Page 12 of A Cock and Bull Story
But anal with a stranger in public—that takes my admiration to a whole new level.
Envisioning Jack getting ass-plowed by some stranger in the town square does wonders for taking my mind off my parents—who potentially might have done the same thing.
Who knows how far gonetheiraddiction is. . .
And, changing the subject.
“Okay, so we’ve established that there’s some positive with the bad, but how do we get the “High and Mighty” to treat us better? Does it require not wearing fishnets and garters to day functions?” I whine.
I really don’t want to give up my come-hither ensembles, but it makes sense that the first step to gaining respect is to look presentable. I just don’t understand why a whole lot of tit showing can’t be presentable. They’re just boobs!
And I want to see them all.
Jude surprises me by saying that he doesn’t think it matters what I wear.
“The only way we can gain their respect is by demonstrating that we are useful in society—that we have something positive to add, like Arthur pointed out, no matter how minimal.”
“Really?” Jack derides.
“Really,” Jude retorts sternly. “I want everyone to do what Belle did—find something positive and useful about our other self that contributes to our community. Spend the next week doing this one thing and, at our next meeting, we’ll discuss how it impacted us.”
Jack glares at him incredulously.
“I’m not fucking letting anyone ride me—and what are you going to do? Pollinate people’s gardens?”
I guess that Jack is over being the receiver. No more taking it up the ass—this anal sex fiend apparently only wants to give it. I’m okay with that. I wonder if he needs volunteers. . .
“I love your euphemisms,” I say, instead, applauding myself silently for not offering my behind as target practice for Jack’s dick. “I’ve let a lot of people pollinate my garden, if you know what I mean, haha.”
No one laughs.
Huh, tough crowd.
“Erm, so anyway,” I cough to cover my embarrassment, “I don’t understand how letting people pet my pussy is going to help with my problem.”
“Because—the first step is accepting ourselves and our other sides. Embrace it completely!” Jude enthuses.
“Well, I swear that I already have and that’s what brought me here, but ok. Sure. I’ll play ‘stroke my south mouth’ longer than Lionel Richie—all night loooooong,” I sing in a terrible parody of the actual song.
“South Mouth?” Theo wonders.
“Another name for pussy,” I clarify.
Sheesh.
I need to look up British words forvagasap.
“You named your. . . cat?” Jude chokes.
“You didn’t name your cock?” I counter.
“Um, can’t say that I have.”
“Well, that seems like step one to accepting and loving yourself.”
“And yours is South Mouth?” Sian wonders.
“No—it’s Loosey.”
