Across the room, sticking straight out of the wall is a very furry, life-sized horse head. I’m paralyzed with the craziness of it all, and I barely feel him sliding my panties down my legs. The only thought I have is I hate the fact that I wasted a good waxing for this.
I take a deep breath but before I could let it out, his head is between my thighs. Jon-boy is touching his tongue to my clit and violently shaking his head, trying to turn his entire face into a vibrator. As he motorboats my girl parts, I tap open my phone and make another post: Men Stop believing in the myth. Just move the tongue. Women as a whole do not appreciate the whole motorboat thing between our legs. Thanks. #WorstThirtySecondsOfMyLife
Immediately after starting, he pulls his head up triumphantly and smiles, “Nice, right?”
“Can I…um…use your bathroom?” I say, jumping up.
He rolls his eyes and waves to the door. “Two doors down on the right. Don’t go up the stairs.” He looks at me hard, “Stay. Down. Here. Okay?”
What’s he hiding? His last date chopped up into tiny bite-size pieces or pureed and frozen in little ice cube trays?
Just focus. A one-night stand should not be this hard. I close myself in the tiniest bathroom on earth and look at myself in the mirror. My face has a look of mild panic across it. I run cold water over my hands and dab my cheeks softly with them. I sneak a peek through his medicine cabinet, looking for any medications for sexually transmitted diseases. I find a lot of bottles of antacid. And a mysterious bottle of something neon blue. I clutch my cell phone to my chest and read through my all my social media. My one-night stand is trending. So is#HorseHeadFucking.
If he puts that horse head on, that would lead to a whole new level of awkwardness.
I take a few images of his bathroom and make it into a collage centered around a selfie of me looking absolutely terrified. I caption it:I can feel myself shifting from the: I’m a young sexy single woman phase to a fresh new get me the fuck outta here panic mode.
One of my wonderful followers on Instagram has made a poll about this whole debacle—fifteen percent of my followers believe I’m too much of a chicken to go through with this—eighty-five percent of the people thought I was an eighty-year-old woman.
Fuck this. Sex with motorboating Jon-boy should last no more than five minutes. How much worse could it get?
I walk out and try standing in the doorway seductively. It takes him a few minutes to realize I’m back. He was busy…petting the horse head.
“I love to get a little freaky in bed, don’t you?” he asks, those stupid eyebrows bouncing up and down.
I eye the horse head. “No. No, not really.”
He eyes the horse head as well and frowns. “I have these plastic handcuffs I could…”
“No thanks, really.” I slowly sit next to him.
He shrugs and pops open a bottle of lube with his teeth and squeezes out a handful. That’s right, ahandfulinto his palm. Then he slathers my nether regions with it.I gasp out fifty shades of put that shit away. I don’t think he heard.
There has to be a blurry spot in my memory, because the next thing I know, Jon-boy is humping the inside of my leg with complete wild abandon. There’s so much lube down there he thinks the cavernous gap of my thighs is my vagina.I have found the loophole to this disaster.There’s seriously no penetration going on. He better hurry or this shit is going to get real sticky.
“Hey, can you put in the article how big I am?” he pants, slamming his pint-sized penis into my thigh.
“Um, yeah sure.”
“Say it,” he says, gasping and heaving.
“You’re, um, big.”
I swear the horse head is staring at me.
“Again,” he says, pumping into my leg faster.
“You areso big,” I say, pulling my phone close and thumbing out another post:Lube is your friend.#GelatinousGlobsOfGoodness
He abruptly stops when a huge queef bubbles up from the middle of my thighs and echoes throughout the room. “Was that you?”
“Me? Um, well there’s a lot of lube…”
“That’s quite okay. I like it. It’s dirty.” Oh my God, he’s breathing in deeply. Is he trying tosmellit?
He pulls back and slides his cock over my feet.What in the actual fuck?
“Oh, Mommy,” he murmurs.
