Page 93 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“The amount of cum that spews out of them when they orgasm could take down the Titanic. It’s always a mess with us.”
“A mess? What? What do you mean a mess?”
“Rosie, when a guy comes and he’s not wearing a condom, where do you think it all goes?”
“In your vagina,” I said matter-of-factly.
“And once it’s in your vagina, where does it go from there?”
“Um, I don’t know. Don’t your uterine walls soak it up? You know, like lotion?”
“Are you saying jiz is the vagina’s form of lotion?”
I shrugged. “Isn’t it?”
“No,” Delaney said while laughing. “Oh my God, Rosie. First of all, vaginas don’t need lotion, second of all what goes in, must come out.”
“So what are you saying? Does it . . . drip out of you?”
“Uh, yeah. Haven’t you seen me run from my bedroom to the bathroom wearing only a bathrobe?”
“Yeah, but I thought you just had to pee.”
“No. It’s called the man-milk shuffle. You kegel the shit out of your vagina, keep your legs closed as tight as possible, don’t even dare to breathe, as you shuffle to the bathroom and then flop on the toilet to let everything fall out.”
My hand flew to my mouth as I racked my brain for such a scene in any of the books I’d read.
Nothing.
Nothing about the man-milk shuffle.
Disturbed, I asked, “It just falls out?”
Nodding her head and taking a giant bite out of the peeled banana in her hand, she said, “Yup, just falls right out. The worst is when you get all sexy in the bathroom of a bar or something like that and you don’t have enough time for gravity to work its magic. Then you find yourself back out on the dance floor, dancing your life away and all of a sudden, you get a wave of man-milk falling right into your underwear . . .”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “Nope, this was never told to me. Where is this information in sex-ed? Where is it in life?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s kind of taboo, Rosie. No one wants to talk about how jiz falls out of vaginas.”
“Obviously!” I planted my head in my hands. “The more I find out about this whole sex thing, the more I want to avoid it. It’s supposed to hurt, even though books describe it as a pinch, you’re apparently supposed to bleed everywhere—looking forward to that—and you also have to worry about cum falling out of you?”
“Well, you shouldn’t have to worry about that at first, because you should be using a condom, plus, Derk is the exception since he has such huge balls. With another guy with normal balls, you won’t have as much cream to deal with.”
“Don’t call it cream. Jesus.”
Laughing, Delaney finished off her banana. “Still, it won’t be bad, Rosie. I promise. Once you get past the initial awkwardness of it all, you will actually love it. There is just something about sex that is so primal, so absolutely fan-fucking-tastic that you have to experience, that you need in your life.”
“So when writing my book, do I include the whole cum falling out of the vagina thing?”
“No, God, Rosie. First of all, from the sounds of your book, you need to have the people practicing safe sex because that’s being responsible and then second, do you really think writing about the waterfall of baby gravy is going to be something readers want to read about?”
“You did not just call it baby gravy.”
“I did, because that’s what Derk has. It’s so thick—”
“Stop, please, just stop. There’s a line, Delaney, and hearing about the texture of your boyfriend’s cum is way past that line.”
“Why are we talking about my cum?” Derk asked with a goofy grin on his face and his hair sticking out in all different directions, most likely from Delaney’s fingers.
