Now that I had time to think about it, I was cracking, and I could feel myself starting to drift away.
Wanting to be a big girl, I strapped on my lady balls and decided to rip the Band-Aid off. Go for it. The first time was going to be awful, I got that, might as well just get it over with, see what the fuss was all about. Give Virginia some experience in the field of Cockland, and let her see what the wonder is all about when it comes to getting stuffed.
“Come here,” he said, while beckoning me with his finger.
Casually, I walked over to him, trying not to stumble over my own damn feet. I could see it now, I trip over my own leg, fall forward with my arms out, punching him in the face and landing on his coffee table that breaks under my fall. It could very easily happen, given my luck.
“You’re playing hard to get, aren’t you?” he asked, as I eased myself closer.
More like trying not to trip like a doofus and ruin the moment.
Successfully, I made it to the couch, where Lance instantly was on me, grabbing my hand and making me straddle his lap. Instantly, Virginia had a visitor knocking on her door, and hell if the little hussy wasn’t excited to see him.
“Mmmm…you fit perfectly on me, Rosie. I hate myself for taking so long in asking you out and then taking so long to call you.”
How was I supposed to answer that? Yeah, dumbass, good job? Nah, that seemed a little harsh, so I pulled out the little giggle I kept stored for occasions where I had no clue what to say.
“You’re adorable,” he complimented.
The giggle worked, so I made a mental note to keep that in my sexual tool box. Right about now, the only thing in that tool box was a giggle and the ability to properly put on a condom. Yup, I was a real mechanic when it came to the old horizontal tango.
Without warning, Lance wrapped his hand around my neck and pulled me in closer, where his lips met mine. I will admit this, if I had to pay myself a compliment, I knew how to kiss. I felt good kissing; it was something I didn’t find too difficult. Keep your mouth clean, keep your eyes shut, and don’t bump noses…pretty basic stuff.
As our lips danced together, I let my hands wander. Why not? If I had a fine specimen in front of me, I might as well let me hands do some exploring, especially when his hands were on my hips and starting to ride up my shirt.
Placing my hands on his chest, I felt the definition of his pecs and tried to calculate how many times he went to the gym in a week. It must have been at least three, because he had some nice muscles.
My fingers skimmed over his nipples by accident, but by the moan in his voice and the way his nipples peaked up, I could tell he liked the movement, so I let my fingers go back over the now erect nubs.
Erect nubs? Was that a term I wanted to use in my book? Seemed a little odd. Would you call a nipple a nub? It could be classified as a nub…
Focus, I chastised myself, as I told my hands to continue to explore further until they hit the waistband of his jeans. The minute my hands stilled, Lance thrust his hips up, letting me know he wanted me to go further.
I guess it was time to get serious, so I shimmied off his body and fell between his legs. I looked up at him briefly to see lust pouring through his face, just waiting for me to take action.
Jesus, I needed a drink.
With all the confidence I could muster, I looked down at his tented jeans, literally, tented, and undid them. Slowly, I unzipped his jeans and was met with a pair of black boxer briefs. Lance’s chest heaved from how slow I was going, and he most likely thought I was trying to torment him, but in reality, I was trying to one, not get his penis caught in the zipper, talk about mood changer, and two, I was really freaking nervous.
With a deep breath, I grabbed his boxer briefs at the same time he lifted off the couch so I could pull them down with his jeans.
Once his clothing was pulled down and resting at his ankles, I shut my eyes for a second and then opened them to see his dick standing at attention.
Holy shit!
That wasn’t right; there was something wrong with his penis.
Panic washed over me as I backed away and said, “I’m going to pee my pants! Where’s your bathroom?”
“Seriously?” he asked, almost pained.
“Yes.” I stood up and started dancing while grabbing my crotch.
“Umm, okay. Second door on the right down the hall, but hurry up.”
“I will,” I replied, just as I saw him look at me and start to stroke himself.
Eck!
I ran down the hallway, grabbed my phone from my purse, which was thankfully near the door, and locked myself in the bathroom.
Fumbling around, I finally was able to catch my breath and call Delaney.
The phone rang three times before she answered.
“Aren’t you on a date?”
“Delaney, he has a crooked penis,” I whispered.
“What?”
“My date, his penis is crooked, and I mean really crooked. Like someone grabbed it out of fury and bent it to the right.”
“Rosie, didn’t we go over this? All dicks are different shapes and sizes…”
“Delaney, this isn’t like a dick that veers to the side, I’m talking like straight up, the man has a crooked dick. Like, if I let him impale me, the head of his cock would be tickling my ovary, winking at it.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes! I’m not even sure how he has to go about getting inside a woman.”
“Maybe he has a fancy swivel trick. You never know, it might feel really good.”
“If I wanted to give him head, I would have to sit to his side to access his penis.”
“It’s not that bad,” Delaney softly laughed.
“Delaney, I’m not kidding. It looks broken. What the hell do I do?”
“Take a picture?”
“That’s not helpful.”
“It’s for science. I want to see it.”
“Why did I even call you?” I asked, feeling exasperated.
