Monday, December 5, 2011

Bad Sex, Gratitude, and a Contest to Win a Pair of Vibrating Panties. (And don't worry your pretty little head, I'll tie it all together)

Wouldn't you like to know?
Okay, I lied. I am actually not sure how I'm going to tie this all together but let's give it a go, shall we?

Item #1: Gratitude. After my little rant about Google pulling their ads from In Bed With Married Women due to my supposedly "pornographic" ways (see also: Yes, There's Adult Content. That Would Be Because I'm An ADULT), several gentle readers came through to Fight the Power by springing for a Kindle subscription (only 99¢ a month!), going through the blog links to buy something from Amazon or Good Vibrations, or flat out donating money. I don't even know how to say thank you without sounding like an ass, but please know that I am beyond thrilled and humbled. So. Much. So.

Item #2: A Contest to Win Vibrating Panties. Because I am so hideously inept at expressing my gratitude in words, I'm going to Plan B: giving away a pair vibrating panties! Here's the Good Vibes description of said panties (insert game show music here and read the following passage aloud using an announcer voice. Unless you're at work, in which case don't. And get the fuck back to work.):
Frisky fun is just a click away with the Remote Pleasure Panty! These flirty black lace briefs feature a hidden pocket sewn into the inner lining specially designed to hold the curvy-shaped bullet vibe close to the body for a superior external stimulation experience. Plus, the included wireless remote allows your or your partner to take control of the sensations from up to 20 feet (6m) away, with 10 different functions of vibration, escalation, and pulsation to choose from.These sexy skivvies adjust to a variety of sizes with satin ribbon side ties that lend these lacy lovelies sass and sophistication. Whether part of your intimate play or to add excitement to every day, the Remote Pleasure Panty is a discreet and titillating treat.
Nice, right? I like the whole aspect of someone else being able to control them from up to 20 feet away (or 6 meters if you're sharing the love with a Canadian or Brit* or something). And I like that the volume ranking is only a 2, meaning the vibe is not very loud. It would probably ruin the effect if every time your lover (I'm going to imagine mine being British and thus standing 6 meters away) fires up the panties and they roar to life like an old gas-powered lawnmower. Anyway, they are a $64 value, meaning you will get at least $64 of "superior external stimulation experience." Which sounds good to me, if not a bit space alien-sounding. "Please spread your leg modules to commence external stimulation experience." (If you don't wish to publicly state your sordid desire to win such panties, you can just order them directly.)

Item #3: Bad Sex.The Literary Review has announced this year's Bad Sex in Fiction nominees. The bad sex doesn't seem nearly as delightfully bad as usual but have a look if you'd like. I did, and I probably shouldn't be admitting this in public (The Internet--it's FOREVER!), but this nominee from The Great Night by Chris Adrian didn't sound bad, but, well, kind of hot to me:
"His lady lifted to the stars on his impossibly stiff, impossibly elegant cock"

Impossibly stiff, impossibly elegant cock? What is the bad part, exactly? (Anyway, if you have time/inclination, you might also like this smart funny essay by contest judge Jonathan Beckman. Who, I think, might be, hmmmm...British.)

Item #4: Hey Jill, Quit Dreaming of Remote-Wielding Brits and Get Back to the Damn Contest! Right. In honor of the Bad Sex awards, I am hereby decreeing it to be BAD SEX WEEK here at In Bed With Married Women. Thus, to enter to win those sexy sexy panties, you must provide us with some bad sex. You may either:
1. tell us about some bad sex you experienced (sorry 'bout that, darlin') OR
2. share some literary bad sex.

You can either fork over the bad sex via comment below, or if you're feeling shy, via email. I'll announce the winner Friday, December 9, 2011.

To get you started, here's a sample of real life bad sex sent in by the always delightful Can't keep anything to myself as a comment on the last post 7 Things I Learned At Homemade-Sex-Toys.

Apparently Trojan also thought Ben Gay/Icy Hot + sex = great idea. Fire and Ice condoms anyone? I actually thought these seemed like fun. Especially after the super cheesy commercials. "Burning and freezing sensations in my vagina?! Sign me up!" I was reluctant after reading reviews from people who said they were too fiery and too icy, but my curiosity got the better of me. And faith in the toughness of my vagina. (What can't she do?!)
Lo and behold, my vagina is in fact too tough (and by tough I mean insensitive, NOT tough like beef jerky is tough). I didn't feel a thing. My partner on the other hand had to run to the bathroom to wash his fiery-icy genitals in the sink.
I felt kind of bad. And yet, I'm still kind of jealous I didn't get to feel ANYTHING.

Want a little more bad sex, do you? Don't worry, I'll be providing you with bad sex every single day this week. (Wait a minute, that doesn't sound too good, does it?)

