by Meghan Quinn
Was I living out a Magic Mike moment?
I was, because Ginuwine’s voice boomed through the speakers and spotlights hit the back of the stage, where three men wearing baggy jeans came up on stage, all holding their crotches and thrusting their way in our direction.
I wanted to giggle; I wanted to put a pack of ice on my face to cool it down; I wanted Henry’s penis in my hand to squeeze while I watched these three men gyrate to an extremely naughty song. I was all over the place with my emotions.
Jenny leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, “I think I’m going to need a man after we’re done with this.”
I couldn’t agree more. The song, the lighting, the abs rolling up and down, creating a tidal wave of sex, were impossible to ignore. This was hot, and I was getting more turned on by the minute.
I hadn’t watched Magic Mike until some of the ladies in my Facebook groups started talking about Channing Tatum’s dance moves, so I decided to give it a whirl. When Henry wasn’t home. Of course. I’d never been exposed to such erotic boogying, nor had I ever seen a man in a thong. I had sex with Henry four times that night. He thought it was his new cologne—which, yes, smelled amazing—but it was me envisioning Henry as Channing Tatum, humping my face on stage wearing only a red G-string.
I fanned my face just thinking about it.
Ginuwine continued to sing as all three men stripped their pants off at the same time. They were wearing matching blue man thongs and moved in tandem to the music. Tidal wave of sex was right.
Remembering the task at hand, I evaluated each man. The one on the right had a massive amount of abs, but I couldn’t get over the fact that his nipples looked like little puff balls. Why weren’t they hard? Non-hard man nipples should be flat, not like someone tried to inflate them but failed miserably. He was a no for me.
The man in the middle, now he had great nipples, hard and pointy, just the way Delaney liked them. His abs were great, and he was completely hairless, but as he stepped forward, I noticed his package wasn’t as jiggly as Delaney would have wanted. They were all thrusting in the air, and his barely moved. Made me wonder, did he stuff? No jiggle to the junk meant no bachelorette party. He was a no.
“Oh my God,” Jenny said, as she pinched my thigh.
“Ouch.” I rubbed my leg. “Why are you pinching me?”
Jenny nonchalantly pointed at the man on the left. He had dark brown hair, great nipples, fantastic abs, and . . . oh, my God.
“His balls are enormous.”
“Are those apples in there or a man’s sack?” Jenny asked, unable to tear her gaze away.
All three men were on the edge of the stage, holding on to their heads and thrusting their hips, as if they were trying to consummate with the lights above them. Middle man had no reach, but by the earthquake shaking in left man’s banana hammock, I was afraid his boulders were going to roll out and sit on our laps.
Henry had great balls, such a lovely nut sac to touch and play with. But the balls up on stage, the man pouch bouncing at us, shaking its change, that was one piece of junk that actually terrified me. One slap from those in the face and you’d need a frozen penis pop placed on your eye to avoid bruising.
He was perfect.
They finished up the song by turning around to show us their butt flexing, which, in all honesty was pretty impressive. I flexed my butt along with them, trying to stay in beat to the music.
Once the dance was over, the lights came on and the lady helping us earlier came out of nowhere. I clapped, not really sure if I was supposed to or not, and Jenny joined in with me after she realized I was the only one cheering for the penis parade that just came through the room.
“Thank you, gentlemen. Ladies, did you see anything you liked?”
Before I could stop myself, I said, “Giant man balls was fantastic. We’ll take him home for our bride.”
I heard it the minute it left my lips. The men chuckled and man balls looked incredibly uncomfortable.
“I didn’t mean it like that, like I was going to take him back to our lair so we could pay homage to his potato sack. There will hopefully be some light tapping with his penis to the bride’s face, but there will be no tongue involved. She just wants a good whack from one more random penis before she walks down the aisle. You can understand that, right?”
The room was silent, and not even a pin dropped to echo through the lull in conversation.
