measure of the dignity I
lost admitting I was a virgin. I wanted to seem cool, so I took a drag from the
cigar, but then coughed. Then coughed some more. Then gasped and let loose with
a few hacks. Now I know why people just puff them. How embarrassing. Who wants
to screw a girl who almost died from smoking a cigar? Jeez, I was cock blocking
myself.
“Sorry,”
I managed to spit out through my ninety year old coughing fit.
“It’s
okay,” he said, grinning. “These aren’t the best but I use to smoke them when I
was sixteen. So I smoke them every once in a while.”
I
smiled. “So tell me an embarrassing story you wouldn’t tell anyone else,” I
said, stalling for time and hoping it would be embarrassing enough to throw a
bucket of cold water on these overheating ovaries.
I
didn’t need Big Stick to run away. Otherwise my cherry would still not be picked, popped, or whatever…
Trying to get him to tell me a story was my way to keep him busy and not think
about a way to leave. He was gorgeous, interested in community service, and had
his life together. OH, AND A SEXY VOICE.
“Oh,
it will be fun to hear yours, if your first question’s response is anything to
judge by,” he said and I could feel my face heating up despite the cold air
outside. “But as a gentleman, I will go first...”
He
paused and took a long drag of his cigarillo, looking up into the sky blowing a
long stream of smoke into the air. I could see him searching his brain for a
good one and then all of a sudden he started.
“When
I was growing up I had three brothers that terrorized me. Johnny,
Trevor, and Zach. Growing up in Nebraska, about two hundred miles out of
Omaha, there were plenty of opportunities to find me down by the river and toss
me in, find me sledding on Boone’s Hill...”
I
guffawed louder than was appropriate for a lady.
“What? Boone’s Hill?” I said, still laughing and wiping a few
tears from my eyes.
“Yeah,”
he said, looking puzzled. “It was a hill. It was owned by Marshall Boone and
it’s been in the Boone Family for generations...”
I
laughed again. “Do they own a farm? Maybe make some melon ball wine?”
He
was still confused. Oh wow, he doesn’t know about Boone’s Farm, the wine cooler
that every American high school kid drank at some point in their lives.
“Yeah…
They did. It wasn’t a real farm. It was just for show really.”
Perfect.
I need to buy this guy a few bottles of Boone’s Farm tonight. I can’t believe
he doesn’t know what it is. I’ll let him go for now.
“Alright,
Mr. corn bread. Continue with your hay- pickin ’
story.”
“Okay… So like I was saying. They would find me sledding on
Boone’s Hill,” I laughed a little, “and toss me down it or knock me off my
sled. They were real jackasses that needed to get their comeuppance.”
I
‘ ooh’ed and gave him an arched eyebrow. I’m socially
awkward. He continued.
“So
one day, I get what I think is a pretty bright idea. I go down to the general
store and I ask Old Man McCreary for some horse laxatives. That guy was pretty
old, so he didn’t really question it and gave me some of the good stuff.”
I
had to interrupt. “Really? Old Man McCreary gave you
the ‘good stuff’? Is there such a thing as ‘good stuff’ when talking about
horse laxative?”
He
gave me a sort of fake one eyed glare and laughed a little. “Are you going to
let me finish my story or keep ripping on me for the hay in my hair? Otherwise,
I’ll ask why you’re still a virgin,” he said, winking.
I
motioned for him to continue, holding back a smile. I liked this guy. A guy you
can laugh at is a guy you can stay with. However, there wasn’t any chance I was
going to tell him why I was a virgin. I was such a big virgin that not even my
lawn had been mowed by a guy… EVER. At this point I
was willing to skip the oral and get straight to my pie being poked with a
stick, a big stick. Jeez, I was becoming a horny toad… I
lost admitting I was a virgin. I wanted to seem cool, so I took a drag from the
cigar, but then coughed. Then coughed some more. Then gasped and let loose with
a few hacks. Now I know why people just puff them. How embarrassing. Who wants
to screw a girl who almost died from smoking a cigar? Jeez, I was cock blocking
myself.
“Sorry,”
I managed to spit out through my ninety year old coughing fit.
“It’s
okay,” he said, grinning. “These aren’t the best but I use to smoke them when I
was sixteen. So I smoke them every once in a while.”
I
smiled. “So tell me an embarrassing story you wouldn’t tell anyone else,” I
said, stalling for time and hoping it would be embarrassing enough to throw a
bucket of cold water on these overheating ovaries.
I
didn’t need Big Stick to run away. Otherwise my cherry would still not be picked, popped, or whatever…
Trying to get him to tell me a story was my way to keep him busy and not think
about a way to leave. He was gorgeous, interested in community service, and had
his life together. OH, AND A SEXY VOICE.
“Oh,
it will be fun to hear yours, if your first question’s response is anything to
judge by,” he said and I could feel my face heating up despite the cold air
outside. “But as a gentleman, I will go first...”
He
paused and took a long drag of his cigarillo, looking up into the sky blowing a
long stream of smoke into the air. I could see him searching his brain for a
good one and then all of a sudden he started.
“When
I was growing up I had three brothers that terrorized me. Johnny,
Trevor, and Zach. Growing up in Nebraska, about two hundred miles out of
Omaha, there were plenty of opportunities to find me down by the river and toss
me in, find me sledding on Boone’s Hill...”
I
guffawed louder than was appropriate for a lady.
“What? Boone’s Hill?” I said, still laughing and wiping a few
tears from my eyes.
“Yeah,”
he said, looking puzzled. “It was a hill. It was owned by Marshall Boone and
it’s been in the Boone Family for generations...”
I
laughed again. “Do they own a farm? Maybe make some melon ball wine?”
He
was still confused. Oh wow, he doesn’t know about Boone’s Farm, the wine cooler
that every American high school kid drank at some point in their lives.
“Yeah…
They did. It wasn’t a real farm. It was just for show really.”
Perfect.
I need to buy this guy a few bottles of Boone’s Farm tonight. I can’t believe
he doesn’t know what it is. I’ll let him go for now.
“Alright,
Mr. corn bread. Continue with your hay- pickin ’
story.”
“Okay… So like I was saying. They would find me sledding on
Boone’s Hill,” I laughed a little, “and toss me down it or knock me off my
sled. They were real jackasses that needed to get their comeuppance.”
I
‘ ooh’ed and gave him an arched eyebrow. I’m socially
awkward. He continued.
“So
one day, I get what I think is a pretty bright idea. I go down to the general
store and I ask Old Man McCreary for some horse laxatives. That guy was pretty
old, so he didn’t really question it and gave me some of the good stuff.”
I
had to interrupt. “Really? Old Man McCreary gave you
the ‘good stuff’? Is there such a thing as ‘good stuff’ when talking about
horse laxative?”
He
gave me a sort of fake one eyed glare and laughed a little. “Are you going to
let me finish my story or keep ripping on me for the hay in my hair? Otherwise,
I’ll ask why you’re still a virgin,” he said, winking.
I
motioned for him to continue, holding back a smile. I liked this guy. A guy you
can laugh at is a guy you can stay with. However, there wasn’t any chance I was
going to tell him why I was a virgin. I was such a big virgin that not even my
lawn had been mowed by a guy… EVER. At this point I
was willing to skip the oral and get straight to my pie being poked with a
stick, a big stick. Jeez, I was becoming a horny toad… I
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