12. Book Chapters: <21 Too Young

A Novel on Human Sexuality By J.C. Miller

Photo by Jayson Hinrichsen on Unsplash

Chapter 12

Natalia! Come here! I want to tell you something. Karina and I are going to go to lunch. Come join us!

“Gena, I brought my lunch with me today. I was going to eat while I work and go home early to make dinner.”

“You always bring a lunch! Come on now! You’re only ever here four days a week, and, you’re on the new national 6hr workday schedule. You’ll have plenty of time to go home and make your dinner!” Gena said, then leaned in and whispered, “I want to tell you what happened last Friday night — every girl’s fantasy!”

“Oh! Tell me, please…” Natalia said, jokingly, like she wasn’t about to spill the beans over lunch.

Gena reached out and touched Natalia’s lips with her forefinger, “Shhh! No! There, over lunch — at The Bar-Bell — in 20 minutes!”

“Psshh, Hahahaha! The Bar-Bell! Isn’t that the restaurant with male strip club staff?”

“Shhhshsh! Yes! What a better place to talk about my amazing experience. I’ll see ya there!” Gena winked and walked across the street to her workplace.

Natalia grabbed her phone and sent a quick text to Dwayne.

“Baby, I’ll be home to cook dinner a little late — a couple of the girls want to grab lunch and chit-chat about girly things.” She set her phone down on the desk with the screen still on. Within a few seconds the all too familiar ‘…’ bubble appeared.

“That’s great! No worries, love! Enjoy yourself, take as much time as you want; I’ll eat the leftovers for dinner.

Where you girls gonna go?”

The text came through, and Natalia rolled her eyes and shook her head. Not because she felt like Dwayne would be upset or even controlling, telling her she couldn’t go to ‘The Bar-Bell’. He wasn’t like that at all. He was a giving, loving, generous, and kind man who pushed her and encouraged her towards her goals and dreams, and challenged her to question boundaries, authorities, and preconceived societal notions and worldviews she and others held, pushing her boundaries of growth and self-discovery.

She picked her phone back up and texted back.

“Your old workplace in your freshman year.” Instantly, a text came back with six laughing emojis and the abbreviation ROTFLMAO!!! Which stood for ‘rolling on the floor laughing my ass off’.

She softly chuckled to herself, remembering the prank he had played on her when they had met their graduating year. His buddy, whose parents had an exorbitant amount of money, had thought of the ingenious idea of building a restaurant served only by men — gym rats specifically.

The idea was that the restaurant would sit in the middle of a glass-walled gym. The dudes hired, had to be fit, typically were all jocks from the colleges, and participated in assorted sports and wrestling teams. They were required to do ‘mini sets’ on a rotation between serving, cooking, seating, and all other necessary tasks of running a restaurant and bar.

The tables were situated around the room. A circular bar sat in the middle of the room, wrapped around a glass mini-gym room for barbell squats and pull-ups. All the glass was one-way, see-through into the gym areas, and the inside was all mirrors so the guys would look at themselves, facing the inside of the restaurant for the women seated at the tables who drooled over them.

One section had a half-wall frosted shower so the workers could rinse off. The lockers were strategically placed half the circumference of the building, away from the shower, and the men were required to walk with only a towel around their waist to the locker area, which also had the lower half frosted glass and was set about 4 feet higher than the rest of the gym with a recessed sauna under it.

The shower set higher as well, with a recessed hot tub under it. The young, mostly college-aged men were required to wear muscle tees, jerseys or tank tops, and running or workout shorts, occasionally, more form-fitting sweat pants or workout pants for those with nicer glutes.

The restaurant had since become a chain, popping up in many college towns. The place was called BarBellBoyz, and there was an annual “stud lift” contest where the calendar ‘BarBellBoyz’ had special bench presses and leg squats set up to lift girls on a platform by day, and at night, when it turned into a nightclub, a different contest would begin.

The BarBellBoyz would stand on the bar top in thongs after using a cock pump and lift mini barbells that hung from their stiff ‘third leg.’ It was college stupidity at its best.

A string was tied to the end of their cock, over the thong, and a set of round magnets was tied to the ends of the string. The BarBellBoyz would squat to pick up other magnets and do a mini dead lifts with the tiny weights. Ladies could look, but not touch. Ladies could ‘tip’ for the boys to lift more of the tiny weights and flex their cocks extra for them.

