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Virginia's Particular Fascination // Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-08-16 01:12:07 +0000 UTCHe stepped beside Ginny and held her elbow, soothing her. “Ginny, would you just look, please? I’m telling you, you will be interested.”
Ginny still turned away, her eyes tightly shut. “Preston, this is outrageous. What is happening?”
“Ginny,” he said soothingly, “please, I’d like you to take a look.”
Her eyes fluttered open, but she still faced away from Carter, looking at her husband now, her eyes sizzling with apprehension. “Is he—why is he doing that?”
“Opening his pants, taking them... Well, take a look, Ginny.”
“Is this some sort of joke? Preston, I don’t think this is funny.”
“I don’t think it’s funny at all either, Ginny. Quite the opposite. I think it’s really quite serious. Why don’t you turn around, take a deep breath, and open your eyes?”
Never in their entire life together had he ever led Ginny astray. He saw that trustful understanding flood her gaze and wash away her incomprehension. Whatever it was Preston asked, it would be something she could manage.
So she did what he said—took a breath, closed her eyes, turned, and opened them.
Though Carter Maddox was a young man of around twenty-three, his scrotum dangled down mid-thigh of his long, lean, muscular legs. And this well-stretched scrotum held two of the biggest testicles Preston had ever seen on another man. Like two big, hard-boiled eggs in a long thin-skin flesh sack.
Ginny gasped again, this time with fright. She shuffled backward and covered her mouth with both hands. But her eyes didn’t waver—they stayed locked on Carter's gigantic display.
Carter had long legs, tanned mid-thigh down from where his tennis shorts ended. His stomach was flat, his hands big, muscular arms roped with vascularity. He held his penis up and out of the way. The large orbs rested against one thigh, the brownish skin sticking there.
Ginny stared—a long time—until her gaze traveled leftward to Preston.
A bad sign: the color had drained from her cheeks.
Her hands slipped away from her mouth, her lipstick untouched. “Preston, what is this? Why are you doing this? What on earth?”
“What do you think, Gin?”
She stared at him, stunned. So many things could happen here. The farthest ranges were unlikely. She wasn’t going to jump up and down and clap her hands and thank him endlessly for this wonderful gift he'd brought.
And she wasn’t going to haul off and punch him in the face either. Somewhere in the middle was a good landing spot. He had a great track record with predictions.
He asked her to look again.
“Preston,” she said, horrified. But she looked again. “Why?” And trailed off. And still stared. Looking at Carter's impressive masculinity.
"What do you think, Ginny?"
She pulled her gaze from their handsome guest's dangling balls. "Is this because of what I said at the party?" Her voice had risen airy and trembling. "Preston, that was months ago. Why are you—"
"Why doesn't matter, Gin. I'm asking you what you think."
A good sign now: right before his eyes, Ginny blushed right through her makeup, her cheeks going rosy, her neck going rosy.
He smiled. He tried to pass on this good news to Carter, saying, "Can you swing them around a little?"
Carter looked like he might throw up. His mouth had shrunk to a small pucker, but he was an obedient person. He swallowed, his prominent Adam's apple jumping up and down on his long neck. He leaned forward a little on the side table and wagged his hips. His balls moved forward and back in a heavy, dangling sway.
Ginny shuffled further rearward, and it surprised Preston, who'd been standing there, smiling, watching Carter's huge balls swing. "Hey, Ginny, this is for you. Come on. Stay here."
"Preston, no," she said, at last breaking away enough she could turn and walk from the room. He followed her into the hall right outside the sitting room, leaving Carter with his genitals out. Ginny didn't travel far. Didn't storm off to the bedroom and slam the door. She waited for him around the corner. "Preston, you're insane. What the hell are you doing?"
He took her wrists and kissed her neck. He pressed his hardness into her stomach. Now he stepped rearward and regarded her. His intention was known. He said, "I'd like you to come back in there. It's rude to leave our guest like that."
She studied him like he was a madman, saying at last, "Preston, he's from the club."
"One season only. He's going to Italy. He's a good young man. We should go back in there."
"Preston, I don't know what you want from me. I don't know. I don't know. Nothing could have prepared me for this. This is outrageous."
"You're doing great, Ginny. Until you left. So come on. Come back in. I went to a lot of trouble for you."
"Preston, I don't know why you're doing this."
"Yes, you do. And I see your cheeks blushing. If that's all I get of this, that's all I get."
"All you get?"
"It's not about me anyway. It's about you."
"I'm not perverted."
"This isn't perverted. I'm giving you a gift."
"This isn't a gift, Preston."
"Sure it is, Ginny. Think of it that way. Come on. This kid went to a lot of trouble. I made him go buy pants today."
"I don't know what that means."
"It means this is special. You don't have to run away. Carter's our guest. He wants to show you what he's got, and I think you should look."
"He wants to show me?"
"Well, I asked him to. But yeah, he wants to show you."
She palmed her forehead, feigning lightheadedness. "Preston, you're too much. Sometimes you're just too much."
He tucked two fingers into the front of her skirt and pulled her forward so she stopped leaning on the wall. "I keep things interesting," he said in a steelier voice.
She rolled her eyes, but he saw the first sign of a smile. "Now, come on. Don't embarrass the kid. He probably thinks you don't like them."
"I don't like them, Preston. What the hell are you talking about?"
But he wasn't listening. He walked back into the sitting room, where he found Carter off of the side table and zipping up his pants.
"Oh, no, no, Carter. Don't get the wrong idea. Make yourself comfortable."
"I just didn't want to be... I didn't want to be, like, a problem, sir."
"You're not a problem. No, no, no. Ginny just..."
A small quiet voice next to him: "I'm fine, Carter."
Preston smiled and turned to see Ginny had composed herself once more.
"See? Now can we get back to it?"
Carter held both ends of his loose belt, ready to buckle up again and get the hell out of this strange suburban household.
"Ginny, come on. Tell Carter you're ready now."
Ginny still had that small, strange smile, and he couldn't believe how well he'd read this situation. Once again, Preston Whitmore's models of predictability proved unshakable. The soundest in the business.
"Ginny, tell him. Tell him you want to see them."
"Preston," she said firmly, and he thought he'd pressed his luck too far. But she said to Carter now, "Please, you can—" but couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't use the words, merely gestured near the area of his oversized equipment.
The room was still and quiet. One of the ice cubes in their melting G&Ts popped. At last, Carter drew down his fly again. He thumb-guided his pants and underwear down. And Preston told him this time, "Right down. Right down, Carter, down to the floor." So Carter complied, pushing his new slacks to his knees and letting them fall and loop around his ankles. He took his penis in one hand again and held it up against his belly, hidden underneath his shirt tail. His huge testicles hung between his thighs, swaying side to side.
Ginny looked at them.
He'd had the speculation that Ginny really did like testicles. Crazy as he thought it was, as ridiculous and unimaginable, his wife of twenty-five years, who he loved and adored, couldn't help a certain fascination with male anatomy. Her igniting spark had occurred in her sexuality before he'd known her. It hadn't been with him. He didn't have a set of knackers that anybody would think more than twice about. Run of the mill, plain old balls. They did what they were supposed to and they stayed out of the way, for the most part. If you didn't bang them, they didn't hurt; they never complained, they were there and you just dealt with it.
Ginny was mesmerized, hypnotized like those huge balls were the dangling watch of some mustachioed hypnotist from an old movie. She looked up to Preston and said, "I've seen them, Preston. Now what do you want me to do?"
