Shy Squirter

Rachael’s pacing the living room like a horny coach waiting to chew her team out. Chanel finally pushes the door open, face twisted. “Total bust,” she mutters. Rachael groans, throws her hands up. “I don’t get it—look at you. What, the boys suddenly lose their vision?” Chanel fidgets, stares at the carpet. Eventually the words leak out: she’s been dodging sex altogether. Rachael blinks, then softens, asking the obvious. The next part comes quick, then stalls in the air—Chanel’s a squirter. She hunches like she’s about to get clocked. Rachael flushes pink, reaches for her wrist. “Hey, hey, that’s not the damn problem.” Chanel’s eyes flick up, doubtful. Talk drags until Rachael cuts the knot. Straight up offer, no grand speech. One eyebrow cocked. “Want me to show you there’s nothing to run from?” Chanel’s mouth drops, heart hammering, then she swallows the nerves and says yes.