Ladies would line the weights up on the counter for their favorite deadlifters, who would then squat in front of them to pick up the extra weights. Then, they would stand and exercise their ‘third leg’ to the screaming satisfaction of all the ladies.

Years ago, when they were first dating, Dwayne had set Natalia up, and told her he wanted to go with a group of friends to a lifting competition — and left her standing with her friends as he went to ‘use the bathroom’ before the show started. While the lights were low, and the music loud, she and her friends pushed through to the bar top. She had no idea what was about to happen, other than the ladies were supposed to place bets on the best ‘dead-lifter’ for the last contest.

Bright club lights flashed on, and the thong-clad, pre-pumped young men jumped from inside the bar on top of the counter, and the stupid, ridiculous, hilarious, macho contest began. Natalia was not only shocked at what the contest was, but also that her boyfriend, Dwayne, was on the counter in front of her, in a thong, dancing and lifting for her.

Her friends told her to “place her bets,” which was really just setting the magnetic coins down between the lifter’s legs as he squatted to pick them up in front of her with the string and magnets that hung off the tip of his third leg by a loose loop. They would put their hands behind their heads like they were squatting and do lifting exercises with the small weights. They would keep squatting and picking up weights until they couldn’t keep the weight up anymore and had to drop their hands from behind their heads to keep the tied weighted thong from slipping off.

The lights would be cut each time someone dropped their hands to grab their junk, compounding the excitement of the show. The last dick standing with the most weights was awarded a mini barbell trophy that looked like a man carved into the front of a ship’s hull, leaning forward and reaching upward, holding a heavily weighted bowed set of barbells up.

Natalia was so embarrassed at the time. Dwayne hadn’t won the contest, but they had kept the small weights set, taken a picture together, and Natalia had made a sort of glass-encased trophy-photo-box for the memory that hung on the wall in their home.

They often talked and laughed about that party, and the steamy ‘after party’ they had shared together, where she was far less embarrassed ‘placing her bets’ and rewarding each valiant effort with her wet lips and tongue.

Natalia smiled again, thinking about the memory from over 7 years ago. She shot a text back to Dwayne, “It wasn’t my choice or decision.” She added a little emoji with an eye roll and another with a shoulder shrug.

Dwayne shot a text back:

“Let me know if you get bored, and I’ll give you a nice lift show.” He ended the text with a winky emoji.

“No, thank-you, I already placed my bets on a man at that place, and he’s never let me down — and I’m excited to finally be carrying his child. I never knew how much happiness that man I bet on could bring into my life.” She ended the text with a kissing emoji and sent it off.

Natalia wrapped up what she was doing on the computer, and Dwayne texted back. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you too!” She grabbed her purse, turned the computer off and walked out the door.

Gena met her outside. “Come on, girl! Let’s walk together. Karina has already left to get us a table.” Gena grabbed Natalia’s arm, and the two started walking in the direction of the restaurant a few blocks away.

Gena had long blonde hair; that she had recently dyed reddish in color, that fell in long ringlets that matched the length and beauty of Natalia’s natural jet black hair. Any man who saw the two of them walking down the sidewalk, arms locked together, both in heels and shape-fitting skirts with fashionable tops that eloquently showed their curves and accentuated their breasts; couldn’t help but turn his head and stare. They were both stunningly beautiful women.

The two of them giggled together, seeing a man trip over a planter box as his eyes tracked them instead of his path. Another man was yelled at by his taxi driver for delaying getting in the vehicle.

“Tell me, don’t you just love looking this good? All the men just can’t take their eyes off of us!” Gena asked.

“Honestly, I used to like it more when I was younger, but now Dwayne makes me his, and I really don’t desire it the way I used to. I sometimes kind of pity those men, I wonder if they have ever had a relationship with a beautiful woman they cherished, that loves and respects them as a man; or if they have just been caught in the trap of pornography since a young age and can’t relate to a real woman, because all they do is sexualize their figures and the sounds they might make in the bedroom.”

“Oh, hush, he’s not that good in the bedroom, is he?”

“It isn’t just about the bedroom; it’s our love that is buried in friendship. It’s how he treats me and approaches every situation, good and bad. He is an amazing listener…ahhmm…”Natalia let out a low sigh, then continued. “He does so many things that make me feel valued, loved and cared for every day.”

“Girl! You’re delusional!” Gena broke in.

“No! You have just never had a good relationship with a real man!”

There was a short pause between them as they walked.