“Well, we’ll schedule Makhi for your party. We have your deposit, so I think we’re all set here, thanks, ladies. You know your way out.”
Not even bothering to shake the lady’s hand or wave bye to Man Balls Makhi, we directed ourselves to the front door and let ourselves out onto the streets of New York.
“That wasn’t embarrassing at all,” Jenny said, looking at her phone.
“I shouldn’t be allowed to speak to other humans.”
Jenny didn’t disagree with me. “Pretty much. This was fun and all, but I think I might have scored a date tonight. Thank you, Tinder. I’ll catch you later. Go hump your boyfriend’s face.”
After what I just saw, pretty sure that was on the docket for tonight.
“Where the hell is he?” I asked Sir Licks-a-Lot, who was sitting on top of the armrest of the couch, picking something out of his nail with his teeth. The sound was revolting, causing my stomach to roll. Lately, it felt like everything was upsetting my stomach and the only cure was Henry.
It was hard to cure myself, though, when he hadn’t come home yet.
It was nine o’clock, and not even a text message or a call. Mind you, I’d sent him about eight annoying girlfriend messages, and I’d called him twice, well, twice on his work phone and twice on his cell phone.
Nothing.
Not even a “Hey, love, I’ll be home in an hour.”
If the universe didn’t want humans to communicate with each other at the drop of a pin, cell phones wouldn’t have been invented.
Being the creepy stalker I was, I checked my phone to find his location. Yes, we were those people who could locate each other by clicking on an app on our phone. According to my phone, he was still at work. Did he plan on staying all night?
Frustrated, I called Delaney to bitch to her. She answered on the third ring.
“How did the stripper auditions go today?”
I rolled my eyes. I forgot she made the appointment.
“Just great, picked out a real stud for you and embarrassed myself while doing so.”
“Did you poke his peen?” Delaney asked with sorrow in her voice, as if it was something I would actually do.
“No, I did not poke his peen. I called him man balls, though.”
“Oh, I like the sound of this. Does he have giant balls? Please tell me they are two grapefruits waiting to suffocate me.”
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” I wasn’t in the mood to go into detail. I was annoyed, irritated, and sexually frustrated. I wasn’t one to take things into my own hands, but right now, I thought about grabbing the stupid bullet and giving myself a quickie, a little twiddle-diddle.
“You sound crabby. What’s got your underwear twisted in a knot?”
“I want sex,” I shouted, scaring Sir Licks-a-Lot. Satisfaction ran through me until he made that I’m going to puke noise and arched his back. In seconds, he puked up a claw chunk and hairball masterpiece, right on my purse. Like the bastard he was, he smiled at me and took off.
I kicked a couch pillow across the room out of frustration.
“Okay,” Delaney said. “Why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend right now?”
“You would think.” I started to pace the length of our living room. “But he’s not home. He’s still at work. I feel like for the past week that’s all he’s been doing, working. We haven’t had sex in a really long time. I’m concerned.” No. I was more than concerned. I was upset. I was horny. I was . . . fretting.
“What’s a really long time? Because according
to what Henry told Derk, you two have been sexing it up about three times a day. Isn’t your pussy raw, Rosie?”
“Don’t say that. Gross.” Virginia was holding up fine, except for the possibility that I still felt she was allergic to Henry’s Poseidon.
“Okay, so what’s a long time for you two? Ten hours?”
I wished it was ten hours. I was ashamed to say, because we’d never gone so long . . . ever.
“Four days,” I said sheepishly.
Delaney was silent. Seconds ticked by as I waited with bated breath for her response. Was she thinking what I was thinking? Was Henry cheating on me?
“Say something,” I cried, not able to take the silence.
“I’m sorry. I’m so confused. Four days is like four months for you guys. Have you been initiating and he’s turning you down or vice versa?”
“I’ve been initiating. He is always so busy or tired from work. That’s all he’s been doing—working.” I took a deep breath before saying what had been on my mind. “Do you think he’s cheating on me, Delaney?”
