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

Chapter 33: Arnold

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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	There was no doubt in Arnold's mind that the woman on the beach was
his neighbor. And it had as much to do with a gut feeling he had as any
other circumstantial proof. There was also no doubt of a serious sexual
interest. The only question was how did he want to treat it. He had already
made plans to meet with his other neighbor the following evening. Just the
thought of Patty's hard, lean body caused a stirring in his crotch which
indicated a high level of desire.
	Did the two women know each other? Were they friends? Were they
enemies? Arnold couldn't imagine Patty having enemies. But then there was
Norma. Certainly an unstable individual at best, but still. Were they
lovers (hmmm!)? There was a prospect worth investigating. But then there
was the jealousy. Or maybe they were beyond that. Maybe they were sex
goddesses from another planet with x-ray vision and autonomous cunts that
ate eleven-and-a-half inch cocks for breakfast.
	Maybe he should just wait and see.
	She had already seen him dressed as he was. In fact, she had
already seen him undressed. So there was no need to put on any clothes. He
went to the bathroom and grabbed a comb to run through his long mop of hair
but decided even that was a bit pretentious. She'd get him the way he
was. Or was that even more so? He felt like he was going out on a first
date or something. What the hell was going on here?
	A feeling, very similar to the one he'd had when he first saw her
on the beach, came over him and the image of himself in the mirror swam
before him. Suddenly he was seeing himself as though through someone else's
eyes. He was beautiful. His physique was stunning. His light blue eyes
sparkled with hints of gold and dazzled this unknown observer.
	He shook his head and was suddenly himself again, staring
sheepishly at his own reflection. If that was the way other people saw him,
no wonder his sex life was so adventurous.
	A knock at the door. He turned to answer but hesitated. Not since
Sam had he been so anxious about someone. If he rushed to the door she
might be put off. He tried to act as calmly as possible. The hallway in
front of the door was positively humming with energy. He realized it was
this woman's own expectations he was sensing. She had obviously given a
great deal of thought to this meeting. She had, after all, been watching
him all day, taking his picture, looking out the window. If what he had
seen in the mirror was any indication of how she saw him, she was
undoubtedly very eager to meet him.
	He shook out his muscles, tried to relax them as much as muscles
the size of his could relax and then reached for the doorknob,
half-expecting to get an electrical shock when he touched it. He felt a
stirring in his crotch again and his cock became uncomfortably twisted in
his jockstrap. Should he fix it? Let it be? Would it do its little tumbling
act? He decided it would be a bit too tacky and so took a moment to
readjust the huge load. It felt so good to touch it. So warm. So alive. He
pressed the bulge with the palm of his hand and then slowly opened the
door.
	A discontinuous slash of bright green dove through a field of hot
red from left breast to right thigh. Clear skin covered a form of
unbelievable curves and secrets. Dizzying eyes flashed under a cloud of red
flame as a breath of air whisked through his open door and out the balcony,
carrying several wisps of her hair forward. He felt free to study her for
she was doing the same to him. She seemed to spend an unusual amount of
time staring at his feet. He wriggled his toes but she had already begun
raising her gaze up his body to his face. He remembered what he had seen in
the mirror and became quite amused with himself. And a bit with her. She
certainly was taking the fifty cent tour.
	He waited until she had finished and then introduced himself. As he
had suspected she had lost her key in the sand and was indeed hoping to
access her apartment through his balcony. When he told her had checked to
see if her balcony door was open it seemed to affect her greatly. Her hips
gave an involuntary thrust indicating a sudden surge of desire. He wanted
very much to counter that thrust. Her large, firm breasts overflowed the
suit top, hard nipples pressed delightfully against the fabric. Wonderful
curves of flesh showed amply on each side. What would she do if he just
reached up right now and grabbed those two mounds of flesh in his hands and
pressed and stroked them? There was little doubt in his mind this was more
than a casual social visit. He just needed to get some clearer idea from
her on the subject.
	She entered at his invitation and moved down the hallway before
him, her firm, inviting ass swaying back and forth. Another urge struck
him. He could just move up behind her right now and press the bulge of his
massive cock against her ass cheeks. His arms would encircle her chest and
grasp those wonderful breasts, flicking and tweaking the nipples as she
ground her rear back against his quickly hardening penis. Or she may just
be here to borrow the proverbial cup of sugar and that was it. He again
waited.
