Page 167 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Why did I picture her pussy?” Henry asked with a forlorn look on his face.
“Why do I feel like her vagina could gobble me up whole?”
Henry quickly ushered me out of the porn booth room and back into the shop. “Because I’m pretty sure her vagina eats girls like you for an appetizer. No doubt about it, her vagina has teeth. Big fucking scary ass fangs that rival the chompers on a T-Rex.” Henry gripped my hand. “I think I’m going to need you to hold me tonight while I bury my face in your bosom.”
“How is that different than any other night?” I joked.
Henry gave me a shocked expression. “Cheeky tonight, huh? You see your first porn booth and now you have some sass in those pants. My, my, my.”
“You’re stupid.” I laughed, and walked past him toward a wall of battery-operated magic wands.
Purple, pink, green, black, glitter, matte, thick, skinny, small, short . . . hundreds of different dildos. Dolphins, rabbits, veiny, sleek, vibrating, rotating, life-like, fantasy-like . . . so many dildos.
I stared at all the pleasure sticks on the wall advertising “The Best Orgasm of Your Life” and my mouth hung open in wonderment.
“It’s like Disneyworld for vaginas,” I muttered, reaching my hand out to touch one. “They’re so pretty, all sparkly like a unicorn’s horn.”
“They just look like different colored dicks to me,” Henry answered, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels.
“You’re saying these aren’t pretty?” I asked, flabbergasted by his response. “The colors, the sparkles, they’re so . . . captivating.”
“Love, if I found these pretty, we might have a problem.”
“So, you don’t want one in your ass?” I asked, pulling down a strap-on.
“What?” Henry’s eyebrows shot to the top of his hairline. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
I placed the strap-on around my waist for good show and thrust in his direction. “A book I recently read had a fun little ditty in it of a girl wearing a strap-on and doing her boyfriend from behind while she”—I leaned forward and whispered—“stroked him to climax. Since we’re here, we could get some play things for us. I heard men really like to have their prostate played with.” I leaned even closer and said, “I could play with your perineum while I do it. I’ll use the All American dildo. Who doesn’t want the Star Spangled Banner making you all hot and bothered?”
Face bright red, Henry leaned into my ear and said, “Are you hearing yourself right now? You’re practically frothing at the mouth from the idea of having a Fourth of July party up my ass. Do you realize that?”
“Of course.” I laughed. “I was just kidding.” I placed the strap-on back on the shelf and checked out their neon collection. I really was kidding about the whole strap-on thing, but once I started talking about it, I actually thought it might be fun. By the horrified expression on Henry’s face, I knew it would be a no-go. Too bad.
Curiosity wreaked havoc on my brain; it might be fun to be a guy for the night. See what the big deal was all about. Why was having a penis the equivalent to obtaining some kind of superpower? My vagina didn’t seem all that magical. It was a hole covered by a deli blanket. What was so special about that? At least with a penis, you could flop it around, maybe set it on an unsuspecting leg. Pull your ball skin through your zipper hole and place it on your jeans, and then tell someone there was gum stuck on them, only for them to see your gross scrotum.What a treat.
“I would like to have a penis for a day,” I blurted out, stroking the packaging to a rather large-sized vibrator that had a scary looking clitoral stimulator at the bottom of it. “There is so much I want to know.”
“Oh, yeah?” Henry asked, tossing a pancake-sized condom at me. “Make each lady wear one of those on their legs for the night. Last one to tear a hole in their condom wins.”
I observed the giant dick sleeve and laughed. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“So, you want a penis?”
“Yeah, just for a day. I want to see what it’s like to look down and see my junk hanging from between my legs. I want to walk up and down the hallway and watch it sway with my movements. I want to stroke it and make it happy and see what it feels like. I want to do the helicopter, I want to do jumping jacks, pretty much anything that will make it flop around, I want to do that. I want to adjust myself in front of a room of people and not care. I want to closely examine my balls and possibly get kicked in the family jewels, just to see what it feels like. I want—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Henry said. “You don’t want to get kicked in the nut sac. I will tell you right now, it will feel like someone took an empty wine bottle and tried to shove it up an imaginary tunnel that connects your balls to your stomach; you will want to throw up for days.”
“Ugh, men are so dramatic. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that bad.”
Henry crossed his arms over his chest, a challenge in his eyes. “Want me to kick you in the crotch and see how that feels? Bet you’ll be singing a different tune once you get a foot to the cooch.”
I placed my hands on my hips, throwing his challenge right back at him. “It’s all bone down there; of course it’s going to hurt. It would be like getting kicked in the shin.”
“Wait, are you trying to say that getting kicked in the shin is worse than getting kicked in the crotch?” Henry shook his head in disbelief. “You’re losing it, love.”
Defiance was my middle name right now. “Have you ever been kicked in the shin?”
“Yes, I have, and I can tell you right now it’s nothing like being kicked in the dick.”