“You know,” said Gena, “I’m reading an erotic novel. ‘I Fell in Love with Two Women.’ Have you read it?”

“No, I haven’t, but I’ve heard about it. It’s very popular. They are making a movie about it, aren’t they?”

“Yes, I think they are — I would die to be either of those women! He’s the strong, silent, stoic type that has incredibly sensual desires. He was seeking love and found two women. He narrowed down from hundreds on an online dating site.

One was a beautiful, elegant woman, the picture of perfection, from a well-to-do family who had made a fortune of her own. She lived in another country, and he desired to move away, and she seemed to him like she would make the perfect wife. So, he pursued her, yet all the while, secretly, he kept texting and looking at the pictures of another — a bad girl type — gothic, tatted, and extremely sensual; her texts and pictures played with his mind. She was only an hour away from his hometown, and they dated and fucked a few times.

He loved her, but had a desire to get away from his own country and the life he had there. The other woman could provide that for him; both because she lived in another country and was willing to help him financially until he could establish himself with a business in the new country.

He fell in love with the out-of-country woman, and they made wedding plans. Due to the nature of her modeling and acting career, she had to be gone at least half the time.

His work kept him busy in his country. He didn’t want two relationships. He wanted the status his potential model wife could bring, but secretly he desired the other woman, who was incredible in the bedroom, cared for his needs, and supported him in his present struggling businesses, and wanted nothing more, than to run off to an island with him, live a simple life, sustaining themselves off the land, fuck constantly, make babies, and desired nothing more from life, than the simplest pleasures the world has to offer, food, family, and fucking.

He kept leading her on and she never knew his heart was also taken by another. He felt guilty and wanted to talk to her, thinking perhaps he’d made the wrong choice. He texted her here and there, stringing her along unintentionally, slowly falling more and more in love with her.

She is everything he craves in a different way from his other love, smart and strong. She dresses and does her makeup, not even trying to impress. It’s just her style that drives him crazy. Their sex is incredible; he takes her and dominates her mind and body.

His soon-to-be wife — the life he wants to pursue because all the pressures and burdens of finances and status would be evenly distributed between their shoulders and not solely on him, consumes his mind — she is beautiful and elegant, has status, soft mannered to the world, but in the bedroom, she dominates him. She is smart and ambitious and constantly pursues her interests, and inspires him towards his. He is torn between the two. The elegant one is strong and has a commanding presence, keeping him on his toes, forcing him to suppress his lazy, unmotivated side, invigorating him to achieve greater things, and he sees the world at his fingertips with a partner to match, mirror, and support his tectonic life decisions.

The other woman, malleable to his suggestions; not to a toxic point of losing herself, just willing to learn, grow, and become a better person for herself and willing to follow his suggestions, exudes respect and admiration for who he is at present, and thinks he’s achieved everything a man ever needs to in life in a worldly manner and makes him feel relaxed enough to be himself. She wasn’t open to his suggestions, doing it just to please him, but because she saw how his suggestions were from love, admiration, and a desire to make her a better person, because he cared about her.

He craved everything each of them was to him, and for him, and what he gave to each of them. It fulfilled him completely, in different ways. He felt that he could only become a part of himself without both of them.

He split himself, giving only a portion of himself to both of them. Each woman was madly in love with him — the side of himself he could be with them, based off who they were — and each thought they were the luckiest woman in the world. It’s such a sensuously delicious novel, the way he treats both of them! Oh, I would die for a man like that! It’s such a good book!”

“Well then, perhaps as women we need to find that balance within ourselves so that we can perfectly be all things for our man. Perhaps we should switch back and forth between the soft release of submission in the bedroom and in life; and the strong, commanding, domination of our own lives and households, giving our man what he wants and needs so he doesn’t have to secretly split himself.

If he is giving only a portion of himself to us and keeping from us a portion of himself so that he meets the perception of expectations we have of him, it forces him to live a hidden life of dissatisfaction.

If your man is keeping a portion of himself secretive and closed off, because if he were to let it out, his woman would be less accepting of him; so in order for him to feel fulfilled, he must seek it from another woman? That doesn’t sound like a man I’d want to be with.

I want to be both women. I don’t want my man to need another woman. I don’t want to be a woman who herself, is lacking anything my man actually needs. If I am lacking, that would be allowing space for a suppressed, hidden, and drowned side of him, that he feels the need to seek another woman to fulfill. If I can’t provide entirely what he needs, then I need to work on myself so he can fully come to the surface to breathe, as himself again — and eventually, all the time.” Natalia said, thoughtfully.

