Rabbit Run

When I got the phone call from Jackson I started laughing.

“Your Bunny Rabbit is here.”

“Wheee!”

I had a sex toy sent to Jackson’s house. I work from home and it’s just not feasible sometimes to accept deliveries when someone is lying naked in my living room. Plus, you know, I’m trying to keep the amount of stuff my mail carrier knows about me to a minimum. The number of “discreetly packaged” items he’s hand delivered to my door, along with his general creepiness makes me throw up in my mouth a little.

Chatting with Meg on the phone the weekend before, she’d told me about her Rabbit. I admitted that I’d been curious, but never wanted to invest that kind of dough when there were so many different incarnations of the Original. Also, cute animals disguised sex toys are so not my fetish.

“So it’s really good, huh?” I queried, inspecting the lengths of miniblinds in WalMart and threatening my kids with ‘No swimming today if you run away from me again.’

Yeah, I’m that mom.

“Uh, yeah, it’s going to be a good review.”

“Alright, then, I’ll bite.”

I sent off for my own Rabbit that evening. I cleared the delivery with Jackson. I alerted my friends.

Madeline: so I’m waiting for my Internet-Enabled Rabbit to arrive. I’m looking for volunteers for my, um, research.
Viviane: I volunteer! I miss you! Besides, Jefferson gets too much play. How long do you have to wait before it comes?
Madeline: Priority Mail, bitches. It’ll be here in a couple days.
Mikey: I get to play with one of those in a couple of weeks. I’m trying very hard not to be intimidated.
Dacia: Oooh! Does this mean I can do you long distance?
Madeline: Yes, please.

So, a road trip on a rainy morning later, kids buckled in the back, I retrieved the bunny (discreetly packaged) from Jackson’s front steps. After stopping for some shopping we returned home. The boys were resting in their room and I was online with Meg.

Madeline: Holy Ass, this thing is heavy. Four AAs? I’m going to go broke. Or break my effing wrist.
Meg: I only use rechargeables. I’ve been using the same eight batteries forever.
Madeline: aw, man, and I only get 30 days of the Internet service with the toy. Then I have to, you know, pay for the shit.
Meg: Bah!
Madeline: Okay, I’m trying this bitch in standalone mode.

I took the bigass purple shaft with the hot pink base and all the buttons. There are three variations, and two controls: one for the shaft rotation and another for the bunny vibration. I'm a simple girl. I get distracted if I have to think too much when I'm fucking. Even if I'm fucking myself.

As horny as I was, the toy was pretty pleasant, but I wasn’t overcome with love.

Here’s why:

My girl parts don’t match up with the Rabbit’s ears or gyrating tip.

My G-spot is pretty shallow and close to the entrance of my vagina, and my clit—well, it’s higher than you’d imagine. When I stand naked in front of the mirror my clit faces forward. All this presents a slight angular challenge when faced with the eight inches of straight, unyielding Internet-Enabled Rabbit Vibrator.

I was disappointed, but not deterred. I am not a quitter. I realize that some things—sex toys included—are an acquired taste.

Over the next two days I gave the Rabbit several more chances.

I used my Dynamic Duo bullets and silicone dildo as foreplay, inserting and turning on the Rabbit only when I was good and worked up, trying to bend it a little in every direction to gain simultaneous access to my clit and G-spot.

I turned on just the clit-tickling bunny and turned it upside down so the ears were pointed toward my ass, rubbing my clit that way.

I inserted the shaft just a couple of inches and turned on the rotations, trying to get at my G-spot. Really, all I got was frustrated.

I decided to try the vibe with a partner. Because, you know, jerking off is more fun that way. Plus, I thought the technology was pretty damn awesome and I loved the idea of having my friends remotely control my sex toys.

And it is very cool.

Except:

The toy connects to the computer via serial cable. Not a problem for PCs, but, hello, my iBook doesn’t have a serial port. No problem, I could still connect the toy to my desktop PC, but I’d much rather be lying next to my laptop in my bed. Not in the middle of my living room.

The aforementioned free trial is only 30 days, both parties have to register (yes, Meg did it, and that’s why she rocks) and give credit card information and all that, which sucks because you know they’re making a killing on people who try it once and forget to cancel their memberships. Duh. Of course I set up a reminder for 29 days.

