I blame E.L James for this. Her and her "Oh, let's use this toy on you, Ana. It will be fun, Ana" from her book. It did sound like fun and eventually I found myself at a store that sold that kind of "fun." I really should have gone with some girlfriends and not alone. It's a creepy feeling to be walking around an adult store looking at every different color dick, nipple clamp, pocket pussy, numbing lube, and rabbit. Overwhelming even.

Silver bullet vibrating butt plug

Then the pimple-faced girl who worked there came over to me and asked if I needed help finding anything.

"Does your mother know you work here?" I pre-empted.

She looked at me like I was crazy—I was totally serious. So I went ahead and said it out loud: "I'm looking for something small, I think it's called a ‘bullet'?"

The toddler then showed me all different kinds of "bullets" ranging from affordable to "you've got to be freaking kidding me" expensive. She started going through all the functions of the different types of bullets and which one was better than the other one…all while I kept thinking she probably still watches Hannah Montana reruns. 

Finally, I picked out the $16 one, ignoring the baby babble about "you might want one with a cord to pull it out with" nonsense; shut up, I've had four kids rip through my vagina, I think I know what I'm doing, thank you very much. Shoo now, be gone, poof, run along, leave me alone to gawk at the insanely huge purple dicks on the wall here in peace. 

I also bought a set of those balls that E.L. James told us about. I got the cheap, marble-sized balls, thinking they would be enough for us to play with. I mean, who needs to spend $100 on those things? The cheap small ones will do the same thing, am I right? Sadly, no, I was so very wrong.

I got home and showed my Baby Daddy what I bought, eager to play with our new toys. It was still early in the day, so I went to the bathroom to put the little balls in. Once they were in, I couldn't feel them. Hmm, maybe I needed to walk around like E.L. James had Ana do.

Nope, still couldn't feel them.

Maybe if I jumped up and down, I'd feel them moving around. So I jumped up and down.

Oh…I felt them all right. I felt them fall out into my panties! WHAT THE EFF??

So I just stood there, all pissed off and sad that my vagina, the one that pushed out four big-headed boys, had just let these balls fall right out of me. I remembered all those jokes the comedians would tell about loose women…about "needing to strap a board across their asses so they wouldn't fall in" sort of jokes.

Suddenly, I was totally not in the mood anymore. I was mad at E.L. James, mad that I bought the stupid little ball bearings, and I wanted to cry because I wondered if he ever thought he needed to strap a board across his ass so he wouldn't fall in. 

Anyway, I had already shown the balls to my husband, so I had to use them, or else explain why I didn't want to use them. I chose using them obviously.

So I put them in again, making sure to walk slowly to bed, and I laid down quickly. Okay, maybe I'll feel the balls when he's doing his wonderful thing to me. Yeah, that's got to be the key to how these things work, I said to myself.

"Can you feel them?" he said.

"No, can you feel them?" I replied.


Pound, pound, pound.

"Okay, these suck. Stop so I can take them out and then we can play with the bullet!"

He's easy, so we stopped, and I jumped out of bed and heard a "bing, bing" on the floor. I turned, looked at my husband and proclaimed cheerfully, "They're out!" Then I jumped back into the bed.

Now it's the bullet's turn. Don't get me wrong, that little bullet can be a girl's best friend. And when held properly on your man's jewels, he will be amazed at how much he likes it too. So you both find that the cheap little thing is your new best friend! High five.

Over time, you tend to become more and brave with the little guy. Sticking him in places where you feel pretty safe that he will pop right back out.

Now let's pause here for a second.

Remember that pimple-faced toddler who tried to get me to buy the one with the cord? Well that's about to become extremely relevant.

My very zealous husband and I literally went at it caveman style. He put my buzzing BFF in my butt. Okaaaay. I'm not going to be mad at him. Shocked, but not mad. He seemed to really, really, really like it. And I was happy for him because he finished soon after. Good for me because for a minute there I thought I was going to die of too many orgasms. True story. It's called "him having beer dick." It's a real thing, but that's another story. Moving along.

As we came down from our heavy breathing, I could still feel the bzzzzzzzzzzzz going on in my ass.

"Can you hear it? Because it feels like you can hear it, " I said

He said he couldn't hear it, so I went into the bathroom to remove the damn thing. I pushed…nothing happened. Bzzzzzzzzzzzz (enter pimpled-faced toddler's voice reminding me I might want one with a cord). I'm not going to freak out, it's not like it can go too far, right?

I push again. Bzzzzzzzzzz.

Coors Light Silver Bullet train in the snow

My heart starts flipping in my chest. This clearly isn't working. I went back to bed. He asked me if everything was all right. I whimpered and said, "No, I can't get it out."

He truly didn't know whether to laugh or be worried. He chose laughter. "Just go to sleep, it will come out tomorrow."

Laughing. I lay there. BZZZZZZZZZZZZ vibrating my innards.  He was still laughing. "The battery will die out, I'm sure. Don't worry, go to sleep." More laughing.

I wasn't laughing anymore. Tears built up in my eyes. Flashes of Facebook links like "Real Emergency Room X-Rays of Things People Have Gotten Stuck in their Butts" played in my mind over and over again. I am not going to be one of those people!! I grabbed my phone and jumped out of bed (praying that the jumping would make it fall out like it did the balls—it didn't) and locked myself into the bathroom.

There I was, Googling how to get something out of my butt while sitting on the toilet. Here's some advice, don't Google how to get something out of your butt because…OMG!!! I can't believe this is happening to me!!!! Punctured intestines?? Surgical removal?? NOOOOOO!!!!

After a few "You can do this, it will come out, just believe, it will be a funny story one day to tell the grandkids, you can do this!" I took one more deep breath and decided it was time to go in. As I violated myself in ways my husband could only dream of, I mentally screamed to our former BFF, "I HATE YOU YOU STUPID FREAKING BULLET UP MY ASS. YOU FREAKING VIBRATING STUPID BULLET STUPID PIMPLED-FACED GIRL KNOW-IT-ALL. STUPID HUSBAND ALWAYS TRYING TO PUT IT IN MY ASS. STUPID E.L. JAMES. I HATE EVERY ONE OF YOU!!"

Then I barely managed to latch on to the bullet and pull it out.

Whew. That. Totally. Sucked. But there's a lesson to be learned here, kids: you're gonna want to spring for that cord.

I went back to bed, and my husband turned to me and said, "Is everything okay? Did you get it out? You didn't throw it away did you? We can go buy another one right?"


Yes, I bought another one. 

Get 10% off The Second City comedy classes with code PIC. Subscribe to our newsletter for new articles.