Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Rath drew back.
“Hey, I thought we were friends,” he said, frowning.
Sebastian hissed again and arched his back, doing his best to put himself between me and the big Orc.
“Sebastian, stop!” I said, trying to shove him aside. “Don’t mind him,” I told Rath. “He’s probably just worried because I’m a virgin and you’re so big.”
“You are?” Some of the lust leaked from Rath’s golden eyes and he frowned at me uncertainly.
“Yes, because I tighten up when I try to have sex,” I said. “Or I did the first time—the second time I didn’t get that far because everything went wrong.”
I was no longer having quite such a good time. It occurred to me that I would much rather keep the things I was telling him a secret, but somehow I couldn’t stop talking.
“It did?” Rath asked, frowning.
“Yes,” I said, as my traitorous mouth kept talking, even though I wanted it to stop. “I’ve only tried being with a guy twice, but neither time worked out. The last time was with a guy I really thought I liked, too—but things started going wrong, right from the start.”
“Uh…” He was still on his knees, looking at me doubtfully. Sebastian was looking at me too. I had an idea I ought to stop talking, but I didn’t—I kept right on.
“Things were weird because it was our third date and I knew he expected me to, you know, put out,” I went on. “Like, he’d been hinting about it all night. And to be honest, I wanted to. I mean, how many virgins my age do you meet? Not many, right? So we were on the couch and we were kissing—and he wasn’t nearly as good at it as you are,” I told Rath.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” he remarked, smiling a little.
“Yes, well—that’s when things kind of started going south,” I told him. “Because he started fumbling around, trying to unhook my bra but he couldn’t, which was awkward. I felt like he was mad at me—like I’d worn some kind of extra complicated bra just to spite him. Which I absolutely hadn’t, by the way. I mean a bra is a bra, right? So anyway, I thought maybe he would like it if I tried starting things instead. So I bent over his lap to give him a, you know, a blow job, right?”
“Uh…” Rath was just staring at me again and the smile was now gone from his face.
I had a passing thought that I had just been thinking I was glad he didn’t know about my last date with a guy and here I was telling him about it.
And then my mouth went right on talking anyway.
“I mean, I had never done it before but how hard can it be, right? Open mouth, insert penis. So I bent over, like I said, but when I tried to unzip his zipper, I got my hair caught in it,” I went on. “Which hurt—a lot. So I tried to zip it back up—you know—to get my hair loose? But unfortunately, I zipped too fast and the zipper teeth kind of grabbed the, uh, skin on his, um, his sac, if you know what I mean.”
“Ouch!” Rath winced.
“So up until then, he’d been saying things like, ‘yeah, bitch—suck it!’ But once his ball skin got caught, he started this high-pitched screaming and he honestly sounded like a girl,” my mouth went on, talking relentlessly. “So then my neighbor in the apartment next to mine called the cops because he thought someone was being attacked. So they came and banged on the door…”
Oh God, why was I telling him all this? Why couldn’t I stop?
“The police came to your door?” Rath was looking kind of horrified now—for which I didn’t blame him. But still I kept talking.
“Yes, and my date was still screaming in this high-pitched voice, so they thought someone was being tortured inside,” I told him. “So they broke down the door and found us like that with my head in his lap and both of us still caught in his zipper. So they called the paramedics and of course I couldn’t say anything to explain because I can never talk to people I don’t know—except you,” I added.
“Right.” Rath nodded and I bet he was wondering if I would ever stop talking. But the story wasn’t done yet and my mouth wasn’t finished talking. So I went right on.
“Right—so the paramedics showed up. They cut my hair, which got me loose, but my date was still stuck in his own zipper. So they loaded him into an ambulance and, long story short, I never saw him again. I don’t know if they had to removed his balls, or what.” I shrugged unhappily. “It was just an unmitigated disaster from start to finish.”