tagToys & MasturbationSandra Cross's Xmas Toy Workshop

Sandra Cross's Xmas Toy Workshop

byandtheend©

Masturbation toys sold exclusively online make it to the mall.

Ah, it's Christmastime, a magical time, and a special time of the year.

"Merry Christmas, everyone. Happy holidays. Happy Hanukkah. Happy Kwanzaa."

Can you hear the sleigh bells in the distance? Can you smell the snow in the air? It feels like Christmas, doesn't it? Suddenly, I want to break out in song and sing Jingle Bells. Ho, ho, ho, Santa Claus is nearly here.

So tell me, what did you buy your wife, girlfriend, or significant other for Christmas? What's that? You're kidding. You didn't you buy your wife, girlfriend, or significant other a Christmas gift, yet? Why not? It's nearly Christmas, you knucklehead.

"Hello? What the Hell are you waiting for, before you bite the bullet and brave the crowds at the mall? There are only X number of days until Christmas and counting down, 5, 4, 3, 2.... Hurry, hurry, hurry."

God forbid you forget to buy your woman something for Christmas. Oh, my God. You shouldn't wait for the last minute either, when all the really good gifts are gone and what's left are broken, damaged, returned, and restocked items. Yes, of course I realize that the things they couldn't sell before are drastically reduced now, but do you really think that your baby would wear that, something that her mother wouldn't even wear? Hey, it's your call, but I don't care how deeply discounted it is, I wouldn't want to give my doll something for Christmas that she didn't absolutely need, want, and love to have.

"Can I get a rain check for this out of stock item? The only one left is broken."

Oh, no. No way. What's wrong with you? Trust me, stuffing a rain check in a Christmas card, instead of having a gift in front of your baby's mama won't suffice. God forbid buying a little bling for your woman slips your mind, after you received an invitation to a friend's drunken Christmas party with strippers, and then went to the big football game the day after and got drunk all over again.

"Oh, oh. Hell no."

God forbid you are too cheap, too selfish, too self-centered, and/or too preoccupied to remember the woman you supposedly love and the woman who does so much for you with a Christmas present. If you fuck up and don't buy your woman anything for Christmas, God have mercy on your soul because even God can't protect you and wouldn't protect you, even if He could. I'll say a prayer for you. Amen.

"Now, that you opened all your gifts, baby," said your wide eyed, sugar honey wearing her sexy nightgown, the one she wears, when she's in the mood for sex. "Where's my Christmas gift?"

Look how pretty she is. She's so fine. She got up early to shower, put her makeup on, and fix her hair just so and just for you, you ungrateful bastard. Aren't you glad she's your woman? For sure, any man would be lucky to have her in his bed. You can tell in the way her nipples are making a big impression in her nightgown that she's expecting really big, expensive gifts, a diamond necklace, imported French perfume, and that coat she went out of her way to show you, the one with the genuine mink collar. You really fucked up this, you big dope.

"Christmas gift? Don't be silly, honey. You don't still believe in Santa Claus, do you? Besides, you're Christmas gift is right here, baby," you said grabbing at your crotch, unzipping yourself, and pulling out your cock. "You're looking at your Christmas gift, baby, the six million dollar man. Me. I just have to wrap a pretty bow around it. Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Oh, oh. I can't believe he said that. I can't believe he did that. ...And that's when the fight started.

"You? You're my Christmas gift? You, the sixty second man, and your limp little dick are my Christmas gifts?" Oh, shit. She's getting up from the couch and standing. You should have left your football helmet on for protection from sudden blows to the head, the one you wore to the game yesterday. "What makes you think you're anything special? Besides it wasn't Santa Claus who bought you all those presents. Oh, no! No! No! Hell no. It was me. Merry fucking Christmas."

"Well, my gift to you is allowing you to blow me, later, sweetheart," he said with a shit eating grin.

Oh, oh, did he really say that? He's really asking for it now. Either he's still drunk or just an idiot. Now that he just crossed the line, even a court of law can't convict her for murdering him, after that statement.

"Order in the court. Has the jury reached its verdict?"

"Yes, your Honor."

"What say you, foreman?"

"It was a justified homicide, your Honor. She's innocent."

"Order! Order! The accused is free to go. Case closed."

"All rise."

