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With that, he gets up from the bed.
All naked.
His tight, muscular ass with those dips on the sides — yes, he has them — on full display. In addition to his back and shoulder blades. They’re rippling, moving, twitching and all he’s doing is walking to the bathroom.
I keep lying down and simply raise my head a little to try to see him as I ask, “What are you doing?”
The door to the bathroom is partially open but I can’t see him.
I hear him though.
The sound of him peeing, and I have to press my thighs together again. Because I’m hit by how intimate this is: him peeing with the door half open. So intimate that I don’t think even girlfriends and boyfriends do this. At least not in the beginning of a relationship. I think this is reserved for married couples, or couples who have been together for years and years.
The fact that he’s doing it now, all shamelessly, fills me with something very akin to joy.
Also lust.
Which is not good because I need to focus.
And tell him.
I hear the flush then and the tap comes on. Which is when he says, “You’ll eat. You’ll take meds and then you’ll go to back to sleep.”
I frown. “Why?”
He doesn’t answer for a couple of minutes. Probably because he’s brushing his teeth, freshening up or whatever. Again, something so normal and so intimate. Something that makes me move restlessly under the sheets despite the soreness.
Then, appearing at the door, he declares, “Because you need to rest.”
“Oh.”
That comes out breathy and totally without thought.
Because he’s still naked. And because I’m busy staring at the front of him. Not his chest or his arms though. I mean, they’re beautiful and all but I’ve seen them plenty of times.
I’m more focused on his dick.
Holy fuck.
In the light of day, I think it looks even more intimidating. It looks like a tree trunk, so heavy and ruddy and veiny. No wonder I’m so sore. Even half hard and resting against his thigh, it looks so large and powerful. Plus those ladder-patterned studs. They make it more rugged but beautiful.
“Stop fucking staring at it,” he snaps, still standing at the threshold.
My eyes jump up to look at his face. “It’s so big.”
His eyes narrow. “If you don’t stop staring at it, it’s gonna get bigger.”
“Like, huge.”
He sighs in response and walks further into the room. I turn my head on the pillow to watch him go to the chest and open a drawer.
“Has it always been this way?” I ask out of curiosity as he retrieves a pair of gray sweatpants. When he silently starts to put them on, I continue, “I mean like, were you born this way, with a larger than average sized penis?” He’s done putting his pants on but still hasn’t said a word. As he slams the drawer shut, I ask, “Is it heavy? Does it like, move around when you walk? Can you hold it with one hand? Do you need both your hands to hold it?”
He turns to face me. “No, but you would.”
“I would what?”
“Need both your baby hands to hold it.”
I ignore his condescending comment and ask, “Do they make condoms your size?”
“We don’t need to worry about condoms now, do we?”
“Do you think if they did, they’d name it quadruple X or something? For measurement purposes, of course.”
“How about we find that out by sticking it in your mouth and measuring it against your gag reflex.”
“That’s why you’re always bragging about your dick, isn’t it?”
“If it keeps hurting you every time I stick it in your pussy, then I don’t think I’ve got anything to brag about.”
Swallowing, I bite my lip. “It’s just that I’ve never seen a dick this big.”
“You’ve never seen a dick other than mine, period.”
“Not even in porn.”
“Fuck porn. You don’t need porn now that you’ve got me.”
“Do you think every guy —”
“You’re not allowed to think about other guys.”
My belly flip-flops. “And the girls? They —”
“I have no interest in thinking about other girls.”
My belly flip-flops harder. “Were you serious?”
“About what?”
“That you hadn’t slept with anyone for three years.”
His jaw tics. “What do you think?”
“I can’t believe you did that.”
His jaw tics again.
“No one does that.”
“I do it,” he says then.
“It doesn’t even happen in romance books.”
“Then maybe you should read different books.”
I open my mouth to say something.
But my words seem to have gotten stuck on the tip of my tongue. And there are two reasons for it.
One, I realize that I’m naked. Something that I should’ve clued in to way before this, but I guess I had lust-colored glasses on. And the reason I realize this now is because I make my first attempt to sit up ever since I woke up, causing my cozy little blanket to slide down my body. And when I go to catch it, I run into the second reason.
