Dear Redhead, Mr. ToyWithMe and I want to congratulate….
SkyddsDrake on her new ohmibod vibe.

Meooowww – We could not resist her purrrfect ensemble worn to met her hubby’s co-workers.

Enjoy your new toy!!

Am I the only one who was unaware that single, pricey cigars are vended in their own 8-inch, aluminum, cylindrical tube, rounded at one end? Consider it a smoke with a dildo thrown in for free! Here I am certain not that I’m going to simply get nabbed for violating some Castro-punishing embargo. No. I am certain instead that the metal in my suitcase will set off alarms. The then revealed silver penis in the suitcase of this 18 year-old, long-haired guy will evoke derision. And then and only then will the nicotine torpedo be discovered. We’re talking death by embarrassment, then legal trouble.

It wasn’t until years later that I discovered the solution I only wish I’d known back then. Some six years ago I went on a single date with this girl I’d been following like a lost puppy for weeks. It was perhaps a humanitarian act that she finally caved in for a date. But more importantly she taught me a life skill, How to Smuggle Pornography Into Japan.

My understanding is that the Japanese, while they are fine selling soiled panties in vending machines, are all uptight about pubic hair. And so this has turned much pornography into contraband. Why this girl was so keen on getting bushy porn into Japan I never learned. But the key, she claimed, of How to Smuggle Pornography Into Japan, was… drumroll… tampons!

So here, she explained, was the trick. Place the curly-haired pube porn deep in the suitcase. Then, regardless of whatever retentive nature you might have, muss up all the clothes covering the curlicued contraband. You are now presenting yourself as a complete mess to the Japanese customs folk. In my date’s deep sociological wisdom she judged these people be the well-groomed, neat and tidy types. Then open a brand new box of tampons and upend it into your luggage. Toss them around a bit. You’re a messy, messy person and you keep these things jumbled in all of your belongings. This, she proclaimed, was the trick. As much as the Japanese authorities disdain the short hairs, they are so much more disturbed by the contemplation of anything related to menstruation. Viola, your copy of Natural Muffs is safely stashed where no Japanese customs agent is willing to prod.

Something in this rings true. In the 1980′s friends of the family were working in Saudi Arabia. The wife had been stopped in customs by a young man with a large automatic weapon slung over his shoulder. In a language she did not understand he made demanding noises and gestured quizzically at her hygiene products in her open bag. Not a bit shy, she concocted an elaborate pantomime that, by the pallid look that overtook the young gent, educated him well on monthly cycles and Western customs for dealing therewith. My understanding is that the luggage was then treated like an icky bug, touched sparingly and then only to get it out of sight.

Well, who knows if the travel advice is true. And in the post-9/11 world I can’t even pass that trick off as good advice. And anyway, I wasn’t in Japan. And I was smuggling a stogie, not pics of coochie-fro. And really, if the cigar-dildo was going to embarrass me so, how was I going to countenance the convenience store clerk to purchase a box of Tampax? And how to steel myself to look deadpan at the customs agent upon their discovery as if to say, “You got it pal, I’m a messy bitch”?

And so I am left to ponder, since a women’s jittering razor and electric toothbrush will likely not be the right companion for a traveling fellow, how best to disguise the life-sized, disembodied, desk-top, rump modeled after the real anatomy of Tera Patrick when I go on my next business flight. My naughty smuggling ideas are all far too naive for this venture.

@Curiously – Good. God. Almighty. That’s one happy skirt

@Kinky Jew – I’m trying to figure out why the dude even argued. Ditch it. Buy more. Works with hairspray, works with lube

So the TSA agent says, “Sir, this is over 3 oz.” The man replies, “Yes, but it’s for medical purposes.”
“Ok” *snicker* “What medical purposes?”
“It’s… er…. ahem…. for my wife.”
“Sir, what medical purposes?” *giggle*
“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!!”
Finally, the guy had to toss the KY, and while everyone in line was trying very hard not to laugh, I doubt anyone will forget watching that HUGE tube of KY be pulled out of his bag.

Oh, and Dear Double Standard – you can bring your cock ring over to this place ANYTIME, kid. No judgments.

Ah yes. First time I fucked the Pilot. He was walking me back to my car from the hotel with the fabulous view of the San Francisco Bay at 2 AM (he was so romantic in the beginning) and a train came right down the road we were walking on. We stopped, it stopped, and I needed to get to the other side of the street, but here was half a mile of train in front of us. He lifted me up over his shoulder and carried me over the train couplings. I was wearing a short skirt and my panties were wadded up in my purse, not on me, so I probably flashed a bunch of homeless guys.

He tried the toothbrush trick on me a month later in Vegas when I wasn’t getting off the bed fast enough to head out for dinner one night. I still need to get that skirt cleaned. It has toothpaste splattered on it.

*sigh* I miss those days.

Personally, I hardly remember the co-workers. I was way too hooked on my hubby… I kept catching his eye and smiling… and driving from bar to bar (he was the sober cab that night), I kept grabbing his hand and putting his fingers in my mouth to suck on them… He didn’t know what to do with me, but he made up for it when we got home. Literally… the moment we got home… we almost made it to the couch in the living room. =P