Me and Juli Ashton’s Ass

The first time I went to Canada, I was eight years old. My mother and I went to Montreal with a friend of hers who happened to be a priest. The only Canadian memory I have is of visiting an old church where I climbed on my knees up hundreds of steps to the place of worship, which was the tradition (those Catholics are always good for some old-fashioned s/m). When I thought I had dreamed this particular part of our vacation, my mom produced a photo of me in a green hooded sweatshirt, knees against the concrete, with a huge grin on my face.

Two decades later, I returned to Canada on a crazy dyke road trip in a camper van. This time, I was still after some submission and masochism and hoped I would find it at the 14th Annual International Ms. Leather contest. No longer a kid with a heaven shoo-in as an escort, I was more than a little nervous when we arrived at the border. Canadian customs officials can be a real pain in the ass, and the country's antiobscenity laws are worse than any in the U.S. We'd briefed ourselves on the no-no's—no implements or pornography that could be classified as obscene, offensive, or violent. Yup, that's right folks, we were going to a big leatherfest and had to leave all our whips, floggers, paddles, and knives at home—that's like going to a Martha Stewart convention without a glue gun. I did bring along several copies of my anal sex book and video, which could have been confiscated if some numb nut wanted to watch it for "evaluation." Luckily, we answered a few questions, and they let us drive right through.

Once we were across the border, I had a horrible realization—I forgot my ass. Not my own behind, but the ass I use for demonstrations in my anal sex workshops. (I had three planned during the trip.) People often ask me why I don't have a real person to poke during my seminars. In workshops with men and women of different sexualities present, I won't do a live demo; it keeps the focus on the information and discourages creeps looking for a free show. I have let my fingers do the walking at some women-only classes and s/m conferences. The people who've volunteered to get done are always self-proclaimed backdoor betties, but when push comes to penetration, they get shy. Instead of being able to illustrate some in-depth techniques, I end up fitting half of one finger in a tight, stage-frightened butthole. Listen, it's hard to have your ass in the air in a room full of strangers and relax, and I know.

To demonstrate my tried-and-true techniques, I've been using a nifty little male masturbation tool called the FleshLight. A sleeve of a super-real-feeling material that sits in a plastic silver container with a screw-on top, it's meant to look like a giant flashlight (hence the name), in case you leave it lying around and your mother finds it. The FleshLight comes in four varieties depending on the opening you want: vagina, mouth, generic slit, and butt. Practical and portable, it's my ass in a can, and it does me just fine. Alas, my little assistant was sitting back home in America, and I had no idea if I could find a replacement in Canada. Even if the FleshLight was available up north, I knew from experience that the butt version (go figure) is the hardest to locate, so my chances weren't looking good.

A couple hours north of Toronto, we stopped for dinner in the small town of Barrie. Behind the restaurant's parking lot, I spotted an adult video store and decided to check it out. Hey, you never know. It had a pretty impressive selection of videos for a place that seemed to me to be in the middle of nowhere. As I was checking out the toy section, I spotted her. She was so big, she had her own shelf. Two round globes of ass flesh pressed up against the clear plastic window of the box. The Juli Ashton Ultra Realistic Pussy and Ass. I met well-known porn star Juli Ashton, a blond all-American girl with real tits, years ago at the World Pornography Conference, where she spoke on a panel about the adult industry. I remembered her as bright, articulate, attractive, and genuinely engaging, and before me sat an exact, full-size replica of her ass. (It said so on the box.) Although it would be tax-deductible for me—I love my job!—this anatomical wonder came with a hefty price tag: $400 Canadian (about $285). So I left the store empty-handed, and I decided I would attempt to get another butt FleshLight or something comparable once we got to Toronto.

Our first stop in Toronto was the girl-positive sex-toy store Come As You Are, where I had two workshops scheduled; it reminded me very much of our own Toys in Babeland—clean, well-lit, full of high-quality products chosen with women's pleasure in mind. Hardly the place I could ever find Juli Ashton's ass, which I could not stop thinking about. I relayed my dilemma to Cory, a worker-owner from the store, who turned out to be a 13-year veteran of the sex-toy industry. The high-strung, fast-talking bundle of efficiency made several calls on his cell phone, and within 20 minutes, he turned to me beaming and matter-of-factly announced, "I can have Juli's ass for you in two days."

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