	Chris appeared to be extremely interested in the contents of the
second bedroom. She referred to his 'bulges' and he informed her that he
was probably going to do his serious work at the Pump House. This triggered
a moment of contemplation and an image of Patty's and his body writhing in
uncontrolled passion flashed in his mind. He told Chris about his dinner
engagement the following night. There was no need to hide it and it surely
was the best way to find out how she stood with Patty. She seemed not
jealous, but disappointed. Almost as though she had lost some race.
	He quickly thought how to best tell her there was not only no race,
but that he had his focus securely on her. He mentioned her errant
breast. The apparent non-sequitur caught her off-guard and she confirmed
his suspicions, if there had been any reason for doubt, that she had indeed
taken photos of him out on the walkway in front of her door. When he asked
for copies she told him they were on the coffee table in her apartment and
dared him to go get them. That was the good news. The really good news was
that a key was required to open her front door from the inside as well. He
made a beeline for the balcony and tested the railing for security.
	She thought there might be a spare key in an envelope near the
front door and he set off, swinging his leg up over the railing and down
into her side. He sat there for a second allowing the edge of the divider
to press up between his left thigh and the huge load in his jockstrap. He
then slowly dragged his cock around the other side, allowing the metal
frame to press hard against his huge member. As his balls rolled around the
edge of the frame they shook and popped out of his cup and he reached up
and stuffed them back in. Each time he touched himself he was getting more
and more turned on.
	He went through the living room and stopped at the collection of
photos spread out before him on the coffee table. Curious images showed
distorted views of his body. Enlargements thrust various parts of his
anatomy into unusual prominence. Huge muscles tapered away to small
legs. His cock, held in his hand in some of the photos, appeared
bloated. His pecs seemed mountainous. His whole body grossly
disproportionate. This was another way the world would see him. Larger than
reality, body parts blown way out of scale. His huge cock seemed like a
being unto itself as it lay in the palm of his hand. He glanced back at the
balcony and saw Chris peeking around the divider.
	Arnold wasn't sure how he felt about these photos, but she seemed
to be proud of them. He pointed at one of the photos of his cock and then
at the bulge in his shorts which, oddly enough, was gaining even more
prominence. She nodded as if to confirm the fact that this was, indeed, a
photo of him. He dropped the shots back on the table and headed for the
front door and the little table beside it. He opened the top drawer and
immediately found the envelope containing a key. He stuck the key in the
door and it unlocked it.
	A thought suddenly came to him. Did she really want him to find the
key? What was it she had been hoping for? What had he been hoping for? He
was sure she would be relieved to have access to her apartment. But was
that her plan as she came up from the beach. The fantasy of being
"inconvenienced" into having to spend time with a huge, muscular, well-hung
stud seemed to be what she had in her mind. And he admitted to a certain
fascination with having her around as well.
	He relocked the door, checking through the peephole to make sure
she hadn't been out there waiting for him, slipped the key back into the
drawer and took the empty envelope with him back to the balcony. When he
got there she looked around the corner and the appearance of utter dismay
on her face as she saw the envelope confirmed his suspicions. She
definitely did not want the key. He crumpled the envelope and sent it
sailing over the edge. The look on her face was worth the price of
admission. He debated telling her the truth, and finally opted for a
half-truth.
	"Relax. It's empty."
	The truth of the matter was that the envelope was empty. At that
moment. No harm done. He hoped. Sooner or later she'd find the spare key
where he left it. He'd face that when the time came. Besides, the look of
uncontained relief told him he'd made the right choice.
	He swung his leg back over the railing and brought his
now-inflating genitals and highly developed physique back to home
turf. Chris's eyes were locked firmly on his crotch. He didn't want to let
on, just yet, his own pounding desires and so blamed it on the photos. This
led to a very surface conversation regarding photography, modeling and
business. He was not surprised to learn she had been a model once
herself. He finally got around to asking what she was going to do with the
photos on her coffee table. As he suspected she had already used them to
arouse herself and, as he equally suspected, she wanted more. The crude,
rude, stark and distorted nature of the photos were disappointing to
him. They might be art, but they weren't very flattering. So when she
admitted to a desire to take more photos he jumped at the chance and went
to retrieve her camera for her.
	She directed him to her darkroom and told him where to find the
proper equipment and film. Again he slid to the other side of the
divider. She went into his living room. He headed for the dark room.
