Page 30 of Hey Girl

Like this creep would, given half the chance.

That does it.

I pick up her phone again, determined to teach this prickless prick a lesson. “You’re…full…of shit…” I say aloud as I type. She snorts next to me.

Within seconds, her message alert tone pings again, and there it is.

One decidedly average dick. Hairy up the shaft and stubby with a mushroom cap head.

“Oh hell no,” I bark, standing and pulling at my fly. “This guy is about to get crushed…”

Rebecca

Holy shit…

Am I in the Twilight Zone? Because…

…nope, it’s no good, there are no words sufficient to explain how utterly other-worldly this is.

As though it’s completely normal and no big deal, Chris pulls his jeans and Calvins down, exposing his remarkably long and thick semi-erect penis, and snaps a photo of it. On my phone. And then sends it with a boyish cackle to the creep who’s been bugging me for days.

It’s so inappropriate. It’s a very long way beyond the pale.

But I am too thrilled and turned on to care.

Oh my God, I just saw a dick. I’ve never seen a dick before. I mean, I’ve seen plenty of anatomy books, gotten plenty of dick picks among my online shenanigans, including the one I just gotthat Chris just responded to with his own dick. Plus, I’m not gonna lie, I’ve seen plenty of porn. But I’ve never had a dick in me, I’ve never touched a dick, I’ve never seen a real-life dick in person. Like literally three feet away from me, attached to a living breathing man in my living room, was a dick.

A big dick.

A really, really big dick. And if it’s that size when it’s just at half-mast…

I cross my legs.

“Mouse?” Chris dips his chin and cocks an eyebrow, and looks at me like he didn’t just have his cock out a minute ago. “What’s up? You alright?” I don’t know what to say, and even if I did, it would come out all sputtery. I have trouble with encounters as it is, with just people. Just their regular, non-private parts, like hands and faces. Hell, I have trouble shaking hands, and now there’s a peen in my living room.

A peen that, if this relationship were to continue, I’d have to eventually shake hands with.

Or shake it with my vagina.

And let’s move on to the bigger issue, shall we? How can I possibly have sex for the first time with a dick that big, and that’s if I can even get to that moment, for dicks sake.? I mean, I’ve had more than my fair share of practice with vibrators, with sizes ranging from the Bullet to the Rabbit to the Jackrabbit. But if I ever wanted to put my vagina on that dick, I’d have to move up to Monster Mutant Rabbit, and use it for three weeks solid in preparation.

I mean, there are worse ways to spend three weeks, but…it’s intimidating.

In my efforts not to tremble with both dread and lust, I’m rigid and twitchy as I attempt to speak.

“It will never f-fit,” is what comes out. Spectacular.

“What? What won’t fit? I don’t - ” He glances down towards his crotch and back at my face. And then realization must fall over him like a heavy blanket because his eyelids lower as his mouth drops open. “Shit… Mouse, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I grew up on a commune with a bunch of freaky people who didn’t think nudity was a big deal. I mean, it was just normal to wander around bare ass freeballing, and for a second, I forgot that I was with someone that’s not used to penises flapping about.” He looks genuinely ashamed of himself. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’ve ruined this…”

Chris is a loose cannon, and his cannon was just loose. But I know he didn’t mean anything sleazy by it.

And just like that, I calm down again. He’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever met… But then, I’m also nothing like anyone he’s been around, no doubt. He’s just as much of an oddball as I am, in his own vastly different way. And whatever we end up doing with that monster wang, it’ll work out. I mean, my vag is capable of dealing with a baby’s head, theoretically. His baby’s-arm-holding-an-apple will be fine. And I trust him to be kind about it.

I blow out a breath, feeling my heart rate come down and pick up my phone, trying to just roll us both past it.

“Rebecca,” Chris sounds forlorn. “I’m really sorry for -,”

The poor drummer can’t finish because a laugh bursts out of me. I try to contain it, but the more I try to suppress it, the bigger it gets and forces itself out from between my lips. An embarrassing chortle comes out but erupts into a full on belly laugh before I have time to feel self-conscious about it.