Page 364 of S is for SEX

I screamed, and grabbed my face in horror. I couldn’t see. I wiped my hands on my comforter as he dismounted me and started to get his jeans on. I wiped my face again. Covered in his cum, I tried unsuccessfully to wipe my eyes free of his blinding goo. As I heard him buckle his belt, I could finally see a silhouette. A halo.

I squinted.

He smiled. Asshole.

And then he left.

I never saw him again. I spent the next hour trying to clean that sticky mess out of my hair and off of my bed - and two years trying to get the thought of his green bean out of my mind; the green bean and those goddamned lemons. The end result? I have spent the last two years watching porn, and using it as my only means of visual satisfaction. I have become a nymphomaniac - rubbing one out on a whim....to the tune of about a dozen times or so a day.

In my car. On the porch. At work. At a stop light. In the bathroom at the bookstore. School. It didn’t matter. But I just finished my sophomore year in college, and I am so tired of masturbating. I have had enough. I want to get out and get some dick.

Sex. Something sexual. I am ready. I need laid.

“Show me a picture of Randy’s dick,” I begged as I put my beer bottle down on the table. I pulled another out of the bucket of ice on the table.

Heather coughed and laughed. “I can’t believe you.”

“Believe me. I’ve had green bean boy, and seen porn. That’s my sexual experience, to date. All I have ever seen is pictures. Let me see it,” I demanded.

This was not me; it was clearly the alcohol talking. I really wanted to see it. She had talked about it for years. As big as her wrist and a foot long; now that could make up for green bean boy. A dick the size of an arm.

“I know you have a picture on your phone. Everyone does,” I pleaded.

She pulled her phone off of the table, and squinted through her glasses at the screen. As she scrolled through her pictures, I wondered if she really had one. I hoped. I began to try to think what it would feel like to have an actual man inside of me. I shuddered. I’ve been in this bar too long. I didn’t eat. I never eat. I rotated my head from left to right trying to find a clock. There was nothing. I stopped looking, but my head kept spinning - inside. I almost vomited. Everything began to spin, including Heather. Not again.

“I’m drunk.” I declared.

What a surprise.

“Found it,” she said, holding her phone in front of my watering eyes.

I reached for her phone and got a handful of air.

“Chris, you’re toast. Holy shit, what happened?” she asked, laughing.

I held my head with both my hands, trying unsuccessfully to steady it. It felt like I was holding a watermelon. I threw up in my mouth a little bit more than a ‘just a little bit’. Oh wow, I ate something. I really wanted to see Randy’s dick.

Sober up, Christy, sober up.

I swallowed. Oh shit. That burns.

“I’ll be alright. I got here thirty minutes before you. Gimme a minute,” I explained as I attempted to focus on her phone. Just reach out toward it until your fingers touch it. Squeeze and return. I was talking to my brain, and my brain was talking to my hand, but my hand wasn’t listening. It was keeping my head from falling on the floor. I closed my eyes to recharge my brain.

“But in thirty more minutes, I am not going to be half as drunk as you,” she said, laughing.

“Slide it over here, dork. My head is killing me,” with one eye open I held my breath and waited.

She slid her phone across the table. I opened the other eye. I let go of my head with one hand. Success. I reached for the phone. I held it in front of my face and looked at the screen. Black.

“It’s blank.”

“Give it here,” she said in an aggravated tone as she snatched the phone from my grasp.

“There, make it quick,” she said as she handed the phone to me.

I stared at the screen. Randy stood in front of me. The screen was the size of a pack of cigarettes, and I was drunk. One thing, however, was crystal clear. Randy was standing there with an arm that was shaped like a dick hanging from between his legs.

“Jesus, Heather,” I screamed.

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