Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
Baby
Without a big dick to suck, it’s no surprise that I’m less sure how to handle things with Logan.
Which is exactly why I find that video and press play.
I cringe a bit when it starts—my voice sounds unfamiliar and ugly, and the angle is doing absolutely nothing to showcase my undeniable beauty, but I power through. I’ve watched it enough times to know that it gets better.
“Look at you.”
I have to force myself to breathe slowly.
That might be my favorite part of the whole video.
I have no choice but to watch myself, to see the same thing he did when he said it, and yet I still don’t understand what it is about me that made him sound so fascinated.
At the moment, those words had left me feeling like I was in actual love with being on my knees for him.
For Logan.
That’s what it is. Him. With Zeke, being on my knees turned into something that made me miserable. It was a thing I felt pressured to do every single time it happened. I hated it, but Logan sprouts some wood in my honor, and I’m suddenly begging for the chance to suck on it.
Seeing Logan’s cock makes mine feel unworthy of the same title. It’s stiff and as big as it gets right now, but I don’t think the word dick is very fitting either. Logan has a cock, while I have a… thingy. Or a ding-a-ling.
I lift my arms and look down, see it being rude as it tries to escape my cute undies, and the word weenie comes to mind.
It’s never been an insecurity of mine, but trying so hard to keep it hidden had me thinking it over.
Guys who are used to women and no dicks aside from their own probably don’t want to look at, touch, or suck on weenies.
The disappointment in that truth doesn’t do anything to hurt my libido. Especially now that I’m left waiting in anticipation for the next part, back to ogling my screen until Logan says, “I’m close, love…”
That’s my favorite part. I whimper, yank the pillow out from under my head, and lay it on my face when the urge to squeal hits me. I’m next-level fucking twitterpated. Love and good boy… sometimes he even makes my name feel more like the endearment it’s supposed to be.
I’d sort of hoped that getting a taste would satiate some of this ravenous need of mine, but it’s done the impossible—gotten worse. The fire that should have burnt out is only growing, becoming more dangerous and threatening, and I’m the idiot who keeps feeding it.
More like teasing it, really. The facefucking was wonderful, but my ass is feeling left out.
Logan left my room after holding me for awhile and I felt alone. But only for a few minutes. He came back to bring me a cup of tea—he thought it’d help.
It’s annoying how thoughtful he is. I couldn’t exactly kick him out after that, so I let him stay with me. On my bed. We had to toss a bunch of my stuffed animals off the bed so we could fit, and then we finished the movie on my laptop. I kicked him out when he started to fall asleep.
I can tell he wanted to touch me, probably spoon me or something else cheesy, but his simply being there was torture enough.
As soon as he left, I—obviously—jerked my weenie off in a fury until I came all over myself.
Disappointment was all that my twitching hole would let me feel once I was done.
It was not at all loose and somehow still felt empty.
Still feels that way because I’m a bad bottom. There is not a single thing in this room I can fuck myself with. Not a dildo or plug to be found. I was horny enough to even check the fridge, but this apartment isn’t exactly the fresh veggie kind of household.
I wonder offhandedly if Cade or Nic use toys and then remember all of Liam’s. When he was in the middle of moving out, I saw a box with a silly logo on the side that was stuffed to the rim with adult toys.
I get up in a hurry. I have to get a move on if I want to be back in bed in time to leave my ass a gaping mess before Logan gets home.
∞∞∞
Stella’s Little Shop of Horny—a sex shop clearly named with me in mind—is way bigger than I expected it to be.
Also, a little less gay than I imagined.
The name alone, the obvious nod to one of my favorite musicals, made me think quaint and definitely queer-focused.
Walking inside now makes it clear that it’s a shop focused simply on sex.
The displays are a little gimmicky—the wall of adorable dildo plushies that I will be coming back to, for example—but I appreciate the cardboard cutouts that make it obvious just who they’re expecting to shop in what sections.
They’ve got trans men wearing strap-ons and women holding whips, posters of massive tits that—huh.
Over two hundred dollars for some fake boobs that dudes can apparently tittyfuck.
Feels a little like a cosmic joke. My own chest is obviously flat, so seeing this—a reminder that some guys like boobs enough to actually slide their dicks between them—makes me…
well, it’s a bummer. It kind of stomps on that brain boner Logan made me aware I had.
Looking down at the big graphic tee shirt I’m wearing, another one I’ve stolen from Nic and Cade’s room, has me bothered that it doesn’t really hide the fact that my chest is bony. I don’t think I actually expected it to, but still. How disappointing.
I’m being crazy. I don’t even want boobs.
“Did you need help finding any—oh.”
“Liam?”
“I didn’t realize it was you,” he says in a stilted voice. Logan has poked fun at my face’s tendency to go full-on fire-truck red, but I’ve got nothing on my old roommate.
