Casilida

“Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Perhaps I've spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high.”
― E.L. James, Fifty Shades of Grey

“What is that?” The question is inane. But, honestly, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this? Alex chuckles nervously. As is appropriate since I’m holding his dick and I’m clearly not sane. “I mean, I know what it is. Obviously. Do you have some kind of . . . disorder? Like elephantiasis of the penis or something?” I did not say that out loud. “It’s not that big.” His erection slides in my grip. I can’t stop staring. My thumb and middle finger must have a good inch or more before they can meet. I squeeze to see if it helps bring them closer together. It doesn’t. What it does is make Alex groan, and that, oh holy monster of cock, is one hot noise.”
― Helena Hunting, Pucked