Just the thought of it has my gut twisting in knots.
The woman on-screen moans—loudly. She’s on her hands and knees, doggy-style, and there’s a giant dildo suction cupped to her headboard. Her tits bounce with every thrust and she’s giving an enthusiastic performance, but it’s not doing shit for me.
The only woman I want to see in the throes of passion is Piper.
Yeah, but are you man enough to please her?
The insidious question is the real reason I bolted Sunday. Sure, she seemed to enjoy oral sex, but for all I know she was faking.
Christ. I hadn’t considered the possibility until this moment.
I’d just been wondering how I could deliver in bed when she’s got so much experience and I’m a goddamn virgin. Sure, I know the mechanics of sex, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be good at it. I have no idea how to please a woman in that regard.
Or how to tell if she’s faking.
The prospect of disappointing Piper, of not being enough for her, sits like a stone in my gut.
The woman on-screen climaxes and I’m comparing her performance to the sounds Piper made when my bedroom door swings open and Parker barges in.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” His eyes go straight to my computer and I attempt to close the laptop, but he’s too quick.
He grabs it off the desk and holds it up for closer inspection.
“Ever hear of knocking?”
He snorts. “Bruh. Rule number one of watching porn is to lock the door.”
“I’m not watching porn.”
I’m studying it.
“Whoswatchinpor?” Coop appears at the door. There’s a blob of white foam at the corner of his mouth, and his toothbrush dangles from between his lips.
Jesus Christ. Does he have some kind of internal radar that helps him home in on sex talk?
“If that shit drips on my carpet, you’re cleaning it up.”
“Uh, uh.” He shakes his head. “Don’t try to change the subject.”
“Vaughn was getting a little triple X action before study hall,” Parker offers.
Coop snorts. “Looks pretty vanilla to me.”
Great. I don’t even know how to watch porn correctly.
If you want advice, go to the experts.
I study my roommates, debating.
Am I really going to take advice from a guy who’s got toothpaste dripping from his mouth?
Yes, I am. My boys might be commitment phobes, but they’ve got more experience than me.
Talk about irony.
The one guy in the house who actually wants a relationship is also the most clueless.
“Can I ask you a serious question?”
