"God! No! I don't want to! I won't!" she said, speaking what she sincerely believed was the truth.

It was Velasquez turn to laugh. "Tell me all about it," he said, grabbing hold of her hair and yanking her head down to a level with the tip of his penis. "Tell me you don't want to suck it."

Joselyn whimpered at the strain on her scalp, then whimpered again as he pulled her face forward, forcing his nasty bulb to brush her forehead, her nose, her cheek. It was searing hot and smooth as velvet and it had a cloying, masculine smell that made her want to gag. Worse than the scent of the thing, though, was the sticky, seepage from its great vent, a seepage that smeared over the bridge of her nose and along her eyebrow.

He jerked her head back and with his free hand, unfastening the waistband of his shorts, wrenching the garment down over his rigid cock. It was then that Joselyn got the full effect of it.

"Uhhh!" she whined, gawking at the bloated rod protruding out of the right side of his jockey briefs. It was enormous! And it was so stiff that it was pulled up into an obscene curve, like a vile red banana. She had only thought the neck of it was thick. Compared to the huge, hulking root, the neck was miniscule. Indeed, the lower third of his cock was so big around that it gave the whole thing a kind of pyramidal shape.

Dr. Velasquez shoved his underwear down and the great penis lurched up to slap his sternum, showing its underside to her. It looked like a cobra swaying there, the flaring rim of its cap an opened hood. It was a ruddy color, too, especially on the pendulous nerve bundle and the swollen, hair fringed scrotum. That wrinkled bag contained a matched pair of balls. Slowly, the staff dropped down from his chest, sticking out from his groin like a tree limb.