She skidded to a halt in front of me in a white Lexus, the driver’s side window open, her kinky blonde hair blowing in the breeze, her tanned, toned thigh revealed by her hiked up miniskirt visible below. She smiled at me with perfect teeth, and I felt her all the way to my toes.
I was kissing her at the bar and dying to take her to bed. She was interesting, storied, a brave woman who went out on her own and made her money as a nurse who invested in medical practices. This one got to me.
In our conversations and emails, which were as hot as the ones with Girl 6, she revealed that she was so sexual that she could not get through the day without masturbating at least three times. She was using a Jackrabbit vibrator, a device that was penis shaped down to the realism of the mushroom head, but which flexed back and forth and had three internal rings of separately rotating beads. It looked like it could only penetrate three or four inches, which was an education for me – I always thought females wanted it deeper, which was why they all seemed to want bigger penises on their men.
Perhaps the doctors were right, beyond a few inches, it was all academic. On the outside were rabbit shaped pieces of rubber that vibrated and wiggled on the woman’s clitoris. According to Jackrabbit Girl, the resulting orgasms from it were making Duracel a fortune on C-sized batteries. She complained that the only thing missing was cum, and that if the thing could shoot realistic tasting and smelling semen, she would never want a man ever again.
Hearing a female talk rapturously about wanting cum made me positively quiver, and I could not get enough of her. I was on the phone with her one afternoon, on my deck, smoking a cigar as the sun set, when she said the things that broke us apart.
She was still in love with her ex-boyfriend. He was married and she found out that there were other women he was cheating with. In her avoidance of intimacy and real relationships, she was fine with him being married. But for him to fuck other women other than his wife and Jackrabbit Girl herself amounted to disloyalty. She told me how she was plotting revenge and planned to call the man’s wife and each of the mistresses, which she’d gotten contact information on by hacking his email.
There was no doubt about it. Jackrabbit Girl was crazy as a loon. They say you attract who you are. If you’re ready for a relationship, you’ll attract people who are. I thought I wanted a real girlfriend, but it turns out that I was as nutty as Jackrabbit Girl.
I dumped her in an email and deleted all her howling voice mails protesting that I blocked her from replying to the email. I tried to forget her and move on, but it wasn’t easy. I kept thinking of how she’d zoomed up in that Lexus, and how when we made out in it later, she had looked at my erection and said it looked like a sculpture.
"You have the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen," she’d said.
And now she’d never feel it inside her. I grieved just as she did.
The next day my divorce became final, and as I’d heard, my concept of my identity changed immediately. No longer was I a stuck separated unavailable guy. Now I was officially single. If I wanted, I could date and marry a 29 year old.
Postscript: Months later, Jackrabbit Girl and I became platonic friends. We loved each other too much to let go, but we confided in each other as we pursued true love on our separate paths. But her birthday came, and she confided that there was something she wanted more than anything else – me.
She arrived dressed in a suit, her wavy blonde hair touching her shoulders, her ample breasts aching to be released. I burned candles and played a soft CD in the bedroom, and after making tender love to her, she asked me to take her anal virginity, and I obliged her, starting slowly, opening her with my fingers, then easing myself slowly in and finally going all the way until there was no more of me. Her breath caught in a gasp of pleasure, and when I started moving, she began moaning, much louder than before, and when I began fucking her ass hard, she climaxed in a screaming, crying, frantic orgasm. She lay on her side, her hand on my face, her eyes moist with the beginnings of tears, and she thanked me.
"I love you," she said softly.
It had been more than her request for a birthday present, I realized. It had been her attempt to draw me into a relationship. But it was too late for me. She was still in love with that pesky ex-boyfriend.
"I know," I said, my fingers running through her hair.
When she left I stood on the deck and watched her taillights grow smaller as she drove away. I dried the wetness out of my eyes and told myself that my allergies were particularly bad that day.
I waited for Rex and the supreme being to help me make sense of it all, but apparently there was nothing more to add.