	He found the camera bag where she had said it would be. He checked
to make sure that all the gear was in it. Several lenses, auto winder
attachment (for those quick-fire sequences). Lens paper and brush were on
the counter, he grabbed those, and then found the box of new film. All of
the small containers on the strap were empty so he took a moment to fill
them all. He grabbed the camera from the counter and slipped it into its
nesting place within the bag.
	When he was done he stepped out into the hall and started to head
back to the balcony. Something she had said piqued his curiosity. He went
back down the hall to her bedroom and quickly looked around, finding the
object of his search on the floor by the foot of the futon. Two photos. One
of his penis in his hand (at least that's what he thought it was) and the
other of his chest and arm. He studied these two for a moment and tried to
discern what it was about these two shots that had caused her to choose
them above the rest on the coffee table.
	Her fascination with the huge rope-like cock that hung between his
legs was almost to be expected. There was little doubt that a view such as
the one in the photograph before him was enough to stimulate interest (and
much more) just for its sensationalistic content. The other, though, was
slightly more puzzling. With the number of incredibly well-built men
running around the beach just in front of the apartment building, going to
and from the various body building meccas in the area, he thought she would
have been just about over any fascination with a well-developed pec and
bicep. So there must be something about well-developed pecs and biceps that
held a particular fascination for her. Well, it would be interesting
finding out. Whatever it was, he was hoping it was fun.
	He had to admit that viewing his anatomy at such close range
through the distortion of fisheye lens and multiple enlargements gave him a
new view of his body. The huge member in the first picture looked dark and
dangerous, mostly due to its near-indecipherability. There was an ominous,
unknown quality that both threatened and stimulated. He felt the real cock
swell slightly. He also felt he was beginning to understand the true art of
the picture. It was not the subject, itself, although eleven-and-a-half
inches of cock couldn't help but make for stimulating subject matter. It
was the way the subject had been treated. The surreptitious nature of the
photo. The enlarging. The cropping. He suspected she had done something in
the processing of the film to enhance the candidness of the shots. He began
to appreciate the art behind it. It looked so casual, so unassuming that
the viewer was not aware of the technique. Arnold made a quick reassessment
of her talents. She was good. Very good. He wanted to see what else she
could do with him as a subject.
	With camera bag over his naked shoulder he headed back to the
balcony, pausing once again at the coffee table for another quick look at
himself. Where once he had been mildly amused, he now found himself
profoundly stimulated. He felt an overpowering need to exert himself. His
muscles tingled. His cock tingled. His head tingled. He wanted Chris. And
he wanted her bad.
	As he came back over the railing he saw her checking out the
contents of his bookshelves. Was she looking for something in particular or
just trying to glean something about him from the content of his library?
If it was the latter, she would have a hard time. By his own admission, his
reading tastes swung well to the eclectic. He didn't seem to be able to
settle down to one subject or another. Every time someone recommended a
book to him it would take him off on a tangent of discovery into some new
and incredible aspect of human nature. As he handed her the camera bag he
tried to see where she had last been looking. The shooting script for Monty
Python's Holy Grail? Strange choice. Maybe this was the attraction he
felt. He almost asked her 'What is your quest?', but decided not, just in
case it was too much of a non sequitur. The next few moments would
determine the course of the evening's events. One slip and the two of them
could find themselves having a polite dinner in a stupid restaurant and
shaking hands good night. Certainly not what Arnold had in mind. And from
her earlier comments about masturbating to the photos of him, he gathered
Chris had other things on her mind as well.
	She mentioned she was hungry and Arnold went to the kitchen and
brought back some fruit and glass of juice. As he arrived she began to
shoot. This was it. Show time. Arnold completely ignored the camera,
completely ignored Chris and went about the business of putting his
apartment in order. But 'ignore' was not quite the right word. Everything
he did was for the camera. He knew what Chris wanted to see. He also knew
what he wanted to see. Every action he made served to accentuate the bulges
of his muscles. With each task he performed, he shifted himself around so
the muscle group hardest at work was displayed for the camera.
	Once the dining table was together and he had moved the sofa around
a bit he decided it was time to get down to business. He was getting very
turned on by the attention Chris was paying him. He wanted to show her
everything. He wanted her to capture his sexuality on film. He wanted the
lens to melt. But he also wanted this to be between himself and her.
