Deep in You

I can still remember the last time I tried to honestly explain what I wanted. It was with Derrick, after he said he was interested in trying some kinky stuff. I asked him to lube up one of my really thick dildos and use his hands to push that into my pussy while he fucked me in the ass. He turned a shade of red I’ve never seen outside of our signature Red Velvet cakes, and told me he couldn’t imagine doing that to a nice girl like me.

We broke up a couple weeks later.

But it wasn’t just Derrick. Even the kinkier guys I’ve dated, ones who claimed when we first met that it’s hot that I’m open to weirder sex, have balked at my desires. One guy, Patrick, really tried to fulfill my wishes. He went as far as putting anal beads in my ass while he fucked me. But he wasn’t aggressive about it, he wouldn’t use the bigger beads that I wanted, and his cock, to be honest, wasn’t thick enough to really make me feel completely full.

I’ve just come to terms with the fact that what I actually want—to feel like I’m being fucked by two guys, double-penetration at its finest, but without actually having a threesome—is impossible. Not to mention, it makes most guys uncomfortable and feel kind of inadequate.

“I’m sure there’s some guy somewhere who’s into the same stuff,” Lara protests.

I shake my head. She has no idea. Guys get intimidated when I tell them I need to feel full like never before. No guy has ever managed to come close to doing it, either. “I don’t have time to date anyway,” I say by way of excuse. “When would I go out with someone? Besides, I’ve tried the one-night-stand thing, you know that. Random hookups aren’t really my thing either.” They turn out just as uncomfortable as long-term hookups, if not more so. And the couple times I’ve tried it, the guys have had the same reactions to learning about my kinks as guys I’ve known for way longer anyway.

Lara purses her mouth and watches me work on the schedule for a few moments. “What about an escort?” Lara asks.

She says it so nonchalantly, so casually, that for a second I do a double-take. I look up from the register and stare at her for a solid minute before I realize that I heard that correctly.

“What, like a prostitute?” I hiss, voice lowered just in case Carl or Jen pop out from the back of the shop, or a customer walks in the front.

Lara laughs and shakes her head. “They’re not the same—”

“Pretty sure paying someone for sex is the same thing,” I mutter.

“Still! If you know what you want, and if it’s sooo specific that you can’t even admit it to me, or find it out in the wider world…”

“Oh my god, I cannot believe you are suggesting I hire a prostitute just to get fucked so that I’ll be less stressed-out and won’t snap at you.”

Lara laughs again, louder this time. “That’s not why. I’m concerned about you, Carmine. You need to get laid! Girls have needs.”

“And I am perfectly capable of fulfilling my own needs, thank you very much,” I reply with a toss of my head.

Lara shrugs. “Suit yourself. I just meant, if you don’t want to spend the time meeting someone at a bar, and you know what you want, seems like hiring someone online makes total sense. Saves time, gets you the necessary… Maybe you’d actually find someone into the same kinks as you.”

My cheeks flush bright red—especially when the doorbell tinkles and a customer steps inside, coat clutched against the fall breeze outdoors.

I shoot Lara a pointed we’ll talk about this later look and she scurries to help our customer.

As for me, I finish polishing off the schedule—there are a couple things we can shuffle around if I’m honest, and buy ourselves a little more breathing room to play with next week. Just in case we have another cake collapsing fiasco.

Then I pull my apron back on, smile wide for our new customer, who’s currently looking over the cake décor books in Lara’s capable hands, and head back into the kitchen to get this show back on the road.

Escort, I think with a laugh, shaking my head. Lara doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

3

Lunch break, AKA, just enough time to stuff my mouth full of the sub-par sandwiches we sourced from a shop nearby, then get back to work.

But part of my brain has been mulling over Lara’s comment since she made it just a couple hours ago.

What about an escort?

I’d never even thought about that possibility, let alone considered it. Escorts aren’t something you think about. Especially not when you’re a nice suburban girl who owns a cute bakery in town and works her ass off to make her business successful.