“His penis poked up curiously, like a puppy seeing a tennis ball.”
“His penis lunged against the restraint of his pelvis like a poorly socialized puppy that had just seen a young child to knock over, but was held back by its leash.”
“His balls sagged with embarrassment.”
“His balls clung desperately to each other like lovers parting for the last time.”
“When he came inside, his beard was limp with dejection.”
“His mustache flared with rage.”
“He was thirty-two, but still held onto a hint of the virile man he must have been in high school, his slim and disappointingly muscled body carried with a hint of pungent masculinity, like a tantalizing taste of the scent of motor oil.”
“He was a shy and reserved kind of guy. She had been around guys like him before—the sort that were aware of their soft jawline and modestly sized cock, but were not quite confident enough to realize that a decent ass could make up for that if you had an interesting enough personality.”
“Bruce. Tall, ruggedly chiseled Bruce, his sawdust skin tinted with the shade of medium-rare steak, his granite body just making up for the fact that his legs were just a bit too thin to really look good in those khaki shorts. Bruce was the kind of man who wore his polo shirts unbuttoned, but didn’t seem to notice when he drew the attention of every woman with eyes in the area.”
“His chest, she thought, was the chest of a virgin...just a few thin snarls of hair, matching his beard which, though struggling, framed a rather attractive pair of lips.”
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