Sunday, November 21, 2004
Le Sex Shoppe
What do you do when your man and you have some serious issues and problems at hand?
You go to Le Sex Shoppe and buy yourselves a red 8 inch jelly dong with balls and a whole can of Astroglide.
And use it. Lots. All night long. And combine it with the real thing in all kinds of variations. *walks bow-legged*
Oh, and even use it in places where it probally shouldn't go. My man is a tough one, I have discovered. Good in taking. Next thing on my shopping list is a strap-on. *grins mischievously*
Le Sex Shoppe is a fun place to go. Many things I wanted to adopt right then and there, were they within my tight budget boundaries. Many things to giggle and laugh about, too... because I am immature like that... but c'mon... a fake female asshole, or mouth, that just tickles my funny side. Fake pussies I can wrap my mind around... but if you have nothing but a mouth with no face attached to it... or just a hole with no cheeks around... that's just outright funny.
Of course I found Christmas decoration in a store of this kind outright funny too, but that's besides the point.
The point is, you get to see the most interesting people in Le Sex Shoppe. And I would never go there without male companionship, that's for sure. I parked the car in the parking lot in front of the store, and happened to get out just when two guys about my age walked out of the store and back to their car. They saw me, and immediately gave me that lecherous look that quickly turned from a look into an uncomfortably importunate stare that apparently meant to convey something like appreciation of a single woman being woman enough to come to a sex store all by herself. From their looks and body language I was pretty sure they were already contemplating their next move on me and how to get me to come home with them and whatever toy I intended to purchase - only that was when the passenger door opened and The Fiancé stepped out of the vehicle, in his 6'1" broad and handsome godliness, and it was funny to see how quickly first their jaws dropped with disappointment, and then their looks were respectfully averted, as I strutted into the store with my arm resting lightly on The Fiancé's elbow.
And that's what you gotta do, when you go into a toy store, right? Strut. Be proud of what you are about to do, openly look at and examine the naughty stuff on their shelves, and talk about them in your normal conversation noise. Don't sneak in there like a thief, try to hide what you are looking at behind your back, and avoid eye contact with every person who happens to be around. C'mon... you are in a porn store for crying out loud, it doesn't matter if you try to hide what you are looking at cause we all know you are a dirty little pervert, cause otherwise you wouldn't be in there in the first place!
I almost felt sorry for him, this middle-aged, bald, well-groomed, accountant-looking, and apparently rather lonely guy, who crouched on the floor looking at inflatables and fake pussies, trying to make his back as wide as possible while examining the merchandise as The Fiancé and I walked into the same aisle to look at butt-plugs and penis pumps. He looked like the kind of guy whose main activities revolve around Power Point presentations, and office paperwork, and very important business meetings and conferences, Germaway treatments of all surfaces he comes in touch with, and weekly trips to the barber shop.
As we are, we were talking loudly and openly about what was there on the shelves in front of us, with comments on how we would use them, and if we would use them, laughing, and having a general good time, without even paying attention to that guy and his silicone reproduction of Jenna Jameson's cooter. That is, until he quickly put whatever he had chosen to ease his long and lonely nights back onto the shelf, hurriedly got up and walked over into the DVD section, his shoulders slumped forward, his head hung low, and his cheecks burning red, wildly looking at me from the corner of his eyes in a way that made me think of how the white of the eye of a horse in distress is showing. I think we may have spoiled his shopping experience, that he probally took weeks to mentally prepare and build up the courage for, in our innocent good time and displayed openness about boys toys and anal beads right in the same aisle that he was using to stealthily look for secret pleasures that he wouldn't even tell his priest about in his weekly confessions.
It almost made me want to walk over to him, pat him on the head, and tell him that it's not a shameful thing, that everything's alright, but then he probally would have bolted out of there crying like a little baby.
That other guy, that guy that must have been well over 70, and looked like he could barely walk 2 meters without help, and who was openly browsing through the stand of porn magazines, that's what I call a self-confident whacker-offer. Accountant dude could learn something there.