“Well, maybe they should be more open and give us the opportunity to be more of ourselves and let us be everything we want to be as well!”

“If all you want from a man is what they can give to you, that’s a selfish perspective. Why should he provide you with everything you desire while you just latch on, receive, and drain him? If he is giving you everything you desire, shouldn’t you be for him and give to him, everything he desires? Isn’t it more fulfilling to give than to receive?” Asked Natalia.

“It’s fucking exhausting to just give, give, give to someone else. What woman wants to fucking give constantly? What’s to give anyways when we look this good, and we have everything a man wants anyways?”

“Is your body the only thing he wants? As women, we crave connection and don’t always just want to be a man’s fuck toy. Don’t you think men desire connection as well? Not just to be a walking cock with cash? There has to be a balance.”

“I like cocks with cash! Anyways, it seems most men these days don’t care about connection, they just want to fuck, and then talk, and I’m done after fucking for hours, working two or three jobs. I don’t want to listen to his fucking problems.”

“It’s not all problems. Ya know, I see so many women give sexually all upfront in the relationship, then later are worn out and only want connection, and then deprive their man of sex.

Did you know studies have shown, most men need sex in order to feel comfortable with emotional connection? It actually changes the chemical balance in their brains and brings down the mental barrier of shielding their emotional side that the world ever forces them to hide and suppress.”

“So you’re saying to fuck em’ to make em’ want to connect with you? Don’t they call that post-nut clarity?” Gena asked, laughing.

“Ahhahahaa! Well, that sounds a little forced and manipulative. Sometimes you just fuck and dominate them, and sometimes you just let them dominate you. That will get their hormones balanced out so they can ‘see’ you through the roughness of life.

Then, when they see you as a safe space, they will open up and create the space for you as a woman that they crave, because during and after sex, you become their focus.

“There is more to it than that. When it’s done consistently, the connection and ease of opening up emotionally, comes more naturally for them. Unfortunately, too many women make the mistake of using that openness and vulnerability against them down the road in other conversations.”

“Well, what if there being an asshole? What’s wrong with reminding them of the things they’ve said and done that they shouldn’t have?”

“Things said in the heat of an argument are far more hurtful, and when you bring up things they told you in vulnerability and confidence, that disrespects them and causes them to build walls around their vulnerabilities. Doing that will shut them up immediately. We have an epidemic of men who won’t open up anymore because women have used their ‘post-nut clarity/vulnerability’ against them.”

Most men like to focus on one thing at a time. That’s why they are so good at so many things; they focus on one until they feel they have dominated it. You have to give them the space to give you all their focus, when so many things in life bombard them and constantly vie for their focus and attention. So many women make it too hard, and men get into their 30s and 40s and just give up on us.

You have to be patient with them. Sometimes it takes them a minute to refocus off of life, and onto you. Most women make the mistake of becoming a nag when their man just needs the time and headspace to refocus; sometimes that’s sex, and sometimes it’s not.

There’s a scene in the movie The Astronaut’s Wife, where her husband has been through so much; he doesn’t see her. There is a sex scene where he is almost mechanically fucking her. His mind is gone; it takes him time to come back around, to open up, to be truly passionate again. I know the context in the movie is slightly different, yet that scene depicts so well, men’s need to refocus, and how it can take some serious time and patience on our end. That’s why long-term connections and relationships are better, there’s more space for that.”

“You make it so fucking complex; I think I’ll pass on them all together and just get a good vibrator, dildo, and fuck machine. Maybe even a sex bot that knows all the right things to say!”

“Hahahahah! Well, pleasure isn’t everything. Eventually, you’ll want some connection, which takes effort. Speaking of books; I recently read a book called ‘A Soft Place to Land.’”

“Oh, I think I heard of that one! Isn’t that the prequel to ‘A Cock in Wet Place?’” Gena cut in.

“Hahahaha! Shut up Girl! Hahaha! It’s about what needs a man has, depending on his personality type. Written by a woman for women who want to understand their man. There are different types of men: a visionary type, a commanding type, and a steady type.

The book talks about what each type desires and needs in a wife. How to know your man, and how we, as women, ought to learn about our man so we can fully complement and be for him what he needs us to be. How to keep him satisfied mentally, physically, and emotionally, what grabs his heart and makes him secure in the relationship.”

