Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
I miss my wife, even now. Marie was smart, lively, and bright, and for a long time, I didn’t look at other women. She was my everything, and I couldn’t conceive of going forward without her. But in the last year or so, there have been stirrings of life once again. I suppose it’s to be expected because I’m a red-blooded alpha male. I need a mate. Or more specifically, I need to mate a female, and so I went out on the prowl in our little city of Allentown.
The experience has sucked, full stop. I’m not saying the women are terrible, or that I haven’t had success. It’s just that there’s no one like Marie. There’s no one sassy and outgoing, independent and yet demure too. Instead, the women seem to be mostly brassy divorcees with frosted nails and obviously-fake hair extensions. Trust me, it’s a fucking riot when you’re pulling a woman’s locks during sex, and an entire clump comes out in your fist. The first time it happened, I was horrified and aghast, but my date merely turned around and giggled when she saw the fist full of blonde hair clutched in my fingers. Then she turned back to face the front and wiggled her hips, encouraging me to continue.
“Just pretend I’m a horse,” she said before letting out a loud whinny. “Neigh! You just pulled out some of my mane.” Unfortunately, the scene wasn’t sexy at all. Not to me, at least.
But she wasn’t the only one with a head full of fake hair. There were at least two or three others with extensions taped-in, and some even had them sewn into their real hair, which made for the weirdest looking pattern on their scalp. I started having sex with these ladies in the dark because I didn’t want to see what a bright light would reveal.
But fake hair is the least of my problems because now that I’m back on the market, the secret of my double-dick is out. I’ve taken pains to keep my anatomy under wraps, and was successful for years, to be honest. I’ve always been a one-woman man, and there’s a reason for that: I didn’t want everyone and their mother to know about my anatomy. As a result, I had one college girlfriend, and then met Marie shortly after graduation, and put a ring on it quick. So it’s not like I have dozens of notches on my bedpost. Instead, I’m private almost to the point of being secretive, and the reason is because I’m an anatomical anomaly. I have two cocks with which to make women scream, and frankly, they can’t seem to get enough.
It’s a trait that runs in my dad’s family, although I’ve never known the guy. To make a long story short, my mom hooked up with a random European dude when she was young, and basically got pregnant immediately. The European dude, Fjall, never even knew about the pregnancy because he’d already returned to his home country by then. Besides, after Jennie found out she was expecting, she made a decision. She knew that if she told her lover about the baby, she might lose me. As a result, Jennie gave birth here in the United States, and raised me on her own. I’ve never met my father.
But it turns out that Fjall is European royalty of some tiny country near Albania, and it’s rumored that many of the men in that royal family have two dicks. I can attest to the rumor because I have two cocks, one right on top of the other. They were cute when I was young, like two limp pencils that I’d play with while giggling in the bath. But my mom warned me to keep my anatomical specialties under wraps because people tend to mistrust anything that’s different, and my particular difference would single me out for unwanted attention.
As a result, I hid my double cocks. I’d wear loose pants, and I never joined any organized sports so that I never had to take my clothes off in the boys’ locker room. Sometimes, I even bound my lower cock to my leg so that there’s only one bulge at my crotch, and I took pains to never swim in public, nor put myself in a position where my secret could get out. Of course, the hospital where I was born was aware of my difference, and my wife and college girlfriend knew too. But they kept mum, and I’m grateful for their discretion after all these years.
But yeah, now the secret’s out. Marie’s been gone for a while, and using fake plastic pussies while watching porn isn’t enough anymore. Don’t get me wrong because those silicone pussies are the bomb and you can even find models sculpted to resemble your favorite adult actress. But plastic only goes so far, and I need the relief of a sassy, curvy woman with a wet, welcoming twat.