See, now the above scenario only works in your dreams. In real life, especially if your main focus is to have your woman suck your cock, later, while you stuff your fat face with food, drink yourself into oblivion, and watch football game after football game on the new, big screen TV she just gave you for Christmas, you need to come across with the goods. It's Christmas for God's sake, man. What's wrong with you? You need to give her something that she'll remember and something that she'll love, in order for her to give you something that you'll remember and something that you'll love.

Now, unfortunately, the only way you can get away with not buying your woman a Christmas gift is when you are hospitalized and in a coma, which may be your reality soon. Since she's in the kitchen getting the heavy, cast iron frying pan, along with the Lorena Bobbit endorsed, new garden hedge trimmers by Ronco, I think she's getting ready to thank you for giving her nothing for Christmas, but for allowing her to blow you. You're just too good to her and too generous. Seriously, do you really think that she's getting ready to make fried chicken and clip the hedges at this hour of the morning on Christmas?

"I can't believe you didn't buy me anything for Christmas, you cheap son of a bitch, low down dirty, selfish bastard. I'm gonna kill you."

See? Other than a coma, death is the only other way you can get away with not buying your honey a Christmas gift. Let's hope it doesn't get to that.

Now that I have your attention, for you men or women, for that matter, thinking of what to buy for your girlfriend, or for your wife, or for your significant other, and for you professional athletes wondering what to buy for your girlfriend, and for your wife, and for your significant other, buy her something special. Buy her something personal. Buy her something she'll really want and cherish. Buy her something she'll enjoy, while thinking of you, after you've gone to the office, or to the practice field, or wherever the Hell it is you go, when you're not with your woman.

"Good he's backing out of the driveway. He's finally gone. Now, I can finally use my special, personal present that he bought me for Christmas."

Buy her something that will make her think of you and your big, black cock or your average, white dick, or your luscious vagina, when you're not there in bed with her, so that she doesn't run off with Tom, her dance instructor, Dick, her golf instructor, Harry, her Tennis instructor, Larry, her personal trainer, or Veronica, her yoga instructor. That's not to say that when she's masturbating she won't be thinking of Tom, Dick, Harry, Larry, or Veronica, but it's the thought that counts, literally and figuratively. Buy her a toy, a masturbation toy. Better yet, buy her a Sandra Cross masturbation toy. Even better still, buy her two Sandra Cross masturbation toys.

Buy her a toy? Yes, of course, buy her a toy. A toy? I know it sounds absurd but not all toys are for children under the age of 18-years-old. Hello? I'm not writing about Fisher Price toys for children, I'm writing to you about masturbation toys, toys for adult that will give your baby sexual pleasure, whenever you're not there. Believe it or not, but your woman does masturbate and there are adult toys that she'd love to play with behind closed doors and in the privacy of her bedroom with or without you.

Going from "Ho! Ho! Ho!" to "Oh! Oh! Oh!" to "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" If nothing else, a masturbation toy will take the edge off your lady, when you come home from work tired and stressed. Instead of your woman being angry and moody, she'll be relaxed. She'll be mellow. She'll be purring, as if she was a kitty cat having just smoked a joint. Moreover, she'll allow you to relax, after having a rough day.

"Meow."

Sandra sold masturbation toys and she did all her business online, as Sandra Cross's toys. The name may sound the same, but she had no relation to or affiliation with Santa Claus's toys, of course. Her X-rated toys are for adults only. She knew that if she could put her product out there for mainstream America to see, to use, and to enjoy, she'd be a smashing success. Only, how does she do that? It cost money, a lot of money, to advertise, to market, and to make those women, who have never even owned a masturbation toy, want a masturbation toy for Christmas.

"Honey, what would you like for Christmas?"

"I want a masturbation toy, so that I can masturbate myself to an orgasm, whenever you're not around, sweetie. Then, again, it's football season, you'd better buy me an entire collection of masturbation toys and extra batteries, along with a case of my favorite wine, oh and candles for the bathtub. Lots and lots of candles."

"A masturbation toy? Seriously?"

"Yes. That's what I want, a toy to masturbate myself to orgasmic pleasure. Maybe after a glass of wine or two, I'll let you watch me masturbate myself. Maybe you can masturbate me, too. Only, it has to be the right masturbation toy. It must be the best masturbation toy. It can only be a Sandra Cross masturbation toy."

