Haven and I made a lovely pair when she got home. Not only was she bitchy, but also frustrated. Harold was gay. I probably should have realized that prior to making the date, but it wasn’t until he came to the door that I’d known for sure. If I had been a true friend, I would have warned her. The fact was she needed to go out, and Harold, gay or not, appeared to be a nice person. And after my evening, I wished Haven had stayed home and I would have gone out with Harold.
I chose to tell her my woes. Misery loves company, so share the pain. Well, I made the pain part more palatable. I had a feeling if she knew how uncomfortable it really was, she’d hold on to her V-card forever. I had no doubt I would be aching tomorrow. I’d exercised muscles I’d never used before and then some. I described the entire ordeal in Technicolor. Haven’s jaw dropped when I outlined every single detail down to the bloody towels and what he said.
Haven’s hand flew to her mouth. “Okay, enough with the narrative. Wow, just wow. Kind of happy Harold turned out to be gay. I mean, honestly, it doesn’t sound romantic or inviting. What were you thinking?” she asked as she shook her head. “Weezie, tell me the truth. You aren’t toting a penis are you? Because I swear, everything is sexual with you. You do realize Joey is going to broadcast this all over campus.”
I nodded. “Well, it started out as just a blow—”
Haven’s hand flew up in front of my face.
“Oh my God. Please stop calling it a blowjob—you promised,” she whispered quietly, as if someone would hear her through the walls.
“Okay, no cock sucking, BJ, hoovering, slurpin’ the gherkin, or fellatio. Ooh, I love how fellatio just rolls off my tongue,” I cooed as I watched her turn ten shades of red. I laughed. I loved rattling her cage. Haven was such a prude; it was a miracle we ever became best friends.
“Stop. Please. We made a deal. You swore you’d refer to that as puff chore. At least around me.”
“Okay, pinky swear, but things would change if you would try it. I promise you that,” I said as I tossed her a banana from the fruit bowl.
Haven dropped it as if it were on fire. “Stop it, Weezie,” she hissed.
I snickered and rolled my eyes, picking up the banana as I flopped on the sofa. “Okay, sweetie, you came up with a less vulgar term for a—what I love to do. So whenever I’m around you, it will be forevermore a puff chore, aka sucking cock. I swear,” I said as I mimicked sucking the banana.
“You are so rude. I mean really. I leave the dorm for two hours, and you’re off doing porn practically.” Haven huffed.
“I hardly think that… which will remain nameless for now and losing my virginity constitutes porn. It’s not as if I was paid. And speaking of deflowering—and I’m only using that term because you read that fucking historical smut—you do realize at some point, you’re going to have to tear off those big girl panties and start wearing butt floss?”
“Shut up.” Haven laughed as she tossed a throw pillow. “Eat your banana—no, not like that.” And she tossed her hands in the air in defeat as I began deep throating the fruit.
*****
I was actually surprised. There were no repercussions or fallout from the events of the previous night. In the upcoming months, I hardly saw Joey, and when we did cross paths, I ignored him. I was anxious to do it again. He’d been right when he said I had nothing to compare it to. So I would gladly take his advice and do a comparison test.
Things were getting better. Not that they weren’t good before, but now life appeared to be opening up—for both Haven and me. Our relationship blossomed. She got me. We had great times together, and we were able to share our worries, dreams, and emotional baggage. Both of us had come from a good family, had outstanding parents, and we were seemingly well adjusted. For me, though, I lived for the sexual contact. Sure, having actual sex now was fabulous, but I still thrived when I could give a blowjob. I found intercourse passionate and hot, but for me personally, it was all about giving oral.
It was a salacious act for me. Fucking didn’t give me the same high, probably because I was never in charge. I was still a novice and hadn’t discovered how to take the control I craved. It was very disconcerting to never be on top—literally. It was nothing compared to having my hand wrapped snuggly around their cock and licking it as if it were a frozen treat. It was my mouth, my lips, and my hands doing it all. No one ruled me. I enjoyed intercourse. I just didn’t like giving authority to some random man I was simply using for sex. For me, a relationship was out of the question. I loved variety. I loathed eating at the same place twice unless the meal was extraordinary… That’s why I frequented buffets. You got to sample a little of everything. Men were like that.
“You’re going out with Eric—again? Oh, Haven, that makes four dates. You do know what’s required on the fourth date?” I questioned as I arched my eyebrows up and down, trying to look dastardly.
Haven turned and paused, her face tense. “Huh, what? It’s only a movie.”
I laughed. Famous last words. “I did tell you I gave my first puff chore at the movies?”
“La-la-la…” Haven squealed as she covered her ears with both hands. “Oh my God, Weezie, we’re going to see a French documentary. I seriously doubt Eric will be whipping his—you know what out.”
“Cock! I think the word you’re searching for is cock. And for your information, if there are food or beverages involved, he’ll probably expect something… something,” I quipped. “Of course, that angelic frock you’re wearing might save you. Fuck, Haven, please for everything that is holy, LET ME DRESS YOU.”
Haven flopped down on her bed, fingering her collar. It was tighter than the invisible chastity belt she wore. My bestie needed saving. Badly. I ran into my room and began going through my closet. I knew she wouldn’t wear most of the things I owned—too porno. But anything would be better than that high-collared dress from hell. I finally found a red little number. Short but tailored. A nice sweetheart collar and button-down front. Easy access. I would keep that important bit of info to myself.
As I handed it to her, I watched as she inspected the dress. “Don’t you think it’s kind of short?”
I groaned as I rolled my eyes. “Sweetie, it’s the longest dress I own. At least this one doesn’t require a beaver cut.”
Haven blushed deeply. She was such a killjoy. Maybe Eric could fuck that puritanical out of her. I should have probably schooled her in what to expect.
“You’re not on your period, are you?”
Haven stood up and clutched the dress. “Jesus, Weezie, a little personal, don’t you think?” she scolded.
“Just curious. I didn’t want us to have twin massacre events.”
Haven’s mouth gaped open as she shook her head. “Good-bye—go away please,” she uttered as she pushed me toward her bedroom door.
“Wait. Condoms.”
“Get. Out. Now.” She huffed.
“He’ll probably have some anyway,” I said optimistically as I padded into the living room, snickering.
I could hear her mumbling under her breath. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t caught with her pants down. I giggled. Her and the dreaded granny underwear. I quickly ran back into my room and grabbed a lacy thong out of my drawer. I quietly opened up Haven’s door and tossed them in. Hopefully, she would have enough sense to wear them, just in case. I could imagine the look on Eric’s face as he fumbled, trying to remove those old lady briefs.
Haven came out ten minutes later. Wow. The dress looked really pretty on her.
“Get rid of the glasses. Totally ruins the entire look.” I snorted.