Page 30 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
He placed both of his hands on my face and studied my eyes for just a brief moment before he kissed my forehead ever so softly. When he pulled away, he smiled lightly, as if he wanted to say something, but then shook his head and took off.
Weird.
Once he was gone, I went back to my room and stared at the banana while trying to gain the courage to give a blow job to a phallic-shaped fruit. Instead of wrapping my mouth around it, I wrapped my hand around it and started moving it up and down in a steady rhythm.
“Oh yea, you like that, banana? Are you going to turn into banana pudding soon? You going to lose your peel?”
“There is something seriously wrong with you,” Delaney said as I was mid-stroke.
“Shut my door,” I called out while I tossed the molested banana to the side. Damn roommates.
I pulled out my notebook and started making notes for the day.
June 4, 2018
Flick, granny teeth, backdoor balls, and hum your life away—the keys to the perfect blow job. Men like to be hummed to when getting blow jobs. Interesting. Was it some kind of lullaby for their penis? I would want to see the scientific research on that.
And who decided that playing with a man’s pern-en-whoozy-whatty was something that would make him explode faster? I need to google what that is and where it is, because I was a little confused on the placement of that little hidden orgasm button.
I can understand the granny teeth thing. I doubt a ravenous woman showing her dick-eating fangs is very comforting to a man. I could imagine the libido factor dropping down a few notches after seeing fresh teeth waiting to take in the man’s most sensitive member.
Flicking your tongue. How do you flick a tongue? As I sit here and write, I’m practicing the flick motion, and I’m wondering how effective it really is on a man. After grabbing my banana and flicking my tongue across it, I can see the aPEEL. God, I’m so funny.
After my blow job crash course, I feel like I can tackle the world, one penis at a time … hopefully.
Chapter Six
The Smoking Vaginator
“Are you ready?” Delaney asked, as she was perched on my bed with her hands under her chin and her feet in the air.
No,I thought to myself as I stared in the mirror. I’m not even feeling close to ready . . . mentally.
I was wearing a polka-dot dress that came to my knees and a pair of red heels. My lipstick matched my shoes, and my hair was up in a ponytail with a big pinned curl in the front, held tall with a decent amount of hairspray. To top the outfit, I placed a red flower in my hair with some bobby pins to make sure it stayed tight. I was ready, at least appearance wise. My heart on the other hand was beating drastically against my chest.
“More ready than I’ll ever be.”
“Well, you look fantastic, seriously, Rosie, I’m stunned.”
“Thanks, Delaney. You sure my boobs aren’t showing too much?”
“No, they look great, and your waist looks impossibly tiny in that dress.”
Surprising, since I wasn’t as small as Delaney by any means.
“Thanks. Where’s Henry? I thought he was going to be here.”
“No clue. I sent him a text but he never responded.”
“All right, well, I don’t want to be late. Thanks for all the help, Delaney. I really appreciate it.”
“Anything for my girl. Go have fun and don’t think about the whole sex part of the night. Just relax, enjoy the company and if he kisses you, he kisses you.”
I nodded and then looked around my room. “Do you see my mini bottle of baby powder?”
“What do you need that for?” she asked as she looked around with me. “Here it is.”
“Thanks.” I stuffed it in my purse. “Ever since that wax, I’ve been really itchy and the baby powder helps. I don’t think I will ever get waxed again.”