“You work here?”
He is wearing a uniform—I think. It’s a tee shirt, baby pink with the store’s logo on it—but it’s cropped enough to give me a view of his smooth lower abs.
It could be merch, but the walkie-talkie on his hip, the earpiece attached to it, and the nametag clearly aren’t.
The answer is yes, even if he doesn’t want to say it.
“Since when?” I ask when he refuses to answer.
He’s too busy being mortified to speak. I don’t want him to faint or something, and with all his blood currently flooding his head, I’m afraid he might.
It has me determined to treat this like it’s no big deal—kind of like I did when he accidentally came out to me by complaining about the boyfriend nobody knew he had.
“I’m—I guess you can help me.” It’s a little awkward, but I’m sure he’s had his fair share of that working here. “I need a… toy. Something basic.”
“No!. I can’t. I don’t think—”
“Liam, shut up.” I roll my eyes. “Just point me to the section where people who like their prostate poked go.” My attempts to play this off like it’s not weird clearly aren’t working.
“No. You can’t go there.”
I stand before him a little confused. I know Liam likes ass play. I helped him pack when he moved out, and that box I found under his sink was full of toys—every single one of them meant to go inside someone. “That’s the whole reason I’m here.”
“I mean—there are dildos everywhere. Get that one!” He points behind me, and I turn to see a package with the words ribbed for her pleasure on it. It would probably do the trick, but there’s gotta be better options.
“Do I need to ask for a manager?” I’m kidding, sort of, but these are expensive items. If I’m going to spend my mothers’ hard earned money on one, it’s gonna be one I actually want.
“Liam, relax. I’m not going to tell anybody I saw you here if that’s what you’re worried about.
You shouldn’t be embarrassed—you look really pretty in pink.
” I smile when he looks down at his shirt, and his blush is renewed.
“Stop, I mean it. I’ve never pictured you working at all, let alone here, but I think it’s cool. ”
And with his own extensive collection of toys, it makes sense.
“Especially if you get a discount, because that box under the bathroom sink was packed and—wait, can I use your discount?”
“You saw that?” He hides his face behind his hands, but I grab his wrists and pull them down.
“So, what? Clearly, I use sex toys too—or I want to. It’s why I’m here.” His being so dramatic is probably what kept me from feeling embarrassed myself, but the moment has passed. “Goodness, get over yourself.”
“Just tell me what you want, and I’ll go grab it.”
I cock a brow. “Tell me where to go, and I’ll get it myself.”
“Order it online.”
“Liam!” I laugh. He’s being ridiculous. “I’ll just find it on my own.” There’s a pride flag high up on the wall that makes it easy—and thankfully, Liam stops fighting me on it. I might have to leave him a bad review.
When I find the section I need, I also find out why Liam didn’t want me here. “Ohmygod.” I should definitely laugh. I might later, but oh my god.
I take a picture of the cardboard cutout and realize I can no longer think of Liam as a baby-bi. Dude is now a certified Gay—bisexual or not, he has earned the title. I wonder if his boyfriend knows about this—if anyone does.
“Did you just take a picture?” He sounds horrified as he hurries towards me. “Delete it.”
“No.”
He reaches for my phone, but I’m smaller and quicker than him. Unfortunately, putting it in my pocket doesn’t mean he stops going for it.
“How much did they pay—Liam!” I finally escape his beefy arms and huff, having to fix the hair he ruffled in the struggle. “Alright, I’ll delete it!”
Except I won’t. Liam is the kind of pretty that people would associate with models, but he’s also awkward and lazy.
And awkward. I’ve never seen him like this—smoldering eyes, arm bent over his shoulder while one hand hooks over his jeans to show off the pretty pink lace underneath.
Not my thing, but also hot enough to be anyone’s thing.
I can’t not keep proof of that. “Why even…” I look at it again and lose my train of thought.
“We all do it! Everyone who works here has one—it helps with sales.”
I believe him. I kind of want some pink panties now.
“Stop staring!” He grabs my shoulder to physically make me.
“Alright, alright.” Now I laugh. When his face goes stony, still beet red, I laugh harder.
“No discount for you.”
“What—no. Come on,” I try to reason with him. “I’ll stop, but please don’t make me pay full price.” I try to pout, but my body shakes with a stifled giggle instead. He definitely doesn’t appreciate my effort to stay quiet. “Or do and I’ll show—”
“Here, damn!” He grabs a box, doesn’t even look at it, and shoves it at my chest. “Take this one and fuck off. Tell them to use my friends and family code.”
I don’t know why that’s so silly to me, but them having a friends and family discount—a literal sex shop—isn’t something I’d think they have.
“I didn’t get to look—”
“Go!” He gets behind me to force me to walk.
I’d argue, but actually, the one in my hands looks okay.