Fangs Up, Cobra Style

Ian lifted his snake cautiously, before gently stroking its length, careful to avoid the head. He'd learned from past experience that touching there wasn't the best idea. He made sure to keep the movements of his hand reasonably slow, occasionally quickening his pace, but not by much. It usually worked out better for him if he didn't move too fast. Funny as it sounds, it was actually quite relaxing to just sit down, and run his hands over it, feeling it twitch every so often.

He looked down at his hands and smiled at what he saw. His previous partners were never too pleased when they saw it, but he felt a strange sense of pride. They were probably just intimidated by it. It wasn't all that wide, but it was a fair length, bigger than you'd probably expect. You wouldn't want that attacking you, that's for certain.

He did have a girlfriend, once, though, who absolutely loved it. Any time she came over, she demanded to hold it. He remembered the first time he'd shown her it. "Oh, but it feels so strange!" She probably ended up loving it more than she loved him as a person. She adored it. He didn't mind, though, if it kept her around for a little longer, he was all for it. His other girlfriends (and boyfriends; he was an equal opportunist) weren't quite so enthusiastic about it. Ah well.

He tried not to touch it for too long at any one time. A brief handling, and that's it. He finished not long after, running his fingers along it one last time, before putting it back where it belonged, and heading to the bathroom to clean his hands up a bit. He always made sure to wash his hands every time he touched it. Hooray for personal hygiene.

Ian didn't care what anyone thought, or how many of them considered it weird. Having a pet cornsnake was awesome.