by Meghan Quinn
“What am I supposed to do? What if it gets worse, and what if my entire vagina falls off one night? Oh, my gosh, do you think it turns purple because Henry’s penis suffocates it? Do vaginas need oxygen during sex? He is kind of big for me.”
“You literally have made me speechless. I have nothing to say to you, Rosie.”
“You’re no help,” I said, spreading the lips on my vagina to get a closer look. Just as I was about to get an up close and personal with my “bean,” from the corner of my eye, I saw Sir Licks-a-Lot charging at me like Braveheart on his horse, one paw in the air, and a meow-like war cry escaping his cat mouth. His sights were set on my exposed area, as if he was dying to have a pussy-to-pussy high five with me.
I screamed bloody murder and stuck my foot out as a force field, just as Henry opened the door to our apartment. Sir Licks-a-Lot was mid-jump when my knife-like hand connected with the side of his body, deflecting him to the side of the couch, where he clamped on to the water bottle and ran off with it.
“That demon,” I screamed, legs still spread, vagina still open for everyone to see.
Confusion was etched all over Henry’s face as he took in the scene before him. “Uh, hey, love. Getting a good look at your pussy for me?”
“Is Henry home?” Delaney called out over the speakerphone. “I hope so, because I am done talking about your purple, heavy-weighted, ankle-tickling vagina. My best-friend duties are over. Peace out, crazy. Call me once you’ve tested out some strippers.”
Delaney hung up the phone, leaving Henry and me to ourselves. Without saying a word, he walked over to me, kneeled before my spread legs, and asked, “Your vagina has been tickling your ankles?”
Before I could answer, his tongue was on me, melting me straight into the couch. All my worries and concerns were washed away the minute Henry’s mouth descended upon me.
“Henry, the Chinese food is getting cold,” I called out from the kitchen. I was wearing Henry’s shirt he wore to work, sleeves rolled up, of course, and Henry was just getting out of the shower.
It was Friday night, and instead of going to the bars like Henry used to, he will be snuggling next to me and watching one of my favorite romantic comedies, When Harry Met Sally.
Two months ago, Henry would have been partying at some of the hippest clubs in the city, staying out until two in the morning, only to wake up at six to go to work. Now, he was normally tucked away in our modest apartment near Broadway, eating takeout, and watching sappy movies with me.
I was one hell of a lucky girl.
I worried sometimes that maybe he missed his old life, but whenever I brought it up, he always shut down that thought quickly. Pretty sure he was starting to get annoyed with my insecurities over our relationship, but honestly, it was one of the first ones I’d ever had, and Henry was really hot. I told him all the time he was out of my league, which he laughed at and told me otherwise.
“Did you get spring rolls?” Henry asked, walking toward me in only a pair of sweats and a towel in hand, drying off his short brown hair. I took a moment to reflect on his well-cut chest and muscular arms, flexing with every movement. I drooled over the small beads of water that dripped off his head and the way his eyes lit up whenever he saw me.
“Uh, what?”
A smile crossed his face as he tossed the towel to the side and walked up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my stomach and kissed my neck gently. He didn’t shave, so his five o’clock shadow rubbed against my sensitive skin, sending shocks of pleasure down to my toes. I would never tire of this . . . ever.
“Did you get spring rolls?” he asked again, nuzzling my ear.
“I think so?” Not really sure what I’d ordered at this point, thanks to Henry’s ability to completely distract me.
“Well, let’s take a look.” Henry unlatched himself from my stomach, but still stood pressed against me, looking over my shoulder. Searching through the beg, he pulled out a little package of spring rolls. “I knew my girl wouldn’t fail me.” He kissed the side of my cheek and backed away, leaving me breathless and needy.
I turned around to face him, unbuttoned part of the shirt I was wearing so my cleavage would show, then placed my hands on the counter behind me. Henry had a spring roll halfway to his mouth when he saw my position.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.
“Do you really think you can come in here, shirtless, and press yourself against me without turning me on?”
