I had no real way of knowing if it was the arrival of summer, the fact Corndog was getting out of prison, or some subconscious feeling of accomplishment from living through the botched robbery, but my moods in the last week or so had changed from my typical asshole self to an asshole with a sense of humor. Almost as if I was witnessing someone else go through the motions of living life, I was enjoying my exposure to myself throughout the course of each day.

“Take ‘em off, Prospect,” I howled.

Cash surveyed the crowd. Every member of the club wasn’t present, but there were twelve watching and waiting, including me. He gazed at Otis as if the big man was his salvation, his way out, his only hope.

I crossed my arms and flexed my biceps. “Hey motherfucker, look at me when I’m talking to you. That big son-of-a-bitch can’t help you. It’s me you got to worry about. Now, I told you to drop your pants and get your cock out. You don’t have a choice. Drop ‘em.”

He reached for his belt and unbuckled it. As he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them past his boxers, everyone started pointing and talking shit. Not a one of us had any proof of the alleged choad, but we wanted to know just what he was packing before the barbeque. There were a number of single women who would be coming to the party, and having Cash trying to pick up on them and embarrassing the club by pulling out a one-inch cock would be a disaster. After a short discussion, I decided to have him pull it out so we could see if it was something that belonged in a circus.

His jeans now bunched around his knees, and standing in his boxers, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and stood as if waiting on directions.

“Prospect, if I tell you to go find a fucking dog turd and eat it, you better start sniffing. If I tell you to go cut the toe off a North Korean Communist and bring it to me on a chain, you better get on a fucking boat and start rowing straight west of here. And if I tell you to whip out your cock for me and the fellas to do a cock inspection, you better whip that motherfucker out. Drop ‘em, Prospect,” I demanded.

Cash sighed, pushed his boxers down to his thighs, and leaned back as he pressed the web of his hands into his hips. Several of the men started clapping and whistling as he pushed his shorts down. Otis and I stared in wait. As Cash stood with his hands on his hips, he lowered his gaze to the ground as if embarrassed. Slowly, his cock began to rise to attention. The crowd gathered erupted into either laughter or cat-calls. Somewhat shocked, but probably more prepared after Avery’s description than the rest of the crowd, I stood and stared as if it were a six car wreck on the freeway.

“Jesus God damned Christ, Slice. Kid’s got a cock like a mule,” Pete screeched.

“Send his ass to Hollywood and pimp him to the porn industry, Slice,” Hollywood said with a laugh.

Toad pushed his way between Otis and I. “Excuse me fellas, I need to see what we got here.”

Toad stood between Cash and I and bent at the waist. His hands now resting on his thighs, he was a matter of two feet in front of Cash staring down at his cock. After a short study of the merchandise, Toad stood up, turned to the crowd and shook his head.

“Don’t know that I call it a choad, but it damned sure ain’t much to brag about,” he said.

“Shit, Toad. Kid’s got a cock like a horse,” Pete said.

Toad shook his head and laughed. “Bullshit. Fucker’s three and a half inches long. And that’s a big maybe. It’s hard to tell, because half of it’s that huge fucking head. Shit, the head of that fucker’s as big as a Washington apple. I’m not impressed.”

“Somebody grab the tape measure out of the toolbox,” I hollered over my shoulder.

The head of Cash’s cock was the size of a teenager’s clenched fist. It made everything else seem disproportionate and rather strange. There was no doubt he belonged in a circus, but not for having the shortest cock on the planet. Sloan’s description was on track, but somewhat inaccurate. If nothing else, it was entertaining to look at. To me, it was similar to a hairless cat or a pug-nosed puppy, you stare at them in the pet store in amazement, but you’d never dare to take one home. As Stacey stepped beside me, he handed me a tape measure.

“Good lookin’ out, Stacey,” I said as I grabbed the tape measure.

“Now hold still,” I said as I pulled the blade out to 24” and locked the tape measure in place.

I leaned down and pressed the end of the tape into Cash’s lower abdomen and looked down at the tape measure.

3-3/4”.

I pressed the lock and reeled the tape measure back into the case. “Three and three quarters inches fellas, from base to tip.”

“Looks bigger; it’s probably that huge fucking head. That’s the biggest cock head I ever seen, short of on a Shetland pony,” Stacey said.

I shook my head and grinned as I pointed down at Cash’s jeans. “Pull ‘em up, Prospect.”

As he jerked his pants up, he expressed his displeasure. “Fucking bitch.”

“Well, what’d you expect? My source told me you told the girl you were gonna fuck her senseless. Now for you to do anything like that with what you’re packing would have required that she have a pussy attached to the bottom of her foot or the palm of her hand. But you God damned sure weren’t gonna fuck her senseless with that, with her being built the way she is,” I said as I tossed the tape measure to Stacey.

“Listen up, fellas. Now, the girl with the big titties from the bar, the one who rode back with Cash; she’s coming to the barbeque. I need.” I said as I raised my right hand in the air. “Oh hell, why don’t we say three volunteers? I need three of ya to agree to fuck this girl, and fuck her hard. I don’t want her to be able to walk for a week, nothing less. She says she likes big cocks, the bigger the better. Prospect, you’re out. Patches only. Who’s hung like a horse and wants in on this deal?”