	As he moved towards the door to the extra bedroom Chris's breathing
became heavy with excitement. She had grabbed her camera bag and was
following him. As he reached the door to the room he grabbed the chin-up
bar that spanned the frame and pulled down on it to accentuate his biceps,
lats and back muscles. He heard a sharp intake of breath. She was as hot as
he was. The ball was in his court.
	"The negatives are mine. You can have a set of prints, but the
negatives are mine. Okay?"
	She agreed. He relaxed. This was going to be fun.
	Time to open his housewarming present to himself. He moved to the
large flat box against the wall and opened the long edge. Inside was a four
foot by eight foot mirror. He slid it out, enjoying the reflection of his
beautiful body, so close to him, as it strained with the effort. After
discarding the box he leaned the mirror against the wall opposite the door
to the room and then went back to the chin-up bar and began a series of
long, slow, muscle-bulging pull-ups as the shutter of the camera clicked
away. He could see her in the mirror as well. The bright red and green swim
suit glowed in the afternoon sunlight as it poured through the glass doors
and into the living room and hallway. Chris's magnificent breasts seemed to
want to burst from their restraint. Her breathing was heavy with
excitement.
	His own body was beginning to glow with sweat; the heat of his
muscles, as they pulled him up again and again, sent a wonderful warmth
throughout. As the blood rushed to his muscles' aid in an attempt to
cleanse them of the waste his efforts were generating, he got the same
feeling as when his huge cock became erect. A rush. A surge. The Pump. God,
he was getting hot.
	The last several pull-ups were killers. He drove himself up to his
level of endurance and then surpassed it without looking back. He screamed
and cursed and fought his way through the last rep and then dropped his
feet to the floor. As his arms fell to his side he felt the muscles filling
like balloons. They swelled and filled, a feeling of great strength
flooding his body. His chest heaved and expanded as he took in great gulps
of air to exchange the carbon dioxide in his system for the fresh sea
breeze of oxygen that rushed through the apartment.
	Arnold walked to the mirror and slowly flexed his biceps. The
blood-filled muscles stretched his skin and pushed the subcutaneous veins
and arteries into high relief. The camera clicked away. As he continued to
pose she began to chat him up like the photographers did when he did a
session, suggesting this and that pose, a little left, turn right, back,
forward, up, down, hot, hotter, hottest. He flexed and squeezed his muscles
as hard as he could. His body shook with the exertion. Blood rushed out and
filled each cell, blowing his muscles up like huge balloons. In fact, every
cell began to fill, including his cock. Chris's level of excitement was
turning him on even more and his cock was hardening in response. Her image
in the mirror and in front of him when he turned around was serving to
arouse him and soon his cock was painfully cramped inside his jockstrap. He
reveled in the pain, brushing his arms back and forth across the huge
bulge, aggravating the situation even more.
	Finally his cock was as hard as it could get in its
confinement. The front of his gym shorts was extended out eight or nine
inches and his jockstrap had been stretched as far as it could go. Both of
his huge balls had slipped out of the cup and were swinging free in one of
the distended leg holes of his shorts.
	It was obvious the process was affecting Chris at least as much, if
not more, as Arnold. She had an increasingly difficult time concentrating
on her camera and her nipples looked painfully hard and erect as they
pushed against the fabric of her suit. Something also seemed to be
bothering her in her crotch. The material of the suit seemed to be rubbing
against something there. Something very tender, very sensitive. Could it
be. . .? His dick surged at the thought. And those breasts. Arnold wanted
to see those two beautiful breasts, wanted to cup them and suck them and
lick them and press them. She was so beautiful. But she seemed intent on
controlling the shoot for the moment. Her suggestions and guidance so far
had driven him to a deliciously elevated plain of arousal. He'd stick with
her lead for now.
	"Let me see that big cock, stud. Whip it out."
	Yes. He wanted her to see his huge erection. He wanted her to dive
down the length of his massive shaft with her camera and document each
painfully rigid molecule. He tensed his entire body, blowing up every
single fiber of every single muscle until his whole body felt on the verge
of explosion. He slipped his thumbs under the waistbands of his jockstraps
and gym shorts and, with a quick, downward tug, released his painfully
erect penis and pendulous, cum-filled balls from their imprisonment. The
shaft of his huge cock flew up and whacked him on the stomach. It bounced
and waved before him. It was so hard. So painfully rigid. It needed to be
squeezed. It needed to push against something.