“Because you and Henry are fighting.”
“We are not,” I lied.
“Whatever. Just go back in there and play around with it, but remember to steer clear of cum shooting to the right. You don’t want to shoot your eye out.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” she laughed.
We hung up, and surprisingly, I didn’t feel any better after my phone conversation with Delaney. Remembering I had to “pee,” I flushed the toilet and ran the water to make it seem like I was hitting all the marks of a bathroom visitor.
Dropping my phone off in my purse, I went back into the living room, where Lance was still stroking himself, but was harder than ever. I glanced down and couldn’t help but notice that it looked like he was choking his poor dick, and its head was trying to spring free from his grasp.
What happened to his penis?!
“There you are, come back here.”
It looked like a broken finger, a right hand turn sign, an Allen wrench, a drunk pencil, a worm with a broken neck, a damn garden hoe.
It was not a penis. I didn’t have much experience with penises, but this wasn’t right, it wasn’t real. It had to be a prosthetic…that was melted in the sun.
Call me a bitch, call me stuck up, but I couldn’t go through with this with him. I wanted to, damn did I want to finally rip the Band-Aid off, but I had zero experience touching a penis, so handling one that was proving the term “How you hanging,” a little too seriously, was something I couldn’t tackle.
“I’m a virgin,” I blurted out, knowing that was a giant red flag when it came to guys. “I’m a stage five clinger. If you poke me with that penis, I will want to marry you tomorrow. I actually already love you. I didn’t have to go to the bathroom, I was preparing my engagement speech to you, because I want to propose, and if we have sex, I guarantee you I will get pregnant, condom or not. My vagina eats condoms actually and my eggs are more than willing to pull your sperm into their s
acs as hostages. We can make a baby today, just say the word. Marriage, babies, and I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Yup, pulled out all the stops.
Lance’s pants were pulled up and fastened as quickly as I could say deformed dick, and he was backing away from me.
“Rosie, I like you, but we just met.”
“Yes, but don’t you want a baby? Triplets run in my family.”
Not really, but anything to get out of this apartment.
“This just got weird,” he admitted.
No, buddy, shit got weird the minute your dick couldn’t look me square in the eyes without me leaning over your lap to wink at him.
“Yeah, too bad it won’t work out,” I shrugged, while walking back down the hallway.
Without glancing back at Lance, I grabbed my purse and bolted.
It wasn’t until I was walking down into the subway that I realized all the things I said.
Jesus.
I shook my head as I swiped my Metro Card and walked through the turn wheel. Stage five clinger? Really?
At least it got me out of his apartment and as far away as possible from the candy cane cock.
June 13, 2014
Note to self: When people say dicks come in all shapes and sizes, they are not kidding.
Dicks can be a grower, not a shower, they can be fat, skinny, long, short, brown, pink, white, black…purple. They have a mind of their own, and they are veiny with an eye on them that will stare you down, begging you to just lick them, taste them, satisfy them. They rest around in the dark, waiting to see the light, to be freed, only to be stuck, shoved and caressed in the dark once again.
Dicks are masochists.
They like to be plucked, tugged, slapped, and swallowed.
They are nudists, they only like to be naked; they prefer to be sheathed by a canal of flesh and that’s all.
Dicks are sensitive, and if jostled too much, can spew in seconds. They prefer to do so on a woman, in a woman, anywhere near a woman, but even a sock will work.
The dick is a different species; it’s a species all its own, and with a slight lift of its shaft, it’s ready to party.
Virginia has been scarred. Any vagina would be startled after seeing such a bent cock wanting to come after them. She’s not dumb, she knows how big she is and what can fit, and Mr. Dented Dick wasn’t going to fit properly.
I don’t know when she will ever be ready to make friends with another penis after being threatened by such a creature. She had such high hopes too.
Poor Virginia.
Chapter Eighteen
The Blooms
I straightened my dress as I took in my outfit for the day. Yesterday was a mess. I just prayed I never saw Lance again, and that he kept his mouth shut about what I said. To say I brought crazy cat lady to a whole new level was an understatement.
Works for cat magazine, works with cats, writes about cats, is a virgin, confessed to being a stage five clinger, and professed love on the second date—yup, confirmed my single status for the next forty years.
Blowing out a heavy breath, I pulled my hair out of my curlers and ran my fingers through the strands. Pleased with my hair and white sundress, I put on a pair of my brown sandals, grabbed my purse, and headed out my door. It was time to have brunch with my parents.
I was halfway to the front door when someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned to see Henry leaning against our couch, wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white polo shirt that clung perfectly to his chest. His hair was styled like normal, and he was wearing a pair of brown sandals as well. God, he looked beyond yummy.
“Good morning, love. Where do you think you’re going?”
Shocked Henry was in the apartment, let alone talking to me, I turned to face him and replied, “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming home until Monday.”
He shrugged his shoulders and started walking toward me.
“I was hungry, thought a couple plates of French toast would do the trick.”
“You’re going to brunch with me?” I asked, a little shocked at the turnaround in emotions from Henry.
