"What am I doing?" You mutter to yourself, pulling the fabric of Ron's shorts over your head as you make your way into the musky confines of his groin. With terrifying clarity you realize he isn't wearing any underwear. You'd hoped that wouldn't be the case, but apparently you should have known better.
Still, the fresh scent of soap and deodorant at least make this den of manhood somewhat tolerable. You've been Dan's plaything often enough to know the best places to excite the male anatomy. Without hesitation, you head to one of them.
A minute later you find yourself standing on Ron's hairy, grapefruit sized ballsack, just to the side of his stiffening cock. Half flaccid it seemed to be the size of a subway tunnel to you, maybe nearly 10 inches long. There was no telling how big this monster was going to be when at full mast. How could this guy be packing so much meat and only be wearing a pair of basketball shorts? Maybe that's why he wasn't wearing underwear. It just wasn't practical for him. Part of you almost felt sorry.
That quickly changed when you felt Ron begin to get up. You needed to find a safe spot, and fast. Normally in such a situation you would simply hold on to the giant's underwear, and ride out the storm in cotton comfort. Unfortunately the polyester draped around you was far too loose to keep you from falling to the floor.
So, you did the next best thing. Swallowing your pride, you clambered to the top of Ron's girth, ran along the increasing incline of his shaft, and crawled in between the folds of his foreskin to rest against his glans like a piece of lint. It wasn't pleasant, but it was somewhat less dangerous than falling and getting trampled underfoot.
The question now, where was Ron heading? There was no doubt your sister wasn't going to come save you any time soon, so you were stuck with him for the time being.
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