The above points notwithstanding, I pulled my futon across the living room to the computer, installed all the HighJoy software and opened a chat with Miss Meg.

Jefferson popped up from Paris.

Jefferson: Hey, lover. Looks like I’ll be free on the days we looked at for your next visit. So come on over!
Madeline: I may just! And now I’m going to put a vibrator in my cunt while Meg controls it remotely. Wanna help?
Jefferson: I’d love to help, but I think I am going back to bed for a few. Kisses, you drunk dyke of my heart.
Madeline: I am NOT drunk.

I closed the chat window and turned to Meg, who had signed into HighJoy. We opened a one-on-one session.

madeline: okay, so i'm wondering what to do with this control panel. can you open it at the bottom?
meg: i sure can
meg: ok, so purple side = shaft, pink side = tickler?
madeline: i guess. try something
madeline: oooooooo!
meg: hee
madeline: okay, thats the shaft
meg: k
madeline: it's like a drill gone berserk
meg: ha!
meg: but that should be slow, right?
meg: where it's at now
madeline: vert
madeline: y
meg: !!
madeline: awww
madeline: that’s really nice
meg: see, this is hard because i can't like, hear or see you know?
madeline: um
(turns on her webcam)
meg: aw shit
madeline: hahahahaha
madeline: i do't think you can hear me
meg: i can't
madeline: we could skype
meg: oooh
meg: ok
meg: how did that change the tickler?
madeline: dude the lights are giong all over
madeline: i'm laught
madeline: in
madeline: g
meg: HA
meg: i see you!
madeline: i can hear you
meg: really?
meg: great
madeline: yeah, talk dirty to me
madeline: kidding
madeline: please don't
madeline: i'll laugh
madeline: hang on
madeline: you can hear me with my headphones, maybe
madeline: as i search for them with a rabbit between my legs
madeline: fuck it, i'm getting the ibook
madeline: let's skype
meg: ok
madeline: one sec
meg: k
meg: do i see glasses?
madeline: cos soon i'm not going to be able to type.
madeline: yes, glasses!
meg: ha, right
meg: dude, that's hot

We messed around, Meg working the controls from her computer, me trying to get a good angle on my couch halfway across the country. My laptop was next to my head on a coffee table and suddenly the Rabbit controls just stopped working. Just. Stopped. The internet connection wasn’t working at all.

I’ve still not given up on the Rabbit, but I’m less and less convinced that this particular model by that particular sex toy manufacturer (ahem, initials D.J.) is for me. Sucks, because after all, the Internet is a series of tubes made for jerking off. That's not going to keep me from trying others, though. I am nothing if not persistent in my quest for pleasure. Maybe I'll try one like Meg's. Maybe a shorter one. Maybe one from a different manufacturer.

I was getting frustrated. I needed to get off and this was not doing it.

“Fuck this,” I said, “are you wearing your new toy?”

“Sure am. And I’ve had two Guinnesses. Feeling good.”

“Awesome. I’m gonna finish myself off with something else.”

And in the darkness of my living room, with the soft sounds of Meg’s breathing as my soundtrack, we quietly jerked off together. I brought myself to the edge and backed away, loving the sensation of my hips moving on their own, desperate for the orgasm building up inside, rooting and writhing and stretching to get to it.

“Ahmmmnnnuh Cum,” I whispered, just to let her know.



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Fleshbot and Rabbits

With Jefferson hard at work on another continent, this week's Fleshbot Sex Blog Roundup was compiled by yours, truly. It's all about spanking and submission. Go ahead, you know you want some.

I've got posts lined up, but Miles (whose birthday is today, by the way) had the audacity to break his OTHER arm last weekend, so my writing has suffered a bit. Never fear, the posts are coming.

Also, stay tuned for my hard-won review of this pretty toy which is:

Wait for it . . .

Internet-Enabled.

Declaration of Independence

Daniel Skyped me a few weeks ago. There was something important he needed to discuss with me. I told him I could talk for a bit, and asked what was up.

Daniel: I've got some really great news, Madeline, and I wanted to tell you before you heard it from anyone else.

Madeline: Yeah? So, tell me!

Daniel: I got married.

Madeline (stunned): Wow . . . Huh . . . Congratulations . . . Um, when?

Daniel: Two weeks ago.