Damn near everyone started hollering like a bunch of idiots. I raised both hands in the air and rolled my eyes in disbelief. “Hold up. Quiet the fuck down. Jesus. We’re going to have to go on seniority or something. Maybe draw straws again, fuck.”

Toad stepped between Otis and I, bit the neck of his beer bottle in his teeth, and reached for his belt. In one effortless motion, he pulled the belt, unbuckled it, and dropped his three sizes too big jeans to the tops of his boots. No boxer shorts for Toad, he was obviously going commando. Now standing in the center of the crowd with the beer bottle still clenched in his teeth, he slapped his palms against his butt cheeks and stared straight ahead, stone faced.

His cock was soft and about eight inches long. It looked like it weighed five fucking pounds. Without a doubt, when hard, he’d have a ten-inch cock. I’ve never been one to actually want to see another man’s cock, but the baggy-assed jeans he always wore began to make sense. I raised my hands and slowly began to clap.

Toad raised his right hand slightly and curled his fingers and thumb to form a “C”. Holding his hand at chest height and still staring straight ahead, he released the beer bottle from his teeth. As if he’d performed this trick in the bar a thousand times, as it fell toward the ground, he caught the bottle in his grasp without looking down. Standing expressionless, he raised it to his lips and finished drinking it. His pants still around his ankles, he tossed the bottle fifteen feet toward the trash. I shifted my gaze to the trash can as he released the bottle, aggravated he’d thrown it in the first place. Broken glass on the shop floor was one of my pet peeves. The bottle fell right into place in the center of the can.

Toad bent down, pulled his pants up, and buckled his belt. With both index fingers, he pointed to his crotch. “Any of you fellas can fuck with that, get in line. I say we go off cock length, boss. You said the bigger the better; let’s give this girl a good solid Sinner fuckin’.”

“Agreed,” I shouted. “If you’re hung like Toad, step up.”

I crossed my arms and glanced at Otis. He raised his hands to his face and rubbed his temples.

Shit, Otis, I know you don’t have a moral bone in your body. Don’t act like you’re thinking about this.

He lowered his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll do it.”

No shit.

“Alright. I’ve got Otis and Toad. Who else is hung like Toad here?”

The fellas mumbled and grumbled, but not one volunteer stepped forward.

Shocked, I raised my hands in the air and glanced at each of the members. “Come on. A shot at a God damned college girl the week before she graduates? Black hair, tight pussy, and tits the size of fucking watermelons? Says she loves sucking cocks too. Hell, I forgot all that part. I need one more, fellas. Who will it be?”

Pete stood with his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet. As he looked up, he raised his right hand and stroked his beard. “I’ll do it if we got some rules to this deal, Slice.”

Hollywood chuckled. “Rules? If it ain’t covered in the bylaws, it don’t matter.”

I narrowed my gaze. “What the fuck are you talking about, Pete? What kind of fucking rules are there to a gang bang?”

Pete released his beard and raised his hands. “I can’t do a gang bang, Slice. Hell, everyone here knows I’m hung like a mule, but I got a bad case a stage fright, Slice.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I chuckled.

“Can’t piss or get a stiffy in front of another man,” he said.

I wrinkled my nose and stared. “No shit?”

“Nope. Tried a time or two, and it don’t work. Not at all. I can go first, or in the middle, or hell, I’d even go last. But I can’t be all up in it at the same time one of the other fellas is, and I can’t have ‘em standing by me watchin’ either. If we’re taking turns, hell yeah, I’ll hurt that bitch,” he said.

I glanced toward Otis and Toad.

“I don’t need to watch that ugly prick fuck,” Toad snarled.

“Same,” Otis said.

“Your Ol’ Lady okay with this, Pete?” I asked.

“She’s at her folks up in Milwaukee. I ain’t gonna bother askin’,” he responded.

I looked into the crowd. “Anybody else?”

Silence.

“Well, it’s settled; Otis, Toad, and Pete. I don’t want anyone else fucking with this girl. And I don’t want any one talking shit to her about it before it happens. I want it to be a surprise. Like it just happened. Understood?”

Most of the fellas nodded or began to tell how they would have torn her to shreds if their Ol’ Ladies weren’t coming. I grinned and slapped Toad on the shoulder.

“Don’t be throwing beer bottles around the shop. One of ‘em breaks, and you’ll be sweeping it up, not the Prospect,” I growled.

“Gotta miss the can to bust, Slice. I don’t miss,” he responded.

Considering the amount of grenades he’d thrown in Afghanistan and Iraq, he probably didn’t miss. As the men all began to filter out of the shop and hop on their bikes, I glanced at my bike. Sitting in the rear of the shop with my new blanket strapped to the bars, it looked good. The lick ‘n stick was still on the rear fender from the night before. I shook my head and slowly walked toward the bike. I reached down and gripped the seat in my hands. As I lightly pulled against it to release the suction cups, I turned my wrist and looked at my watch.

12:48.

I pressed the seat back into place and threw my leg over the seat. As I relaxed into the seat, I raised my hands to the apes and rested them on the grips. As if programmed to do so, I twisted the throttle twice, pulled the choke, flipped the ignition, and hit the start button. As I pulled out of the shop and toward the gate, several of the fellas turned and stared.

“Last man out lock up the shop,” I hollered over my shoulder.

Because this might be an all-nighter.