Chapter 9

• Nick’s perspective
• The next morning, I awoke with my body still heavy with sleep, my dick as hard as a fucking rock wedged between something warm and soft. My hand was cupped around something unmistakably feminine and perky, and I squeezed it to confirm its authenticity. I despise fake tits, and even though I saw Lalaine’s through the scrap of fabric, she was wearing at the club—and then really saw them when I made her strip for me last night—you never knew for sure until you felt them.
• The cosmetic surgery industry was advancing rapidly, but nothing could ever compare to holding a perfect set of real tits in your hands.