Page 67 of His Choice

“Melody,” I corrected for the millionth time. “Yeah…she did.”

“See?”

“Maybe I never got over being ugly when I was younger.” I ran a hand over my face. “God, when I look at pictures from then, I wonder how my parents didn’t drive me to the dump and leave me. My hair was long, straggly and shapeless. Plus, I was too skinny. And I hadn’t grown into these ears. Then there was a mole I had near my nose that I finally convinced my mother to cough up the cash to pay a plastic surgeon to remove. I don’t know what was worse—that or the chronic acne I had on my chin. I was a mess.”

“Sounds it,” he agreed in a frightened tone.

“Bastard,” I muttered.

He snickered. “What should I have said? Gee, that description would garner millions of views on a dating app?”

I laughed in return. “Okay, fair enough. I was…grotesque.”

“I’m sure you weren’t as bad as that,” he disagreed. “Ugly, sure. But grotesque is on another level that’s reserved for freaks that serve monsters.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know, like Edgar… Young Frankenstein’s servant,” he explained.

“Do you mean Igor??”

“Whatever,” he answered. “The point is, you blossomed and that hideous past and all its associated trauma is behind you.”

“Except my dick didn’t blossom. It’s still a sprout, apparently.” I snorted at my own joke.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Are you back to that? What have the guys you’ve slept with said about it?”

I tried to recall. “Nothing. That’s not a good sign, is it? I mean, if they had thought it was an awesome cock, they would have said so, wouldn’t they? Then again, I always had sex in the dark. I never saw theirs, either.”

“You’re just sad, you know that?” he harassed.

“But they still had my dick in their hands and in their mouths,” I continued. “It wasn’t like that inspired any compliments about my size.”

“Did you ever comment on theirs?” he challenged.

I tried to recall. “I think I remember choking once and telling the guy he was too big. But he really wasn’t. He was just aggressive, wanting to fuck my throat instead of letting me control the pace. I should have told him he was an asshole and kicked him out instead.”

Aaron’s eyes widened. “There’s too much to unpack there.”

“As I said, there wasn’t,” I jested. “He was just a selfish jerk. But I’ll bet Cliff is huge. He just strikes you as a man with a big, thick cock.”

Aaron scowled. “Dude. I don’t want to talk about Cliff’s junk.”

“Yet we’re talking about mine,” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “That’s different.”

“How?”

Aaron searched for the words to explain but failed. “I don’t know. It just is.”

I shook my head. “Anyway, if Cliff is well-endowed, then it might mean even more that he’d be sorry if he chooses me.”

“Like I said earlier, if that’s the case, he’s a douche,” Aaron replied.

“Wouldn’t you be disappointed if the girl you took home had led you to believe she had big breasts by wearing a padded bra?” I challenged.

He grinned. “No, because I don’t prefer big tits. I like chicks with smaller breasts.”