Screwmates(27)

He leaned in so he was only a couple inches from my face, and said sternly, “I’m coming, and that’s the end of the story.”

The sudden transition to professor mode was hot. I couldn’t argue with Hot Professor Marc.

“Fine,” I said with a huff. “But if you’re coming, you’re paying for half of anything I buy.” Seemed only fair since the lingerie was as much for him as it was for me.

He didn’t argue.



Half an hour later, Marc and I stood wide-eyed inside the door of Get it On, the closest “adult store” to our house, according to Siri.

It was a veritable sex wonderland. The very air itself was scented with edible strawberry lube. Bins of dildos competed for attention with racks of sexy nurse and French maid costumes. There was an entire aisle devoted to anal. An entire aisle. This was absolutely going into the Screwmates sitcomic.

Also, it was very clear to me that the entire rest of the world was having more and better sex than I’d ever even dreamed of experiencing. It made me want to go right back to hiding in my room, to be honest. I was so much further out of my depth than I’d even known. But no, no. This was me moving out into the big world, no nervousness. I was learning from the sex thing.

“When you said we were getting lingerie, I was thinking something more like Victoria’s Secret,” Marc said under his breath.

“Victoria’s Secret is, sadly, not in our budget.” I picked up a shopping basket. “Well. If we’re doing this…”

Marc took the basket from my hand and returned it to the stack. He grabbed a cart instead and rolled up beside me. “I think this situation calls for a bigger boat.”

According to the signs hanging from the ceiling, lingerie was in the back of the store. Of course. Meaning that no matter what way we took to get there, we’d have to walk past a lot of crazy shit. Crazy, intriguing, terrifying shit. I couldn’t wait.

“This way,” Marc said, turning down the DVD aisle. Clearly, he was overwhelmed. “This section seems manageable.”

Every kind of porn imaginable was featured—straight, gay, stepbrother, BDSM, gang bangs, transgender, role play, celebrity, fake celebrity, My Little Pony (not even kidding—it was next to the cat costume porn), vintage, parody, and so much more. Types of porn I’d never heard of before (balloon porn?). Types of porn I never wanted to hear about again (breast milk porn—I’d never be able to watch Lizzie nurse again. On the other hand, I also knew she was always short on money—I made a note to gently suggest a new side business.

There was a whole section for Kim Kardashian as well as one for Donald Trump, though that one had seemingly been mixed with the clown porn.

“Does anyone have normal sex anymore?” Marc remarked as we made our way slowly down the aisle.

“I think that’s supposed to be this area.” I nodded at the shelves to the side of us.

A position on one of the covers caught my eye—the woman was in a handstand while the guy banged her from behind.

Could we…?

No. We couldn’t. I knew myself too well. The last time I’d done a handstand I’d been seven and I was pretty sure that even then, I’d failed miserably and then collapsed onto my head.

I walked on past. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Marc eyeballing the same video.

I glared in his direction. “You tripped trying to take off your pants, big guy. Stop dreaming.” Then, before he could come up with some retort that would undoubtedly point a finger back in my direction, I took the cart from him and announced that I’d be in the back.

To get to the bras and undies, however, I had to pass the toy section.

It was true that, historically, I hadn’t always climaxed from intercourse alone—thank you female packaging—so perhaps I did need an egg-shaped vibrator to help me along. And what was this? A vibrating cock ring? Well, more good vibes for everybody then.

Then there was this feather tickler thingamajig…

Marc wandered over his arms full with—wait for it—books.

“More books? You have got to be shitting me.”

“What? I found some literature that could help.”

“No. Just no.” I reached for them, pausing when our fingers touched.

“Why not? You said we could do some reading—”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Fifty Shades of Gray.” I inched my hand up the stack, but his fingers were still touching my wrist. I wondered if he could feel my fluttering pulse.

“That’s fiction. We need non-fiction. Like The Kama Sutra—” he nodded to the book on the top of his pile. “Look at it. There are all these suggestions for—”

“Do you remember what I told you about experience being the best teacher?”

“I’m not sure that you’re an authority on teaching practices. Let’s remember which of us has actual teaching experience.”

“Experience. See? You didn’t learn that from a textbook, did you now?”

“We started from a textbook. That’s what these are—textbooks for sex.”

No. No, no, no. The unsexy was setting in again. “No, Marc. Put the books away.”

“I will not.”

If he wasn’t going to put them back, I would. I grabbed onto the books and attempted to pull them from his arms. Somehow I’d forgotten that Marc was strong. Not that I’d had a lot of experience with his strength, but those arms—I should have known I couldn’t take him.