Gerry never thought of his dick as anything but average. Maybe a little small, when compared to porn, but he thought it was alright. No one had really complained, after all, not really, at least not to his face. He remembered when Sally’s smile had dropped just a bit, but he’d told himself it was because he hadn’t man-scaped well enough.

But tonight, with Grace in the other room as he looked at it, he felt ashamed, inadequate. He’d bragged to her at the club, not thinking their flirting would go anywhere. But she’d invited him home and he’d agreed, and now, getting ready, he knew he’d lied. Worse, he knew she would know he’d lied. How do you correct that, he thought? How do you explain that seven is really five. Girls say it doesn’t matter, but how could it not?

He could turn off the lights. Pretend to be shy. Make foreplay all about her — that’s what they say they want, right? Just focus on her, and pray that by the time she was ready, she wouldn’t be paying as much attention. That could work.

“Is everything OK?” Grace called from the other room. “I’m ready when you are.”

He took a deep breath, looked down again, then walked out of the bathroom into her bedroom. She wore a blue camisole, and was kneeling on the bed. He looked in her direction, and actually did say a little prayer to Ishtar. Then he caught her eyes. She motioned for him to come forward, and he did, grateful for her understanding and mercy.