"Are you off your meds, again, honey? I'm gonna call Dr. Wolfgang to make you an appointment."

Seriously, the above dialogue would never happen, that is, unless the couple were swingers. Average couples never openly speak of such sexual things. Most couples keep their masturbation needs hidden away in the closet, until they are alone with their bad self. We know that we all masturbate but we pretend we don't. Isn't that silly?

"Honey?"

"Yes, sugar plum."

"Have you ever masturbated?"

"Masturbated? Me? Let me think. No, I don't think so. Have you?"

"No, never. Neither have I."

Now, seriously, talk to a TSA employee at the airport and they'll tell you how many dildos and vibrators they've seen in carryon bags. Further, they've seen enough porn magazines in men's suitcases to embarrass the people at the sperm bank waiting room. Seriously, everyone masturbates, that is, except for me. I never masturbate. I only use my hands to eat my food, now that I have one of those new automatic Japanese toilets that take care of all my sanitary needs.

Now, if you believe that I don't masturbate, I have swamp land, I mean, ocean front property in Florida for sale. Rumor has it that Disney wants to buy the land, but I'm offering it to you first. All you have to do is pay me for the land, set up your lawn chair, put on your Mickey Mouse ears, and wait for the offers from Disney to buy my land, now your land, to come. Good luck.

Denying that you even masturbate is the kind of resistance that pervades and flourishes in the bedrooms of most of puritanical America. We need to get sex out of the bedrooms. We need to get masturbation out of the closet. We need for every household not only to have a chicken in the pot but also a masturbation toy in hand. That's right American women, ask your husbands, ask your boyfriends, and/or ask your significant other to buy you a Sandra Cross masturbation toy.

There's no fun in buying a masturbation toy yourself. Sneaking the toy in the house and waiting for him to back out of the driveway, before you pleasure yourself to orgasmic Heaven, is wrong. Something that he doesn't take the time to do, especially after you've given him his blowjob and he's fallen fast asleep, when was the last time he gave you an orgasm, one that wasn't faked? It's more fun to go shopping with your honey and have him help you to select the toy that's perfect for you. Maybe he'll use it, too, or maybe this will inspire him to buy his own masturbation toy.

Sandra Cross, an Elvira look alike, only younger and more beautiful, started her business after her boyfriend cheated on her and she dumped him. Tired of low down, dirty dog, cheating men, now sexually frustrated because she no longer had a penis to suck and fuck, she couldn't find a masturbation toy that excited her enough for her to cum. That was when she decided to make her own vibrating toy, a custom manifestation of a masturbation toy that she bastardized from other masturbation toys by taking what she liked from some and discarding what she didn't like from others.

As if she had created fire, as if she had created art, as if she had created man in the image of a masturbation toy without all the bullshit and nonsense, she held her masturbation toy overhead and up to the light, before burying it in her pussy. Viola! The Sandra Cross masturbation toy was created, not with a big bang or a small whimper, but with a loud orgasm. One small step in masturbation is one giant leap for women. Behold the inventor, what Cross is to pens, Sandra Cross is to masturbation toys.

"Men! I'm done with men," she said to herself, while pleasuring herself with her custom made toy. "Who needs a man when I have this masturbation toy in my hand? Oh, my God! Oh, my God, I'm cumming...again." She masturbated, whenever the mood struck, which was more now, that she created her perfect masturbation toy, than she ever did before. "Oh, yeah, baby, this is so much better than Godiva's dark chocolate and Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream."

She realized that if she wasn't satisfied with the masturbation toys out there, toys that didn't fit women's hands comfortably and/or that didn't target the exact areas that they needed to be targeted, then there were plenty of other women who felt the same way. Needing to fill a hole, if you will, pun intended, she found her niche by filling a need and that's how she started her own female masturbation toy business. The Sandra Cross Toy Company with the Sandra Cross Christmas Toy Workshop being an offshoot of that, her sexual need launched a lucrative business career.

Sandra's claim to fame was that she made ergonomic masturbation toys for women that were, as comfortable for the hand, as they were for the pussy. That was her slogan, "As comfortable for the hand, as it is for the pussy," and no doubt, they were. As comfortable to use, as an ergonomic mouse, never again will a woman be embarrassed by having to tell her doctor that she has Carpel Tunnel Syndrome from masturbating too much with a non-ergonomic masturbation toy.

