You wife was too happy to say his cock was much bigger

"Jesus, you're still asking?" My wife laughed, low and mean, and kept that look on her face like she was trying not to laugh harder. She was sitting there in that sequin dress that kept sliding off one shoulder, the light catching on every little mirror piece. One hand tucked under her chin, fingers loose, the other arm resting on her thigh so the fabric pulled tight across her lap. "I don't know what you want me to say. He was bigger. Way bigger. Like, the kind of bigger where you notice right away and then you keep noticing because there's no way not to." She shifted, crossed her legs the other way. The dress made this tiny rustling sound every time she moved. "Like your cock but... more. Longer. Thicker at the base. I kept thinking it wouldn't fit and then it did and I just, fuck. I stopped thinking after that." She tilted her head a little, still smiling with her mouth closed. The makeup around her eyes looked smudged from earlier, but not in a bad way. More like she'd been wiping tears away from laughing too hard at something. "His balls were heavy too. Different. You know how yours kind of sit up? His hung lower. Kept slapping against me every time he pushed in. I could feel them. That's the part I keep thinking about when I'm trying to sleep." She uncrossed her legs again. The slit in the dress rode up and I could see the edge of her thigh, still a little red from where his hands had been gripping her earlier. "After he came in me I could feel it running out for like twenty minutes. Just kept leaking. I had to put a towel down when I got home because I didn't want it on the sheets." She looked at me properly then. Not mean exactly. Just... done with the conversation. "You wanted the details. Those are the details." Her fingers tapped once against her jaw. Slow. Like she was done talking but not quite ready to move yet. The nail polish was chipped on her middle finger.