	After flinging his clothing off to a corner of the room he grabbed
the dark, hard shaft and clamped down on it with all his might. The huge
head filled even more with blood until it was torturously swollen,
blue-black in color. Arnold wanted her naked.
	That apparently did the trick. Chris put her camera on the floor
and ripped off her swim suit, tossing it off to a corner of the room as
well. She then spread the lips of her vagina. Arnold could very clearly see
an erect nub of flesh extending well out beyond the fleshy mons. It was
just as erect and achingly hard as his huge organ. He wanted to suck it. He
wanted to lick it and rub it and drive her right through the ceiling. He
wanted to slam himself against her with his hot, hard cock deep inside her
and mash his pelvis against that hard, volatile nub of flesh. He wanted to
feel her clit pressed against his muscles. The flexing of his muscles
rubbing her clit and sending her over the top. Bulging muscles. The photo
in her bedroom. He knew what she wanted. He moved to her and she picked up
her camera again. This would be interesting. He had never seen a bird's eye
view of cunnilingus before.
	He knelt before her and breathed hot, moist breath on her hot,
moist cunt. The smell and heat of it almost sent him swooning.
	"I see I'm not the only one around here who's well-hung."
	The slender, rigid needle of flesh seemed to vibrate before him. He
studied it closely. Horseback riding must be a real treat. Possibly even
painful. He'd see. In its own way it looked as dangerous as he thought his
huge cock must look to most people. It was always a challenge to get his
partner to relax enough to allow him to use it properly. He hesitated. She
grew impatient. She begged him to suck her. Yes, ma'am. With the greatest
of pleasure.
	His lips were around the hot bud of flesh. His face pressed to her
crotch, breathing deeply of the heady aroma of her sex. His rigid cock
rubbed deliciously against his abdominals, the head just tickling the belly
of his pecs. His massive arms wrapped around her thighs and pulled her to
him. He heard the continued click of the shutter. He clasped and kneaded
her ass, pulling her against him even harder. Her hips began to pump and
she started crying out loudly as he drove her higher and higher.
	When Arnold pulled away for a moment to adjust his position she
moved a bit and began rubbing the protruding nub against the hard, round
deltoid that capped his right shoulder. He flexed it and pressed it into
her crotch. The heat from her cunt spread instantly through his shoulder
and down his arm.
	Slowly she rubbed her crotch in a circular motion against his upper
arm and began to bend her knees a little more with each rotation. In a few
seconds she was rubbing herself up and down on his right bicep. The
photo. The bulges. This phenomenal clit. Horseback riding. Arnold didn't
need an engraved invitation. He pressed the huge muscle up into her crotch
and she pressed down on his arm until most of her weight was on it. When he
was sure she had her balance he lifted her off the floor and stood up. Her
joyous cries confirmed his suspicions. This was a major sexual fantasy in
the process of being fulfilled. She began to rock back and forth and he
straightened and flexed his arm, the bicep swelling and pressing up into
her cunt. He could feel the hard nub of her clitoris mashed against the
crest of his muscle. His deltoid exploded in size with the effort of
holding his arm out with the weight of her body on it. It ached and
trembled. His cock ached and trembled. Her cunt ached and trembled.
	Chris ceased taking photographs and was concentrating on her
physical activities. Her hands grabbed the huge mound of strength on his
shoulder and dug into it, sending excruciating sensations rushing through
his body. Her left hand then dove down the front of his chest and she
grabbed his pec and squeezed and stretched the rock hard nipple. His own
hips began to pump back and forth. He didn't want to blow an orgasm in
mid-air so he decided to wrack up a few fantasies of his own before he was
through for the night.
	He set her feet down on the floor. He could tell from her reaction
she was pretty close to cumming and not too happy about being shut down. He
sympathized, but knew what he was doing. Besides, it was his turn to call
the shots.
	Arnold stood in front of her and pointed his huge cock straight at
her clit. This was one of those long-standing 'gee-wouldn't-it-be-wild'
fantasies. But he had never met a woman equipped to accomplish it. He ran
his hands to the inflamed head of his cock and then spread the slit
open. The look on her face told him she hadn't the slightest idea what he
wanted. Was it that weird? After all, he'd figured out what she'd been
after. But then, maybe it was. He explained he wanted her to stick her clit
into the slit in his cock and fuck him. She grasped the concept and then
grasped the shaft and dove in.
