SLAP AND TICKLE
7 February 2017
I am so glad that I am rostered off work until after the wedding as this morning my mouth feels something like the bottom of a birdcage, and my head feels like it might very well explode. You see last night was Heather’s kitchen tea, and I am pleased to report that it was not at all what I had expected. I actually had fun.
It seems Tracy is full of surprises as we were all treated to a sex toy party following the traditional exchange of toasters, mugs, and muffin trays. There was plenty of talk about muffins for the rest of the evening, if you know what I mean. Huh, maybe Tracy is not so bad after all. I guess only time will tell.
I have always thought of myself as pretty worldly when it comes to sex and experience, but last night was an eye opener with my mind often landing on ‘where the hell does that thing go and what end goes where?’ There were cupcakes with nipples and sprinkles, and bread rolls shaped like rounded buttocks. It really was a great laugh, and everyone had a good time.
Tracy also invited the boys along, which was painfully awkward as Matt knew exactly which tickling tantalisers I was familiar with. Oh, the shame of it all. Andrew sat next to me all night, and I am pretty sure he was attempting to flirt with me. I was surprised to feel a flutter all over along with very sweaty palms, but that could have just been due to the vibrating purple phallic symbol I was holding in my hand switched on to full-speed mode.
The party host was interesting to say the least. She was, shall we say, a little rough around the edges. If you were hosting a party where you were selling sex toys, you think you would make an effort with your appearance. She also had the most bogan name on the planet. Sharon. That’s right, Shazza the Sex Toy Spruiker.
She could have at least run a brush through her hair and washed her clothes. Her fingernails were filthy. She looked very unhygienic, and we were all rather concerned about handling the merchandise on display as we feared they may have been from her personal collection.
Sharon had us play a couple of games to begin with. The first game started with us all having to stand up. She would then call out a sex act, starting with mild ones and becoming kinkier as she went along. We then had to sit down when one was called out that we had not experienced.
I was not at all surprised when Rachel was the last to sit, winning a sex toy party of her own, which I am pretty sure I won’t be getting an invite to. I must say, I was a little bit shocked that Matt sat down after me because it was not me he did those things with. I am both a little bit jealous and hurt. That downright dirty little tart. Heather, on the other hand, is full of surprises and beat me by three sex acts. Who knew?
I’m glad I sat down somewhere in the middle. If you were either first or last to sit down, you would be hard-pressed not being judged every which way but Sunday by the others in the room. If you sat down first, you would be labelled a prude, and if you sat down last, you would be labelled Sydney’s biggest slut.
The next game involved us having to partner up with a member of the opposite sex, put on a big black blindfold, and blind taste test flavoured lubricants that produce a fizzing sensation when they come into direct contact with your skin. I was doing just fine until I missed Andrew’s mouth completely, squirting cherry-flavoured goo right up his left nostril. He spent the rest of the evening feeling like he had a half-sucked Fruit Tingle lodged up there. We both laughed for hours.
There were lots of little contraptions with specific stimulators for our female love buttons. Now that is something I must invest in because let’s be real, ladies, it’s all very well to have a clitoris, but how many men can successfully find it in a hurry? Even if they can find it, they need prompting to start looking. Once they get there, it’s all too hard and we are left like Oliver Twist asking for more.
The most interesting device was one that was designed to simulate oral sex and had a rotating wheel of pink lapping rubber flaps. Quite frankly, it scared the hell out of me, and I would rather go without. OK … just call me Pinocchio because that is clearly a big fat lie.
They had a cushioned portable seat with built-in magic wand vibrator perfectly positioned at the front once you had straddled it. I thought to myself, I need one of these for the car. It would certainly make my boring hour-long commute to work each day a hell of a lot more enjoyable.
Andrew bought a soft, brightly coloured rubber tube designed to, shall we say, caress the male appendage. Sure, it might be fun and very effective, but it would be a real bitch to clean. I guess Mrs Palmer and her five daughters need a well-earned break every now and then.
The sex swings were hysterical, and it was hilarious watching everyone trying to get into them for fun. I would not even dare to attempt this manoeuvre as you clearly need to be a highly skilled trapeze artist to pull it off with any grace whatsoever. I worried about it not being able to hold my weight for a start. I can just picture me and the lucky guy ending up sprawled on the floor like we had just taken part in a kinky game of Twister. We would resemble two naked slugs attempting to perform some bizarre mating ritual whilst being caught up in a sticky spider’s web.
One toy I found rather interesting was a little vibrator shaped like a lipstick case designed to be discreet and carried around in your handbag in case the mood strikes you. That is all very good and well, apart from one little problem. This little contraption’s buzz was extremely loud. If you were to decide to have a sneaky fiddle with yourself, be it at work or at the local shops, your friends and colleagues would come running to your rescue as it would sound like you were being attacked by a swarm of angry bees.
One poor soul tried out some lotion designed to make your lady pearl more sensitive. We all discovered this stuff burns. Luckily, there were plenty of cold drinks on ice in the esky as she spent the rest of the afternoon with a stubby of VB firmly wedged between her thighs.
Attending a sex toy party in the privacy of someone’s home is much better than venturing into a sex shop in a dark alley. Sex is a natural thing, and we all do it. Why is it then when you walk into one, there is always a creepy-looking guy lurking behind the counter who looks like a seventies porn star, and it then makes you feel like a dirty, perverted individual? You usually end up quickly slinking out of the shop wearing dark sunglasses, being very careful to avoid eye contact with anybody on the way out.
Ordering your goods online can be even more embarrassing, however, as you either have to bravely face the delivery guy or visit your local post office to pick up your item, hoping the label on the box is discreet and does not shout, ‘Oh look, everyone, she bought a set of fluffy handcuffs’.
If you are not careful, sex and its toys can land you in a bit of trouble. Heather and I attended a pole dancing class once thinking it would be a laugh. It turns out it was not very funny at all as I lost my grip while disgracefully hanging upside down and came crashing down, leading to a trip to the nearest emergency department with a mammoth case of concussion. It really gave a new meaning to the phrase ‘wham bam, thank you, ma’am’.
I, of course, drank way too much, and as I had come to the kitchen tea with Heather who was staying the night at Tracy’s, Andrew kindly offered to drive me home. He told me he had two tickets to see The Lion King and asked if I would like to join him as his friend can no longer go. Now do not get me wrong, I still think he is a huge geek; however, he is now a huge geek with taste. I never knew he was a fan of musical theatre, and we chatted about our favourite productions all the way home. I have always wanted a theatre husband, and now I may have found one.
I have just had a good hard look at what I bought last night, and it has become abundantly clear that I should not be allowed anywhere near a credit card with a glass of plonk in my hand. One hot pink vibrator with rabbit ears, one tube of banana-flavoured lubricant for her pleasure, two pairs of crotchless edible undies, and one rather large chocolate phallic symbol. I will just go and put them all away in my bedside drawer. No, on second thought, the chocolate penis can stay right here as it will go very nicely with my morning coffee. Elixir of the gods. Heaven knows I need it!
Unpublished Work (c) Hayley Walsh 2020