The sex shop was in a suburb just off the freeway which would take them
back to their side of the city. It was
in a large prefab concrete warehouse.
Inside it was like a supermarket—for sex toys.
Cody’s eyes were wide. “Jeez,” he
whispered, “dya see that?” That was a foot long buttplug in black
about 7 or 8 centimetres in diameter.
“How dya get it up you?”
“Some guys are into fisting.”
“You don’t mean hitting each other, do you?”
“No, but some people are into that too.”
Luigi grinned. “I mean putting
your whole hand up someone’s arsehole.
Or having it done to you.”
“Must hurt like buggery. So to
speak,” he added after a second’s pause, with perfect timing.
Their eyes caught and they started giggling.
“Not this week,” said Luigi firmly.
“Not even for you?” asked Cody, his eyes glinting.
Luigi held his gaze. “Maybe. One day. Meanwhile, we’re supposed to be
getting you a set. What about this
one? ‘Anal trainer’. It’s got three, starting with small and
working bigger.”
Cody wasn’t listening “Look at these, Lou.” It was a set of three buttplugs consisting of
globes on a sucker base.
“Those won’t fall out easily. But,
by the same token, they won’t go in
easily either.”
They ended up buying the trainer kit, the set of globes and the
monster. Plus some specially good lube,
according to its label.
The checkout lady charged all the items up to Luigi’s credit card,
blandly, bored.
In the car, Cody observed, “In that shop the most embarrassing thing
which could happen to you would be that your credit card was declined. They’re used to everything.”
“Even us homos and our perversions.”
“Yeah. The Great God capitalism.
As long as it makes money. As long as
you can pay.”
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