“Never,” Delaney answered immediately, putting my mind at ease. “Henry loves you way too damn much. He would never cheat on you. Is something going on at work? Do you think he’s going to lose his job?”
“I don’t know. He did bring home an invitation the other day to a party for his work. It’s their annual third quarter party. Henry mumbled something about taking me and having to wear something nice. I wonder if he’s worried about that.”
“About what, the party?”
“No, about taking me to it. As you know, I’ve gained some weight—”
“You’re insane,” Delaney shouted into the phone. “That boy is so beyond infatuated with you it’s ridiculous. There is no way in hell he would be ashamed of taking you to that party.” She pondered for a second. “Let me talk to Derk and see if I can dig anything up. Maybe Henry told him something when they were drinking the other night.”
Just as I was thanking her, Henry came through the front door.
“Hey, I have to go,” I said quickly. “See what you can find out. Talk to you later.”
I hung up quickly and turned to see Henry taking off his tie, exposing a patch of his tanned and toned chest. Just like that, I was ready to have him. His sleeves were rolled up and his jacket thrown over one shoulder. He looked sexy as sin.
“Hey, love. Sorry I’m late. Rough day at work.”
Instead of coming over to me to give me a kiss, he went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He popped the top off and tossed the cap to Sir Licks-a-Lot, who liked chasing them around the apartment. Lately, those two had started to get along. I didn’t like it . . . at all.
I hated that he wasn’t giving me the attention I craved, and then I remembered the unanswered phone calls and text messages I’d sent him. Rage began to boil over, and I warned whoever could read my mind that I wasn’t responsible for what I was about to say.
“Why didn’t you text or call me? It would be nice to know that you’re alive and not run over by some drunk fruitcake in a taxi.”
“I was just trying to get done as quickly as possible. I’m sorry.”
“It takes two seconds to let me know you’re alive, Henry.”
“I’ll do better next time.” He walked by me to the couch, where he sat down and put his feet up on the coffee table. Again. No kiss. Oh God. This wasn’t good at all. He’s not even kissing me. My world tilted on its axis as Sir Licks-a-Lot jumped on Henry’s lap and lay down. It wasn’t until Henry started petting his head that I lost it.
“What is going on?” I shouted. “Why don’t you want to have sex with me?”
Henry was about to turn the TV on when he stopped himself and looked at me. “What are you talking about, love?”
“Henry, we haven’t had sex in four days. Four days. Do you not find me attractive anymore? Is it because you saw the skinny jeans struggle? I’ll tell you right now, every woman has to do those kind of moves to put skinny jeans on. It’s not an easy thing.”
Henry set his beer on the coffee table and shook Sir Licks-a-Lot away. Walking to me, he grabbed my hips and pulled me into him. His green-blue eyes sparkled as they took me in and his side smirk made me all gooey inside.
“I liked watching you put on skinny jeans.”
“Then, what is it? Do I smell? I take a shower every day. Douching isn’t good for you.”
“Stop.” Henry chuckled. “I’ve been busy, Rosie. Busy, and I’m tired. I just needed a break.”
“A break from me?” I gasped, horrified.
He clung to me tighter. “No, I needed time to collect my head. I’m going through some things at work right now. I’m afraid . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to figure out his words. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you, okay? So just give me some time to figure things out.”
I’d known Henry for a long time, and I had generally understood anything he’d tried to tell me, but right now, I’d never felt so confused in my life.
“I don’t understand. What are you figuring out? What’s going on at work? Is this about the party?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Give me a week, okay?”
“A week of what? No sex?” I’ve barely survived four days. I can’t go seven more.
“Just give me a week.” With that, he kissed my forehead and went into the bathroom, where he started the shower.
Give him a week? What the hell was going on? Not liking his idea, I decided he could take his week and shove it up his butt.
