Virility
“I’m sorry, Craig, but it’s Ferdinand that I love.” My wife’s hand was inside the Eurotrash’s shirt, one of those open, rippling blouses the guys on her romance novel covers wear. He had long black hair, dark eyes, and a smoldering look that reminded me of nothing so much as Derek Zoolander’s Blue Steel. “I understand, Jess.” What? No, I didn’t. My wife’s pretty green eyes showed so much relief at this. “You’ve been a good husband and provider, Craig. I hope you know that. And you’ve been… fine, I suppose, in bed, but Ferdinand has a ten-inch cock, and he’s so… virile.” Jess tossed her head to the side as she laughed happily, her chestnut hair cascading down her back. “Sí, Craig. I have already impregnated her with the third child, the one you …