*This is incorrect.  See also: Sandra, a Brit, pointing out my ignorance of global measurement standards in comments below.


Sandra Davies said...

Just thought you ought to know we Brits are still on feet and inches (and yards where applicable) - it's them lot in Euriope who are metric ...

Anonymous said...

"My partner on the other hand had to run to the bathroom to wash his fiery-icy genitals in the sink."
Apologies for the lack of sympathy, but... Ha ha ha ha!

My spouse also has issues with "hot" or "icy" lubricants. We tried some lubes that were supposed to do the same thing. My reaction ranged from "Is it doing anything?" to "Meh, not bad, but not exciting," while my spouse was frantically trying to rinse the stuff off of him. I think "Aiee!" was expressed at some point.

We also got a bottle of mint flavored lube that provided -- can you guess? -- a "tingly cool feeling." Now, I did feel this, and it was not bad, sometimes kind of nifty, but my spouse loathed it. I do not recall whether he found it numbing or painful, but one of the two. I ultimately used up that bottle on my own in little toy-and-me sessions. If he interrupted and wanted to join, then awkwardness might ensue.

He also cannot handle external massage oil that has heating elements, so naturally that is a popular trend for massage oils. Such delicate skin!

Vesta Vayne said...

"Don't worry, I'll be providing you with bad sex every single day this week."

And that? Is why I visit your blog. Bad sexcapades is always funny. Unless, of course, it happened to me.

Vapid Vixen said...

My place. It wasn't planned so I didn't have any of the necessary precautionary latex on hand.

We didn't want to spoil the moment by running to the store big deal.

Saran wrap, rubber band and lube. Just call me the Macgyver of sex!

Needless to say, it wasn't a trip to the store that spoiled the moment. For anyone who's not quite catching on...THIS DOES NOT WORK!

jenerosity said...

Bad sex, entitled "Queef for a day"

It started out as any other raucous romp. He was definitely an overzealous partner and I didn't mind, at first. Let's just say he had a way with his hands; just would.not.stop. with the fingers. Eventually, I had to switch things up so I roll over on all fours for some good old-fashioned humping. And it began...the air deposited by overzealous fingers!! Thankfully, I was in the position where no facial expressions had to be read and my utter embarrassment could be hidden. I know, I know, a tiny little queef happens to the best of us but OMG it just went on and on!

This is one of those memories I wish I could erase forever. Perhaps some fun times with the no-insertion-required panty buzzer would help me forget. :D

Unknown said...

I'm sorry! I'm so delinquent. I haven't read any blogs in ages. :(

But I miss you and I love your blog and I'd pay to subscribe to it!!!!!! I swear.

Email me your address, please, if you would. I promise not to come peep in your windows.


Can't keep anything to myself said...

Ha darn. Now what story am I supposed to use?

I guess the worst sexcapade I've ever had was when I was 18 and having car sex with my 17 year-old boyfriend in a fairly secluded parking lot in his neighborhood. We had just finished and were lying naked in the back seat when we noticed some lights being shone at his car. We peeked over the seat thinking, "what the ef are these assholes doing?" Since there was light in our faces we couldn't see anything except for the light continuing to approach. Then a cop shows up at the window. Surprise! Scariest thing ever! We scrambled to put our clothes on and got out of the car to talk to the stupid cops (there were two and of course they were guys). They were kind of jerks, but I guess it could have been worse. After checking our IDs and giving us an awkward lecture they told me that I was free to go (because I was 18), but my boyfriend was sent home because he was 17?

Stupid, embarrassing, terrifying, and awkward, but I just realized this isn't actually a story about sex... It was just the aftermath that was crappy. Oh well. That's the best I got. I'm sure there will be more awful sex stories in the future!

Also, I'm so excited for a week full of bad sex!!!!

Tricia said...

Well, I didn't donate cash but I did some hefty X-mas shopping via your Amazon link. Next, I'm trying to send related links to my mother-in-law with my kids' wish lists. Hope it works. :)

Jill Hamilton said...

Tricia, oddly, you are the second person in the past hour or so to mention coming over and peeping in my window. the other person threatened to sing a smurf song to me. guess i'll leave the gate unlatched tonight...

Fitzlurker said...

