It’s hard to keep the physical aspect of a relationship going over the years. My wife and I are in our late 30s, and things had started to cool down for us in the bedroom. Thankfully, we’re both very into communication. Whenever we sense something might be amiss, we talk it out until we discover a solution. Our stagnating sex life was no different.
After a few lighthearted discussions, we decided to start experimenting. Nothing too crazy. Just basic kinks. A little bondage. Some mild butt stuff. You know.
Everything went really well. We learned new things about ourselves and one another. Our creativity blossomed as we tried to figure out fun, different activities we could engage in. The fact we’re so comfortable with one another was a huge plus; I couldn’t imagine this all working out if either of us felt shame or nervousness.
About a month into our experimentation, I walked over to Olivia and held my phone in front of her. I’d found a hilarious and pretty impressive clip on Reddit. It featured three p**n actresses attempting a unique challenge: they had a small sex toy attached to a string, the other end of which was attached to a small helicopter drone. The goal was to use their vaginal muscles to keep the toy inside while the drone tried to pull it out. They all tried with varying levels of success with the last woman appearing to hold onto it indefinitely.
Olivia, like me, thought it was hilarious. Then she got a look on her face that told me immediately we were thinking the same thing.
“You know…I bet I can hold one way longer than you,” she informed me.
“You’re on,” I told her.
My lovely wife had given me a quadcopter drone for Christmas. We used it a lot for the first couple months, but then the novelty wore off and it’d been sitting in my closet ever since. I headed upstairs, got the drone and a small vibrator, and headed to the garage.
It took a little while to properly secure the fishing line to the vibrator. It didn’t help that Olivia and I had downed a bottle and a half of wine with dinner and were still drinking. Eventually, though, I had the line on tight. It wasn’t going anywhere. Olivia wanted to test the strength of the line, too – the vibrator wasn’t designed for a**l use and the last thing she wanted to do was show up at the hospital and ask them to dig it out of one of us.
Olivia said we needed to have a brief conversation about lube. It would definitely make the thing easier to go in, but also easier to come out. Since the vibrator was pretty small, neither of us thought it was necessary, but I had some ready just in case. We were taking this all pretty seriously; we’d made serious oral sex wagers that’d have to be delivered by the loser of the contest over the coming days.
We headed outside with our setup and chose a spot by the pool with a few comfy chaise lounges. I gave the quadcopter a quick test flight. The drone is operated with an iPhone app that’s pretty intuitive. We’d gotten pretty good at it since Christmas, so even in our semi-drunken states, it was going to be a piece of cake.
We’re fortunate enough to have a pretty big backyard and no nosy neighbors. It’s allowed us to go skinny dipping and get a pretty good all-over tan without having to worry about anyone getting an eyeful. Not that Olivia would have minded, but that’s another story.
Olivia said she wanted to go first. I’m not going to get graphic or anything, but I’ll just say she got the thing in there, I waited for her to tell me she was ready, and then I had the drone take off. I was laughing so hard at how hilarious she looked trying to hang on to the damn thing. Still, I had the presence of mind to keep an eye on the stopwatch. Olivia was able to hold onto the toy for almost two minutes before it popped out.
“Beat that!,” she shouted. I was worried. She went way longer than I thought she would have. I had the drone land, Olivia brought the setup inside to rinse the toy off, then came back. I was ready. It was my time to shine.
I jammed the thing up myself without much ceremony. I’d tested the line again beforehand, making absolutely certain it wouldn’t break and force me to explain to the ER nurse how I fell on it in the shower or something. I pushed the idea out of my mind and did a few practice clenches. I felt the toy move a little deeper, but I figured that could only help me hold it inside.
“Ok,” I said, realizing how ridiculous I must look with my dick and balls dangling underneath the fishing line sticking out of me. I glanced at Olivia over my shoulder and hollered, “let ‘er rip!”