“Maybe.” He smiled.
“Guess again. What are you going to do about it?”
“Eat my food.” He wiggled his eyebrows and then bit into his spring roll. He turned to grab some plates and then placed them on the counter so we could serve up dinner.
Confused, I asked, “Are you really not going to have sex with me right now?”
“Is that what you wanted?”
I gave him a “duh” look. “Of course. Why else would I unbutton the top buttons on my shirt?”
“Technically, that’s my shirt.” He grinned. “And I just gave you an orgasm and pretty sure you jacked me off in the shower a few moments ago.”
“Oh, my God.” I swatted his stomach. “Don’t be so crude.”
“Okay, if you didn’t jack me off, what did you do?” He was testing me; he was always testing me.
“I stroked your love stick,” I answered, not playing into his stupid word game challenge.
He shook his head in disappointment. “And for that answer, I will be eating my Chinese now. If you’d said something else, I might have taken care of that little horny problem you’ve been having lately. Oh, and by the way, when I was eating you out as my appetizer earlier, your pussy didn’t look at all purple to me, nor did it feel heavy. It was perfect.”
Henry dumped the box of noodles in front of him onto his plate, followed by some General Tso chicken and two spring rolls, one half eaten.
He started to walk to the couch when I whined—yes, whined. “You’re seriously going to deny me?”
“I’m prolonging the inevitable. Come on. Come eat dinner with me, watch a movie, and then I will fuck that pretty little pussy of yours.”
“You can just say make love.” I was now a little irritated and frustrated that my need wasn’t being immediately taken care of. When did I get so demanding? It’s Henry’s fault. Poseidon’s put some spell over Virginia. I’ve lost control of her.
“Then I wouldn’t see that beautiful blush cross your face. Now, hurry up; I want you cuddled into my side.”
I dished out a reasonable amount of Chinese food onto my plate, knowing that if I ate all of it at my first sitting, I would want some twenty minutes later. I grabbed drinks for both of us from the fridge and tiptoed across the floor on my bare feet, plopped on the couch, and kissed Henry on the cheek.
“Thanks for wanting to have a movie night with me, even though it might not have been a movie you would have picked.”
Henry wrapped his hand around me and scooped up Chinese food with his other hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, love. Plus, Meg Ryan is hot in this movie, all innocent like my girl.”
I rolled my eyes, brought my plate to my chest, and started shoveling food down as the movie started. I chomped away, enjoying the easiness of our relationship. We were so incredibly comfortable with each other that the giant belch that just popped out of Henry after he took a sip of his beer didn’t even bother me.
That was a lie. I made it seem like it didn’t bother me, when in fact I wanted to punch him in the face every time he let one fly out of his mouth. It wasn’t that burps bothered it me, it was just that his were so loud they often startled me.
Our plates were emptied, our drinks were guzzled, and our burps were emptied—thank goodness. Henry pulled me into his chest, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and caressed my hair with his lips every once in a while.
My hand rested across his bare skin, and I played with the muscular divots scattering acros
s his well-developed chest. It was still weird for me to think of him as mine, to touch him as I wanted, to kiss him when I wanted my lips on his, and to pleasure him when the spark arose—which lately was often.
I’d been serious when I was talking to Delaney. I felt nervous something was going on with Virginia. I was either feeling super heavy down there, weird way to describe your vagina, I know, or I couldn’t get enough of Henry. I wanted him all the time.
Feeling a little randy after losing your virginity to the hottest man on the planet felt like a natural hunger, but wanting to hump his face off the minute he walked through the door? That must be something different, but what?
I wondered if I’d unlocked some kind of pent-up, sexual sycophant, preying on best friends from college. That was how I felt, like I was preying on Henry every chance I got.