So I just asked asked my wife, Honey, what's our worst sex experience?" and all she could come up with was "kiddus interuptus" which doesn't quite seem to meet the standard for this contest so I'll share one from my really young and stupid days...
I'd recently started a new job and happened to hit it off with a young lady. She wasn't really my type, but I was single, horny and 21. She was just under 21 so I wasn't surprised when I was asked to acquire some alcohol and bring it over to her place after work. Being broke, all I could provide was Boones Strawberry (smooth, eh?). This proved to be a boon, however, as wine had a peculiar effect on us both. It made us very excited, and this led to some hijinks... As background, I had (and have, with one notable exception) prided myself on my stamina, ability to please, etc, for years. A quickie is a minimum of 10 minutes, ad nauseam.
So, after a bottle or two of sickeningly sweet wine, I was feeling no pain and didn't really think anything was going to happen, when this young lady began to express an interest in me, by suddenly breaking out her double headed dildo and proceeding to give me a show. Let me reiterate, I was young, and rather inexperienced. I'd never seen a woman masturbate before, much less with a monster cock with two heads. I had never been turned on and when she came and asked me to put the condom on for my turn, I could barely do so. I managed it, somehow, and barely three pumps in, I was done. Lying there, fully spent, exhausted by one of the best orgasms of my short sexual life, I was mortified by how bad it must have been for her. (During her earlier session, she'd made a lot of noise, and had certainly been enjoying herself. During our very brief encounter, she'd shown nothing more than a small smile.) My addled brain offered up the very best/ worst line I could think of: "So, was it good for you?" She gave me what can only be described as a Look, and replied, "I think I peaked..." To this day, I have no idea what she meant, but I was so freaked out by how badly I felt it had gone that I left shortly thereafter. She and I remained casual acquaintances for a few years, but eventually we let contact lapse... We never hooked up again, or talked about it, and looking back, I realize I was an ass on many levels, but I can't help but think that she would tell this story as her worst... Now, to let my wife read this as I don't believe I've ever told her this story. Thank you.

Fitzlurker said...

Damnit. That should have said I've never been SO turned on. Cellphones suck for writing, sorry.

Enid Wilson said...

Urgh, you're so bad, always putting ideas in my brain. Now I want to write about this vibrating panties. Let's get a politician to wear it in a world leaders meeting...

My Darcy Vibrates…

Cagey-C said...

Two stories for the price of one:

I went through a period in my teens and early twenties where I attempted (rather successfully) to be a theologically conservative, evangelical Christian. As such, I made it all the way until I got married (thankfully, at 23--but still, 23!) before having sex for the first time. Thus, the indelible memory of our wedding night. A summer evening, a lakeside cabin in Maine. A 23-year-old super excited about the first honest-to-God sex he was about to have. That super excited 23-year-olds bizarre insistence on sharing a pre-undressing prayer, because, you know, there's nothing quite as romantic as asking Jesus to watch your very first time. The couple tenderly undresses each other, kisses, allows hands to roam. Lies down on the bed in--what else?--the missionary position. I couldn't believe the sensation as I entered, like nothing my hand had ever managed before. I managed approximately two thrusts before shuddering, exploding, collapsing. In my endorphin haze, I looked into her eyes, smiled, and said, 'So that's what all the hype is about.' Only to realize that she was crying, and that it all actually sucked.

The other, less psychically painful, bad sex: Early in our marriage, we went through a brief period of mutual fascination with the idea of being awakened to oral sex. We had a plan: I'd stay awake while she fell asleep. And then I'd gently lower myself between her legs, doing my best not to shake the bed. It was important that she be awakened, not by rustling, but by the gentle flicking of my tongue between her thighs. Only, we hadn't accounted for the disconnect between waking consciousness and sleeping lack-of-consciousness. I dutifully performed my task, moving ever so gingerly to provide her with languorous, middle-night arousal--except that our miscalculation was that she awoke, not in heightened desire, but in abject terror. Tongue met skin, she jolted with the primal instincts of a wild animal fighting off a predator, bolted upright, screamed, and hit me in the face. We have since decided that I ought to leave her dreaming alone.

Can't keep anything to myself said...

Hm, it's interesting how men and women's views differ about what makes sex bad. Guys are horrified when they don't last long, even though the sex wasn't necessarily bad for them. It bothers them that it was bad for the woman. And it seems like women think bad sex qualifies as being awkward and embarrassing.
I like thinking about these kinds of things...

Cagey-C said...

That's an interesting observation, CKATM. Though I hesitate to make generalizations, I agree that men tend to be performance oriented, whether that be through social gender scripting or some other complex of factors. But with that in mind, 'awkward and embarrassing' might also be applied, if with different emphasis, to the poor performance/lack of stamina story. A poor performance by an individual who finds sexual self-worth in performance itself is embarrassing; it's a moment of vulnerability which is dissonant with self-perception, I guess. I've had enough experiences since then when I've finished before my wife has peaked that it doesn't bother me; the orgasm, as an earlier post in this blog pointed out, I think, isn't the entirety of sex. What makes my first story stick in my mind so much is not necessarily that I didn't last long, though; it's that the rush that came with consummating all of my accumulated adolescent hormonal ferment came crashing down so quickly around me when my bliss ran smack into my wife's frustrated pain. She was left with a similarly accumulated hormonal ferment that was still blocked up.

Astro said...

