It's short story time, kids! And it's a dirty one too! Because it involves sex! Dirty, dirty sex!

Experience. That’s what everybody always touts as the most important quality in a sexual relationship. The more you know, the more apt you are to do it correctly. With experience, you can forego the normal awkward rituals found in young adult’s sexual activities.

To Jenny, the most important sexual quality a man could have was not drooling on her during intercourse.

Jenny had been having sex regularly for the past three years. She had been saving herself for college, the years in which most people were at their most sexually active. Of course, having experienced sex first-hand, Jenny now wished she had waited until she was married. Or at least held off until she had found a really cute professor.

The pale, sweaty frat boy who was currently on top of her, thrusting himself in and out with small grunts, was not exactly her type. But it was Friday night, the party at the fraternity house had died down substantially, and she didn’t feel like being alone for the night. However, now that this child in a man’s body was groping her breasts painfully, trying to whisper in her ear sensually but only managing to spit into her ear, being alone didn’t seem so bad.

She never knew why she always got herself into these sorts of situations. With every sexual encounter, her experience furthered. She knew how to hold her legs up for maximum stimulation for her partner. She knew what men liked to hear while they made love (If you could really call it that). Yet it seemed the more experience she gained, the less experience her partners had.

Jenny knew it wasn’t really as bad as she was making it. To be honest, if she wanted, she could end this current sexual farce by utilizing her experience. She always made them wear condoms, just in case something like this came up. All she would have to do is utilize that drama degree she had been earning for the past two years. She would begin to moan loudly, rocking her hips back and forth, muttering dirty things under her breath, trying to make the man climax as fast as he could. She would look lovingly into his eyes when they told her that they wanted to make her cum, and reveal that they had, in fact, already made her cum. Several times in fact. Then the man, having felt that they had at least somewhat fulfilled their part in the sexual tug of war, would pound themselves in and out, their breath growing heavier, the sweat dripping off of their face. They would manage to get out, “I’m going to c-“ before tensing up, and then going slack, collapsing against her. And Jenny, trying to hide the bored look on her face, would then tell them how great they were, and proceed to push them off of her.

More than anything, Jenny wanted to feel something.

Sex had always been this dirty little act to Jenny. She was embarrassed to admit it, but her first sexual experience hadn’t been pleasing at all. Back in middle school, she had always slept in the nude. She had fallen asleep on a peanut butter cup that she had neglected to clear off of her bed that night, and by the morning, her entire lower region was covered in melted chocolate and processed peanut butter. The dog had managed to sneak into the room and, upon smelling the warm chocolate, had climbed up onto her bed and… Suffice to say, she hadn’t slept in the nude since then.

Jenny slid off of the bed, putting on a pair of men’s boxer shorts and a long t-shirt, listening to the light snoring of the frat boy behind her. She sighed, knowing that she would have to fetch the condom off of him before he ruined her sheets. She just hoped he didn’t wake up and take it as a sign that she was ready for more. On the contrary, she was quite done with him. She lit a cigarette and walked over to the window in her dorm room. As she took a drag, she stared out at the dormitory courtyard, wondering if there wasn’t something better for her out there.

She had never been into self-stimulation. She didn’t know if it was because she didn’t like touching herself down there, or if she was just plan lazy. A friend had bought her a vibrator for her birthday as a joke. Jenny had promptly thrown it away with disgust. She didn’t find the idea of having another human being inside of her, let alone a vibrating piece of plastic. Sitting at the window now, she thought that maybe it would’ve been a good idea to keep it around.

Of the nine sexual encounters she had, none of them had provided an orgasm for her. In fact, Jenny was pretty sure she had never experienced an orgasm before in her life. This thought depressed her even further. She flicked the cigarette out of the window and got up to go tell the sleeping frat boy go home.

The next day, Jenny sat in a campus café, sipping coffee and trying not to make eye contact with anybody. Dressed in sweats and a pair of sunglasses, she had kept a particularly watchful eye out for the frat boy in case he had suddenly fallen in love with her. She had hoped that she had treated him poorly enough at the end of the night that he would take it for what it was: A one night stand.

It wasn’t that she was shallow; it was just that she hadn’t ever had any true emotional reaction to gauge off of her own response to sex. As far as she was considered, this was as good as it would ever get.

The whole morning she had been thinking of her discarded birthday gift. The more she thought about it, and about the boy from last night, the more she had come closer to the conclusion that it couldn’t be any worse than what she had now. She decided to stop by the local erotic gift shop on the way home and making a purchase. And if she didn’t care for it, she could just donate the useless tool to charity or something.

As if on cue, the frat boy from the night before walked into view. Jenny shrunk down into her chair, cursing mildly under her breath. It was too late though, as the frat boy began ambling his way towards her. He took a seat in front of her. Jenny feigned a smile.

“Hey.” the frat boy said, color rising to his cheeks. Never a good sign in Jenny’s book. “I wanted to talk to you last night.”

“Okay,” Jenny nodded a little, waiting for the one-two punch of “commitment” and “girlfriend.”

“Look you’re really great and everything, but I’m just not ready for a relationship. So I’m hoping that last night could just be… You know...” Inside of her chest, Jenny’s heart leapt. She suddenly stood up, nearly knocking the table over.

