small pink thing

My vibrator officially died this morning.

I suppose I can't fault it. The poor thing worked hard this summer. I had to dig it out in March when I started this whole, um, thing - couldn't even remember where it was. Finally found it in a drawer somewhere, dusted it off and got busy.

Such a small pink thing. It has buzzed away between my legs while I wrote to you, teased its way along the edge of my clit while I talked to you, and squeezed itself, at times, not so gently, into my cunt while you talked to me. If you heard the recording I made, then you might have even listened to its dulcet buzzing as it brought me to a, yes, ok, an extremely fast climax! (But, damn, that was a good one.)

Now, it lies still on my desk, looking utterly exhausted. Beat up, even.

Should I bury it? Say a small prayer for it? Write a poem in honor of it? Tattoo "Doc Johnson" on that soft place just inside my hip bone? Swear off cumming for, uh, an hour?

And the biggest question of all: What could possibly ever replace it? (Later: Wow... thanks!)