Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
He’s back in a minute, holding a large cardboard box.
“It’s for you.” Approaching, he lowers it to the floor next to me.
He kindly wipes his steak knife on a paper towel and slices the packing tape, leaving me to prise open the cardboard flaps. Inside is a receipt with a message.
Dear Allie, here’s a fun activity for you to do with the men in the group. Enjoy. Kirsty.
A fun activity. It sounds innocuous enough. It’s not until I pull the first package out from inside the box that I realize this activity is far from innocent.
“Make your own dildo,” Gabe reads from beside me.
“What?” Clay asks from further down the table. The buzz of conversation from the rest of the group quietens.
“It’s a ‘Make your own dildo’ kit,” Gabe repeats.
“There are ten of them,” Tom adds, after digging around in the box.
“Are you serious?” Theron sounds as though he can’t believe anyone in their right mind would want to do such a thing.
“You’re used to making things with your hands,” Jimmy tells him. “This should be right up your alley.”
“How is there any comparison between building houses and making dildos?” Theron rolls his eyes and uses his right hand to crack the knuckles on his left hand as though he’s preparing himself for a fight, or maybe for the task of dildo making. Who knows!
“Hang on a minute.” Clay pushes his chair back and squats next to the box. His long wavy hair has curled in the heat, and it flops over his eyes. He picks up a kit and stands, shaking it in his hand. “I saw a TikTok about this. It’s a molding kit.”
“What do you mean?” Theron leans forward to get a better look.
“I mean, we’re making dildos in the shape of our cocks.” His mischievous smile is accompanied by an endearing flash of his dimples.
Theron and Gabe both throw their hands in the air, reminding me of the body language of the mobsters in The Sopranos. “There’s no way I’m dipping my dick into a mold. What happens if it gets stuck?” Theron’s face twists into a grimace.
“I’m sure they product tested that possibility out before they launched,” Clay says.
“So you’re happy to dip your dick into that thing?” Gabe’s usually easy expression is twisted with uncertainty.
“I’m guessing the purpose of this exercise is that Allie will get to see our dimensions without having to ask us to drop our pants.” Oliver arches a brow and rubs his chin, rustling his beard hair as he considers what he just said. “It’s clever.”
“If she wants to see my dick, all she has to do is ask. I’m not shy.” Theron stands and my hands fly up, palms facing him.
“Down boy. The only sausage I’m happy to see at this table is the barbecued kind.”
A ripple of laughter spreads through the group and I begin to scan the back of one of the boxes, trying to gauge what’s expected of everyone. “It sounds easy,” I confirm. “Is there a brave soul in this group who’s prepared to go first?”
“I’ll do it,” Carson says. “I need a point to keep me in the running!”
“The running for what?” I ask, unable to suppress my curiosity any further.
He taps the side of his nose. “That would be telling.” He stands and takes the box from Clay. “I’ll be back.” Disappearing into the house, he takes the stairs two at a time in his haste. At least someone’s interested in completing the task. I’m more than interested to review the results. Kirsty might be annoying, but this is a clever idea.
“I think he wants to be the first to get Allie’s hands on his dick.” Jonas waves his fork in the air. He’s still eating, and I marvel at where he puts all the food in his bionically toned athletic frame. Hollow legs!
“His rubber dick,” I correct.
“Potatoes-potatoes.”
“And what’s going to happen with these dildos after?” Russell’s brows form a serious line.
“You worried someone’s going to use yours to get off?” Jimmy mimics the movement of a dildo being wielded, and Oliver puts up a hand to diffuse the situation.
“There’s only one woman in this house,” Oliver says, “and I’m sure she’s perfectly happy with her sex life without the need of our homemade dildos.”
He couldn’t be more wrong. My sex life has been as dry as the Gobi Desert for far too long. I’m pretty sure things are closing up down there through lack of use. Hell, the idea of Carson’s cock in rubber form is way more appealing than it should be, and I feel like such a total loser for thinking that way.
“Who here is comfortable producing a rubber replica of their dick?” I ask to steer the conversation away from me.
There’s a moment of hesitation when the men look around at the others in the group to judge expressions, then hands start to rise. Everyone except Gabe and Theron have their hands in the air.