Olivia activated the drone and started its ascent. I felt it tugging the toy inside me, but it was nothing more than I could handle. The line moved back and forth as my wife flew the drone around like I had, trying to dislodge the vibrator from its position. I’ll be honest: it was way easier than I thought. I could’ve done it all day.
The ten feet of fishing line moved back and forth, around and around, and there was no way in hell it was getting away. A minute passed. Then a minute and a half. Olivia had started playfully buzzing the drone by my head with the hope of startling me into letting the toy go.
Right before I was going to eclipse my wife’s time, Olivia moved the quadcopter straight out, using the momentum she’d gathered from passing by my head, and I felt something pinch inside me. “Oh f**k, the corner of the battery compartment must’ve come off,” I thought with a twinge of worry, and I felt a much harder pull. I clenched as hard as I could, but the pulling sensation only intensified. Olivia shrieked and dropped the phone onto the pavement.
Further startled by my wife’s scream and the sound of my phone breaking on the concrete, I unclenched the toy. The feeling of pulling turned into white-hot pain as I flipped onto my back and saw what had frightened Olivia.
Between my legs was a grayish-white tube leading up to a slightly thicker, bright red tube with fishing line hanging out of it. The fishing line was still attached to the drone. Right where the line met the red part, the toy bulged at a semi-sideways angle. Dizziness overcame me as I reached out and pulled the slick, veiny, tube, trying to get the drone to stop flying and pulling more of it out of me. Olivia screamed again and sat down hard on the pavement before falling over sideways. She’d passed out.
The tube continued its slow unravelling. It slipped and slid through my hands as I tried to get a grip on it. The drone crashed into the branches of a nearby tree and stuck there. At least 12 feet of my intestines hung out of my body. The air was filled with a nauseating, estuarial scent.
The terror of my injury was eclipsed only by my concern for Oliva. She’d hit her head on the pavement when she fell. I got up from the chaise lounge and tried to maneuver over to her without causing any more damage to myself. I felt a series of dull, disjointed pains in my stomach. My shattered phone sat next to Olivia, who I could tell was still breathing. The moment of relief I felt was fleeting; more and more twinges of a pain unlike any I’d ever experienced pulsed through my stomach, although I knew even though I felt it in my gut, it was probably from 12 feet away.
I yelled for help as my wife regained consciousness. It appeared the fall hadn’t hurt her. She was alert again quickly and ran into the house to call 911. I was on my stomach under the tree with my intestines sticking straight up out of me. While I waited and did my best not to panic, more dull pain filled my belly. It felt like I was being punched in the stomach over and over.
Possibly because I’m the most unlucky person on earth, a bee landed on my hand while I waited for help. Before I could swat it away, it stung me. I smashed it and let fear overcome me while the stomach pain got worse and worse. I knew if I wasn’t going to die from this, my digestive system would be severely damaged. One stupid contest had ruined the easy life I’d taken for granted.
Sirens filled the air and an ambulance drove directly into the backyard. As I sobbed with pain and fear, I distinctly heard one of the EMTs say “holy f*****g dog dicks.” The reaction was enough to make me laugh for the first time since the ordeal, but another wave of crushing pain filled my belly as soon as I did. I passed out.
Countless hours later, I woke up in the hospital with Olivia by my side. There were doctors, nurses, and med students milling around. My pain, mercifully, was gone. The fear remained, though. I asked Olivia how bad it was. She said I’d be okay – there was no real damage. The doctor came in and told me I’d have to be on a special diet for a while so my stitches wouldn’t pop, but I’d probably be fully recovered within a year.
I couldn’t believe it. I asked him how long I’d have to be on the heavy pain medication I assumed I must have been on because I felt hardly discomfort at all. He told me I wasn’t on anything major and when I was discharged, I wouldn’t need meds stronger than Tylenol. I asked about the pain I’d felt in my stomach. He smiled, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small plastic bag, which he handed to me.
I inspected it. There were hundreds of tiny, black pieces that looked like splinters.
“You’ll probably want to get rid of that bee hive in your tree,” he told me. “They weren’t too fond of being bothered.”