But on second thought, if he already had these photos in his pocket, I couldn’t possibly be the first, second, third, fourth, or one hundredth person to see them. His cock was his job application and these photographs were his resume, and these penis enlargement pills were like his college degree that he paid a lot of money for because he thought he needed them to get a job.
He picked up eight different kinds of penis enlargement pills (not to be confused with the stamina pills—apparently he had the stamina department handled) and aggressively threw them down on the counter. I was starting to feel like some kind of drug dealer. Could people be addicted to penis enlargement pills?
“Are you OK?” I said. Which was probably an inappropriate question to ask in here.
“I have a date with my girlfriend this week,” he replied. “The average female desires at least a six-point-three-inch penis and mine is currently only five point eight.”
He had some kind of penis-size OCD, but it came from a somewhat romantic place. I think.
“Why would you go through all this work for just an average female?” I laughed out loud at my own joke. He didn’t find it funny.
“She is not average. According to her dating profile, she is twenty-five years old, has D-cup breasts, a twenty-four-inch waist, and she is five feet eight inches tall.”
My B-cup breasts, thirty-inch waist, and five feet three inches were mildly offended. But then again, there was a good chance he was being cat-fished by someone with completely different dimensions. Or even a completely different sex.
“Wait—is this the first time you’ll meet her in person?” I asked.
“Yes. We’ve been talking on the phone every day and texting every night, for months. I know she is the perfect girl for me and I’m worried my dick just won’t satisfy her. It’s just not the appropriate size. Not yet. I can get there.”
“Hasn’t she seen it yet? I mean, why don’t you just send her one of these photos? You have so many of them.”
“She has a photo,” he shortly answered.
“Okay, then, she knows, and she still has plans to see you? I mean, I will ring up these pills, obviously, but I think you’re in the clear here! Cheer up!”
Sandy’s positivity and happiness was contagious. I had never given anyone cock therapy before. But Sandy seemed to be the number one supporter of his cock and she was cackling in the background, and I found this laughter quite counterproductive to this remedial treatment.
“She’s got a photo of a cock all right—but not his! What is that poor girl going to think when she finds out you sent her a picture of a porn star’s dick?” Sandy laughed.
“Stop it, Sandy. Why are you talking about this in front of everyone? I will get mine that big. I can do it. It won’t be a lie once it’s the same size. I just need a few more centimeters and I can be the man that I know she deserves.”
“How do you know what she deserves? You haven’t even met her yet!” Sandy replied, still giggling.
“I have met her plenty, just not in person. The connection we have is beyond being physically present and being an ocean apart doesn’t belittle the status of our relationship. Her voice turns me on; even just the mere glimpse of her name appearing on my phone as a missed call or an unread text excites me more than anyone I have ever interacted with.”
There was dead silence in the room. This internet romance had more gusto than anything or anyone I had experienced.
“How, um, does Sandy know what photo you sent?” I asked.
“Well—I mean—she found the cock… for me to send. I… I asked her to. As a favor.”
If I was the cock therapist, then Sandy was the cock enabler. Grandmothers aren’t ones to practice tough love. They usually give in to what their loved ones want, to make them happy. In this case, her loved one needed a photo of a cock off the internet.
He took three of the pills that he purchased and asked for a key to room one. This was a smaller room, with plenty of lube, tissues, and a comfortable couch. I handed him the key and he rushed off to the room without any further instruction from me.
“Oh, Amir,” Sandy sighed. “When will that boy gain some confidence in his penis?” She shook her head in disbelief and rested it on my shoulder. The two of us watched the monitor behind the register, and waited for him to begin “jelking” off.
He wasted no time—as soon as he entered the room he played some kind of porn he had on his cell phone. He had a large screen and a mini stand that clipped to the back of it. He came prepared!
He took his cock out and as Sandy wasn’t exaggerating—it was nice! Thick and round, like the size of a ketchup bottle. The head of his penis was a unique triangular shape, which looked incredibly pleasurable. I felt like I had seen dildos the same size of his dick. It was shorter and fatter than the few that I’d seen in my life, and not the lengthiest cock in the universe, but I didn’t see that as a problem. Not like I was in any position to be a penis snob, but truly, I wouldn’t have been disappointed had I been presented with that.
He pulled his penis as far out as possible, like he was stretching a salt-water taffy. His penis looked red, and then he smoothed it out. Then red again, then smoothed out. Was he moving the blood vessels around? I’m not quite sure. He moaned, though I wasn’t sure if it was a moan of pleasure or pain. His determination to stretch his penis was admirable. I was lucky to have men open a car door for me, let alone go through a physical mutation just for my pleasure.
He massaged his balls. He licked his fingers and massaged the head of his dick. He rubbed his chest, he scratched himself, he alternated his right hand and left hand on his cock, still pulling the skin forward. He grabbed some lube, placed one hand at the base of his cock and his other hand pulled his shaft forward in long strokes, like he was untangling a garden hose. He manipulated his skin, cupping his balls, while he stared at the girl-girl-boy threesome porn on his phone screen. This was an intense jerk-off—or jelk-off—session. It was masturbation with a true purpose. Sweat poured down his chest. He breathed heavy to the point where I could see the audio levels on the monitor peaking. He pulled his cock forward—as far forward as he could possibly make it go. I was actually scared for a moment he would wind up pulling the thing off. All the while his little bun up top of his head hadn’t budged. Not one hair out of place.
He had an explosive amount of testosterone. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to throw me against the wall and fuck me, or if I wanted to watch him hit a body bag at the gym. Or maybe I just wanted him to continue jelking off his perfectly sized cock.
“It really is a nice cock,” Sandy said. “He just needs to learn to love himself.” From the looks of it he truly knew how to love himself quite well, at least physically. My panties were wet just watching this vehement self-pleasure.
He completed; an incredibly large and healthy, creamy-white finish, and cum dripped down his legs. He then took a finger and dipped it in his own cum, licked his finger, nodded, and smiled.
Sandy let out a loud laugh. “I added some pineapple juice to the punch. It makes cum taste real good!”
It’s always nice to learn new family recipes from your grandma.