Page 11 of A Cock and Bull Story
I nod in understanding.
“So, we’re Primaries working to be Tertiaries?”
“Oh, no, love. It doesn’t work that way,” Sian says softly. “We can never be Tertiaries.”
Jack snorts.
“Who wants to be one of those cheeky toffs, anyway?” he demands as Theo scoffs.
“Really? You wouldn’t jump at the chance of being one of them?”
Jack just shrugs at my slippery dick—I mean, attheslippery dick.
“We’re just working towards gaining respect from the Tertiaries,” Jude clarifies. “We can never be anything other than what we already are.”
“Then, what’s the point of this?!” I growl in frustration. “Why am I trying to be a better person if I can never change myself?”
“Hey now,” Arthur chides, “remember how you felt when we put ourselves down? Don’t you do it, either. What Jude is trying to say is that we will never be “upper-class”, but we don’t have to live by our “lower-class” labeling. First, we have to respect ourselves and the positive contributions we do bring to our community before we can expect anyone else to see us in the same way. So, instead of focusing on the negatives, what are some positives? How has being the way you are impacted your life for the better?”
I nibble my lip pensively.1
How has being a sex addict been for the better?
“Well, I guess one positive thing is I’ve made other people happy—playing with my pussy will do that,” I joke.
“See?” Arthur beams. “You’ve brought joy to others by, er, letting them pet you?”
“Pet me, stroke me, fondle me,” I elaborate, trying desperatelynotto think about anyone doing those things.
I suppose this is one of the steps:talking about sex without getting all hot and bothered.
I’m totally not either of those things right now. I’m more. . . libidinous. There are fifty shades ofhornyand I’m well beyond ‘hot and bothered’, but can I be blamed? We’re talking about people touching my squish mitten, after all.
“Well, that’s nice you’re so comfortable with that side of you,” Jude compliments.
Theo squints at me like he is trying to read my mind—he should be thankful that he can’t.
That shit isgraphic.
“Like. . .you let nippers pet you?”
“Sure, nippers, biters, lickers—I’m not picky.”
Jack chuckles.
“Blimey, you’re a bit of a nutter, love. Can’t say I’ve let any nippers stroke my mane. There was a chap once who tried to ride me when I snuck out once and changed. The plonker was so trollied he didn’t even blink when I started talking!”
Everyone laughs uproariously while I try to translate mentally. Did Jack just say someone tried to fuck him when he was younger—I assume, because he snuck out—and didn’t care if he talked during said fucking?
“Was this in public?” I gasp.
“Right in front of the shop,” he chortles. “Luckily, it was late, and no one was around since it’s illegal to expose ourselves.”
W-o-w.
Is it wrong that I’m kind of in love with Jack right now?
I mean, I already was kind of in love with all of them for being too sexy for their clothes.
