Page 2 of Milk & Cookie

Nerves flutter in my stomach, and the urge to steal a secret glance is getting harder to suppress. I’ve got my breathing back to normal, but not looking at her feels weirdly like being deprived of something as necessary as oxygen.

There’s a soft scuffling sound, and then I hear the intentional puffed breaths of someone in an exercising rhythm. The tension leaves my shoulders, and I lift my gaze to the mirrors. Unable to see her clearly beyond a rack of kettlebells, I slowly slide along my bench, until I can see her doing crunches on the padded mats behind me, in the reflection. Her angel face is set in an expression of extreme focus and determination, so I take a moment to appreciate her without worrying she’ll notice.

If natural instinct and intuition are prompts from the universe, then surely this level of attraction has to be a sign I can’t ignore. Maybe she’s The One?

My mind practically razzes its hypothetical lips at me. You’re too big, you’ve always been too big, and you’ll always be too big.

I crane my neck a little more. Maybe she’s bigger than she looks?

Objects in mirrors aren’t always the size they appear, right?

Not that I want to objectify the curvy goddess with a ponytail of thick, sun-kissed brown curls.

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding?

My dick clearly wasn’t interested in finding out if she has a great personality before declaring its appreciation. Despite all countermeasures, it’s intent on giving her a standing ovation, so I move my sweat towel over my lap, in an attempt to hide the automatic and inconvenient response.

It’s a hopeless situation. Nothing could camouflage the mammoth cock in my shorts, and it’s impossible to reverse my gargantuan erection, when I can’t stop staring at the wet stain on her tights. It’s right smack between her thighs, and coupled with her gorgeous, pink, and panting concentration-face, it’s luring my mind down a sordid path. No matter how I try to distract myself, all attempts lead to more desire, until one completely inappropriate question circles around and around in a continuous loop. Can my dick fit inside her?

Shit.

I shouldn’t be thinking like this, but the dark streak in the crotch of her leggings has me by the balls. Maybe it’s sweat, or maybe she got so excited about working out, she peed a little, but all I can think about is her cunt being incredibly juicy, and what she may look like, stretched around my cock.

I gulp down my guilty thoughts and force myself to turn away from the mirror, but not before a quick look over my shoulder at the woman seriously committed to her sit-ups, over on the mats.

Damn it. She’s definitely on the small side.

Not that grab-able ass, those poorly strapped down tits, or that soft looking chub around her middle I want to rest my head on while I dream up fantasies, but overall. She’s closer to five foot than upward of five-and-a-half, so she falls directly into the don’t even think about it category.

With a dick as big as mine, options are limited. Small, sexy, beautifully chubby women are excellent dream fodder, but I’ve got to curb those desires and be more realistic if I’m ever going to have kids of my own. Even big-boned women get scared when I mention wanting children, and every girlfriend I’ve ever had has left me within a few days of my bringing up the topic.

It’s not like I haven’t been in love or had serious relationships. I’ve loved more women than I care to remember, but each time, they break my damned heart at that last hurdle, and I end up having to start over.

I glance at the pretty, pocket-sized gal again and shut down all considerations of going over to introduce myself. My heart isn’t in any shape to get shot down right now, and that’d be a sure thing with her.

I drag both hands down my face and stare at my water bottle.

What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s got to be more than my size.

I’m a nice person. I can be charming, and I know how to care for and please a woman. All my nieces and nephews think I’m awesome. I thought I’d be happily married and settled in a small and picturesque mountain town like this one with a ton of kids by now, but I’m forty-four and alone.

Perpetually alone. Dumped before things get serious, every time. Just how fucking brave does a woman need to be to love me? Am I so undesirable?

I grip my bench and do a set of triceps dips before sitting again to stare at my weights. I rock the barbell back and forth with my foot. It’s not heavy enough for my liking. I should be lifting substantially more, but with all the heaviest plates in the gym already loaded onto my maxed-out-for-space bar, I’ll have to lower my expectations.

Story of my life.

I don’t want to have to apply the same depressing principle to love, but it’s time to set romance aside and face the truth. I’m too big to like small women. They may float my damn boat, but if I want a family, I’ll have to learn to love something else.

“Excuse me?” a soft voice enquires from behind me.

I close my eyes and swallow hard, because there’s only one other person in the gym, and apparently, she has the husky voice of an absolute sex kitten. My dick was actually starting to deflate, but there’s no hope of that happening now. She’s like fucking crack to my libido. Highly addictive, but impossible to indulge in crack. It’s like the universe is tempting me with every dirty trick up its sleeve, as if to say, Fall in again, Vince. I dare ya.

“Um… excuse me?” she says, a little louder.

“Yeah?” I ask, not turning around.

“Sorry to interrupt your workout. It’s just that nobody else is around, and you look very strong. Would you mind spotting me when I’m doing my squats? It doesn’t have to be right now or anything, but I’d really appreciate… you looking at me, for one thing.” Her tone hardens for that last part. “Didn’t your mama tell you it’s rude keep your back to people when they’re talking?” The direction of her voice changes, as if she’s circling. “Why are you squeezing your eyes shut?”

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