Storming into the bathroom, I peeled off my clothes and pinned his naked body against the bathroom wall. Instead of telling me he was tired or shooing me away, he switched positions with me, brought my hands above my head, and kissed me like he couldn’t get enough. I’ve missed this. Needed this. I melted into the wall as his lips explored mine and his erection pressed against my thigh. Already thick and needy.
Talk about mood swings . . . you would think the man was going through some kind of hormonal change.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he whispered across my skin.
Hurt me? When had he ever said anything like that?
“You never hurt me,” I answered back, loving the way his mouth felt against my breasts.
He ran his mouth down to below my belly button, releasing my hands and kneeling before me. “No penetration tonight, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” I asked, gripping the wall, so I didn’t fall over from need.
“Just in case.” And then he spread my legs and pressed his mouth against my very wet and needy slit.
His weird comment left me as I fell into a euphoric state of pleasure from his magic tongue. Who knew one muscle on a human’s body could bring this much pleasure?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Meerkats, Pads, and Yetis
ROSIE
“That dress is perfect, Rosie. You have to get it. Henry will die when he sees you in it.”
“You think?” I asked, checking out my reflection in the mirror. The dress was black and tight, clinging to every inch of my body. It wasn’t something I would normally wear, something Lucille Ball would never even consider. That was how I judged my apparel . . . if Lucille Ball would wear it, then so would I. But desperate times called for desperate measures in this case. “I need a better bra to wear with this dress, though.” I stared at my flattened boobs in disgust.
“Yes, well, one would think you wouldn’t wear a sports bra when going to pick out a dress, but you do prove norms wrong,” Delaney said.
I felt my boobs and rubbed them in a circular pattern. “They’ve been super sore lately. A bra with underwire didn’t seem appealing. I have a strapless bra with a front clasp that will work, though, super heavy underwire in it. With that, I really think I can get some lift with these puppies.” I pulled up my boobs, but cringed when they ached in my hands.
Boobs weren’t supposed to ache in my hands; they were supposed to ache with need for Henry’s hands.<
br />
“I’m sure you have a great bra. If you’re going to get that dress, you better get it now. Don’t you have that date with Wolf Shirt Wendy?”
I checked the time on my phone and squeaked. “Ah, I’m going to be late.” I shut the dressing room door, took the dress off as quickly as possible, and put on my outfit for the day . . . yoga pants again. I did some Pinterest searches recently and found cute ways to dress up yoga pants and leggings. Who knew scarves could make you look fancy?
My workout routine didn’t feel like it was doing anything. I went to many spin classes with Delaney, and all it did was eat up my vagina . . . and not in a good way. I thought my crotch was sore before, but I didn’t think I could even sit without a pad on if I wanted to.
Yes, I’d started wearing a pad every day to protect my area from hard benches and wooden chairs. That was why I’d started doing Pinterest research. I wound up making an entire board full of ways to look cute in leggings. And yes . . . they were pants.
I tossed the dress at Delaney when I exited the dressing room and said, “Purchase that for me. I’ll pay you back.”
“You better. I’m saving my money for the stripper. I plan on showering him with ones, especially if he has big balls like I expect.”
I zipped up my boots and adjusted my scarf. “You promise that dress is good? You don’t think the fabric is too thin? It felt a little thin for a dress that’s so tight.”
“It’s perfect. I will pick you up some Spanx so they provide an extra layer under the dress.”
“Get me a large,” I called out, while waving and taking off toward the exit.
I was meeting Wolf Shirt Wendy at the Park Hyatt across from Central Park. She had a surprise for me; I just hoped she hadn’t invited me to some freaky sex party.
If I was honest, I was also very nervous. I’d finished my book the other day and sent her the last chapter. She was going to give me feedback, and after the last critique I had, I felt like I was going to throw up.
Since the hotel was only a couple blocks away, I hoofed it across the streets of New York City, bumping into strangers as I tried to text Henry. It was a Saturday, and once again, he was at work. He was working so much that Sir Licks-a-Lot had started to whine at night; it was a real treat while writing, having a horrible screech ring through your ears every minute. Not.
