They were heavy. While holding his balls, the tip of his penis could almost rest in the crook of my elbow, meaning, even soft, he was about the length...of my forearm. His shaft was about the width of my wrist. I prayed for all his prior girlfriends that he was a shower instead of a grower.Even then, he was insanely hung.“What do you think?” he asked as my other hand lifted his cock from the tip, watching his shaft dip down from the weight.“I think you’ve got quite the dick here, Mr. Chapman,” I. . just touch it." His voice trembled as he begged me to touch him. I thought that somehow, he was hurting... that I could make him feel better.I twined my hand between us, and he raised to allow it passage. I began to rub my slender fingers gently against his groin. His 'prick', as I'd heard guys call it before at school.I slid the fabric of his jeans up and down, until he groaned- loud. Startled by the throaty sounds he made, I pulled my hand away."NO! Don't stop, please. Please Jenny. That. More

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