I surveyed my cocks all laid out and grabbed the smallest one. I took my bitch's medically hard dick, clit to him, and compared it to my smallest strapon. It's about 7 inches long and about an inch and a half wide, very formidable in the real world and similar to his own member. Jim is what we called this strapon usually, but I told my bitch from now on we were going to call it 'the little guy'. I slapped his erect member very hard with the little guy and announced that the answer to his incessant question was yes, size matters. I could tell his cock wanted to deflate with his ego at this point. Tears welled into his eyes and I didn't care, in fact I liked it. All these years listening to his crap, I was giving him the answer he wanted to hear. I grabbed his artificially erect cock, squeezed it hard, and asked why I would ever want this in me again. His tears spilled over and he started shaking. Just then, we both heard my phone buzz to an inbound text.I looked at my phone and. I was sure the Seahawks were playing. Or maybe they were out of season and it was someone else. I should pay more attention.I parked but couldn’t get out of the car. I was terrified of going into the center by myself. These people had all been so warm and welcoming to me at Thanksgiving, but I was with Dag. I wasn’t one of them. I knew that and even though Mrs. Seafeld arranged to put the almond in my dish of risgrynsgröt, it was all to please Dag.When I finally managed to pry myself out of the car (It was getting cold!), I didn’t walk toward the club. I walked around the neighborhood, just looking at the little houses on the hills of Ballard. The streets were hardly wide enough to drive down but cars were parked on both sides. At every intersection there was an island in the middle that you had to drive around. Even in the cold air, children were outside playing, sometimes in steep yards and sometimes right out in the middle of the street. I walked about thirty minutes before I.
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