My cheeks are hot. “Growing up, my brothers always talked about sex and jerking off as easily as talking about the weather. When I was, like, twelve or thirteen, I asked my oldest brother, Colby, if girls jerk off and got off, too, just like boys, and he said, ‘Sure they do—of course—it’s just a bit harder to tell.’ He was so matter of fact about it, like it was no big deal. He made me feel like one of the guys, like it was perfectly natural and not shameful or weird. So later thatday I put the showerhead between my legs and left it there on the massage setting, and within a few minutes, I had my very first orgasm. And Ilovedit. I mean, I was like, ‘Oh my God, that was the best feeling ever.’ So then every single time I took a shower, I just made it a habit to give myself an orgasm, along with washing my hair and shaving my legs—just a part of my routine. And soon, I was getting off twice in one shower. And then I started reading romance novels as a teen and touching myself and getting myself off... I dunno. I just got really good at it.” I shrug and take a huge bite of my burger.
Josh’s eyes are boring holes into my face.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re incredible,” he says. “The hottest woman alive. Do you have any idea how hot you are?”
“Honesty-game?” I ask.
He smirks. “Of course.”
“Yeah, I think I’m pretty hot.” I giggle and take a bite of a French fry.
He laughs. “Yes, you are, Madame Terrorist. Most definitely.”
“Do you know how hot you are?” I ask.
“Honesty-game?”
I nod.
“Yeah, I think I’m pretty hot.”
We both laugh.
“So when you masturbate, what’s your weapon of choice?” he asks, swigging his drink.
“Why do you wanna know all this?”
“I’m collecting intel for future use. Plus, it’s just plain turning me on.”
I make a face. “Well, recently, the thing I like to use the most while touching myself is the memory of this one really hot guy with a huge dick, standing in a hallway, dripping wet in his tighty-whities, every detail of his hard-on clearly visible beneath his wet briefs.”
Josh grins. “Wow, that’s quite a coincidence, because, recently, I’ve been partial to jacking off to memories of this one incredibly hot terrorist, stomping down a hallway in her bra and G-string, her bare ass-cheeks quaking with fury as she goes.”
I laugh.
“So tell me exactly how you like to masturbate. What works best for you? Lying down? Shower? Toys? Fingers?”
All of a sudden, my clit is tingling. “Why?”
“Because I wanna know. It’ll help me get you off to know exactly what you like.”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Ah. Show me don’t tell me?”
I nod. There’s a beat. I know exactly what he wants me to say. My heart is pounding in my ears. I bite my lip. “Would you like to watch me do it some time?” I ask softly.
He nods, his eyes smoldering. “I thought you’d never ask.”
My cheeks flush. I swallow hard. Why is this turning me on so much?
“But, first, tell me about it.” He licks his lips. “I wanna hear you tell me.”
I bite the tip of my finger. “Well, I really like to do it in the shower, with my fingers. I also have a vibe—a Rabbit. That does the trick the quickest, but sometimes I don’t want quick. Sometimes I like to take my time, let it build and build until I get myself off so hard I have a backache the next day.”
He exhales slowly. “This conversation is turning me the fuck on.”
