I bite my fingernail to the bed. “Afterwards, I got sad. I broke down. Ryke came in and called my therapist. I talked to her and managed to stop crying. That’s it. That was my glorious night.”
“I thought you got rid of all your toys,” he says, confused. I imagine his brows furrowing and his forehead wrinkling in a bit of disapproval.
Shit.I did tell him that the first time we talked. Along with trashing my porn (which was the truth), I told a lie about ditching my sex toys.
“I lied,” I blurt out the truth. “But I really did throw out my porn.”
“No more lying,” Lo says roughly. “Not with each other and not with our friends. We have to do better.”
“Yeah, I know. I will. That was…that was all before I met my therapist.”
I hear him shift a little, the chair creaking.
“Are you on that ugly orange chair?” I ask.
“No, I’m in my room at my desk.”
“Oh...” I try to picture his room, and just when I’m about to ask, he pipes in.
“What did your therapist say tonight?”
I cringe. “No more self-love for me.” I press my forehead to my knees. “I think it’s going to be impossible though until you get back. It’s been so long; I can’t even imagine…” Not touching myself? Not reaching that high just once….it seems infeasible.
“How old were you when you started touching yourself?”
I kiss my kneecaps, knowing the first moment well because Dr. Banning made me dig through my memories and give it to her. “Nine, but I started doing it to porn at eleven after I found that magazine at your dad’s place.”
“Okay, that’s disgusting,” he snaps. “Please never mention how youmasturbatedto my father’s porn ever again.”
“It was yours, you jackass,” I say lightly, not as offended as I should be I think.
“How do you know?”
“It was inyourshoebox of porn onyourshelf and inyourcloset.”
“Oh. Never mind then.”
I smile. I miss talking to him, even if our conversations aren’t normal on any standards. I don’t think we’ve ever been normal. Maybe that’s why it works.
“Well, that sounds like a solid plan,” I say. “I’ll try to minimize now, but completely eliminate self-love when you return home.”
“That’s the shittiest plan I’ve ever heard.”
“What?” I frown.Thisis not normal. He usually agrees with me.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m there or not. If your therapist doesn’t think it’s a good idea, then it’s probably not one.”
“But that means…I won’t be able to have any kind of sex until you come home…” My pulse speeds up in sudden fear. I know Lo is cutting alcohol completely from his life, but my therapist said that recovering sex addictsshouldn’tstrive towards celibacy forever. It’s an impossible standard to maintain. Sex is a part of human nature.
“Unless it’s with me,” Lo adds.
Now I’m really confused. “I don’t understand. You’re not here. Unless you’re going to mail me a dildo of your dick,” I say hopefully.
“Uh, no. I’m not letting anyone mold my cock for your pleasure. You can have the real thing at the end of March.”
“Then how am I supposed to have sex?”
“What about phone sex?”Ohhhh.Wait…
