We were having a discussion in my FB group about the various laughable ways a hard cock can be described, and my feverish little mind regurgitated the following.
He was in a mood, I could tell.
“Like my turgid cock?” he said, pumping his dick a couple of times. “My throbbing manhood? My iron-hard shaft? My…” He trailed off into laughter.
I climbed onto the bed beside him. “What the hell?”
“Just read the most abysmal sex scene. Wanted to know if that stuff worked on anyone.”
“It sure as fuck doesn’t work on me.” I slipped a hand over his, jacking him, and we kissed.
“Pump my granite cock, work it, you know you want to suck my hammer of lust―”
I shoved him, laughing. “Knock it off. You’re ruining the mood.”
“What, you don’t think that’s sexy? Dirty? It doesn’t inflame you?”
“I’m throwing that book in the basket first chance I get.”
“Can’t,” he said smugly. “It’s on the Kindle.”
I tackled him, and we wrestled briefly, still laughing.
“Give me your rod of love!” I simpered in falsetto.
He batted his eyelashes at me coyly. “I’m a virgin. Beg me.”
I slipped a finger into his ass. “How’s that?”
“Works for me.”
There was no more talk of throbbing members or granite tools. We were too busy fucking.