"For God so loved the world, he gave his favorite dildo..."

A few evenings ago, I happened to tune into CNN just in time to catch a story about a Christian organization which has been focusing it’s sales and distribution of adult sex toys and novelty aids to Christian woman throughout the much of the mid-west states; with much success I might add. Unfortunately, I was too busy holding my gut through the gales of laughter at the time to make many useful notes, but the story still sparked an interest within my perverted curiosity.

So much so, that in order to research this whole sex toy party phenomenon, or “Fantasia” or “Passion” parties as they’re more commonly known in the more sexually promiscuous world, I borrowed one such ‘Bedroom Magic’ home catalogue from a fellow colleague at work. Of course, this rather compromising sexy catalogue (hardly something to be ever deemed “office appropriate”) was smuggled out of the building covertly in a true manly fashion, namely inside the pages of a MOJO magazine featuring Marvin Gaye on the cover - little did anybody know what tempting uber-kinky incantations lay within.

What can I say? I had an itch that had to be scratched, and if locating the perfect scented blend of eatable body lube would help me scratch that itch, so much the better!

Before I could really comprehend what this revolutionary adult orientated company was attempting to market throughout the sexually repressed ‘Bible Belt’ area of the states, I had to first familiarize myself with the product and the whole sex toy party craze that I’ve otherwise been missing out on* until now.

It wasn’t long ago that I remember a Baptist, mother of three, and former schoolteacher in Burleson, TX being arrested by two undercover police officers for selling sexual toys and charged with violating Texas obscenity laws as a smut peddler. She now faces up to $4,000 in fines if convicted for something originally advertised as a “Girls Night out of Giggles and Fun”. “Giggles and Fun”? Holy shit, did we ever dodge a deadly bullet there! Heavens forbid that a bunch of horny housewives should ever get together over tea and bunt cake to get all moist while ordering and purchasing stuff like 'White Chocolate Body Powder' and 'Nipple Nectar', or getting sized for a new set of vibrating anal beads.

Two undercover police officers posed as a couple trying to spice up their love life and the woman sold the female officer a vibrator, and then instructed her on its use and explained how it could enhance lovemaking. What a travesty! Is this something that was really so deviant that it warranted an entire sting operation? Christ O’Mighty! What did they charge her with, “detailing in safe love-making tips involving a rubberized dong”? That terrorist bitch!

Texas law allows for the sale of sexual toys as long as they are billed as novelties, but when a person markets sex toys in a direct manner that shows their actual role in sex, then that person is subject to obscenity charges.

How the fuck does that make any sense? The actual selling of a monstrous pink latex dildo is fine, but explain how to use that same dildo during lovemaking and you’re suddenly a criminal? What the fuck else are you going to use a huge dildo for – doesn’t that kind of go without saying? You fuck yourself with it! Duh. Shit, even Dr. Ruth’s dead grandmother could’ve told you that!

So how does this particular sex toy company get away with marketing their similarly controversial porno contraband in the states that would more likely have them burned at the stake as a witches than ever place orders for the new super flexible jelly ‘Clitorific’ vibrator? I mean, these good god-fearing Christian lades hardly seemed like the types to do the household chores, attend a bible study class and then reward herself afterwards by fucking herself stupid with something called the “Thriller”, that requires an entire portable generator to power up while the apple pie is cooling on the window sill. And I’m not talking about Michael Jackson and legions of dancing zombies here either!

They bring God himself into the equation – that’s how.

“And the firstborn said unto the younger, Our father is old, and there is not a man in the earth to come in unto us after the manner of all the earth:Come, let us make our father drink wine, and we will lie with him, that we may preserve the seed of our father.” (Genesis; 19:31-32)

Hey, that’s some pretty kinky shit!

It’s not a “Sex Toy Party” anymore. Instead it’s a “Spirit Party” among likeminded Christian housewives. I guess God has apparently told them to go out and have many orgasms. And who ever says ‘no’ to God?

I remember seeing in this CNN report the merchant hostess talking about inviting the Holy Spirit into her vagina and blessing her with a beautiful life-enriching experience and therefore bringing her closer to God; all the while waving around a rubberized cock that you could club seals with.

It didn’t seem too particularly sexy or pious to me.

So begins my curiosity with adult sex toys and other “spirit enhancing” novelty items. Hey, if God himself endorses it – how bad could it be? I’ve already had one disastrous foray into the world of adult porn however, but this time I can secretly indulge from the privacy of my own apartment behind drawn shades.

