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02.25.03
Sex Toy Go Boom
Shawn and I had a sex toy party earlier this month, just in time for Valentine’s Day.

What, you ask, is a sex toy party? My buddy Ruth puts them on – they’re like a Tupperware party, but instead of veggie platters, cake takers, and burping seals, Ruth comes into a customer’s home and offers to customer’s friends dildos, lubricants, and the Beginner’s Bondage Kit.

It’s fun.

Shawn and I clean up the apartment, invite everyone we know, and make 2 vodka bottles worth of Jell-O shots, rapidly become Jamie-And-Shawn-Party tradition. Not that anyone’s complaining.

Despite Shawn’s incessant need to emulate some sort of pushy uber-host, it was lots and lots of fun. Ruth is chock-ful of information, and we had a grand time passing around Jell-O, various vibrating things (the bath sponge was a big hit), and dirty playing cards. It was No Boys Allowed, so everyone would feel comfortable to ask questions and play with the toys. Ruth led the presentation, and the items she displayed got more hard-core as the evening progressed.

(About two trays of shots into the evening, Shawn actually used the word, “Clitoria.” In a sentence.)

So, everything was moving along swimmingly, until we got to the cock ring section of merchandise available. I was sitting between my friends Jay and Jen. First, Jay was playing with the cock ring. It was kind of a tube – latex, then filled with some sort of liquid, plus about a half a dozen magnetic beads, designed to… well, I can’t really remember exactly, but I know it sounded fun. Jay spent a few minutes fondling the toy, then passed it to me. I checked it out, and even slid it over my hand and onto my wrist. (When telling this story later, Shawn exclaimed, “You had it on your wrist? Why the HELL did you do that? If you find someone as big as your wrist, you don’t buy him a cock ring… YOU MARRY HIM! Immediately!”) (To be fair, though, it’s a pretty skinny wrist.)

Then, it was Jen’s turn to check out the contraption. She took it from me, and barely even pulled on it, when the cock ring exploded. All over the right side of my body.

I had cock ring juice in my eye. I had cock ring juice in my mouth. I had cock ring juice in my hair, and all over my clothes.

I actually had to stand up and walking across the room, weaving through the crowd of squealing women holding leather whips and playing with fuzzy handcuffs, while saying, “Excuse me, ladies! I need to get to the bathroom. Yeah, I have cock ring in my eye. I’ll just be a minute.”

Then, the three of us sat there all guilty, trying to figure out how to keep Ruth from finding out we ruptured her sample cock ring. But I started having some disturbing visions, based on the fact that I didn’t know what exactly was IN the cock ring juice. I was pretty sure that it would be something non-toxic, given the intended use of the item, but then I got worried and started picturing the headlines in Monday’s paper, “Local Radio Personality Dies Of Cock Ring Poisoning.”

I wasn’t going out like that.

And here’s how Ruth tells the rest of the story:

“So Jamie just sat there, all night long. Shawn had a question about every thing I pulled out, but Jamie just passed stuff around and didn’t say a single word the entire evening. Until, I’m almost done, and I look over, and she’s sitting there with her hand in the air.

‘Ruth?’

‘Yes, Jamie?’ (The rest of the room fell silent.)

‘What exactly is IN those cock rings?’”

It turns out, we were the first people to ever actually rupture her cock ring. Reassuringly, it contained nothing hazardous to my health.

Close one.

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