Page 52 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Just do it real quick and then we’ll talk about condoms.”
“Fine.” I grabbed hold of Henry’s fist and started to lightly massage it while I ran my tongue along the ridge of the banana and then down the underneath of the banana until I hit Henry’s fist. I licked his finger while laughing and then went back up just like he said. Once I returned to the tip of the banana, I pulled the circumference of it into my mouth and started sucking. I looked up at Henry who had hazy eyes, and that’s when I glanced at his crotch. Henry,my Henry,was excited. He caught my eyes and pulled away, but he wasn’t ashamed.
Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “That was hot.”
A small smile crossed my face while I tried to avoid eye contact with his arousal. “I didn’t get to the humming part.”
God, I felt so awkward and I hated, absolutely hated that Henry was so comfortable with his sexuality that he could just sit there, aroused, and be okay with it.
“I’m sure when you hum, you will be just fine. There’s nothing to it.” He winked and then left for his bedroom while shifting his pants around a little. When he returned shortly after, I couldn’t help but glance at his crotch and to my dismay, he was already settled down. I apparently got him excited, but not that excited . . . not that I was trying. It would have been nice to see him harder for longer.
What the hell am I thinking?No, I didn’t want to see him hard at all. Good Lord. I needed to get a grip. All the new romance novels in my life and sex talk had my mind wandering.
“Here.” Henry handed me a small packet that said magnum on it. I wasn’t completely dense. I knew what a magnum condom was, I watched TV. Henry just handed me one, which made me think he must be . . .
“Stop staring at my dick,” Henry said, catching me off guard.
“Sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “It’s just, this is a magnum condom,” I practically whispered, making Henry chuckle and whisper back.
“I know. I wear them all the time.”
I stared at him because things just got personal. Yeah, I sucked a banana while he held it, something I would block out of my memory, but right now, I was holding his condom and that was more personal than anything we had done together. It almost felt like I was holding his penis in my hands, which I knew wasn’t true but still, I couldn’t help but think of it that way.
“Rosie, it’s a condom, not a bomb you have to dismantle. Unwrap it and place it on the banana.”
“Why can’t guys just do this themselves?” I mumbled as the package proved to be a little harder to open then I expected. “They should make these easier to open.”
Just as I tore open the package, the condom flew in the air and landed right in Henry’s coffee that was on the counter.
I smiled at Henry and said, “Good thing we aren’t using this for real, or else you would be having a coffee cock.”
I giggled too much at my lame joke. Henry studied me with that questioning look of his, as if he was trying to read me. I didn’t like that look; it always made me nervous.
He plucked the condom out of the coffee and wiped it off on his pants. He gave it to me and then looked at the banana. Carefully, he showed me how to roll it on and told me about the process and how to make it fun for the guy as well by teasing him slowly. He also told me if I become really experienced, I could roll it on with my mouth while taking in the guy’s length but that seemed too intense.
All I could envision was getting the condom stuck in the back of my throat and dying from choking on said condom. I could see my tombstone now.Rosie Bloom: died from affixation of a condom.Her last words were, “Watch me put this on.”
Yeah, not the way I wanted to go, so I steered clear of the old mouth trick.
“That seems pretty easy.”
“It is. Just roll it down,” Henry said. “Now a guy should be well trimmed downstairs but if he isn’t, make sure you avoid getting the rubber in his pubes. That shit would hurt.”
“Wait, so I go and get waxed to hell but a guy can show up with hairy berries and that’s okay?”
“It’s not okay, that shit is nasty but yeah, some guys think it’s manly to have hair protruding from every wrinkle of his nut sac.”
“Ick, gross. Doesn’t it get sweaty down there?”
“Yea, massively sweaty sometimes, so if a guy has a bush, I would consider moving on; you don’t want to deal with that.”
Noted. What if Lance had a bush? Maybe that was his flaw. If that was the one and only flaw he had, I was pretty sure I could deal with it, because all he would need was a little feminine encouragement.
“Do you have hair down there?” I asked Henry. “You have this little happy trail”—I pointed—“so does that mean you don’t trim?”
Henry gave me a pointed look and said, “Love, does it look like I would be a guy carrying around a massive pile of burnt spaghetti with my balls?”
“No, but sometimes people can surprise you.”
