It was a cock, yes, yet it seemed not to have an opening at the end. Come to think of it, it seemed not to have any veins either. She had seen smooth ones before, sure, but they usually still had that big vein down the underside. This one didn’t even ha- oh – wait. She’d been here before. This thing – it was the size of a cock, yes – a big one at that – but it wasn’t made of human flesh. She looked down to where it didn’t meet the groin of a man (or woman). It stood alone. Well, it laid alone. And it wasn’t really the colour of human flesh, or at least not of anyone she’d been intimate with. And, far from having veins protruding from the surface, if anything it had crevices across it, perhaps where the surface had been smooth under pressure but had then fractured somewhat when released. Released from what, though? Something about the same width as a cock. She couldn’t figu- agh! She gagged and leaned back. The smell… wow, yep, there it was. It was the smell of poo. She was looking at a poo.
Their bodies undulated together, and suddenly she seized him passionately and held him close, his hard wand delving even deeper inside her than it had already. She had never shared such an intimate moment with anyone, and she savoured it, her eyes closed. Slowly she opened them again, smiled and kissed him, then began to loosen her hold just a little, her fingers dragging softly down from his neck to his back. As they did, she let her nails scrape tantalisingly across his tingling skin, until she felt them sink in and, entirely unintentionally, tore a furrow into his leprous flesh.