Risque Business: Sex Toy Parties Take Off
The front door opens and two poppets in pyjamas scramble over each other to say hello before their father shoos them off to bed. It’s a school night. And, besides, they’re not even allowed in the lounge room.
That’s where Mummy’s having her party. She’s showing her friends her frilly knickers and fluffy slippers. Mummy has candles and creams that smell like vanilla ice-cream and musk sticks. She has books with pictures to teach dads how to help their wives destress.
And toys. Bright, buzzing toys for toe-curling clitoral rub-downs and deep, vibrant sensations with G-spot precision that deliver 90 minutes of bliss before the battery conks out. And then the ladies will have supper.
Hostess Rebecca Bullock thought twice about taking on her saucy new role but she has the poise of a woman who has attended to every detail. Her house in Denistone is spotless. Sofas are plumped, refreshments arranged on the buffet. And her little vibrating rubber ducks, with their discreet on-switch, are all in a row on tables swathed in pink satin. It’s the efficiency developed over years as a party-plan doyenne.
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