Walking off a Chinese Dinner in Amsterdam

Here’s my draft for today Thursday 04.25.19.

Walking off a Chinese Dinner in Amsterdam

I’ve never seen anything like this in Honolulu. They appear to have it all. Whips, masks, handcuffs, ticklers, clitoral and anal vibrators, rubber vaginas, blowjob simulators, masturbation kits, fleshlights, penis rings, strap-ons, enlargement pumps, extensions, inflatable dolls, nipple toys, anal stretchers, butt plugs, vibrating panties, edible undergarments, Ben-Wa balls, kink clamps, dildos of every size imaginable, lubes and oils in every flavor for every purpose . . .

discreet pocket guy-brator

. . . hmmm . . .


Browsing, I fall in behind a pair of teenage girls looking for a special gift to take back to the States for a teenage male buddy. As I weave in and out, I bump into them again. They’ve narrowed it down to something in the bondage department.

“Should we get him this guide for beginners?”

“Yeah, that sounds great. And I think he’ll really like these red feathered handcuffs.”

Personally, I prefer the look of the zebra cuffs, but Wow, I think, so that’s what friends are for. I picture the cherubic smile on this lucky lad’s face when these two angels of mercy unveil the omiage they’ve hauled over the Atlantic for him.

I head to the door. Smiling, I see there, oh yeah, and at the register they sell condoms, just in case you forgot.

Up the stairs and into the street, I rejoin my sister who’s standing there watching all the ladies displaying their wares in the windows. “So what did you think of that place?”

I grimace and shrug my shoulders. “Karen, you know for sure you’re too old when not a single thing in there turns you on.”

My sister bursts out laughing, really loud, undoubtedly pitying me, I take it.

The two young ladies bound up the stairs, package in hand. I wonder how come when I was that age, no female friends of mine came back from vacations with souvenirs like that for me? Back then, I’m pretty sure I could have had a use for every single thing in that store.

Now? Sheesh. I do momentarily recall the pocket guy-brator. I like the idea of discreet. Sounds kind of . . . But, nah.