Too often an undiagnosed malady and a prevalent condition that worsens when untreated, bad enough they don't have a man or they have a man that doesn't fulfill their needs and satisfy their sexual desires, Carpel Tunnel Syndrome from excessive masturbation from using a non-ergonomic masturbation toy is a much more serious condition for women, especially when they can no longer masturbate. If you think a woman is moody when she has her period, if you think a woman is angry when she's going through the change of life, try running into a woman who can no longer masturbate because she has CTS.

Moreover, Sandra Cross's toys are green made from recycled products that, in turn, could be recycled again. By all design and manufacture, it was, indeed, the perfect toy, but it cost a premium price. When most adult toys for women could be bought between twenty to forty dollars, a Sandra Cross toy cost one hundred dollars, with some costing more.

"Tsk, tsk," said the doctor.

"What is it, Doctor? Tell me. I can take it. Give it to me straight," said the patient gulping. "Will I ever masturbate again?"

"After some specific hand movement and wrist therapy, which you can start right now by masturbating me," said the doctor unzipping himself and pulling out his cock. "Masturbating me is a different movement of your hand and wrist than masturbating yourself. I'm also writing you a prescription for a Sandra Cross masturbation toy. Don't stop. Please continue your therapy by masturbating me. That's right. A little faster please. Beautiful."

"Thank you, doctor."

"No, thank you. Go ahead, now that you made me hard with your hand, you can suck my cock with your mouth."

"I don't understand, Doctor. How will me blowing you help my Carpel Tunnel Syndrome?"

"It won't, but it will help me. Yes, that's it. Suck my cock. Blow me. Very good."

A revolutionary toy, if only she could get women to try them, they'd buy them. She'd do house parties but, going door-to-door, house parties were a slow process and it would take years for her to build her business. The Internet is where she needed to be. For sure, the Internet was faster, but women needed to see, touch, feel, and hold the product, before buying the toy, which is why she decided to open a store at the mall during Christmas time.

Yet, years before she opened a retail store, her first step was to make several prototypes and file patents for each one. Then she traveled to China to find a factory that would cheaply make her toys. It's funny that her toys were made in the same factory that made Fisher Price toys and, every now and then, one of her toy would squeak and/or play music. Weird.

After several years of selling her toys online, she made enough money to buy her own factory in China and hire her own employees. With better quality control, her toys no longer squeaked or played music. Now, cutting out the middleman, even with the added expenses of having to buy the factory and pay salaries, her overhead costs were still significantly lower than they were before and a fraction of what they'd be, if she made her toys in the United States.

Only, her masturbation toy business was still in its infancy. There was still an untapped market of women who claimed they didn't masturbate. They were the same women who have been using the same masturbation toy for thirty years. These are the women that Sandra needed to reach and reeducate. These were the women who would appreciate her ergonomic masturbation toys and be willing to buy them at any cost for the sake of their improved comfort and pleasure.

Masturbation toys were still underground with women whispering to one another about their need to find and to buy the perfect masturbation toy. Sandra hoped to bring masturbation toys out of the closet and in to the forefront. Just as women have won the right to breast feed their babies in public, why couldn't women masturbate in public, also? All you in favor of women masturbating in public please stand. Okay, let's have some women stand, too. That's odd. It's only men who want to see women masturbating in public.

"You need to advertise, Sandra," said her lawyer, confident, and best friend, Julie.

"Yeah, well, advertising cost money, Julie. Besides, where do I place my ad, in Ladies Home Journal, Red Book, Readers' Digest, or Good Housekeeping?" They both laughed. "What do I write in the ad, come cum with me?"

"That's funny but, sadly, that's so true," said Julie. "Women would rather rebuke you and your company than admit that they masturbate."

"Masturbation is still taboo in this puritanical country," said Sandra in the spirit of the true entrepreneur that she was. "For the most part, it's done behind closed doors, as a solitary sexual act. Right up there with having head lice and bed bugs, too many women won't even admit to masturbating. Even most husbands and boyfriends don't know that their wives and girlfriends masturbate, probably as much, if not more, than they masturbate themselves."

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