The Adult Truck Stop
My girlfriends and I have a mascot. We purchased him at an adult truck stop on our way to a weekend trip to celebrate one of our birthdays. The five of us walked in; I was leading the pack. (They were nervous, or embarrassed, or some shit like that.) We were on the lookout for specific things, and I hoped I could find them myself without having to ask for help.
I spotted the black dildos pretty easily. Snickering like a bunch of teenagers, we looked them over, and chose one that was medium in size and pretty veiny. He even had a suction cup on one end. Who knew? Now we needed to find the next item on our list, and I didn’t see them. About that time, a short, overweight store clerk asked if she could help us find something.
Realizing asking for help would be better than wandering around, I replied, “We’d like some butt plugs.” (More snickering.)
The clerk walked us over to them and we selected two small ones that had a ring at the end, I assume for easy removal.
“We have private rooms where you can try out what you buy, if you’d like,” said the clerk.
“Uh…that’s ok. We’ll just check out,” I said. We got back in the car and headed on our way. Ami grabbed the dildo and stuck him on the windshield, his one eye looking at us the rest of the way. And then we decided to name him. He looked like a LaMont to us, so that’s what we called him.
A Black Dildo’s Adventures on Girls Trips
Now LaMont goes on all our girls trips with us. We have photographed him in the sand at the beach in Georgia, hanging on the side of a pool here at home, sunning himself on the deck of a boat in Kentucky, taking a ciggie break, and looking out the window of a plane. LaMont lives with me, so I am his guardian when we travel. I always put him in my carry on bag, hoping that the TSA employee scanning bags will be suspicious about the long object in my bag and pull it off the belt to investigate. I imagine the hilarity when he digs through my purse and pulls out LaMont in front of everyone. But it’s never happened. (Maybe LaMont’s large nut sack gives it away?)
On one flight to the beach, I was sitting beside a 50-something-year-old African-American man in a suit. We got to chatting, and I told him about our trip. He was very friendly and commented about my group: “I bet you girls have a lot of fun.”
“We do!” I said. And then, after a pause, I said, “You’ll never guess what I have in my bag.”
He looked at me and smiled. “What?”
With a big grin on my face, I said, “A black dildo.” And I giggled. He looked at me with wide eyes and smiled. Then I bent over, grabbed my bag, and opened it. There, laying on top, waiting to see daylight, was LaMont. “See?” I said.
He laughed so hard his body shook.
“But we don’t use him,” I said. “We just carry him with us for fun. He’s our mascot.” My seatmate shook his head with more laughing.
LaMont has also made a couple of very public appearances. On a tennis trip I took to the Caribbean with 25 other women, LaMont made an appearance at the resort’s pool. (Usually he is shy and only comes out with us girls.) I shoved LaMont down the front of my swimsuit to hide him (I didn’t want to scare the children) and jumped in the pool. I stealthfully swam across the large pool until I found our pro Mike, sitting beside his wife with his back to me. I climbed out, pulled LaMont out of my suit, and crept over to him. Slowly I caressed Mike’s cheek with LaMont’s one-eyed tip. He slowly turned, thinking it was his wife beside him. When he saw LaMont, he shrieked and batted him away. The African-American couple sitting behind us convulsed with laughter.
On a night out at our local drag bar, I wore a pair of tight white jeans and for fun shoved LaMont down my pants. I’m a tall woman at six feet, so I’m hard to miss. But wearing platform heals and white jeans with a black dildo down the front, I’m impossible to ignore. One of the dancers asked the head drag queen if I was a tranny. I took that as a compliment.
The best part of all this? LaMont is legendary. Most of my friends know about him and many request his presence when we go out.
Endnote: LaMont is a virgin. He is not a toy not to be used for his intended purpose, but rather to be exhibited and brought along as a conversation starter.