A few years ago, my dear girlhood friend announced that she was getting married.  She chose myself and her sister to be the Maids of Honor so that gave us the distinct pleasure to provide her with some pre-marriage festivities.  We decided to throw a two-in-one bridal shower/bachelorette party.  I was responsible for the bridal shower which consisted of gifts, tea sandwiches, and games while her sister was in charge of the bachelorette party which occurred immediately after the bridal shower.

I was told the day of the festivities that the bachelorette party was going to consist of some booze and some “special entertainment.”  Naturally, I assumed that I was going to be enjoying the company of a male stripper but alas, I was wrong.  The sister had hired a sex toy saleswoman to do a demonstration and host a few sexually explicit games.  I was intrigued.  I began wondering what this lady might look like.  I was afraid that we would be confronted with a prissy, 60 year-old Avon lady who simply did the sex toy gig for extra money.  However, I secretly hoped that the woman would be a tall, leather-clad babe with a husky voice and pointy torpedo boobs.  It would add to the entertainment value.  What we got left me wishing for the Avon lady.

When I saw her walk in, I thought that maybe she was a guest running late, but then I saw her carrying a bag of goodies.

“Oh no,” I thought.

She was nasty.  Weighing in at an easy 350 lbs. was the least of her unsavory appearance.  This woman was dirty.  Her hair was greasy, her clothes were filthy, and she was missing quite a few teeth.

Her demonstration was so uncomfortable to sit through.  She would show a product, a dildo for example, and say something like,

“My boyfriend uses this on me and I always c*m so hard!”  It took all of my willpower to keep from bursting into tears and crying for my mommy.  That wasn’t the worst of it.  The worst came when she pulled a tiny bottle out of her bag…

She produced a small bottle and explained that it was a liquid clitoral stimulant.  She asked the bride-to-be to go into the bathroom and apply a little to her nether regions.  My friend emerged from the bathroom, sat on the floor next to me and started gyrating.

“Oh my God,” my friend exclaimed.  “This stuff is so amazing that I might have to take advantage of one of you girls!”

She was kidding, of course, and we all laughed.  The saleswoman, however, didn’t get that it was a joke.

“Oh absolutely,” she said.  “I have people start going at it all the time in the middle of my demonstrations.  That means I’m doing a good job when you get so horny that you’ll go gay.”

At this point I was panicking.  I pressed the ring-test button on my cell phone and pretended to have an urgent phone call (corny, I know).  I literally ran out of the door and drove home as fast as I could.

What could have been a fun event turned out to be one of the most disgusting, nightmarish experiences of my life.  I refused to have sex for nearly a month afterward.  I kept imagining that woman sitting in the corner informing me that she had done a good job.

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