When he was in the shower, washing soap off his body, I was peeking past the curtain to watch the water drop down his body—hence the “jacking off” earlier. When he was sleeping, my hands always found his penis, and for some reason started to rub it. One night, I was humping his flaccid penis until he woke up and realized his horny girlfriend was trying to guide his log down the river of crazypants. When he got home from work, I couldn’t help but grab his tie and start attacking his mouth with mine. And don’t get me started when he was in the kitchen cooking. I usually ended up on the counter, trying some kind of insane act I read from one of my books, which normally didn’t go as planned. Note to everyone out there: trying to make a sundae on a naked body doesn’t really work unless the person you’re making it on is a frigid dead body.
The need for him was overwhelming, so I wondered if I should see the lady doctor. A strong libido was one thing, but ripping your pants off and spreading your legs every time your boyfriend walked into the apartment, as if you’d been in some kind of Pavlov experiment, that wasn’t normal.
“Do you realize your hips are rubbing against my leg right now?” Henry whispered in my ear, breaking my thoughts.
I looked down to see one of my legs was over Henry’s lap and my hips were slowly rubbing up and down his thigh.
“Oh, sorry.” I nervously laughed.
“No need to be sorry.” He kissed my head again, but continued to watch the movie. Usually, if I started to get turned on, he would do something about it. Why wasn’t he now?
Meg Ryan was fake orgasming on screen, turning me on even more, so I turned to face Henry forcing him to look me in the eyes. He looked past my head for a second to watch the screen before turning his attention to me. “What’s up, love? Don’t you want to watch the movie?”
“Why aren’t you trying to take advantage of me right now?” I placed my hand on my hip, a little insulted that he kept peeking past me to view the screen.
He sighed and said, “Just a long day at work, Rosie.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that this week. You’ve never complained about work. What’s going on?”
I studied him carefully and wondered why he averted his eyes away from me and answered, “Nothing to worry about.”
“That was the same response you gave me earlier. If you’re going to bring work home and let it affect our night, then I have the right to know what’s bothering you.”
“How am I affecting our night? Because I won’t have sex with you right now? Jesus, Rosie, I had sex with you twice this morning and just ate you out twenty minutes ago. How much more do you want?”
Taken aback by his tone, I sat up and pulled away from him. I knew he immediately regretted what he said because he tried to wrap his arm back around me, but I didn’t let him.
“I didn’t know I was bothering you with wanting you. I thought men liked it when their women came on to them. I won’t do it again.” I crossed my arms and sat on the opposite end of the couch. I was being a complete brat, but I didn’t care; he’d hurt my feelings, and frankly, I didn’t know how else to react. Should I be affronted? Was I being too needy? Clingy?
Instead of “chasing” after me like I thought he would, he huffed out his frustration, went to the kitchen, grabbed another beer, and then sat back down on his side of the couch, ignoring me completely.
A foreign emotion started to settle in, an emotion I’d never felt before. Rejection, it hurt, BIG TIME.
Tears watered in my eyes and my throat began to clog with the pent-up embarrassment and anger I felt. This was so stupid. I was angry and hurt because my boyfriend didn’t want to have sex with me for the fourth time in one day? What kind of sex-crazed lunatic was I?
Not letting Henry see my tears, I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and sent Delaney a text.
Rosie: Why am I so horny?
A lone tear fell as I sent the text message. What was wrong with me? The movie played in the background while I waited for Delaney to text back. It felt like an hour before she replied to me, when in fact it was only a few minutes.
Delaney: Why would you even ask me that question? I have no clue. Maybe because you’ve suppressed yourself from the penis for twenty plus years and now that you’ve had it shoved up your hole you can’t get enough?
That was a possibility, but did people really go this crazy after sex?
Rosie: I want to hump his face every chance I get.
Delaney: He’s that good at going down? Huh, I would have thought he was more of a pumper rather than an eater.
Rosie: I don’t know what that means, but he’s good at everything.
Delaney: Pumper, as in he’s good at placing his pastry bag inside your donut hole and moving it in and out until you’re completely glazed. If you don’t know what an eater is, then we can’t be friends.
