My great grandmother saw me holding sex toys



May is Masturbation Month so I’m going to tell you about the time I demonstrated sex toys in front of my Great Grandmother.

My Great Grandmother Lizette was an amazing woman. I just called her Grandma though. She passed away in 2014 and I still think about her and the amazing childhood that she gave me. But I sometimes also think about the time that I demonstrated sex toys in front of her. It totally wasn’t just her. It was my mom, my nana (mom’s mom), a few of my aunts, great aunts, childhood teachers, cousins, and a whole lineup of family members that were in attendance for my sex toy demonstration. Basically, it was my family matriarch and a lot of very amazing women that I hold near and dear to my heart watching while I pulled sex toys out of a bag and waved them around.

At the time I was a Passion Party Consultant. I liked to just say that I sold sex toys because I didn’t really attempt to sell the other stuff because it didn’t really interest me and lotions kind of sell themselves. If it smells nice and feels nice, people will buy lotion.


Lubricant, purple dildos, and g-spot cream on the other hand? That stuff is a bit harder to sell and you really need an enthusiastic audience to get people interested. Now let me me tell you! There is no better audience than Grandma and a room full of women who were mostly there thanks to her. It also helped that this audience likes to support me in all of my antics no matter what they are. Even if those antics involve me handing a giant purple dildo around the room and telling them to turn it on and touch it to their noses because if you like how it feels on your nose then you’ll like how it feels on your downtown.

So Grandma watched me pull toy after toy out of my little bag of tricks and hand them around the room. She chuckled and didn’t give my nana or my mom any disapproving looks so I was happy to carry on demonstrating all my lotions, toys, and whatnots to 4 generations of my family. They as listened and watched me handle phallic objects like an obvious pro, they tested lotion, smelled perfume, and they even watched me demonstrate the water-based lubricant  my company sold.

Now, the upside of water-based lube is that it’s fairly cheap, and safe to use with condoms and/or sex toys. However, water-based lube can dry up rather quickly or get absorbed quickly. Which can be a bit of a downer if you have to constantly keep reaching for the ol’ bottle o’lube. This was something that I professionally stated to my very supportive audience. But the good thing about water-based lubricants is that they can be easily reactivated with water. Or spit.


While I was explaining all of this to the women who were trapped in the room with me, I was rubbing the before mentioned water-based lubricant between my fingers to dry it up. I slowly worked it between my fingers while talking about the texture of the lube, how it more or less just dried up and shouldn’t stain anything or create a huge mess if it got places it shouldn’t. Once it was all dried up, I looked nervously at Grandma, my nana, my mom, and all of the wonderful women who had watched me grow into the woman I was then and the woman I am today. Then I promptly spit into my hand and gleefully held it up to show how easy it was reactivate water-based lube.

My grandma saw it all. When she didn’t tell me to go cut my own switch, I realized…this was ok. My love for sex, masturbation, and things that go buzz in the night were all ok. I mean, if my grandma didn’t scold me for this then only the gods could judge me at that point. Considering the fact that my grandma was a force of nature on her own, I’m pretty sure that even a god wouldn’t judge me. So this was ok. Sex toys, masturbation, and sex in general…it was all normal. It was all ok. Or at least that’s what I decided to think after letting my grandma witness me waving sex toys all around the room and not judging me, but also still loving me for exactly who I was. Never mind that my hands were covered in spit and lube.

Happy Masturbation Month, everyone!

The time that I got a sex toy taken away



Sometimes I think that I have no shame. So many people have told me that I have no shame, that I’ve started to believe it. Not much phases me. Normally I can brush things off easily and move on. Growing up with my dad, it’s a skill that I had to learn. Especially when he would hear a mall alarm go off and he would take off sprinting while everyone stared and you either had to run with him or pretend you didn’t notice him. Anyway. I’m pretty sure that I have next to no shame. Especially after the time a security guard at Heathrow Airport pulled a sex toy out of my bag.

You see, on night in Wales I was packing to fly home for winter break. My teammates and friends were coming over to my place to help me carry my bags to my bus and see me off. My backpack was stuffed with my hoodie, a couple of books that I needed for a research paper, and my bags were more or less packed. I was excited to be going home. My room was even clean so that I would come back to a tidy room!

There was also a sex toy out on my desk and my door was opening and my friends and teammates were about to walk in.

In a panic I grabbed my sex toy and jammed it into my backpack.

I didn’t remember the toy in my backpack until I was going through airport security the next day. I had just pulled my laptop out and put it in a bin with my phone and send my backpack through the scanner ahead of my boots that were in a bin of their own. Usual airport stuff right?

Then I was asked to step aside so my bag could be searched. I’ve had my bags go through random searches more than a few times so I knew the drill. I stepped off to the side and stood by quietly while the security officer went through my bag.


Compartment, by compartment my Swiss Army bag was opened and sifted through. My knick knacks and thingamajigs were pulled out and examined. My hoodie was tugged free and set aside. My comfy socks were tossed on top of my hoodie. Item by item, the security officer looked at my things while I patiently waited because there was nothing else for me to do. For the record: Swiss Army backpacks are basically Mary Poppins bags on steroids. Those things will hold everything plus a clunky Buick.

Until he pulled a bright purple vibrator from my bag.

My jaw dropped.


It was then I learned that I still had some shame left in me as this poor man gingerly held up a thing that was essentially a big, purple dick and asked me what it was. I heard someone gasp behind me. This man was making no secret that he had found something in my bags. He asked me again what the grape coloured, one-eyed monster was that he was holding between his thumb and forefinger. He knew what it was. The way he was holding it away from himself made it obvious. He was holding it like it was a snapping turtle that was about to attach itself to his nose and never let go. I honestly thought the airport was about to turn into that scene from Monsters Inc when that one monster had a sock on its back.

I didn’t want to make a scene so I told him it was a vibrator.

He told me I couldn’t keep it.

I didn’t fight him on it.

I quietly thanked him for his time while giving thanks that no one could see me blushing even though I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. Then I packed everything back into my backpack while staring longingly at what was my favourite toy. It had taken me so long to find a toy that I loved like I loved that one. It was also damn expensive so I was sad to see it go.

After that day I learned to double check my bags before heading off to the airport. Now I know to never travel with anything that I wouldn’t want airport security to publicly confiscate. I also generally try to remember not to have sex toys sitting out when friends come over to avoid frantically hiding them.