Stay there

You stay perfectly still, a statue carved from stone, your breath held tight in your chest as Lily leans in. Her fingers, still warm from being wrapped around your body, close around the thick base of your shaft. She doesn’t grip hard, just a loose, exploratory hold, but even that is enough to make your pulse jump visibly against her palm.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, her thumb dragging slowly up the underside, tracing the thick vein that runs the length of you. “Mark, you’re huge. Like... the biggest I’ve seen. In real-life at least.”

You force yourself not to move, not to thrust into her hand, not to react. Your jaw is clenched so tight your teeth ache. You stare straight ahead at the fire, watching the flames blur, trying to anchor yourself to something other than the slow, torturous stroke of her fingers.

Then your eyes drift sideways.

Jean has moved. He’s no longer seated at the chair. He’s standing a few feet away, half-turned from his pad, and he has clearly abandoned all pretense of professionalism. His shirt hangs open, his tros are pushed down past his hips, and his hand is wrapped around his own cock, stroking himself with slow, deliberate pulls as he watches the two of you.

You can’t help but look. You try not to, but your gaze flicks down and then snaps back, and the comparison lands like a slap.

Jean is lean everywhere. His cock is slim, pale, and modest, maybe a slightly below average, but nothing that commands attention. It sits in his hand like a pencil, neat and unassuming, the head barely peeking past his fist. Against the heavy, thick, blood-darkened length of you currently being cradled by Lily’s small hand, the difference is stark.

Jean notices you noticing. He doesn’t stop stroking. He just tilts his head, that same appraising artist’s look on his face, and says calmly, “Yes. The proportions are interesting, no? She is small. You are... not.”

Lily, still holding you, follows your gaze. She looks at Jean, then back down at your cock in her hand, then back at Jean. A slow grin spreads across her face, and she squeezes you just a little tighter.

“Interesting,” she echoes, her voice dripping with mischief. “That’s one word for it.”