The Randy Romance Novelist(32)
“Of course,” I laughed. “I was just kidding.” I placed the strap-on back on the shelf and checked out their neon collection. I really was kidding about the whole strap-on thing, but once I started talking about it, I actually thought it might be fun. But by the horrified expression on Henry’s face, I knew it would be a no-go. Too bad.
Curiosity wreaked havoc on my brain; it might be fun to be a guy for the night. See what the big deal is all about. Why was having a penis the equivalent to obtaining some kind of superpower? My vagina didn’t seem all that magical. It was a hole covered by a deli blanket. What was so special about that? At least with a penis, you could flop it around, maybe set it on an unsuspecting leg. Pull your ball skin through your zipper hole and place it on your jeans, and then tell someone there was gum stuck on them, only for them to see your gross scrotum. What a treat.
“I would like to have a penis for a day,” I blurted out, stroking the packaging to a rather large-sized vibrator that had a scary looking clitoral stimulator at the bottom of it. “There is so much I want to know.”
“Oh, yeah?” Henry asked, tossing a pancake-sized condom at me. “Make each lady wear one of those on their legs for the night. Last one to tear a hole in their condom wins.”
I observed the giant dick sleeve and laughed. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“So, you want a penis?” Henry continued for me.
“Yeah, just for a day. I want to see what it’s like to look down and see my junk hanging from between my legs. I want to walk up and down the hallway and watch it sway with my movements. I want to stroke it and make it happy and see what it feels like. I want to do the helicopter, I want to do jumping jacks, pretty much anything that will make it flop around, I want to do that. I want to adjust myself in front of a room of people and not care. I want to closely examine my balls and possibly get kicked in the family jewels, just to see what it feels like.”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Henry interrupted me. “You don’t want to get kicked in the nut sac. I will tell you right now, it will feel like someone took an empty wine bottle and tried to shove it up an imaginary tunnel that connects your balls to your stomach; you will want to throw up for days.”
“Ugh, men are so dramatic. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that bad.”
Henry crossed his arms over his chest, a challenge in his eyes. “Want me to kick you in the crotch and see how that feels? Bet you’ll be singing a different tune once you get a foot to the cooch.”
I placed my hands on my hips, throwing his challenge right back at him. “It’s all bone down there; of course it’s going to hurt. It would be like getting kicked in the shin.”
“Wait, are you trying to say that getting kicked in the shin is worse than getting kicked in the crotch?” Henry shook his head in disbelief. “You’re losing it, love.”
Defiance was my middle name right now. “Have you ever been kicked in the shin?”
“Yes, I have, and I can tell you right now it’s nothing like being kicked in the dick.”
“Let’s see,” I said, cocking my foot back.
Without even blinking, Henry stepped away and covered his crotch with his hands. “Are you insane right now?”
Putting my foot down, I laughed out loud. A maniacal screech of hysteria ripped through my body and popped out of my mouth. Uncontrollably, I heaved in amusement, gripping on to the display of edible underwear, and from the look on Henry’s face, he was confused and partially terrified.
Men were so protective of their penises.
I laughed to the point that tears started to fall down my cheeks and the store clerk had to ask Henry if I was losing my mind.
Anyone else would have laughed at the judgmental store clerk, but from the mention of losing my mind, I thought about how, lately, it felt like I was, and how Sir Licks-a-Lot was driving me crazy, and how he liked to hump Henry’s shirts and stare at us while having sex, and even paw my nipples at night without my permission. I hated that he made them hard each time; bestiality was not my thing, but Sir Licks-a-Lot sure thought it was, the pervert.
Before I knew it, my laughter turned into full-on tears, sobbing uncontrollably, very wet tears. I covered my face and slouched against the edible underwear, emotion causing a tidal wave of sorrow to blast through my body.
Henry knelt before me and removed my hands from my face so I had to look at him through my blurry, water-soaked eyes.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “I love you, Rosie, but what I just witnessed can only be described as something straight from a Stephen King book.” He took a deep breath and continued, “You’re laughing your face off like a lunatic one second, so much that I could have swung like Tarzan from your uvula, and then the next second you’re crying like you had to sit down to catch yourself. You’re scaring me.”
A few tear-soaked hiccups popped out of me while I tried to catch my breath. I wiped my eyes, trying to dab around them to avoid makeup smearing, but unfortunately, I knew deep down there was no hope for me; it was going to look like a jail cell was smeared down my face.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” I answered honestly, still trying to catch my breath. “That guy asked if I was losing my mind, and I think I am.”
Henry pulled me up off the floor and kissed the top of my head. “I think you’ve had an exciting day, that’s all.”