem for them, and–dare I say–not sexy.  On a related note, I don’t think I have to mention that no matter how tempting it might be, it is totally unacceptable to Dutch Oven your partner.  Never do that.  Never. You will find yourself jerking off in the basement like a troll in no time.

Some people take extreme measures to avoid this awkward and unsexy problem.  Take my friend Amy, for example.  She tells a famous story we’ve all come to know as “The Clench Story.”  When she was in college she had a super crush on the guy who lived across the hall.  One day, things became a little more than neighborly between them and she found herself making Sexy Time with him, but unfortunately, this all went down at the same time as her lunch from Taco Bell decided to make announcements. Horrified that she might fire one off and gross out her new friend, she rolled him over, jumped on top of him and proceeded to clench as hard as she could to stifle her Taco Bell.  She rode him extra hard to make him finish faster and clear the way for her escape.  Once successful, she jumped off of him and ran away, shouting “sorry!  There’s something I really need to do!” over her shoulder and retreated to the safety of her apartment.

When she saw him the next day, he said it was the best sex he ever had and asked her how she gets to be so tight.  I guess there are some bennies to having one on deck during the deed?

I love this next faux pas because it can really put a lady on the ceiling, and not in a good way, you guys.  The only thing I’ve ever heard it called is “switching gears” and it happens when your lovah thinks he’s putting it in one hole, when really, it’s in the other hole. If my husband is like most other guys, then it’s always an “accident,” but I’m gonna call bullshit on that one.  I, for one, am not fooled by this feeble bid for bum play.  You have to work up to that sort of thing, ya know?  You can’t just go putting your dick in the pudding whenever you feel like it, people.  I warm up before yoga too.  It’s the same thing.

This next thing is a little something we like to call “The Uterus Poker” around here, and it too can have a girl on the ceiling in a bad way.  The Uterus Poker occurs when the Mister penetrates the Missus a little too deeply and winds up trying to break on through to the other side of her cervix.  This happens to us from time to time and it’s never really fun for me.  It kind of leaves me wondering what woman really wants a guy with a monsterously long piece because really?  It’s not for me and my cervix, that’s for sure.

One thing that always made me a sad kitten in my dating years was when my “boyfriend” would unceremoniously land his plane, roll over with his back to me, and fall asleep.  Nothing makes a girl feel more used up than that bullshit, let me tell you.  My husband never does that and that is partly why he is my husband.  I don’t want to feel like a two dollar whore, even if I’ve just behaved like one.

For the love of all that is decent in this world, take your fucking socks off, okay?

And this one should be obvious, but some people need to be told that nobody likes a big, giant, hairy bush, so please beat back the jungle.  Okay, well, some people DO like a giant hairy bush, but if you happen to be sleeping with somebody who doesn’t, a little clip and trim is in order.  This is for both girls and boys.  If you fellas want us to dribble your balls, we have to be able to find them in the bushes, dig? I like a clean playing field for no other reason than to keep those coarse curly fuckers out of the back of my throat. Gah!

Plus, for the guys, a nice tight trim can make Junior look even more proud and impressive. Never a bad thing!

And for the love of God, No debriefing after the mission! I don’t want to discuss the minute details of the play-by-play. I DEFINITELY don’t want to high-five for a job well done, and for fuck’s sake DON’T THANK ME.

No voluntary interruptions. By this I mean answering the phone, or the cell phone, or texting, or whatever. We’re not going for a six hour kama sutra experience here–you’ll be done in a few minutes. The rest of the world can wait.

Please don’t make a big deal out of a lack of hard-on. There’s no better way to make sure it’s banished for good than to make a thing out of it. The best course of action here is to be cool and go do something else for a while. If you act like it’s nothing, maybe the little soldier will come to attention a little later on. Even penises have lazy days, you know.

This is all I have so far and now I’m gonna leave it up to you Toy with Mes to fill in what I’ve left out. I can’t wait to see what you guys come up with!

GO!

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Post from: Toy With Me

Major Faux Pas In The Boudouir

When I was in high school, I was probably looting around for some rogue twenty dollar bills or perhaps golden coins or something in my parents dresser when I came across a condom. I was suitably horrified. It’s not that I didn’t ever expect that they had sex or anything, I just never needed to THINK about it. I mean, these are people who told me when I was conceived (October 31)(shudders), so it’s not like they weren’t open about sex. In fact, weeks before this event, my mother had chased my brother and I around the house saying, “horny,” because we thought it was disgusting to hear coming out of her mouth.

