A limp phallus dangled between taut thighs. Its shape wasn't unappealing, its size considerable, and its color not too dark, somewhere between flesh and purplish-red.
"I didn't get a good look last time," Margaret teased, flicking the glans lightly, eliciting a deepened breath from Douglas. He was angry, angry and repulsed, his gaze nearly turning into tangible blades.
"But, it doesn't look all that appealing," Margaret sighed disappointedly, voicing words that could prick his sanity, "Prince Mario's genitals are much more aesthetically pleasing, devoid of this barbaric feel."
Before the words settled, the cold, viscous liquid poured down. Douglas convulsed, teeth grinding with sourness. Every inch of his member and sac became wet, excess liquid even sliding into the crevice of his groin.
"What are you thinking?"
