My girlfriend Shelly says I have a seriously huge cock. I know--what the hell else would she say, right? But though I don't have illusions of meteoric grandeur, I pretty much believe she's more or less speaking accurately if only because I've never been accused of having a tiny pecker, even by an angry ex out to crush my spirit. That, and the fact that I don't particularly care if my pecker is as long as rope and as big around as a pit bull's belly or if it's closer in size to Angelina Jolie's pinky; I just don't have that much self-esteem wrapped up in my cock size. That's got to make me at least large, right? ;)
Whatever. She knows I like being naked, and don't really care who sees me, so she decided to test my resolve by showing me off to her friends.
She threw an intimate party--just her and five of her friends--and arranged for me to "accidentally" barge in on the festivities at exactly 8:42. I didn't know what she had in mind, but I trust her, and I knew she'd make things interesting, to say the least. I wasn't disappointed!
At 8:41 I was in the hallway outside her apartment with her keys in my hand, and my eye on my pre-synchronized watch. The second the digital second clicked 8:41:59 I silently slid the key into the lock. One second later, I was keyed in, and standing in the living room. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't a ring of chairs circled around the front door filled with a cluster of women who could only have been waiting for me.
Perched would be a better word. The six of them had been watching the front door to Shelly's apartment as purposefully as if they'd been watching Sex and the City.
"Ah, you're here!" said Shelly. I nodded silently, trying to figure out what was up, what I'd gotten myself in to.
"Close the door," she said. I did, unconsciously backing into it as though under attack. I felt like I was being stared at by a mob, and I knew my eyes were bugging out--deer in the headlights style.
"Lock it," Shelly demanded, and when I didn't move, one of the other girls--Megan, I think it was--clicked the deadbolt and I was trapped. I looked at Megan for a long second--straight black hair cupping her face like tiny hands, a long white dress cupping her tight, slender body, black heels that cupped her tender, creamy feet. Damn, I thought. Megan is completely fine tonight!
My gaze slid from her, across the forms of Shelly's friends Zoë, Darla, Jolee, and Ruth, and focused on Shelly. She wore a green satin floor-length gown, one of those ones that dangles enticingly from the smallest sliver of unexposed cleavage and slides downward. I looked back at her friends and realized that these girls were dressed up--not just wearing fine outfits. Shelly looked like a prom queen in Vegas, and the others were clearly her fabulous entourage!
