I went to a Passion Party the other night. For those of you unaware, like I was prior to attendance, a Passion Party is like a Tupperware party where a group of women get together and pass around whatever product is being featured. They exclaim and squeal and get real excited about stability and storage conveniences.
Only this was a party for dildos. And lingerie. And massage oils. Edible creams, his and her bondage equipment... the list goes on!
My roommate and I arrived late and walked in on a circle of ladies all grasping rotating, vibrating, pulsating phalli. We had unfortunately just missed the sniffing and testing of aforementioned appetizing body lotions and personal lubricants.
The sales lady leading the discussion sat us down with two vibrators to assess and passed us a catalogue full of the merch. The first paged I flipped to featured the men's items which was a considerably less intensive product line than for the girls. Despite this, they were all carefully photographed with smoldering cigars and poker chips. This struck me as particularly classy and well advertised. It's a nice image to have in your head; your fellow rubbing one out in this blue and vaguely deep sea urchin-esque silicon mouth while playing poker with the guys. I find it really brings the relationship to the next level.
They did however have some pretty convincing names. Each of them... except for Jill. Poor Jill. Look at her down there by herself, all bloated and pink.
Meanwhile the hostess pulled out a new item on the PLATINUM line that had rotating ball bearings and a vibrating suction cup for clitoral stimulation. This was described as a "beautiful flower" but in reality was possibly the one of scariest devices I've ever laid eyes on.
One of the collections, The Diamond Collection "because diamonds are a girls best friend!" advertised rechargeable toys. Similar to cell phones, the dildo - be it The Cabana Boy, The Concierge, The Millionaire, or The Trainer - simply docks at an electrical outlet and eliminates the need for midnight remote battery raiding.
The world is changing right before us, dear readers.
It was an eye opening experience to be sure, especially when it came time for those who wished to place and order did so. It occurred to me that I might soon witness that awkward moment when the plus sized girl at the party purchases an extensive amount of fairly expensive sex toys and a red lace teddy that you just know will end up looking like
this.
I say the more power to her, of course, and I'd recommend those plug-ins of the Diamond Collection to her if I could do it over again. Disposables are costly after a while and with technology advancing the way it does, rechargeable battery life is ever improving.
As we left, with no bounty to show for our adventure, the bros smoking joints on the upstairs porch shouted down at us how was the dildo party?
Another chimed in that he hoped our toys vibrated enough for us because he sure didn't, along with other unintelligent and leud comments.
Who needs the All Night Bender or any of these other (relatively) silent fellows pictured below when we girls have fine specimen like that to full fill our needs? ...
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