“It’s four thousand pounds,” Jessica repeated, enunciating her syllables in case the message wasn’t getting through to Chris. “That’s a hundred pounds for every inch of silicon dick we take, Chris. You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t take one inch of dick for a hundred pounds.”
Chris ran a hand through her long, dark hair, still damp from her shower, opting not to point out the flaw in Jessica’s logic; her math, shockingly, did check out, and forty inches across their six holes seemed like a laughably easy way to a tropical vacation and plenty of enviable, luxe shots for social media… so long as one thought of it as a mere forty inches and not the full meter of dick that it was.
“Do I have to guess what’s in the bag?” Chris asked, pointing at the tote bag as Jessica barged into the condo and dumped an array of white dildos out onto her coffee table. Chris closed the door and followed her friend over to check out the silicon armoury, tugging the strap of her tank top back up onto her shoulder. “…And how are we going to film this?”