Madeline: Two Weeks? But you were just here last weekend. Why didn't you tell us then? Wait . . . did you tell the boys?

Daniel: No, I wanted to tell you first but you're never available to speak with me. I didn't want to wait this long , but you left me no choice! Why didn't you agree to meet with me like I wanted last weekend so that we could talk?!

Madeline: Daniel, you told me the reason you wanted to meet last weekend was so that we could discuss the boys' college funds, first of all, and secondly, I had plans on that one weekend a month when I do not have the boys.

Daniel (winding up): You Never want to talk to me! You're Never available to me!

Madeline: I am always reachable by IM or email, which is how our mediator suggested we communicate with each other.

Daniel: That's not convenient for me. I don't want to tell you by email that I've gotten married.

Madeline: Yes, well, I'm sorry about that. But Daniel, it's not like you have all the time in the world in which to prepare the kids; they're coming to visit you in two weeks, and they need some time to get used to the idea. I really can't believe you waited to tell us. It's pretty inconsiderate.

Daniel: It's no big deal! We got married at the courthouse! It was a civil ceremony! None of our friends were there!

Madeline: I don't care if it was a Wiccan ceremony in a cornfield, Daniel, it is a big deal. It is a big deal for the boys no matter how far away you are. This affects them. They've met her once, six months ago. It's not cool to spring this on them.

Daniel: You are overreacting, Madeline, as usual. Why won't you accept responsibility for this?

Madeline (unbelievingly): Um, because it is not my responsibility.

Now I understood why, suddenly, he was able to take the boys for his full two weeks in the summer instead of the one week he'd originally said he could do. Now he had help.

I wasn't surprised, really. Daniel is a person who truly can't be alone and I knew about the girlfriend. It was only a matter of time before he married again. I was, I suppose, mostly disappointed that he was staying true to form and putting himself first. I was also angry that he waited to tell me, and when he had a chance to, he made up a story about college funds.

It was a move for control, and I didn't bite. Instead of doing what I'd do for anyone else and what I used to do for Daniel and accommodating him, I stood my ground that weekend and suggested we discuss the college funds in emails. What he'd wanted was to have control by getting me to come to him under false pretenses and then drop his news. To see my reaction in person.

Madeline (suddenly feeling ballsy): So, is she pregnant?

Daniel (pauses): Yes.

Madeline (stifling laughter): Dude, I've got to go . . . I've got another call.

I was laughing through tears of anger and disappointment. I resented that he'd kept this from us, after all his talk about wanting us to be open and honest and adult with each other. I resented that he was so cowardly and that he'd left another potentially messy situation for me to handle.

Maybe I'm overanalyzing it. I know I've had the urge to protect the boys from Daniel's inconsideration when he's cancelled a visit at the last minute or has been two hours late picking them up without a phone call. I never make excuses for him and around the kids the most I'll ever say about a frustrating situation is to identify it as such.

But who the fuck does this?

I took a day to think it over. Constantly resurfacing was the relief that I was no longer married to this person. That I'd made the right decision. I felt badly for the boys for whenever they realized what I already knew: Daniel is most concerned with himself and that can lead to disappointments. I don't speak ill of Daniel in front of the kids. My belief is that his bad behavior will catch up with him eventually and the boys will discover it on their own. They need no help from me.

I would tell the boys about their father's new wife. I would not let him wait until their plane ride to tell them. I would be calm and matter-of-fact. And two weeks later I would tell them goodbye for half a month.


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Safety Dance

Of all the things to be doing on a hot and gorgeous Saturday afternoon in our nation's heartland, I was indoors. My bag sat waiting by the door on my newly installed wood floor. The fact that the floor was new meant I had to rearrange furniture and change the curtains and paint the bookcase this morning.

You know how it is.

The kitchen was cleaned, floors mopped, laundry done. Computer shut down and locked. Thermostat adjusted. Fresh sheets on the beds.

I must be going on vacation.

Chances are excellent that my mother will be dropping by during the week, so that left me with one last job before I grabbed my bag and jumped into my car.

I transformed my XXX nightstand into G: Gay porn, condoms, dildos and lube, strap-on harness, vibrators--hell, even my SmartBalls--were all locked into my safe and in their place went sheets, pillowcases, books and lotion.

I am still laughing.

And I am so in need of a vacation. Soon, I'll tell you why.