I mean, isn’t it?

Anyway, so, I knew that they’d been spayed and neutered, so the concept of using a condom led me down foul and horrible paths in my mind I never, ever wanted to think about. Finding a stash of porn is one thing. Realizing your parents make the beast with two backs is an entirely different story.

Now that I’m a parent, I know that there will come a point when my own children will realize that I have sex and be equally disgusted. I, of course, know my children will come to realize that I exist and be disgusted by that as well, so I know I can’t win, but at the very least, I’ll have to start my own covert hiding of certain things.

Like, uh, well, SEX TOYS.

Thank Sweet Baby Jesus, I never found any of those, because I think I probably WOULD have died right then and there, but you know, the condom was bad enough. Just. Ew.

So, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I am supposed to do with my pathetically small (and rapidly dwindling) collection of naughty things. My bedside table isn’t going to be cutting it any longer. In fact, I should probably start leaving things like books called “A Mother’s Love” (is that a book? If it’s not, Hallmark should get their asses on top of that immediately, if not sooner) and perhaps books of pictures of cute fluffy kittens, just to throw my kids off my trail. If they think I’m the most boring person on the planet, they won’t go looking for my collection of delicious narcotics (drugs are bad, kids), cough syrups that require identification (drugs are REALLY bad, kids), oils, lubes, and other assorted naughtiness that I might have stashed around my room.

My biggest problem with trying to find something to stash these things in is that I’m kind of (okay, that’s going to go up for Understatement of the Year) stupid. The medicine I take for my migraines makes me really forgetful and I am always misplacing things. Like my pants. And keys. And wallet. And really, most anything else that you CAN misplace. But if I lost my one lone remaining vibrating boyfriend, I’d probably cry real tears, which might actually make my rarely-used tear ducts burn in agony. No one wants THAT, least of all me.

So I turned to Google, my trusty sidekick, who I like to imagine with red hair, because I firmly believe that all sidekicks should have red hair, to see what HE had to say about it (yes, Google is a boy).

First, Google informed me that Tupperware was an excellent choice. I disagreed, because, HI, it’s see-through, and even if I bought the colored stuff, my kids always assume that anything in Tupperware is for them. I don’t know where they got so damn egocentric. Maybe they read my blog or something. Tupperware to store my sex stuffs is a definite NO.

Then, Google told me that I could hollow out a space behind a painting and put a safe in there and then put my painting back. This would presume I HAD a painting on my wall OR a safe, neither of which I have or want on or INSIDE my bedroom walls. Plus, my sex toys are cheap pieces of crap which is why they’re all broken and I’d feel TOTALLY absurd putting them inside a wall safe BEHIND a painting. But this gets an A+ for cloak-and-daggers, which is always good in my world.

Also scoring points for cloak-and-daggers stuff is the notion that I could take the time (or buy) books and hollow them out and then put each of my sex toys in them. Which would work well until I forgot which book had what toy in them. Or when my kid decided to read War and Peace or something and WHOOPS! out pops Mr. Pink! That would probably scar him more than finding it in my drawer, where he shouldn’t be snooping ANYWAY. But it’s a good idea and highly creative, so the idea gets marks for that, even if it isn’t practical for me.

Some ingenious company made a pillow that hides a sex toy and a bottle of lube. Which means, effectively, that you can hide that bad boy in plain sight until such time as Little Susie gets a cold and wants to snuggle up in Mom’s Bed and lays her head on the WRONG PILLOW. Next thing you know, she’s screaming that the pillow is biting her and you’re trying to explain that “it’s okay, that’s Mommy’s SPECIAL Pillow” and trust me when I tell you that your kid will tell the ENTIRE world that you have a Special Pillow. That vibrates. Uh, count me out.

Probably the best idea I found was a shoebox. I’ll probably use an ancient running shoebox or something gross that my kids would never want to borrow because the shoes are so butt ugly and stash my meager collection in there. Then I’ll hope like hell that they don’t have to make a diorama recreating the Battle of the Bulge or whatever for Social Studies and decide to go snooping. Or maybe they can use what they find inside in their dioramas (do kids still have to make those things?). Who the hell knows.

Either way, the shoe box seems like the best alternative for now. Well, the shoe box and some new sex toys. Because this is just getting pathetic.

So tell me, Toy With Me-ers, where do you stash the goods?

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I Need A Place To Hide My Sex Toys

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