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Authors: Penny Wylder
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Chuck E. Cheese.”
I park in front of Hush , a small adult novelty store. We get out and head inside. I’m carded to make sure I’m at least eighteen, which Paul finds amusing.
The place is packed with rank, hairy men that look as though they bathe in Crisco. I feel eyes following me through the story. Paul must notice it too because he puts a protective arm around my waist and we walk like that the entire time.
“So what are we looking for here?” he asks with a boyish smile touching his lips.
I pick up a large bottle of strawberry flavored lube. “Oh, I don’t know. Just browsing,” I say in the same casual tone he’d used on me in the furniture store.
I put the lube back on the shelf with the others. From the corner of my eye I watch him pick it back up and carry it with him. “By all means, take whatever you want,” he says.
I’m looking at a wall of vibrating eggs. He grabs one off the shelf that has a cord and battery pack. He’s like a little kid in a candy story, stealthily putting things in the cart after his mother had put it back on the shelf. Next I make my way to the toys. There are all kinds of dildos: little, big, and absolutely brutal. I pick up one shaped like a fist and fight laughter when his eyes stretch to fill his face.
He says, “Trust me, that won’t fit.” He leans over and whispers in my ear, tickling my skin. “I’m lucky that tiny little hole of yours fits me … very lucky.” He kisses me on the jaw and I’m starting to wonder if we’ll even make it the apartment before I maul him with my vagina.
I have a lovely collection of my own dildos—and they’re all quite junior compared to the fist of fury—so I bypass those and finger a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Looking back over my shoulder, Paul’s eyes are ballooning out of his head again and he’s over-eager when he says, “Yes. Grab those. Now.”
I giggle and take them off the shelf.
By the time we get back to my apartment the delivery truck is waiting outside. Paul and his friend unload everything and start carrying the dresser upstairs. I rush ahead of them to unlock and open the door. When I get to my door, Jeremy is leaning against the door jam.
“Jeremy, what are you doing here?”
Hearing my surprise, Paul looks around the dresser and almost drops his end. “Steady there,” his friend says.
Paul gives Jeremy an intimidating look and tells his friend, “I got it, keep going.”
As he passes Jeremy, Paul gives him a nod that lacks any friendliness.
Once Paul and his friend are inside the house, Jeremy says, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our date. I was going to text before coming over, but I wanted to say this in person.” He reaches out and touches my fingers, hooking onto them. I want to pull them out of his grip, but Jeremy seems like a nice guy and I don’t want to make a big deal out of this even if I can feel Paul’s eyes at my back.
I glance behind me, just to confirm, and there he is, at the threshold. His hands are tucked protectively in his pockets to hold himself back, his jaw clinched as if he’s ready to toss Jeremy down the stairs.
Paul and his friend make several more trips up the stairs, slowing down when they get near me and Jeremy—I suspect it’s to eaves drop.
Jeremy seems oblivious to the intrusion and says, “Let me take you out again. I can cook this time. I make a mean fettuccini alfredo.
Paul has come to a complete stop and his friend seems just as intrigued by my conversation with Jeremy. Paul looks ready to launch out of his skin.
“You’re a really great guy, Jeremy,” I say, “and I had fun last night, but I have a boyfriend now.” I glance over at Paul and his stunning blues meet my gaze and he drops an inch of height as his body relaxes. I grin at him, and he shows a ghost of a smile as he goes back into the apartment with the last of the furniture.
I like the sound of that word in my ears when referring to Paul. Boyfriend . I like the
I park in front of Hush , a small adult novelty store. We get out and head inside. I’m carded to make sure I’m at least eighteen, which Paul finds amusing.
The place is packed with rank, hairy men that look as though they bathe in Crisco. I feel eyes following me through the story. Paul must notice it too because he puts a protective arm around my waist and we walk like that the entire time.
“So what are we looking for here?” he asks with a boyish smile touching his lips.
I pick up a large bottle of strawberry flavored lube. “Oh, I don’t know. Just browsing,” I say in the same casual tone he’d used on me in the furniture store.
I put the lube back on the shelf with the others. From the corner of my eye I watch him pick it back up and carry it with him. “By all means, take whatever you want,” he says.
I’m looking at a wall of vibrating eggs. He grabs one off the shelf that has a cord and battery pack. He’s like a little kid in a candy story, stealthily putting things in the cart after his mother had put it back on the shelf. Next I make my way to the toys. There are all kinds of dildos: little, big, and absolutely brutal. I pick up one shaped like a fist and fight laughter when his eyes stretch to fill his face.
He says, “Trust me, that won’t fit.” He leans over and whispers in my ear, tickling my skin. “I’m lucky that tiny little hole of yours fits me … very lucky.” He kisses me on the jaw and I’m starting to wonder if we’ll even make it the apartment before I maul him with my vagina.
I have a lovely collection of my own dildos—and they’re all quite junior compared to the fist of fury—so I bypass those and finger a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Looking back over my shoulder, Paul’s eyes are ballooning out of his head again and he’s over-eager when he says, “Yes. Grab those. Now.”
I giggle and take them off the shelf.
By the time we get back to my apartment the delivery truck is waiting outside. Paul and his friend unload everything and start carrying the dresser upstairs. I rush ahead of them to unlock and open the door. When I get to my door, Jeremy is leaning against the door jam.
“Jeremy, what are you doing here?”
Hearing my surprise, Paul looks around the dresser and almost drops his end. “Steady there,” his friend says.
Paul gives Jeremy an intimidating look and tells his friend, “I got it, keep going.”
As he passes Jeremy, Paul gives him a nod that lacks any friendliness.
Once Paul and his friend are inside the house, Jeremy says, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our date. I was going to text before coming over, but I wanted to say this in person.” He reaches out and touches my fingers, hooking onto them. I want to pull them out of his grip, but Jeremy seems like a nice guy and I don’t want to make a big deal out of this even if I can feel Paul’s eyes at my back.
I glance behind me, just to confirm, and there he is, at the threshold. His hands are tucked protectively in his pockets to hold himself back, his jaw clinched as if he’s ready to toss Jeremy down the stairs.
Paul and his friend make several more trips up the stairs, slowing down when they get near me and Jeremy—I suspect it’s to eaves drop.
Jeremy seems oblivious to the intrusion and says, “Let me take you out again. I can cook this time. I make a mean fettuccini alfredo.
Paul has come to a complete stop and his friend seems just as intrigued by my conversation with Jeremy. Paul looks ready to launch out of his skin.
“You’re a really great guy, Jeremy,” I say, “and I had fun last night, but I have a boyfriend now.” I glance over at Paul and his stunning blues meet my gaze and he drops an inch of height as his body relaxes. I grin at him, and he shows a ghost of a smile as he goes back into the apartment with the last of the furniture.
I like the sound of that word in my ears when referring to Paul. Boyfriend . I like the
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