“I am,” he smiled as he stood right before me. He grabbed my hand and kissed the top of it. “I’m sorry, Rosie…”
The man was apologizing to me, when I was the one being an ass. How could I even think about turning him down the other night? I was so damn confused.
“No, stop, stop apologizing. I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have been so, so…”
“How about we don’t?” he interrupted me. “Let’s just drop it and go have a fun day on Long Island, eating French toast and playing Yahtzee.”
“It’s not a guarantee we’ll play Yahtzee,” I laughed.
“Love, when it comes to your parents, it’s always a guarantee. I just hope I get the neon green dice this time. They’re lucky.”
“I’m sure if you make it known you’re putting the neon ones on reserve for after brunch, you’ll be able to play with them.”
“I better, last time I had to play with the red dice, and we just didn’t mesh well.”
“Red is so not your color.”
“It really isn’t,” he smiled that charming smile at me, and then pulled me into his chest and kissed me on the top of my head. “I missed you, love.”
“I missed you, Henry. Especially after yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah.” He cleared his throat and said in a serious voice, “How’s it hangin’, love?”
“Ugh, I hate you and Delaney,” I replied, while pulling away and walking toward the front door.
Henry caught up to me and turned me around while laughing.
“No, you don’t. You love us.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Tell me, was it really that crooked?”
I nodded and replied, “You know how a giraffe’s head extends perpendicular from his long neck?”
“Yeah…”
“Picture that, but in dick form.”
“Oh, shit,” he laughed. “Damn, did you take a picture?”
“No! What is wrong with you?”
“For science!”
“You and Delaney hang out too much,” I responded, while finally making my way out of the apartment with Henry tailing behind me.
I started to head to get a taxi when Henry stopped me and said, “I got a car, love.”
I turned to see him heading toward a black Ford Escape.
“Where did you get this?”
“Rented it, thought it might be nicer to drive then take a taxi and get ripped off. Plus, we can listen to Queen and sing our asses off.”
My heart took off at how considerate Henry was. He was always thinking ahead.
“Henry, that’s so sweet. Thank you, but you meant Britney Spears, right?”
“We’ll see,” he winked, while opening the door for me and grabbing my hand.
He helped me in the car and before he shut the door, he looked down at me with a spark in his eyes, something I never experienced from him before.
I could tell he wanted to say something to me, but instead of telling me what was on his mind, he leaned over, placed a kiss on my forehead and pulled away, shutting my door.
The rapid beat of my heart from his small gesture caught me off guard as I waited for him to get in the car. It was Henry; he kissed me on the forehead all the time. It was nothing to read things into.
But then why was I wanting him to do it again? Why did I want him to not just kiss me on the forehead, but on the lips again? Thoughts of the first time he kissed me on the lips ran through my mind. He was gentle, luscious, yet sexy. He felt right.
No, I chastised myself; we were friends.
“You ready to go, love?” he asked, as he placed his hand on my thigh, making Virginia come to life from the self-induced coma she’d put herself into after yesterday afternoon. Apparently, she didn’t have any aversions to Henry.
“Ready,” I gulped, as I watched his thumb slowl
y caress the inside of my thigh, next to my knee.
By no means was his hand in my crotch; it wasn’t even close to it, but the fact that he was touching me in an intimate way had me sweating, shaking, and begging for more. It was going to be a very long car drive.
***
“I’m so glad you two could make it,” my mom cooed, as she hovered over her French toast.
The ride from the city to my parents’ house wasn’t too bad, except for the fact that Henry’s hand never moved from my leg, leaving me quaking in my seat, but his off-pitch singing helped ease the tension.
I was the DJ, so once I played a couple of Queen songs to appease my driver, I skipped through the songs of his playlist and was pleased to see he had every Britney Spears hit on his phone. The minute I started playing her songs, I watched as Henry changed from eighties rock band to nineties pop star, and I couldn’t stop laughing. He hit every note, shimmied, and even popped a shoulder or two to the beat.
I was pretty sure he never sang and danced to Britney Spears for anyone else, and I was so honored that he shared his little hidden secret with me. I felt privileged to have such knowledge, and if I wasn’t so distracted by his hand, I would have been recording his pop princess ass on my phone.
“Thanks for having us, Mrs. Bloom. When I heard baked French toast, I couldn’t resist.”
“You don’t have to suck up to them,” I whispered to Henry.
“You never know; I might just have to,” he winked, making me wonder what that meant.
“Don’t you two just look adorable, matching clothes and all. Did you plan it on purpose?” my mom asked, while my dad pulled his eyes off his plate for a second to look at us.
“No, just a coincidence,” Henry replied, right before shoving a huge piece of French toast in his mouth, dripping syrup all over his white shirt.
“Oh, dear, honey, you got some syrup on your shirt.”
“Oh, shoot,” Henry replied while looking down. He grabbed his napkin and started smearing the syrup everywhere.
“That’s not going to help; I’m sure Dave has a shirt you can borrow. You’re about the same size, well besides the muscles. Have you been working out, Henry?”