My boyfriend Eddie was an engineer for one of the big 3 auto makers, and his idea of sexy was a fast red car. He would show me pictures of fast red cars in glossy magazines, with the hope that I might take on some of their sexy qualities and fulfill his deepest fantasies. One day he brought me red lingerie: a tight bodice, a g-string, sheer stockings, and a pair of garters. It took forever to suit up...I was in the bathroom trying to wrestle it on for a good half-hour. Back in my room, Eddie was waiting. And waiting. And getting more and more irritated that his red hot fantasy was not riding in fast enough. Finally I rolled into the bedroom wearing the getup. Something wasn't quite right about the g-string, though. It was neither sleek, nor aerodynamic. It had a baggy, pouchy, wind catching shape in the front. I grabbed a pair of socks and stuffed them into the man pouch on the front of the g-string, then did a cheerful pelvic thrust dance for Eddie. I have never seen someone get so mad! I completely screwed up his fantasy! I was slow. I was not aerodynamic. I crashed his sexy car = sexy woman ideal with a single, mocking, cross-dressed pelvic thrust! We broke up a few days later.
In Bed With Married Women is still collecting your bad sex stories, because we're weird like that. Drop us an e-mail or add a comment below. Maybe your moment of shame could be immortalized in its own post too!