	It was weird, wild, wonderful. She squeezed the head of his cock to
increase the pressure and he almost fainted. He grabbed, literally grabbed,
her breasts and began to work and worry the hard, firm nipples. They both
squirmed and cried and moaned and their hips thrust towards each other as
she repeatedly drove her rigid clitoris into the end of his urethra.
	After several minutes of this intense union the surface of her eyes
glazed over and she looked as though she were about to pass out. She pulled
her clit out of his penis and backed away. Her eyes refocused and dropped
to the huge cock she had in her hand. Slowly it slipped from her grasp,
leaving him to cradle it in his palm. She shook her head. Arnold feared the
worst. The size of his mammoth cock was indeed daunting. Most women were
apprehensive about taking him into their bodies. Many had denied the
ability to handle his powerful member and had left him in the lurch. Had
they but given him a chance, they would have partaken in a sexual
experience unparalleled.
	It was true Arnold had trouble controlling the intensity of his
sexual energy and this seemed to overflow into his partners, but that had
nothing to do with the size of his cock. There was a physical fear or
sometimes even abhorrence to having something so large enter the body. Only
those who had been open to his sensitivity and profound love for those he
coupled with found the ability to trust him and themselves and know there
was nothing to fear or dread.
	He studied her eyes. He watched as her breath rate increased. She
was showing definite signs of apprehension. He had to know.
	"Are you scared?"
	"That would be putting it mildly."
	There it was. He knew from experience that no amount of reassurance
or, when he was so turned on and horny that his cock ached and cum dripped
from the massive head, begging, pleading, cajoling, even demanding could
overcome the fear. And he wanted this woman. Wanted her more than just
physically. He felt a huge ocean of sensation within her that he wanted to
swim in; wanted to press his body against her stunning beauty. What was she
afraid of? Could he possibly find a way to allay her fears? Or was it
something within herself that she feared? Maybe it was something they could
work through together. In fact, this seemed more likely. She was fascinated
by his cock, by his body. There could be no surprise here. She had spent
the last few hours contemplating his size Ð masturbating to it, for
God's sake. Surely, if there had been reservations they would have come
forward before this crucial moment.
	He focused on her, his gaze drilling into her head as though to see
the thought processes working within. He waited. It was up to her. He hoped
she knew this as well. The thought suddenly occurred to him that she might
be waiting with these exact same thoughts. He could see the headlines: "Man
and woman found naked, frozen in thought for 23 years. The Untold Story."
	Her hands moved to his cheeks and she drew him to her. He sucked
her tongue into his mouth and his passion for this sensual, sexy woman
suddenly overflowed. He pressed his own hungry mouth against hers and their
tongues entwined. Suddenly her fingernails were on his cock, dragging along
the sides of it while pressed between their hot, tense bodies. He could
feel the energy level in the room increase. He could feel his own orgasm
quickly approaching. He didn't care. He would go with whatever this woman
wanted. He was hers. Especially when she pressed her luscious, firm breasts
around his cock like that and sucked him. Anything. Anything at all.
	He could no longer see. His head was thrown back, eyes
closed. Vision was too much sensory input to deal with. He had to start
shutting things down. Everything was all touch and smell and taste.
	She obviously didn't want him to cum just yet because she changed
her tactics and went back to his pecs. Fingernails on the pecs. Yes. Oh,
yes. Flicking his nipples. It hurt. Soooooo goooood. You like
them. Here. Let me make them bigger for you. Sit on my back while I do
push-ups. Let your hot cunt press into my back. Let me feel the hardness of
your incredible clit as it rubs around on my muscles. Your so
hot. Hot. Horny. Let me rub my cock on you. Here. Lie on the floor. Let me
pump my pecs for you while I rub my cock against your hot, protruding
clit. I want to make you hot. Hot like me. I want you to see the
energy. Feel the energy. Taste it. Smell it. Hear it. Let me lick your
breasts. Your wonderful, delicious breasts. I want to press my face into
them. Your nipples. Hard. Erect. You're so hot. I want to fuck
you. Now. Hard. Let me drive you over the edge. There. How's that? Are
those big enough for you. Big pecs. You think they feel great to you? You
should feel them from the inside. Hot. Heavy. Strong. So
strong. Hard. Tense. My whole body is like having a giant erection. Pumped
up. Look at me. Look at my body. I made it for you. I did this for you. For
all of you. Look at me and enjoy. My abs? You like my abs? Let me flex them
for you. There. Yes. Yes. Yessss. So hard. So tight. My abs have a hard-on
for you. And my cock. I know its just there. But you like it, yes? Big. So
big. It hurts for you. It aches for you. Take it. Touch it. Suck it. Oh,
yes. Suck it good. Oh, fuck. Oh my God. Yesssss. Lick it. Bite it. Eat
it. Oooo it hurts. So good. Now what? Now? Now? What do you want? What can
I give you? Now? Hard? Fast? Yes. I want to scare you with my cock. I want
to rip your mind open and show you sex like you've never had it
before. Lady Ñ you are gonna lose it.
