Page 175 of S is for SEX

“Roger that. Forever. The forever kind.” I nodded my head as I laced up my boots.

“Oh my God Toad, I didn’t mean it. I was just kidding,” she sniffled.

“Well, I’m not. Get dressed,” I said as I leaned over and picked up my knife.

While she cried and complained, she slowly found her clothes and got dressed. Disappointed somewhat at the fact I would no longer be able to explore my sexual desires with Sloan, I found a little humor in knowing more than likely one of the other Sinners would.

I realized through my mental therapy at the Veteran’s Administration that a man’s feelings become real only when shared. It would stand to reason sharing my sexual escapades with the fellas would make my feelings of satisfaction from fucking her for the last three weeks even more profound.

After hearing details of all of my sexual adventures with Sloan, one of the fellas would surely want to give her a try. Which one it might be would be anyone’s guess. Most of the men should be a little more forgiving than I was, and she may even find one who’d put up with her juvenile behavior.

As I held the front door for her, she sniveled and walked past. My patience for her behaving like a sixteen year old high school girl was wearing thin. After standing on the porch and watching her blubber as she stumbled toward the bike, I guess what little sympathy I had for her must have vanished.

“I’m sure one of the other fellas will throw you a little cock,” I said as I raised my leg over the seat.

Through the sniffles and sobs, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and gazed in my direction. After wiping the final tear from her face, her mouth curled into a half-assed smile.

“You really think so?” she asked in a broken voice.

“Hop on, I’ll haul you over to Corn Dog’s house right now. The Dog will fuck anything that’ll hold still long enough for him to finish,” I responded sarcastically.

“I’d really appreciate it,” she sighed as she climbed over the rear fender and onto the seat.

Holy shit, bitch. Have a little self-worth.

I reached for the hand controls and started the bike. As the sound of the engine echoed against the garage door and through the neighborhood, I stared along the driveway and realized my thoughts of women and their inability to be sexually adventurous, loyal, and sane were accurate.

There was no such thing.

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