Spent enough of my life being quiet
while a man got what he wanted.
She sighs.
“Your coochie deserves better than 4.5 inches.”
The blade comes down harder.
She’s not wrong. My pussy had one glimpse of Andrew's beautiful dick, and she was salivating.
“Yeah, well—for a hot sec I was considering full penetration on a six-point-five,” I say. “Dopamine had me fucked-up-drunk, bro. Almost risked my pussy’s legacy for a Jersey boy.”
She eyes me without lifting her head.
“Legacy don’t mean shit if you never let nobody in.” She shrugs. “Six-point-five woulda been a good start.”
I pluck a grape off the counter
next to her phone,
practicing,
training her to see my hand on the counter
so when I do grab it,
she doesn’t notice.
I’m brilliant.
“Start? I’m not trying to meet God, Celie. I’m just trying to come and pass the fuck out after.”
I want to ask how big Drake was.
But she’s holding a knife
and I’m not dying over dick stats.
I pop the grape into my mouth. “I need a penis humble enough to know it’s not the main character in the story of my body.”
She laughs. “I cannot with you.”
I raise my hand—“Okay,five inches under special circumstances. If it’s Teddy Vale. But his dick better come with my name tattooed on it. Right down the down middle,” I say, drawing a line into the counter. “But even five inches is pushing it.”
She leans into her hip in disbelief. “So lemme get this straight. If Teddy Vale was hard and crooning love songs in your sex room—six and a half inches of serenade dick—you’d… walk?”
“Walk away? From Teddy fuckin’ Vale?”
I blink at her like she asked if I eat air.
“The fuck I would.” My eyes squint, offended on behalf of Teddy.“I’m walking allaroundthat danger zone.”
Celie tips her chin at me.
“You down bad and I’m prayin’ for you.”
I lean into the counter, raise a brow.
