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She is an avid reader of my blog—that was actually how we originally met online, and how I got this job—and has more inside information on the story than most people.
Though, let’s be real: any girl with a brain who went to college with Joel and has read my blog has to
know who the two Js stand for.
“He is hot,” I agree. No doubt about it.
That was the whole point of getting him in a threesome with me. Even if it’s an imaginary one.
“Do you like him?”
“I’m sorry? I’m practically panting with my tongue hanging out, and you’re asking me—?”
“That’s sexual attraction, Candy-girl. I mean, do you like him? Is he boyfriend material? Or do you only have the hots for him?”
“I have the hots.” I lick my lips. “The only thing we have in common is Jethro. A pity Jethro’s not a hobby we can share.”
“Tsk.”
“Plus, Joel wants someone else.”
“But he’s not with her.”
“You’ve been eavesdropping. Donna, shame on you.”
“And he’s flirting with you.”
“Why, because he asked for my name?”
“Because of that bit with the mini skirt.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s Joel Kingsley. Serial flirter. He’d flirt with female cats if no human girls were available.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Hm.” Donna is wearing her I-am-seeing-right-through-you expression. “Say, what about that nice boy you used to date? He was sweet. Liam, right?”
“You said it. He was sweet.”
“Too sweet for Candy?”
“Not a Candy kind of boy.”
“Not imaginary, you mean.”
I bite my tongue. What if she’s right? What if I shouldn’t have broken up with Liam, settled for what he offered?
Quiet, slow sex. Light kisses. Flowers. Chocolates. Romantic movies.
He really was a sweetheart.
But I never came with him. Not once. I had to fake my orgasms, and come on, that’s not a good basis for a relationship, is it?
Probably not his fault, though. I seem to need more. More work, more foreplay, more roughness in order to come.
More boys. Two boys, ideally, doing me and doing each other.