So after donning a pair of sterile latex gloves and placing an iron apron over my crotch (hey, you can never be too careful!) I began to leaf through this adult novelty catalogue. Needless to say, it did nothing to improve my male sexual insecurities. More so, I was shocked at the extreme-looking toys that were available for sale within the pages of the catalogue– nevermind that it was supposedly the Christian wives and mothers that were buying them by the 'Love Basket' full!

I mean, why would some juiced up randy chick ever want my beef stick when she can employ the ‘Bird of Paradise’ for intense triple stimulation on all her pleasure spots at once? Man, that makes my own penis seem like a limp celery by comparison! After all, I have no such flashing lights, anal ticklers, vibrating pulses, multi speeds, or feature settings to play with. Nope, just a plain ‘ol flesh colored penis. How boring is that to perverted horned-up women in comparison – Christian or otherwise?

Likewise, some of these toys look like a cross between a high-tech James Bond gadget and the drive shaft from a Sherman tank. I think I’d be too intimidated to ever purchase and use any of these sex aids if I were a woman. I guess that’s why there are other special lotions and balms that provide a numbing effect of one’s bodily parts for sale as well. However, I would think that if it were to become too uncomfortable there’s a fucking reason and I would want to know about it immediately! That’s not a feeling that I would want to suppress for the sake of having sex. I’d hate to have my lungs punctured by some gargantuan ‘Silver Bullet’ that I’ve been wedging up myself because I was so numbed out from the medicated ‘Anal Eaze’ that I applied earlier. I would want to know when enough is enough so that my X-ray doesn’t end up posted as a joke to some poor taste train wreck website!

Call me crazy!

So after becoming a little disturbed, I decided to move on through the catalogue to the bedroom lingerie section. Surely, here was a section that even I could get a rise out of (literally). Now where I will admit that the image of a pretty woman in slinky, sexy, negligee is a work of beauty, I’m not so sure I would ever insist on buying one for my partner to wear. When push comes to shove in the bedroom, I’m just a simple guy – I want her naked, spread-eagled and willing. Well, I would settle for naked and spread-eagled…but beggars can’t be choosers. I’m afraid that anything too sexy and slinky will over excite me enough that I would be drawn to ripping it off with my teeth and thereby not exactly impressing the unfortunate person with whom I was trying to score with. Capeesh?

That’s just an incident waiting to happen!

Whatever. I'm cool with the whole selling of sex toys thing since I also happen to be an advocate for the safe practise and use of any and all heavy machinery; but it does leave me with one question that has me still buring at the stake of passion that I'd like an answer for from the Christian women, and that's: If God really intended you to have all these orgams, how come he didn't equip us men with the proper equipment to get the fucking job done in the first place? Where's the justice in that?

I know God works in mysterious ways - but that's fucked up!

Furthermore, if we were created in his likeness; that's not saying much about his divine tackle, is it? Why are you ladies even crying out his name while we're making the beast with two backs with you? If God had done things properly in the first place, we wouldn't have to spend our evenings before bed watching Jeopardy overtop the industrial buzzing coming from the bedroom while you bang the lawnmower! Of course, we guys wouldn't care much anyways since we'd probably be similarly wacking off in our Eazy Boys with a set of vibrating 'Lori's Lips'.

So with everybody out gratifying themselves and fullfilling God's will, who's actually having all this intercourse anyways? Everybody is fucking household appliances!

Shit, I say lets forget all the kinky marital aids and try getting back to unsatisfied basics. Let's get back to the old traditional methods employed back in the more conservative Old World, and learn to once again make beautiful music together! You don't have to spend an entire paycheck on a supped up latex kitchen blender in order to have fun in the bedroom! For example, I'm just going to invest in an old pair of brass cymbals and simply invite my loved one to play along to Beethoven's 5th Symphony with me in the bathroom while I take a dump and play the cresendo with my own farts. Later, after we've done the deed, she can comfort me while I cry into a bag of Malomars.

It may not be "beautiful"; but it's honest and every bit as spiritual - and I won't have to worry about developing a jealous resentment for an inanimate object.

And so tomarrow, I'm smuggling this catalogue back to it's rightful owner inside another manly MOJO magazine - this one with Pink Floyd on the cover.

* Not so suggest that this is something that I would like to participate in so much, as in just being a fly on the wall. Anything where gaggles of giggling tipsy women bitch about how unsatisfying their husbands are over glasses of merlot is clearly not my scene.