	She had laid down on the bench and spread her legs. Her eyes were
glazed with desire. He knew just what she wanted. She wanted to feel like
she was abandoning all inhibitions, all pretense. She wanted to feel closer
to the animal within. There would be no acting here. He felt out of
control. He could not be stopped. The switch had been thrown. This
locomotive was steamed to the bursting point and the relief valve had to be
thrown. She began rubbing her clit and crying out. It was too much. He
grabbed his huge cock with a violent swat of his hand, the bicep bulging to
its bursting point. With the other hand he grabbed her foot and lifted it
so the swollen lips of her cunt were just inches from his dark, massive
cockhead. He stopped. Did she know what she was in for?
	"Fuck it." she begged. "Fuck me. Fuck me now. Oh, God, I'm
hurting. I'm so hot. I gotta have your big cock in me right now. Oh,
hurry. Please. Fuck me hard."
	Yes!
	His enormous cock rammed mercilessly into her cunt. He grabbed her
other foot and pulled her ass up to him. Her head was thrown back and
forth, her breasts swam around on her chest, the nipples hard and
erect. Her hands flew up to the tender buds of flesh and twisted and pulled
them, grabbed the beautiful mounds of flesh and squeezed and pressed
them. The walls of her vagina immediately went into contractions and began
gushing with fluid. She yelled, begged, pleaded, swore, cried out, heaved,
swayed, rocked, bucked and came. And came. Came. And still he fucked
her. Fast. Faster. Faster still. He was blind with ecstasy. He drove his
cock into her as fast as he could, pulled it out and drove in again faster
because it felt so good. Soooo goood. So fucking good. Hard. Harder. Harder
still. It had never been this hard. It had never hurt this good. He felt
the depths of her cunt with each thrust. He felt her squeeze down on him
and milk him. He felt his balls churning, swinging forward with each lunge
at her cunt, striking the base of his cock as he stopped and reversed
direction. They ached. They swelled. They began to press. Churn. Spew. His
cock thickened, pressing against the walls of her cunt even more, making
her cry out in ecstasy even more, causing him to fuck her even more,
causing his balls to churn even more and suddenly there was a spark, a
rush, a flow, a spurt and the dam burst and burst and burst and burst and
each shot of hot, molten cum was like cumming all over again and it came
and came and he pumped and it flew into her and flew out of her and she
screamed and he screamed and his hips wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. He
kept pounding away at her cunt because his cock still ached and he wasn't
sure but he thought he'd started cumming again and his long, hard, thick,
aching cock still cried for
relief. Again. Again. Again. Again. Push. Push. Push. Push. Push. Cum. Cum. Cum. Cum. Yessssssssss.
	Chris's vagina contracted severely around his cock and held him
there as if by force. He let go of her left leg and grabbed the part of his
cock that remained exposed. Squeezing it as hard as he could, he forced
himself to slowly pull out of her. She was suspended by one leg. As the
head of his cock emerged it brought long, stringy globs of their mixed
passion. He was breathing hard, taking huge gulps of air. He set her other
foot down on the floor and only then noticed that she was unconscious. She
had passed out. . . when? He had no idea. How long had they. . .? Was she
okay? Yes. If he had hurt her he would have known. What did she need right
now? She'd probably be very frightened when she came around.
	He picked her up in his arms and cradled her against him as he sat
down on the bench. She suddenly seemed so small. So frail. A child. True in
a way. For she had just come out of her womb of protection. She had seen
the world in an entirely new way, as if for the first time. There would be
no turning back. She would never be the same. And she would be scared. He
knew she would. They always were.