I don't have any spectacularly bad sex stories, but all this talk of Brits reminded me of one that's good for a giggle:

So I'm in bed with an English gentleman, but he's tired and flagging a bit, which is causing him some distress. I reach down with the lube to perk things up a bit and he whispers, "Pull my ballskin back."

I've never heard of anyone calling it "ballskin," but maybe it's some British slang, right? And I don't want to embarrass him by making a big deal of it, since he's already a little embarrassed. But maybe I misheard.


"My ballskin!" he repeats in that delicious voice of his. "Pull my ballskin back."

"What?" That one is reflexive; he's getting flustered now, so I decide not to push it. The problem is, I'm not totally sure what he's asking for. How do you pull a ballskin back? Do you grab some and push it towards the posterior, or do you just like, smooth it away from the balls? Neither option sounds that erotic, or like something he'd enjoy, but who am I to question what gets him off?

I take my hand off his cock and let it hover uncertainly over his scrotum for a second, then give it a little nudge away from me. He huffs and reaches down to take care of things himself:

"PULL - MY - FORESKIN - BACK. It's not hard to do!"

See, the accent isn't always an asset.

Gia said...

Re: Fire and Ice condoms. Well. Boyfriend bought some variety pack of trojan condoms, and we never really paid attention to which ones we used because they all pretty much felt the same. So when he grabbed a fire and ice one, I had no idea. And then it got kinda burny down there. Not like, painful burny. Just like me thinking "Something's wrong, this doesn't feel normal."and "Why would it be burny? Razor burn?" and "Does Boyfriend have an std? Is he giving it to me right now? What's happening?!?" Needless to say, I lost focus. Boyfriend did not. But later, when we were cuddling, he was like "So...did that feel kinda weird to you?" and only then did we realize we used those condoms. So, that's my story about that.

Jen C said...

There's such a spectrum of bad sex. You can have bad sex with someone you normally have incredibly hot, oh-God-that-was-GREAT sex with. You can have bad sex that's good at first, then turns bad. Or sex that seems pretty damn fine until you're done with it and then you're like, "Oh. Actually, that sucked."

I've experienced all of these, but when I read your post, the bad sex memory that first came (CAME!) to mind was a classic third-date scenario that was in retrospect a sign of more cringe-worthy awful sex to come (COME!).

I met this guy in an AOL chat room, back in the days when people did such things. We hit it off online, then over the phone, and when we met in person, we still hit it off despite the fact that I was in no way attracted to him. Which should always be a sign, yes? But I was lonely and liked him, and deluded myself with that "Maybe I could GROW into hotness for him" notion.

After two fun movie outings, he took me to The Inn of the Seventh Ray in L.A.'s Topanga Canyon for dinner, which is really romantic if you can get past the New Age bullshit factor. Lots of wine combined with appreciation for an expensive meal to make him 8% more attractive to me on the drive home. We ended up at his place. I still have this vision of him naked, putting on the condom, and me looking up at the ceiling because, OMG, he had a weird body and I couldn't believe I was about to screw it but, you know. The wine.

Some foreplay, yada yada. Penetration. Ho hum. I guess I wasn't NOT enjoying it. I was beginning to psyche myself into the experience using one of my tried-and-true fantasy scenarios (I'm the teenage babysitter and he's the single dad! Yes! Take me!) when suddenly, it stopped. He stopped. He didn't say anything, didn't make so much as a grunt. Pulled out, limp.

I thought, okay. That's fine. We've been drinking and he's probably nervous. Whatever. I don't want to make him feel bad with one of the cliche comments you make at a time like that. So I got up to use the bathroom and when I sat on the toilet, a sad little bit of something dripped out of me.

Come. He actually came, and I didn't even know it! How can a guy come without making a peep? I felt this overwhelming rush of horror and regret and just plain yuckiness.

I don't remember much about what happened after, but I will admit that I continued to see this person. We enjoyed each other's company and he had money and took me to fancy places and okay, I was shallow. Eventually, that did not make up for the fact that his cock tasted horrible and he always came too quickly. (When my husband and I talk about my sexual past, we refer to him as Premature Ejaculation Guy -- not to be confused with Curved Penis Guy and Friends With Benefits Guy.)

The moral of my Bad Sex story is that sometimes, you need to trust your instincts. If you're not attracted to someone, that could be your body sending a message that THIS IS NOT YOUR MATE. THIS PERSON DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH A NAKED BODY IN ITS BED. RUN AWAY!

It's not true that sex is like pizza -- "even when it's bad, it's good." I'll take bad pizza over bad sex any day, because you can't just puke up bad sex and take a Zantac. It haunts you for years, and only if you're lucky can you turn it into a funny story on someone's awesome blog.

Fitzlurker said...

Jen C gets my vote... :)