“Oh,” she said indignantly and loudly enough for everybody around them to hear. “So that’s how it’s gonna’ be? You’re gonna’ fuck me for one night and then dump my ass? Well, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers when my period is late.” To add effect to this charade, she picked up a glass of lukewarm coffee and splashed it into the frat boy’s face. She stomped off, feigning anger, trying to suppress her smile. In her book, it was always a good idea to keep the upper hand in situations like this. She rationalized that by doing this, she would cause the partner to become more caring and sensitive the next time they drunkenly ravaged another unsuspecting teenage girl.

It wasn't that she was a bitch. She just didn’t know how to feel.

The sex shop was dimly lit. It smelled like strawberries and plastic. Despite the seedy atmosphere, the shop itself was quite well-maintained. The floors and walls looked sterile. A rack of magazines was neatly arranged, separated into their own little sub-categories. There an endless amount of racks of hardcore and softcore videos. Their display was quite charming, despite the fact that there were signs that advertised the different kinds of pornography (Such as “All Anal Fisting” and “Shaved Teens”).

Then there was the vibrator display. One entire wall was filled to the limit with synthetic dicks. A floodlight fixed to the ceiling beamed a light down, giving the sex toys an aural glow that would make a nun drop her rosary.

As soon as Jenny saw the proprietor of the shop, a kind looking old man, she had spun around and began to leave. The old man spoke up before she could reach the door.

“Can I help you, miss?” the man asked in a weathered, sweet voice. Jenny groaned as she turned back around and tried not to look embarrassed (At which she failed miserably).

“I was just…” Jenny paused as she tried to find the right words. “Browsing.” The old man smiled at her.

“That’s what most people do in here. Is there anything in particular you were looking for?” Jenny’s face flushed red.

“No,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “I really-“ The old man moved from behind the counter. He was dressed conservatively: A brown vest, a pale yellow sweater, tan slacks. He was like a modern-day Ward Cleaver, except for the bunny slippers. Those seemed to be an odd choice with the ensemble. The man took her by the arm gently, an act she found neither creepy nor unwarranted. His touch made her seem to relax, the tension in her body flowing away. Forty years ago, and she would’ve been all over this man.

The man led her through the adult games, one of which was a large pair of dice. One of the die had sexy verbs written on each side, such as “suck” and “lick” and “touch.” The other die had parts of the body written on it, such as “arm” and “neck” and “breast.” Jenny could only imagine how a game of that played out. It’d be like a weird yet sexy version of Twister. “Suck left nipple. Right foot green.”

He led her past the marital guides, past the bondage gear, past the edible panties to the vast wall of plastic wangs. The old man studied the wall for a while, his fist pensively resting on his chin. He looked over at Jenny, sized her up, and then approached the wall. His hand hovered over a toy, and then at the least minute he chose the one next to it. He walked back to Jenny and presented it. It was large, it was black, and it was out of Jenny’s league. Jenny shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said politely. “There’s no possible way I could-“

“Just a thought,” the old man said returning the package to display. “Just trying to get a feel for you.” He studied the wall some more, then studied Jenny some more. “So what exactly are you looking for her? Just a regular toy or something more immersive?”

“Immersive?” asked Jenny. Before she could figure out what that meant, there was a hissing sound, followed by a loud pop. Standing before her, as if from magic, was a five foot inflatable doll sporting a nine inch erection. This jarred Jenny so much that she stumbled backwards, tripping over the edible panty display. She quickly got up and tried to stand the display back up. The old man chuckled.

“Don’t worry about that,” the old man said kindly. “I can fix that up later. I’m sorry for startling you.” Jenny shrugged a little, attempting to place another pair of edible panties on the rack. The old man looked back at the wall. After a moment of consideration, he smiled and picked out a smaller package. He brought it over to Jenny. It was about four inches long and curved at the end. If it resembled anything at all, it sure wasn’t a penis. It was purple and shiny. The front of the package advertised three varied settings: Slow, Medium, and Relationship Ruiner. Jenny looked up at the old man who was still smiling. “I think this one will treat you all right.” It was, at the same time, the warmest and weirdest thing she had ever heard somebody say. She made her purchase and hustled back home.

That night, in the dark confines of her room, Jenny screamed out. For the first time, she could feel.

After that, life was different for Jenny. Instead of drunken one-night stands with sweaty, pale frat boys, Jenny stuck with the one lover she knew she could count on: Herself. She attended classes regularly. She even got a part-time job at the library. But whenever classes were finished, and work was over, she would run up to her room, turn off the lights, and lock the door. She never bothered to mask to sounds of her passion. In her rationale, she figured that her moans and screams of ecstasy would bring happiness and love to the other women on her floor. Instead, all it brought was campus security. After two weeks straight of not being able to sleep, the other girls on her floor had signed a petition to kick her out.

Jenny moved into a small, sound-proofed studio apartment. She spent her days working, and her nights experimenting with her sexuality. Eventually her purple little friend didn’t do the trick anymore, so she replaced it with something bigger. Every month she upgraded until finally she was left with something that resembled a leaf blower with a huge, wobbly dick at the end of it.

Eventually she tired from the synthetic stimulation. She ventured out into the real world again, scraggly looking and smelling of lube. She eventually met a nice young man who could actually give her exactly what she gave him. She became more adventurous in her sexuality, discovering aspects she never knew about. One could say they lived happily ever after, but that’s just clichéd and tired.

It wasn’t that Jenny never wanted happily ever after, she just never knew how it would feel.