Plain Jane (H.S.)

Ch.00

J.

Topping was never Jane's strong suit. To put it bluntly, her hips are as stiff as a redneck during his prostate exam. It's such a waste, considering her thighs alone could make an onlooker spill themselves over their phone screen. Too bad she doesn't showcase herself to be gawked at. She could hardly muster the courage to strip down in front of this spindly green bean, half-balding, piece of cardboard type of man.

"Move a little-a little left." He instructs, guiding her hips with clammy hands. She acknowledges him, closing her eyes, trying not to picture Steve Bushemi. Nate was in his 20's, but had the unfortunate curse of premature aging.

She lifts herself to the left and the head of his penis grazes her from back to front, as it had been doing for the past ten minutes. Jane worries if she'll ever be comfortable in these situations. She hopes her body isn't putting any strain on him, since her thighs are a barbecue, flaming up and primed for a sausage.

"Haven't you done this before?" His pelvis juts upward from impatience. His penis hammers onto her surface like he were playing wack-a-mole.

"Yeah, yeah, gimme a second." She blames herself for their misfortune, understanding why he's impatient. She'll get it in eventually.

To guide the snake to its habitat, Jane grasps him in her hand. She assures herself it's as easy as a tampon. With partial confidence, she leans it against herself, and it awaits permission to enter. Her arms find the headboard for balance when she brazenly meets his eyes. No, monster house! No, grown ups! No, Monsters Inc.! Redirecting her attention just above the headboard, there's a poster of a bikini bodied girl that sits on the hood of a navy mustang. Jane imagines for a moment that she is as desirable as her. If Jane looked like that, men would be groveling on their knees for her. With an empowered facade, she gyrates. This time, however, the misalignment barred real consequences. His penis kinks with her force, bending like undercooked asparagus.

A forehead vein protrudes the center while his face gains a strained crimson hue "Shit, woman!" He howls, simultaneously cupping his jewels and shoving her to the side.

The mattress absorbs any fall damage she would have taken, as well as the humiliation that she manages to wash through herself.

"Sorry." He croaks out, his pubic hairs slithering through the gaps of his fingers.

"No, that's my bad!" Although she's apologetic, she expects he'll overcome the pain soon and climb on top like he should have in the first place.

The room fills with his winces of pain. Jane flips to her back, bending one of her freckled legs. She wonders if she weren't plus sized, if he'd have made it in by now. She knows for sure she wouldn't have kinked his dick. Jane breathes in deep, eyes trapped in a cycling wooden fan. She's growing irritated with how dramatic he's being.

The below-average man lets her know he's getting water, before waddling out of the bedroom.

She doesn't debate leaving. She's here to get the job done.

Dragging his feet back in the room, he finishes the glass, setting it down on his nightstand.

Jane wasn't thirsty anyway.

"Feel better?" She leans on her elbow, fingers wrestling in her unkempt scarlet locks.

"I am now, yeah," He begins climbing over her, which blocks her preferred view of the ceiling fan. He gives her more motion sickness than any cyclic object ever could. She wishes she were on her stomach, prepared for doggie instead. "Almost gave me blue balls there. The worst kind."

Jane offers a guilty smile as she wraps her legs around his lower back, "My bad." She doesn't feel all that guilty, though. In truth, she hadn't given herself the opportunity to over analyze it--yet.