An Excerpt from Chapter 1 of Defending A Big-Dicked Elven Wizard:

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That secret smile slunk back onto the Elf’s face, and I watched in rapt attention as the silken trousers dropped and Gallow lowered himself with cat-like precision down to his knees, hands on thighs, elbows out and back ramrod straight. His long silver hair touched the back of his bare heels.

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MY GODS.

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It was perhaps the biggest cock I had ever seen. A thick bulbous head, housed upon a girthy shaft of nearly pearlescent skin that mirrored his pale countenance. A tremor ran through me as I beheld every ridged vein and the slight curve, my body involuntarily doing the math. Yes, this artisanal cock would hit every spot, scratch every internal itch, make every—

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“Does it please you?” Gallow’s voice was harvested spider silk. The look he gave was raw, unyielding.

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“It’s alright.” I lied. My voice cracked a bit. Pitched too high. A reminder that beneath my stoic demeanor I was, in fact, a size queen.

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As if sensing my rapt attention, his cock gave a responsive twitch in mid-air, dislodging a perfect pearl of precum at its tip.

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“Touch yourself.” I commanded. 

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The Elf made a neat sucking noise with his mouth and a thick wad of foamed spit slipped from between his perfectly pursed lips to fall in slow motion to the tip of his engorged head. We both watched attentively as the spittle slowly slid down his shaft, and when it finally eased its way to the base of his length, Gallow shifted on his haunches, spreading his knees a few inches wider. 

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Then he began to stroke. Tantalizingly slow, his grip slickened by his own spit and pre-cum. His elegant fingers tightening as he milked himself. He leaned back a bit, his free hand settling into the thick blanket of moss and flowers beneath him, steadying his frame as he lifted his hips. All the while, his stare stayed fixed, matching mine.