When Marissa's poodle, Thor is snatched, the police can do nothing, so she goes to a private investigator. Their initial encounter leaves her shaken and wondering whether it's time to review her decision to avoid men.
Graham gave up on women after a...
I awoke disoriented and feeling constrained. Ummm, not awake, just dreaming, I thought as I shifted. Then, another nudge and a voice, "I need to pee."
Feeling someone with me confirmed the dreaming. So pleasant. But need to pee. Should do that. But so comfortable here. Hold it a bit longer.
Another nudge, a tug on my arm and the voice again, "Graham, I need to go – now."
The throaty words brought realisation. "Marissa! Sorry, must have drifted off."
"Ummm. Seems we both did." I released the tight hug, she rolled away from me and rose from the bed. Then, with a chuckle, she added, "Don't go away. Be right back."
As she headed toward the ensuite, the enticing roll of her cheeks stirred me, and I pulled the sheet to hide my mini arousal. Why? She knows. She's seen it. Seems okay with it. For now.
Marissa giggled as she returned a minute or so later. "Whatcha got in the tent, Graham?"
"Ummm. Evidence of how you stir me."
"Hiding evidence is obstruction of justice." She whipped the sheet off and settled astride me.
I trembled at the sensations as she slowly churned. "And, who is now hiding evidence?"
"Not hiding, Graham. Examining. Using."
After two orgasms for her, we shared a third, and as we lay enjoying the afterglow, she said, "So completely beyond."
"Ummm. Far more than I've ever experienced."
She snuggled into me. "That as well. But I meant beyond the fear. Beyond the triggering."
"Likely because of the weeness of my penis."
"It's not wee, Graham. Think of it as being toward the smaller end of the normal spectrum. I saw many similar along the beach."
"Beach?"
"Wreck Beach. Dr Shankar, my latest shrink, took me there to confirm what the graphs show. Few men dangle more than ten centimetres – most aren't much more than the size of their thumbs."
"Oh!"
She shifted her hips. "Indeed, oh! Besides, grinding and churning like this, you're in constant contact with my clit. That's what pops women. Oh, God! So many times the past while. The only way size matters is that smaller is better – at least, for me."
I nodded. "The distortions of porn."
"Exactly, and I thought the online ones were normal until Anika – Dr Shankar, showed me the graphs."
"Hmmm. I'd like to see those."
"The best one is on Wikipedia – it's bookmarked on my computer over there." She twisted around and nodded toward the desk in front of the windows. "Oh, my! The clouds have begun reddening – past six already."
"Can't be." I reached for my phone on the bedside table, thumbed it and looked. "Wow! Eighteen twelve. Lost in the timelessness of you."
"Ummm. You have such a wonderful way with words."
"And you have such a superb way of being – of simply being you. So, what's the next step?"
"Cook dinner. Also, I have to check the dogs – Zeb and Sarah would have left an hour or more ago."
I chuckled. "No, I meant with us."
"Oh! Yeah, we need to look at that. What do you see?"
"Far beyond only a romp in the proverbial hay, Marissa. Too much affinity to leave it at that."
"Ummm." She rolled from atop me and took my hand. "Come, let's move this discussion to the shower."
As she led me into the ensuite, I marvelled at her ease with me – as if we've been together for ages, rather than only six hours. "So, how do we structure this – this whatever it is? Don't even have a name for it. We should define that first. What would –"
Marissa interrupted, "Wouldn't it make sense to allow it to evolve on its own? Don't direct it. Don't put it in a box. Simply see where it takes us."
Oh, my! "Unstructured is an unusual approach for me." I shrugged. "But being in a relationship is also unusual."
She chuckled as she opened the shower door. "Maybe you scared them away with over-organisation."
"Hmmm. Possibly some. But Wee Willy is the usual cause."
She shook her head. "You should shift your perception of it, Graham. It's not wee – it's simply toward the lower end of normal."
"I need to see the graph and the research behind it."
"After we've showered. Until then, be satisfied that it allowed me to overcome my frigidity."
"Ummm, true."
After we had dried and dressed, Marissa unplugged her MacBook. "We'll take this down to the kitchen, and you can look at it there while I think of what to cook for dinner."
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Downstairs, she set the computer on the kitchen island, opened it and logged in. Then, a few keystrokes later, she turned the screen toward me. After a quick examination of the graph, I asked, "On what data is this based?"
"It's from a compilation of all accredited studies – over fifteen thousand penises measured by researchers using a standardised procedure. Dr Shankar said self-reported surveys are always skewed, and until this compilation, their one, two or more centimetres of inflation were accepted as factual."
I examined the graph, nodding. "So, one in twelve is my size or smaller."
"Likely more than that, Graham. Fewer at this end of the spectrum are willing to be measured. But the graph shows that well over half of all men are less than three centimetres longer than you are."
"Hmmm!" Then, after further analysing the graph, I pointed at the top of the screen. "And these five per cent are the recruit base for the porn producers."
"Yup, and the numbers are likely skewed by the super-hung being more willing to be measured." She nodded out through the patio doors. "But to other things. Let's discuss what to cook for dinner while we check on the dogs."