Fun times. :)
You go to Le Sex Shoppe and buy yourselves a red 8 inch jelly dong with balls and a whole can of Astroglide.
And use it. Lots. All night long. And combine it with the real thing in all kinds of variations. *walks bow-legged*
Oh, and even use it in places where it probally shouldn't go. My man is a tough one, I have discovered. Good in taking. Next thing on my shopping list is a strap-on. *grins mischievously*
Le Sex Shoppe is a fun place to go. Many things I wanted to adopt right then and there, were they within my tight budget boundaries. Many things to giggle and laugh about, too... because I am immature like that... but c'mon... a fake female asshole, or mouth, that just tickles my funny side. Fake pussies I can wrap my mind around... but if you have nothing but a mouth with no face attached to it... or just a hole with no cheeks around... that's just outright funny.
Of course I found Christmas decoration in a store of this kind outright funny too, but that's besides the point.
The point is, you get to see the most interesting people in Le Sex Shoppe. And I would never go there without male companionship, that's for sure. I parked the car in the parking lot in front of the store, and happened to get out just when two guys about my age walked out of the store and back to their car. They saw me, and immediately gave me that lecherous look that quickly turned from a look into an uncomfortably importunate stare that apparently meant to convey something like appreciation of a single woman being woman enough to come to a sex store all by herself. From their looks and body language I was pretty sure they were already contemplating their next move on me and how to get me to come home with them and whatever toy I intended to purchase - only that was when the passenger door opened and The Fiancé stepped out of the vehicle, in his 6'1" broad and handsome godliness, and it was funny to see how quickly first their jaws dropped with disappointment, and then their looks were respectfully averted, as I strutted into the store with my arm resting lightly on The Fiancé's elbow.
And that's what you gotta do, when you go into a toy store, right? Strut. Be proud of what you are about to do, openly look at and examine the naughty stuff on their shelves, and talk about them in your normal conversation noise. Don't sneak in there like a thief, try to hide what you are looking at behind your back, and avoid eye contact with every person who happens to be around. C'mon... you are in a porn store for crying out loud, it doesn't matter if you try to hide what you are looking at cause we all know you are a dirty little pervert, cause otherwise you wouldn't be in there in the first place!
I almost felt sorry for him, this middle-aged, bald, well-groomed, accountant-looking, and apparently rather lonely guy, who crouched on the floor looking at inflatables and fake pussies, trying to make his back as wide as possible while examining the merchandise as The Fiancé and I walked into the same aisle to look at butt-plugs and penis pumps. He looked like the kind of guy whose main activities revolve around Power Point presentations, and office paperwork, and very important business meetings and conferences, Germaway treatments of all surfaces he comes in touch with, and weekly trips to the barber shop.
As we are, we were talking loudly and openly about what was there on the shelves in front of us, with comments on how we would use them, and if we would use them, laughing, and having a general good time, without even paying attention to that guy and his silicone reproduction of Jenna Jameson's cooter. That is, until he quickly put whatever he had chosen to ease his long and lonely nights back onto the shelf, hurriedly got up and walked over into the DVD section, his shoulders slumped forward, his head hung low, and his cheecks burning red, wildly looking at me from the corner of his eyes in a way that made me think of how the white of the eye of a horse in distress is showing. I think we may have spoiled his shopping experience, that he probally took weeks to mentally prepare and build up the courage for, in our innocent good time and displayed openness about boys toys and anal beads right in the same aisle that he was using to stealthily look for secret pleasures that he wouldn't even tell his priest about in his weekly confessions.
It almost made me want to walk over to him, pat him on the head, and tell him that it's not a shameful thing, that everything's alright, but then he probally would have bolted out of there crying like a little baby.
That other guy, that guy that must have been well over 70, and looked like he could barely walk 2 meters without help, and who was openly browsing through the stand of porn magazines, that's what I call a self-confident whacker-offer. Accountant dude could learn something there.
Fun times. :)
