Eleven-and-a-half: A Fantasy Of Great Length by Ray Wilder

Chapter 8: Chris

This is a work of fiction. All the characters, events and locations
portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons,
events or locations is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 1996. All rights, implicit or implied, except for
distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual downloading
the file, are reserved. Inquiries regarding publishing rights for this book
should be directed to: raywild@aol.com

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	Chris was very happy she had taken the call. She spent the next
forty-five minutes ironing out details. Nicholas, a salon operator who was
trying to launch his own line of women's cosmetics, was very difficult to
deal with. He had lots of money to spend (someone else's) and a bunch of
really bad ideas (his own). The sad thing was that the make-up was very
good. Natural ingredients, no animal testing, it held up under lights
(making it ideal for modeling), and the colors were outrageous. If he would
just let her do the creative work, she was sure she could make the public
sit up and take notice. But he wanted photos of women sitting around a
living room holding dogs and drinking tea. She could hear yapping in the
background all during the phone call and had a pretty good idea where he
was going to get the dogs for the shoot. Long shots did not sell
make-up. Neither did animals, unless they were wearing the
make-up. Hmmm. Nah. You needed to get right in and show what the stuff
looked like when your man held you close. That's why the ladies bought the
stuff.
	She occasionally glanced out the kitchen window to watch the
progress of the moving event. Several times she lost track of what Nicholas
was saying and had to have him repeat it. Especially when the hunk (she
really had to find out his name) removed his shirt and hung it on the back
of the truck. She had seen a lot of naked or near naked flesh in her
career, but this stuff was primo. His skin was hairless and unblemished;
smooth and free from fault - at least what she could make out from six
floors up. His skin glistened with sweat and each movement triggered
earthquakes of shifting tectonic plates under the surface.
	She decided to get another up close look and dragged the phone over
to the front door. She waited for him to bring a load up in the
elevator. While trying to maintain a hold on her conversation with Nicholas
she put her eye up to the spy hole. The elevator arrived and he spent the
next minute hauling boxes out onto the walkway. Then he picked up two of
them and walked towards her, his biceps and pecs at the point of bursting;
veins, large and throbbing, ran down the crests of his upper arms. He
disappeared from view for a moment as he dropped the stuff off in his
apartment and then returned to get the second load.
	As he walked away she enjoyed the view of his wide, sculpted back,
knots of muscles leaping out as his arms swung back and forth at his
side. His shoulders were broad enough that he looked like he would have to
turn sideways to walk through all but the widest of doors. There was that
wonderful indention between the deltoid and bicep, accenting the
massiveness of each muscle, where your fingers ultimately ended up when he
was on top of you, his huge dick filling your cunt and you tensed for the
final explosive orgasm and you just had to hold onto something and his back
was too wide to get your arms around so you grabbed the deltoids and your
little finger found itself slipping down into it. His torso tapered down
from Herculean shoulders to what seemed like an impossibly narrow
waist. She knew it was actually not so small, but compared to the width of
everything else on him it was perceived as such. The waist sat just atop
his glorious ass which stood out and flexed and swayed with each step he
took. The lower contour of each cheek peeked seductively out from under his
cut-off shorts. The backs of his thighs looked like he was carrying a load
of logs inside each one. The massive bundles of muscles bounced and flexed
with each movement of his legs. His calves looked like someone had stuck a
couple of half melons under the skin, just below the back of the knee. The
fish-eye quality of the spy hole gave his body a strange diminished effect
which was at total odds with what she knew to be the actual size of his
physique.
	The next trip down the walkway involved a couple of over-stuffed
seabags filled with clothing. These he carried, one hanging from each hand,
leaving the front of his body exposed to her view. Everything was huge,
even in the spy hole. She took in his chest, arms, legs, abdomen,
shoulders, neck. As he came closer she could plainly see the outline of his
huge cock and balls. And then, as luck would have it, the fabric of his
shorts was becoming a bit stretched out from all the exertion and the leg
hole above which his cock was held became too loose to hold back his
member. Halfway down the walkway his cock fell out and dangled down his
leg, way down his leg. He bent over to look at it and, for some reason,
decided not to remedy the situation immediately. His dick swung back and
forth, wrapping itself around either enormous thigh with each step, before
it became too much of a nuisance. He set the seabags down, grabbed his cock
and unpretentiously stuffed it back up inside the leg hole of the shorts,
as though it happened every day.
	Chris had completely lost track of what Nicholas was saying and
found that she had agreed to the dog and tea idea. Quickly back-tracking,
she deftly maneuvered him to a more neutral position on the actual content
of the layout. All this while she had her eye plastered to the hole in her
door. She hurried the end of the conversation, saying that she would meet
with him in the morning at his salon to discuss the final details. He had a
thousand other ideas that he wanted to run by her, all of them having
something to do with dogs and women drinking tea, but she said it would be
easier for them to cover this in person. She didn't like giving clients the
bum's rush but, a) she felt that, for this once, the customer was not in
the least bit right, and b) she wanted to get her camera before this photo
op completely slipped away.
	She hung up the phone, ran to her darkroom, grabbed her trusty SLR,
and ran back to the front door in time to catch him bringing another
armload down the walkway. She held the camera up to the spy hole, focused
and clicked off several shots. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick. He went into
the apartment, reemerged and started back to the elevator. Something seemed
to catch his attention and he stopped about four or five steps away from
her. He looked out over the railing at the view. Staring intently at
something far off in the distance, he leaned forward against the railing to
contemplate who-knew-what. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick. He took a deep
breath and filled his huge chest with air, causing his back to expand and
grow. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick. Then his cock fell out of his cut-offs
again. Ca-chick, ca-chick. He turned around, leaned against the railing and
took his cock in his hand. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick,
ca-chick, ca-chick. But instead of immediately restoring it to its hiding
place he held it in his left hand and studied it. She hoped there was
enough film, not daring to take her eye away for even a second to see how
many shots she had left. After a few moments of examination he re-stashed
his massive member, rubbed it a couple of times and turned towards the
elevator. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick,
ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick.
	Several more loads of boxes were brought down the walkway, but his
huge tool seemed to behave itself. She continued to shoot away until he
headed down the elevator for another load. Whew. That had been too
much. She turned around and leaned back against the door, her head
swimming, her knees just a bit weak. There was no doubt about it. This stud
was hot. She felt a slight tingling of suspicion. It was all just a bit
too-good-to-be-truish. But no one would do something like that knowing
there was someone watching, would they?
	She went to the kitchen window and looked down just as he came out
of the door below. She heard a door close outside. It was either his
apartment door swinging shut or Patty going to work. She wondered if the
two of them had met yet. That would be a hot couple. Sure enough, a few
moments later Patty emerged and walked over to him at the truck. He set
down the box he was just lifting and talked with her. They seemed to be on
quite intimate terms by the way they kept referring to each other and their
bodies. Possibly she was talking to him about her gym. Then Patty noticed
that his car was blocking hers. He walked over to the car, did something
inside, grabbed hold of the tow bar which was still attached to the front
bumper, and pulled. The effect this had on his muscles was almost enough to
make her cum. Then Patty went over and, although it didn't seem he needed
help, grabbed hold with one hand and pulled, too. Chris could tell
something was up. As if to prove the point immediately, Patty put her other
hand squarely on his crotch and, from what she could make out from this
distance, gave it a big squeeze. She started to aim her camera but felt the
disappointing tightness of the film advance lever as she set herself to
take the shot. She thought of running to the dark room for more film but by
then the car was moved, the hand was moved, Patty was driving away,
grabbing her own breast in a gesture of... (farewell?), and the hunk
(name?, what's your name?) was heading back to his truck.