But there I was, standing inside the Dirty Toy store, looking at pussy - a lot of it. Apparently, every major porn star has a mold of her girly-bits; there were all kinds of colors and sizes, and the biggest decision was deciding which vagina I wanted to hand over to the boyfriend. I didn’t want it to look prettier or feel better than mine, however I knew if I was going to do this, I had to be all in – that meant getting the best one. I didn’t want to get some second-rate cheap piece of silicone that would eventually make his junk feel like he was rubbing one out with a box of plastic. It was going to take more than one trip and several Google re-searches before I could make this purchase.
On the next few trips to the Dirty Store, I stood in front of all my choices as Google reviews and recommendations flashed through my brain. I tried to remember the tips and tricks to choosing the perfect vagina (a decision I never thought I’d have to make, by the way).
I didn’t want Jenna’s because it was too loose, Sasha Grey’s was made for a ‘creampie’which didn’t sound too hygienic in the long term, I shouldn’t get any of the newer actresses because they weren’t reliable to last and the off brand, no-name ones came in unattractive colors and didn’t boast being made from material that was compared to ‘NASA invented, cyberskin technology.’ There was even a Fleshlight which was basically a flashlight that turns into a pocket masturbator. It didn’t even make the cut: at $60 I could have made one cheaper. It was also big and bulky and I could see all kinds of ways that could go wrong.
Then I saw it.
‘It’ was a pussy molding kit. I could send my boyfriend a mold of my own girly bits! Yay! Instead of buying someone else’s vagina, I get to send him mine. Win.
I bought it and got right to work on molding my hooha. How surprised would the boyfriend be to find my box in his box?! But just like most of my bright ideas, they work better in theory. There were a few points that were in small print and missed, the most important being I would need an accomplice to make a successful mold of my vagina.
Seriously? Do chicks really do that? Who was I going to call that would be okay with being all up in my business? However, this was a detail that shouldn’t have been ignored.
My mold looked like a crime scene replica of a serial-mangled vagina. Fail.
It was not sexy at all. I went back to the Dirty Store and bought the Belladonna – a cyberskin vagi-mold of the kinkiest girl in porn. I also had to buy a particular cleaning solution and special lube called “Gun Oil” –aptly named.
Once that adventure was done, I put together the box I would be shipping out. I removed ‘Belladonna’ from the packaging and wrapped it in a pair of under armor shorts, stuffed the box super tight (no pun intended) with other goodies and headed to the post office – where I was promptly notified that I needed to repackage my box (pun intended …?).
In my excited rush to mail out the package that day, I had squeezed too many things in the box and, in the process, some of the items slipped, causing a bulge (again, no pun intended) and starting a small tear, which I taped up poorly.
Damn. It was busy day at the post office, too.
I didn’t want to wait to mail it, so I pulled another box and carefully started removing all the items from it, loading them into the new one. While trying to be fast, careful and covert about the pocket pussy, the most horrific thing that could happen, did. I dropped the shorts it was wrapped in and it rolled out towards two little boys. As I tried to grab for it, the old box tipped and the Gun Oil and cleaner rolled out, too.
No one said a word, they just stood there - I can imagine with their mouths open, even though I was too embarrassed to look - when they saw what I was trying to smuggle in a pair of shorts. Because everyone did see it happen and if they didn't see it at first, what happened next made sure they did. One of the little boys, who was only trying to help, grabbed the Belladonna and squished it in his hands for a second before handing it to me – genital area first.
“What is that thing? It’s squishy.”
As the other boy handed me the Gun Oil and cleaner, I said the only thing that seemed to make sense.
“It’s a gun cleaner ...” The mom laughed out loud.
I’m glad he didn’t ask me any particulars, like how to use it. He just asked if my ‘husband’ was a Soldier like his daddy and wanted to know if that would make a good Christmas present since his dad shoots guns, too.
The horror.
It was like a really public nip-slip event, one from which I should have departed with a quickness. Yet, I stayed and endured a painfully long wait for a good cause – my boyfriend’s sexual well-being before even the chugly girls start looking good over there.
Who knew this would turn into such an ordeal? Guess I’ll pack my box the right way next time. No pun intended.
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