Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Like he …” she stood and thrust her hips, which only doubled my embarrassment.
“Stop!” I covered my face. “Yes. That.”
“You dry humped. Just say it.”
I dropped my hands. “What?”
Olivia giggled. “Have you never heard of dry humping?”
I didn’t respond.
“It’s rubbing your genitals together with your clothes on. No bodily fluid is exchanged, so it’s, you know … dry.” Olivia was a sex encyclopedia.
I nodded several times.
“Did you orgasm? I’m sure he did. Men will hump anything.”
I winced.
“Oh. No!” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean it that way, like you’re not special, like him dry humping you is equivalent to a dog humping someone’s leg.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
Olivia’s giggles intensified. “I just meant that a guy always orgasms, well maybe not always, but most of the time.”
I tucked my chin and unzipped my toiletry bag. College was a painful experience for the inexperienced.
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a good dry hump. It’s a useful tool for getting off in public situations. I once dry humped with a guy during a football game. I was sitting on his lap, and we had a blanket over us. It was probably the best one I’ve ever experienced because we had to go so slowly that by the time I came, I was dying.”
Olivia having a ranking of her best to worst dry humping experiences didn’t help me feel better. It made me regret not having sex with Matt. My virginity no longer felt like a trophy or even a gift to be given to my future husband. It made me feel like Linus Van Pelt sucking my thumb while hugging a security blanket.
“I did,” I said with as much confidence as possible.
“Did what?”
I cleared my throat. “Um … orgasmed,” I mumbled without going into detail about it being my first one.
“Did you both do it at the same time? That’s the best! Or did you go first and have to wait for him to finish grinding it out?”
Grinding was never a word I equated with any part of sex. I was more of a making-love girl. A synchronized rhythmic dance. A well-choreographed ballet with a symphony and Ben as the conductor.
“Together,” I said. Gosh, it was so hot in the room.
“That’s good because if he comes first, you’re on your own to finish later. Men are too lazy. They don’t know how to fake it like women. They just blow their wad and quit. So we’re like, ‘Oh, you’re done? Yeah, me too. Oh, God! Yes. Yes. YES! It was so good.’ But not guys. If you come first, they don’t care, they just keep on riding along, taking their sweet time. I don’t know why we feel like it’s okay to not only let them be quitters, but to stroke their ego at the same time. Our moms warned us about guys like that, but sometimes you don’t know what you’re getting until it’s too late.”
First, my mom never warned me about guys who failed to keep going until I orgasmed. My mom never said the word orgasm. Second, I was in way over my head. Olivia did proverbial back handsprings off a balance beam while I did one somersault on a crash pad. The most embarrassing part was I felt so proud of myself, like such a woman. There was even a moment afterward that I prayed I wasn’t pregnant.
Two days later I mailed Ben a letter.
Dear Ben,
Sorry I gave you the finger. You were a jerk, but I forgive you. Also, sorry I’ve used the word “I” three times. Let’s try this instead. Gabby misses you already. Olivia says hi and so does Jason. Can you believe there’s six inches of snow here and it’s not even Christmas yet? Remember how excited we used to get when it snowed in Devil’s Head?
Gabby has a test in social science tomorrow that she’s not ready for. She’s envious that you got straight A’s. Are you excited for your birthday? Gabby wishes she could be with you that day. She’ll bring your present when she’s there for Christmas? Speaking of Christmas, have you thought about what you want? Gabby wants mittens. Her gloves are not that warm. She needs to keep her fingers together.
Gabby hopes you don’t regret what happened, except the part where you were a jerk. Gabby thinks you’re a phenomenal kisser. Gabby hopes you don’t let anyone else read this letter. Mostly Gabby hopes you write her back.
Love,
Gabby
Ben didn’t reply.
The following week, I sent Ben a birthday card. Again, no reply.
Then the week before heading home for Christmas break, Olivia had news.
“I hope you don’t hate me,” she said, two seconds after getting back to the dorm room after her last class.
I looked up from my text book. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“Cassidy and Becky are moving to an apartment and they asked me if I wanted to move in with them. It’s three bedrooms, and they need one more person. I talked to my parents, and they’re fine with it.” She wrinkled her nose. “So I’m moving out at the end of the semester.”