Page 115 of The Fed Sex Man

I’d rather be an idiot than a psycho. I regretted saying anything about anything. To anybody. Jenny included. “A psycho? Why do you say that?”

“If you’ve got to ask, that just makes you more psycho.”

“Well, if it makes you happy, I apologized, too.”

“That’s good.” She tugged at the nonexistent hem of her shorts “You should give him a big sloppy BJ. Maybe he’ll forgive you.”

I’d redeemed myself with Tyson. I was determined to do the same with Jenny, come hell or high water. I expected revealing my lack of relationship experience should suffice.

“He’s only the second guy I’ve ever had sex with,” I admitted.

“I’m sorry.” She raised her cupped right hand to her ear. “I thought you just said you were two dicks away from being a virgin.”

“That’s what I said.”

She lowered her hand and gave me a look. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I was.”

She looked me over as if she didn’t know me. “Are you seriously being serious right now?”

“Totally.”

“Ho-Lee-Shit.” She put her hands on her hips and looked me up and down. “It’s no wonder you reacted like you did. You’re basically a thirteen-year-old.”

I was getting vindication for my reaction, but it was embarrassing as hell.

“The first guy was at my cousin’s wedding,” I said. “I was eighteen.”

“Wait. How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine.”

Her eyes bulged. “You went eleven years without sex?”

“Roughly.”

She tugged against the hem of her shorts. “These things feel like they’re eating my twat.” After getting them situated to a point that she at least appeared to be comfortable again, she let out a soft sigh. “Guys can’t wait for sex like that. They need sexual maintenance. Just like regular oil changes in your car.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“They have urges. Constant urges. Itches that need scratched. They’re much different than we are. There are things you need to do, whether they ask for it, or not.”

I wanted sex all the time. I couldn’t imagine anyone having a greater desire. If a man’s chemical makeup was such that he had sexual itches that needed scratched, I needed to know about it. Having my relationship with Tyson collapse due to me not maintaining it, it would crush me.

“You know this for a fact?”

“Listen. I had two dicks in me by the time I was thirteen. I’m ten years ahead of you.” She arched an eyebrow. “It’s regular maintenance, and yes, it’s fact.”

I’d entertain any advice that allowed me to glide through a life with Tyson without turmoil. “Okay. What do I need to do?”

“I’ll do my best to explain it,” she said. “Imagine your clit being, I dunno, like the size of a bratwurst. Everywhere you go, the thing is swinging around in your pants, banging against your leg, falling out of your shorts, stuff like that.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

“It’s got, who knows, something like ten million more pleasure receptors in it, because it’s so freakin’ big. So, when you touch it, it sends a bajillion happy signals to your brain in an instant. When a guy sucks on it you go completely bonkers. Ape shit, or whatever. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can think about is him sucking it again. In fact, you’re infatuated with it.”

I stared blankly at her.