Page 25 of One Wild Ride

He raised his hand to his face, covering his eyes. “Why would I compare my penis with other guys?”

Shrugging my shoulders, I went over to the leather bench and sat. “I don’t know how guys are with each other. Maybe they compare length and girth?”

Alex dropped his hand and came to sit next to me on the bench. Leaning over he lowered his voice. “So, do, uh . . . women compare . . . you know . . .?”

A bit confused, I tilted my head but realized what he was talking about as his eyes dipped to my chest. “Boobs? Yes and no. Not how you think. It’s not like in porn where women get all grabby. Basically, we complain. Women with big boobs complain about back pain and finding a decent bra. While women more like me,” I waved a hand over my petite chest, “well, we complain about clothes that are supposed to show cleavage but just end up causing us to flash people. We are united on one thing though . . . bathing suits. All women, no matter what shape or size, all complain about bathing suits.”

“Never thought of that. I guess I always imagined the porn part.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“You never answered me, Alex.” I turned toward him, scooting an inch closer.

“What?”

“What have women said about your . . .” I waved my finger around his jean-covered cock.

He straightened his back and stared at the wall. “Nothing. Women haven’t said anything about my, uh, penis before.”

Crap. I had to ask. It’s not like a man with a small dick can’t be creative in other ways. I once slept with a guy with a small cock who give me multiple orgasms. He was very creative.

I smiled and gave a swift pat on his leg. “Oh, well, I’m sure that doesn’t mean—”

“But, then again, no woman has ever seen me naked,” Alex said.

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