Jesus, Dan's balls were huge. Fucking elephant balls, was what they were. No wonder he'd gone bald by twenty-two--he had to be making so much goddamn testosterone that it strangled his follicles in their fucking cradle. How he didn't wind up with a constant ache in his groin every time he put on pants, Meghan had no goddamn clue. Like, shouldn't he have to wear a jockstrap or something just to cross his legs? It was... it was fucking absurd. She couldn't even deal with the sight of him when his balls were out like that.
Not that she should have to. Dan really shouldn't be standing there with his shorts around his ankles and his testicles swaying gently with every tiny motion of his body like the world's most perverted metronome. Meghan should really be telling him to put his clothes back on and, and... and get back to his room so he could show his freakishly huge nutsack to his fucking girlfriend. Wasn't that the whole reason they decided to rent a cabin way the hell out in the middle of nowhere for Spring Break this year? Because all the couples wanted to screw like bunnies in the privacy of nature instead of letting Meghan and Leigh and Dana actually meet another human being for a change? And now here was Dan, showing off his mediocre cock and his absurd fucking scrotum to her. She should tell him to stop.
But she wasn't. Which was odd, once she took a moment to really think about it. It wasn't that Meghan was particularly shocked--she was twenty-four, she had a connection to the Internet, of course she'd seen guys show off their junk before. She was vaguely annoyed, she had to admit, but more by the presumption of irresistibility than anything. Dan wasn't making a move, he wasn't stepping out of his shorts and advancing on her bed with a look on his face... he hadn't even said a word, honestly. He was just standing there, nuts out, as though he expected her at any minute to slide off the mattress and crawl across the room to nuzzle his weird giant testicles. It was... well, it was a ballsy move. Meghan stifled a giggle, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.
And yet despite her annoyance, despite her irritation, despite her exhaustion from a frankly overwhelming day out on the lake swimming and water-skiing and sharking the other women at two-on-one beach volleyball in an afternoon that probably paid for her share of the trip... Meghan wasn't doing anything about this. She wasn't yelling at Dan, she wasn't telling him to go fuck himself, she wasn't even telling him to go fuck Nita who was probably used to his crazy elephant testicles. She was just. Staring. At him. In dead, stupefied silence. For, for--for how long had it been now? Meghan almost looked at her phone, but somehow that continually felt like something she was going to do in just a few moments.
It was just... they were just so fascinating. Meghan found herself following them with her eyes, paying close attention to the way Dan's every motion translated its way down to his package and made it swing very gently from side to side. She'd never seen a guy's balls move like that; probably most dudes didn't have enough down there to fall victim to gravity's pull. It was weirdly compelling, like one of those Newton's Cradles that used to be on every evil corporate dude's desk in old 80s movies. Meghan would never have taken a look on her own, but as long as they were right there in front of her, what was the harm in staring a little? It probably made Dan feel a little better about his ginormous nuts.
Oh. Shit. What if it made him feel a little too good? It slowly dawned on Meghan that staring at a dude's cock and balls for something like a solid minute probably wasn't a good way to convince him that he should go fuck his girlfriend instead of giving her a weird lascivious look and--and humming? Was he humming something under his breath? Okay. That was bizarre. She, she should really tell him that he had the wrong idea about all this. She should explain that Nita was her friend, and Meghan wasn't about to cheat on her or, or, or....
