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“Both,” I say. “I don’t want to hurt anyone I’m with, although sometimes there isn’t much I can do about it. It depends on how well we fit.”
“Mmm….that’s interesting.” Allie turns in my direction, blinking when she finds me looking directly at her. The wind whips the tendrils of her hair again and my fingers itch to smooth it.“Sorry…I just feel like I’m missing out on so much by not seeing you. Would it be okay for me to stay like this?”
I nod and shift until I’m sitting crossed legged, feeling like a kid on the kindergarten rug. “I guess so.”
“So, what you’re saying is that size matters for both partners?”
I shrug, her analysis of my answer throwing up a whole other avenue of discussion. “Yeah. Sure. I mean, when I see really tall men with really short women, my first thought is always, ‘how do they make that work?’. Or when you see tall women with short men, the same thing. When it comes to the size of other things, it helps if people are compatible.”
“So, you mean that it fits more easily?” Allie is focused on the recording app on her phone, her cheeks taking on a pretty, soft blush. Somehow, seeing that she’s struggling a little to ask me this stuff makes me less awkward.
“Yeah. Compatibility of size means less work, but there are ways of making things fit if size compatibility isn’t quite there.”
“Right,” Allie says, nodding emphatically. Her eyes flick up to mine, and I’m grateful for the thin dark plastic that conceals my gaze from hers. She bites the side of her lip as though she’s trying to determine if she should ask the question that’s on the tip of her tongue. “If you could change your size, would you?”
I’ve thought about this question many times before. When people have big noses, they can go for surgery to make them more moderate in size. Women have breast reductions and enlargements, lifts and tucks and goodness knows what else. But a man’s penis is pretty much a fixed entity, a size we’re allocated by a genetic roulette. “I wouldn’t change anything about myself,” I say. “We’re handed our lot and the good and the bad shapes us. I wouldn’t be the me I am right now if I was built differently because I would have had a whole heap of different experiences across my life.”
She nods and presses the stop button on her app before she looks up at me.
“That’s great for now.” Her smile is genuine, but maybe a little artificially bright. Allie puts across a confident persona, but there’s something beneath that feels uncertain. She stands and brushes the sand from her butt and thighs, glancing up at the clear blue sky spread above us. I rise to my feet too, stretching my arms above my head and letting the blood ease back into my cramped legs. “Are they all using the mold kits?” she asks, her attention already focused back on the house.
“I think so. Maybe Gabe and Theron are still waiting to make sure no one else’s dick falls off in the process.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “That’s a revelation in itself, how some men are happy to stick their dicks into kits and others aren’t so eager.”
“Like a lot of dudes are happy to stick their dicks into random women and others are more discerning.”
“Or maybe how men are happier to stick their dicks into random women than they are into quality tested vibrator making kits.” She starts walking toward the stairs that rise from the beach and turns to make sure I’m following. “I’m curious to see what the results will be like.”
She starts to climb the stairs and I wait for her to reach the top, not wanting her to feel crowded. Her bikini briefs sink a little deeper into the cheeks of her gorgeous ass, and I have to think about cleaning my gun, and the never-ending desert I spent years staring into, to prevent my dick from hardening.
I used to love the beach, but sand has taken on a different quality.
I had my own reservations about using one of those kits, but now I’m kind of intrigued. Allie’s response to the activity is going to be the most interesting thing about it for me.
And not for the first time since I met her. I wonder just how compatible we might be.
ALLIE
I was unaware of how long I was at the beach with Russell until I notice seven purple rubber cocks lined up on the outside table, standing tall and proud, like a battalion ready for war.
Russell, who’s close behind me, laughs wryly.
“Seven times lucky,” he says.
I’m mesmerized by the size of them, and fascinated by the different girths, curves, veins, head sizes…hell, all the differences. I open my mouth a few times to make a comment but can’t think of anything to say without setting my face on fire again, so I turn back to Russell. “Are you going to do yours now?” I scan his body language for his true response. Russell is a very reserved man, and he holds a lot behind a veneer so stoic it’s hard to see him breathe let alone react.
“Do you want me to?”
“I think you should. And if Theron and Gabe aren’t doing theirs, can you encourage them?”
“Sure.” Russell saunters away, grabbing a kit from the counter in the kitchen. I note that it’s the only one there, so I guess that Theron and Gabe must have overcome their reticence.
“Hey, Allie.” Jimmy emerges from the kitchen with a tray of beers and other assorted drinks. He’s followed by a troupe of other men who seem ready for more pool time. “Did you see our beautiful creations?”
“How could I miss them?” My eyes drift over the purple monsters again and I get a flash image of those famous statues on an island somewhere, facing out to sea like giant totems.
“There was a sharpie in the box so we’ve marked them so we know whose is whose,” Stefan adds.