“Girl! You’re sounding like you’re for a patriarchal misogynistic society!!! Blehhh! You’re making me sick to my stomach.”

“I’m absolutely not, I’m understanding though, that to have a balanced relationship, it takes two people looking at themselves; able to define their needs and desires to their partner, and each being willing to give selflessly of themselves to their partner in the way that it is needed and wanted.

Patriarchal society is where women are forced into subservient roles to a man based off of specific religious judgment and bias. A man who desires subjection in a patriarchal form of society lacks true leadership and humility. How can two people be equal and different, and yet complementary to each other in life, if one is an egotist, needs blind followers, and sheep to cull daily into subjection? That’s not the start of a healthy relationship.

What I’m talking about is choice — I choose to see myself with my own flaws and weaknesses just as he sees his, and together we are each other’s strength, where each of us are inherently weak. When there is choice, there is peace.

Where things are forced, there is rebellion. No slave desires a master; they desire to be equal. But to know your own strengths and weaknesses and fit them nimbly into another’s, well, that’s an art.”

“Oh, stop! You picture-perfect wife! Look, there’s Karina! Hey girl!” Gena waved, walked over, still holding tightly Natalia’s arm. They pulled up chairs and sat down.

“I ordered us all red fruit cocktails; they had a special going on today! Didn’t want to make any pregnant women jealous of us ordering an alcoholic drink.” Said Karina, winking at Natalia.

“Those look delicious!” Said Natalia, sitting and taking a sip.

“Okay, tell us all the juicy stuff!” Said Karina, eagerly, “But first, look at that hunk of a man doing arm curls! Oh! My god! I hope he goes and takes a hot, steamy shower after his set; I’m already wet just watching him stand there — if this booth were more private…!” Karina’s words drifted off as she gazed at the man.

“Well, you are wearing a dress. Just handle your business under the table while I tell you everything! Then you can fake a water spill or something, and we can request he come over and clean it up! He’d have your juices all over a rag in his hands!” Gena whispered across the table.

“Gena! You’re crazy! Karina! Keep your hands on the table!!!” Natalia said, shaking her head.

Karina purposely reached between her legs, leaned back, and said, “I can concentrate on three things at the same time! Your story, that hunk, my pussy — and this drink will keep me hydrated! So! What did you get into now!?” She made a playful smirk in Natalia’s direction as she angled herself slightly to open her legs and face the man working out, then sat up quickly and grabbed her drink.

“Oh, it’s not what I got into, it’s what got into me!” Gena started. The girls giggled together.

“Tell us! I love living vicariously through your sexual escapades. Hank is so vanilla — Missionary Mondays, Taco Tuesdays, Wiener Wednesdays, Tush Push Thursdays, Fuckin’ Finger Fridays, 69 Saturday, Scissor Sundays — no rest at all! The same things over and over, and over — and Natalia! Well, she doesn’t share anymore — so I have to live my fantasy sex life through you, Gena, while…what is it, Thursday today? While later I’m forced to lie on my stomach, as Hank rides me from behind tonight!” Karina side-eyed Natalia and squeezed over towards Gena in the half-circle booth.

“Well, that’s just because there is too much to share. I wouldn’t know where to begin, and I wouldn’t want to make you both jealous.” Natalia said, with a wink at Karina.

“At least he’s long!” Said Gena.

“I’d rather have an average length, with average girth, than a long pencil!” Karina rolled her eyes.

“So anyways!!!!!” Broke in Natalia. “This is Gena’s time! You can tell us about your drawing escapades another time, Karina!“ Natalia interjected, steering the conversation away from Karina’s usual complaints and dissatisfactions with her husband, who really, truly loved her and worked so hard to please her, to no avail.

”Well, you both know I work my other job at the restaurant! I just do a couple nights a week to meet people — you know — like hot guys. So there’s this guy that makes deliveries; He’s tall, has black hair, and the cutest beard! He is a little thin, a little quiet, but has nice arms and oh my god his eyes!…”

Read more of this book: <21 Too Young, here:

0 Forward/Setting; Book Chapters <21 Too Young

A book about Healing and Sexuality By J.C. Miller

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1. Book Chapters: <21 Too Young

A book about Healing and Sexuality By J.C. Miller

medium.com

2. Book Chapters: <21 Too Young

A book about Healing and Sexuality By J.C. Miller

medium.com

3. Book Chapters: <21 Too Young

A novel on Human Sexuality By J.C. Miller

medium.com

J.C. Miller

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