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No way was I losing my virginity to a guy who couldn’t even find the clit.
“She reads smutty books on her lunch every day and blushes to high heaven. Trust me, she has a sex drive.
“I know. I know, trust me, it’s crazy to me too. Did you know some people use the showerhead to make themselves orgasm?”
“Don’t want to settle down. Got it. But you’ve got a killer mental block, so you need to do it the good guy way. It helps that you land girls who also have no intention of settling.”
I wonder what the hot doctor sounds like when he’s turned on, about to fuck a woman.
It’s also probably what made me so picky that I’m a single virgin at 28. No one lives up to the fictional men who live rent-free in my mind.
My breathing quickens, and for a split second, I wonder if I’m too old to take a woman into a bar bathroom and fuck her in a stall.
The virgin who thinks she’s broken.
“Maybe I should let you fuck me. You know bodies and stuff. I bet you could make me come. Do you think you could make me come?” she asks, and her eyes are dreamy, like she’s envisioning it already.
“You’re not broken. And I can help you.”
Then I’m going to make you comfortable with coming. And then I’m going to make you come on my cock, Gabi. Those are the steps. Got it?”
Italian Americans that think I’m still 12 instead of 28.
“The Luke of my life?”
“Honored, kitten. Honored, I’m the man to do that. But I’m not fucking you until we’re good and ready. We’re going slow.”
“I want rough. I want… hard. I want it all, Vic. I want... you.” Because if I only get this once with you, I want it all. I want to remember this for the rest of my life. I don’t want sweet because I think if I get sweet, I’ll fall and shatter irreparably, broken for any other man.
“She’s sitting in my living room, eating from a 5-gallon tub of cheese balls and watching Titanic with my girl.”
This is a drawer filled with sex toys that I still can’t figure out if she bought in an effort to make herself come before she met me, or after.