Rosie: Oh, well, he’s good at everything, like really good. Like there hasn’t been a time that I haven’t orgasmed.
Delaney: Good for you. Now, can I get back to watching my man strip for me with scarves?
Rosie: Derk performs naked scarf dances for you?
Delaney: Rosie, the boy will do anything I ask of him. Have a good night.
Annoyed, I tossed my phone back on the coffee table.
“You done ignoring me?” he asked.
“Excuse me? I’m not ignoring you. You’re ignoring me.”
“Am I? Because the way I see it, you threw a temper tantrum because I wouldn’t have sex with you, moved away from me, and started texting your friend about it.”
“You won’t tell me what’s going on at work,” I shot back, knowing he was completely right about me but not wanting to admit it.
Henry turned toward me with one leg bent on the couch. “I don’t want you to have to worry about work. There’s been some changes that were made and I’m adjusting to them, that’s all.”
“Bad changes?” I asked, concerned.
“Different changes. Like I said, nothing to worry about, okay?”
Knowing he wouldn’t budge on the conversation, I nodded. “Okay.” It wasn’t okay. I didn’t understand why he was being so cagey, and if it was affecting him, why wouldn’t he want to talk to me about it? We’d always talked about work things before we got together. Unless he hadn’t, and I just thought he had . . .
He studied me for a second before holding out his hand to me. “Come here, love. I need to feel your body on mine.”
Needing him as well, I allowed him to pull me into his arms. He moved on the couch so his legs were propped up on the cushions and he was parallel with the television. He guided me on top of his lap, facing him, and then rested his hands on my hips.
“What am I going to do with you, Rosie?”
My hair fell forward, and he pushed it behind my ears so he could see me better. He then ran his hand from my cheek, down the front of the shirt I was wearing, where he undid the rest of the buttons, exposing my stomach. Exploring, he moved his hand along the side of my breasts, teasing my sensitive skin until his hands rested on my bare hips.
His eyes grew heavy as he studied my exposed skin. I could feel him starting to harden under me
, and I couldn’t help but get excited, knowing what came next.
Not wanting him to stop, I ran my hands up his stomach, past his pecs, and to his neck until I cupped his cheeks. Leaning forward, I pressed my chest against his and brought my lips to his, where I opened mine wide enough for him to slip his tongue inside. His tongue met mine, and as usual, that was enough to silence any thought.
My body heated up instantly, an inferno building deep in my core. Thankfully, Henry moved his hands from my hips up to my shoulders, where he pulled the shirt off me so I was completely naked. He grabbed my breasts, and he tweaked my nipples with his dexterous fingers, squeezing until I yelped in his mouth.
Arousal spiked within my body, causing my hips to rapidly move on top of his lap; I felt his erection harden even more and could feel the tip peek past his sweat pants. I continued to kiss him, moving my hips, and letting a euphoric feeling overtake me. My body felt like it was floating on the edge of a cliff, waiting to be pushed over in the most delightful way possible.
“Fuck, Rosie,” Henry mumbled right before he grabbed me under my butt and stood up, never breaking lip contact. I didn’t have to look where he was taking me because within a few seconds, I was tossed on the bed, looking up at Henry, who was taking off his sweatpants and putting on a condom.
He was about to get on top of me when I stopped him and made him lie down. “I want to be on top.”
He quirked a rakish eyebrow at me but then obliged, lying down on the bed and stroking his penis while eyeing my body. I pushed my hair back then straddled his lap. With his guidance, I slipped him inside me and immediately sighed in relief. Every nerve ending that had been begging for him to take me, for him to please me, stopped throbbing and settled in for what was to come . . . complete and utter satisfaction.
With one hand, I pulled my hair to the side and held on to it as I began moving up and down, intensifying our intimate connection. I looked at Henry to see him staring at my breasts. His hands were behind his head, letting me do all the work. Supporting my back, he lifted his knees so both feet were planted behind me. I took the opportunity to lean against him and change the angle of penetration.