Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho !

I threw a Christmas party at my apartment. When we started the gift exchange, the rules went out the window fast. Turns out, none of my girlfriends brought anything but dildos. The gag boxes were heavier than expected. Wrapping paper crinkled, then came the giggles, low and knowing. The women passed glossy boxes back and forth, velvet ribbons untied, revealing sleek silicone shafts and curved glass toys, each one in a different size and shape. A fat black dildo stood upright on my coffee table. One glitter-pink rabbit vibrator buzzed on low when someone tapped the button by mistake. Another friend held up a clear glass dildo swirled with red like a candy cane, licked the tip, and said the ridges would feel good going in. Conversation slid from polite chatter into open comparisons—length, girth, how much lube we each liked. Someone dimmed the lights. Someone else kicked off her shoes. Before the clock hit midnight, skirts were hiked, panties pushed aside, and the soundtrack turned to soft moans mixed with holiday songs. 'Tis the season, I thought, watching three of them stretch out on my couch, legs spread, toys sliding in and out in slow, deliberate strokes. Their wrists moved in different rhythms, wet sounds mixing with scattered laughter. Season of giving, indeed.