Chapter 4
Rosie
Ido not know how to describe a rut in a way you can understand. It's an all-consuming need to fuck. To take. There is no satisfying it. We can survive without a mating partner, but it is deeply uncomfortable and extends the duration of the rut if we are unable to get the necessary relief.
So, not unlike ovulating. I think to myself with a small grin. A photo is loading, agonizingly slowly.
"Rosie posy!" Betty sings as she comes into the kitchen. "How do you feel about teaching?"
"Kids or adults?" I'd rather run myself over with a semi-truck than teach small children, and Betty knows it. Not having children was one of the few things we steadfastly agreed upon.
"Adults, of — oh my god! What is that?"
I spin around in my chair to stare open-mouthed at the photo that just finished loading on my screen. Betty leans over my shoulder to get a better look. I think about slapping her away but I can't take my eyes off of the screen.
"Dick pic." I stammer out, trying to take in the image. A very large and scaly light green hand is wrapped around the base of two fully erect penises. They overflow his hand. They resemble normal penises for the most part, except for a weird flare around the base of the head.
"That's…"
"Wow." I finish for her.
"Girl."
"I know." My pussy clenches down at the thought of even one of those cocks filling me. I haven't put any effort into dating in forever, and my last situationship fell in love, fuck, nine months ago, and I haven't had anything but my hand since then.
"Do you think he uses both at once?" Betty asks, leaning closer.
"Both of what?" Craig asks, coming into the kitchen. I slam the laptop shut at the same time Betty jerks upright. We're both red in the face, and when Betty starts giggling, I'm helpless not to join in.
"Our Rosie is about to get very, very lucky." Betty says, crossing the kitchen to greet her husband with a kiss. She whispers something in his ear, and Craig's eyebrows rise as he looks at me.
"I wanna see."
"Nope." I shove to my feet and grab my laptop off the table. "Bye."
And I run for it. I want to investigate that photo some more. Without an audience.