Dave got himself settled on the sofa and placed the family laptop on the coffee table. Meliss had taken Suzie back-to-school shopping and would be gone for the morning. He set down a cold beer, the tub of vasoline from the medicine cabinet and the box of tissues Meliss kept on her bedside table.

Dave opened the web browser and typed PornHub.

He watched with exalted expectations as dozens of nubile girls, without a stitch on, scrolled across the screen. Where do they find them?

And, more importantly– what did he feel like? he mused. Girl on girl grinding? A little oriental spice? How about one of those full-length Italian movies? Naw ... and in keeping with the back-to-school theme, he selected the Schoolgirl category and, unzipping his denim shorts, he dipped his fingers into the goo.

He had just settled on a little blond chickie who looked to be a lot less than the seventeen-years she professed to be, when the doorbell chimed. The sound ripped through his brain like a friggin’ air raid siren.

“What the fuck?” he sneered at the living room wall. “Isn’t a guy entitled to a little privacy?”

He studied the girl on the computer who seemed intent on stuffing the full length of a twelve-inch ruler between the lips of her burgeoning vagina and decided to ignore whoever was at his front door.

“Nobody home,” he muttered as the girl on the screen, who suddenly looked a lot older, proudly pointed to the eight-inch mark and started to masturbate herself. He turned off the audio when her insistent moaning became intrusive. The doorbell sounded again– twice this time, in rapid succession and more urgently, as if the bastard was intent on pushing the buzzer right through the god-damned door panel. And just to punctuate the frustration, a fist hammered the woodwork.

“Oh fuck,” Dave staggered to his feet. “I better go.” And reaching down, he wrestled his shorts up bandy legs and took hold of the zipper tab.

Z-z-z-zip!

“Ow-o-o Jesus Christ! No!”

His sinuses buzzed and tears stung his eyes. The bile rose up from his stomach and he had to bend at the waist to force the blood back into his brain before he chanced blacking-out.

Bam-bam-bam! The fucking door again.

Dave swallowed hard and forced himself to look down. The loose collar of skin below the head of his penis was solidly held beneath the zipper-slide and the flesh was already beginning to swell, bulging out on either side. His stomach did another turn and he fought down the nausea.

The buzz of the doorbell resounded once again, followed by another punch to the woodwork.

“Shit.”

He took a swig of cold beer and holding his shorts up with one hand, he hobbled into the foyer and squinted through the peephole. Nobody.

“W-what the...” He fell back against the wall, still holding his throbbing penis, and turned his face to the cool plaster.

Bam-bam-bam. This time it was well placed kicks that had enough authority to rattle his front door in its frame. He rolled his head to the side and looked again. But still, no one appeared to be standing on his porch. Then he saw the movement below and looked down. The bean on a red baseball cap bounded into view as the half-pint wearing it, jumped for an opposing look through the peephole.

“Mr Baxter. I know your in there. It’s Paddy. C’mon. Open up.” Bam-bam-bam the door shook.

Aw Christ, Paddington Greene... Dave fell back against the wall. Paddy, was his fourteen-year-old’s best girlfriend and class-mate. What the hell does she want?

“Paddy,” he shouted through the door. “I’m kinda busy right now and Suzie’s out with her mother. Come back later, would yah?”

“Mr Baxter? Is that you?”

Dave used his free hand to wipe the sweat from his face. “Paddy. I’m busy. Understand?”

“Mr Baxter. I got Suzie’s school book here. She needs it for this afternoon. C’mon.”

“Okay, okay...” Dave rescinded. It was easier than arguing with the scrappy little snot. “I’ll open the door a crack and you can slip the book through.”

And he twisted the deadbolt.

“What?” Paddy saw the door move, lowered a shoulder and barreled forward. The door jumped and the edge caught Dave across his wounded penis and with a howl, he fell back. The door swung inward and a startled Paddy, with a yellow scribbler under her arm, was suddenly foot-shifting in the block of light and staring down at his mangled cock. Her eyes bugged and fingers came up to flutter about her mouth. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” she demanded. And turning, Paddy slammed the door.

“Don’t look,” Dave groaned.

But Paddy was looking, and already assessing the damage. Horrified, Dave returned her expression of shock and dismay.

Paddy was on her way home from ball practice. She played junior baseball– played catcher where her diminutive size didn’t affect her game. Paddy looked to be about four-foot nothin’ with strawberry-blond hair sticking out in all directions from beneath her ball-cap. Her face was a mass of freckles and dirt. She wore a ragged old sweatshirt, jeans with patched knees and her sneakers sported a hole in each where a big toe stuck through. A ball-mitt was slung from her belt.

“You better let me have a look at that.” Paddy was still staring at his dick.

“No. Don’t.” Dave begged. “It’ll be fine.”

But Paddy already had him by an arm and was steering him back into the living room. He tried to wriggle free but the little bitch was strong and as determined as a bull terrier. Paddy eyed the girl on the computer screen, still wildly bludgeoning herself on the end of the wooden ruler, but said nothing as she settled him back onto the sofa. “Don’t move,” she ordered and Paddy stepped toward the kitchen. Dave heard the fridge open and the rattle of ice cube trays.

This can’t be happening.

She was back a moment later with a dish towel and a bowl of ice. Paddy dropped to the floor, elbowed his knees apart and, unbelievably, took up his limp cock in her left hand. “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you,” she breathed and she ran an ice cube along the underside of his penis.

“Look Paddy. You shouldn’t be doing...” His voice trailed and he lay his head back as the ice she held touched the swollen flesh caught beneath the zipper-slide. God, he thought. I might live.

“Feel good?” Paddy wanted to know.

“Yes. God, yes...”

A cold trickle of water dribbled between his testicles and Paddy paused a moment. He felt her gingerly lift his scrotum to place the towel where it could catch the droplets and then, once again, she was holding him ... so softly ... in cool fingers ... as she replenished the ice... “Oh yes...” He had to admit to himself that he very much liked the feel of her hands on his penis.

“You have any tools?”

Her words invaded his space, coldly dragging him back into the reality of what he had done to himself. “Tools?”