	 The sobs started slowly. Tears began running down her cheeks and a
small moan came from her throat. It got louder and higher and her body
began to shake as the emotions wracked her psyche. Reality was setting in,
and with it the realization of what had happened to her. More than just
overpowering, devastating sex. She had changed; far past simply opening
herself to him and letting him drive her out of control. The change would
go deeper. It was like a virus. It would start in her libido and work its
way through her soul until she would hardly recognize the woman she had
been at nine o'clock this morning when an orange rental truck had pulled
into the parking lot behind her apartment building and her head had banged
against the refrigerator. That woman would seem as distant as a dream.
	He ran his hands over her flame red hair and gently kissed her on
the forehead. He hummed soothingly, the resonance of which raised an energy
within him that felt warm and safe. He hoped she would feel it, too. Slowly
the sobbing receded and her body began to relax. She opened her eyes,
blinked several times to focus them and smiled warmly up at him. She was,
indeed, radiantly beautiful. Even more so now than when he had first seen
her on the beach. So close. So warm. So fresh. So new. So. . .
	Their lips met and the kiss was slow, deep, passionate, full. His
hand moved to her chest and sought out first one breast and then the
other. He reveled in the sensation of the way they felt. The skin taut and
firm, the flesh within pliant. He loved the way it rolled around in his
hand. The nipple pressing hard into his palm. Harder. Harder. Their lips
fought and sucked and kissed and teeth nipped and chewed. Tongues parried
and danced. He pulled his head away and his eyes drank in her beauty. Her
glowing skin, clear eyes, clear smile, clear soul.
	He could tell her passions were equally as inflamed. But there were
also questions in her mind about what had just happened between them and
within her.
	When she asked to be taught how to make it happen again he could
think of no answer. Could he teach her how to breathe? How to think? How to
see? Had she not done it? She had. Therefore she already knew.
	She was scared. How to quell her fears? The fear was within, of her
own creation. Simply turn it off. He flipped the switch for her.
	"You no longer are."
	And she wasn't.
	He could see it fall away from her like some old, heavy winter coat
allowed to slip from the shoulders as the first breath of spring rushed
into the soul. Not that life would forever be a big bowl of cherries, but
the view would now be a little clearer. And when she worked with other
people her new energy level would give them the confidence to see their own
way a little clearer. And they in turn. . .
	"Thank you." Her smile said more than her words could possibly
express.
	"You're very welcome."
	"What can I do for you?"
	What. . .? What else, you mean? What else besides say thank you?
What else besides go with him to the brink of the volcano and fling their
souls into the hot molten lava together? What else besides that? Suddenly
he was aware of his stomach. He was very hungry. He'd ask her to stay for
dinner. More? You want more? A late night snack, perhaps? Not enough, eh?
Fine.
	"Make me breakfast, please."
	The flash of unfettered desire that blossomed on her face sent a
new rush of blood to his semi-tumescent penis and pressed it up against her
smooth, firm ass. She giggled girlishly and squirmed down on the huge rope
of flesh. His own desire filled his soul. But. . .
	"Not now. I can't. Later. I'll cum blood for you if I have to."
	She threw her arms around his neck and hungrily devoured him with
her lips. Again his cock surged with excitement. But the battery needed
time to recharge. And a little fuel in the tank wouldn't hurt, either.
	"What do you want to do about dinner?"
	"I've got tons of food in my kitchen. It's too bad. . ."
	"I've got a screw driver and a confession."
	"I beg your pardon?"
	"The screwdriver is to take the divider between our balconies
apart." He waited to let the implications of that settle in. She
smiled. Good. Now for the bad news. "The confession is that the envelope
wasn't empty when I found it."
	"What envelope? Oh. That envelope. Pretty cheeky, Arnold."
	"What is my punishment, O Sexual Adventuress?"
	"Dinner, knave. Thou shalt cook."
	"Thou shalt be very, very sorry."
	"Forsooth, knave, and why?"
	"'Cuz I can't cook for shit."
	"You're lying."
	"Yep."
	"You're a real good cook, aren't you?"
	"Yep."
	"You're going to cook dinner, aren't you?"
	"Yep."
	"Where's the screwdriver."
	"Yep. Er. . . I mean, in the toolbox. Let's take a look at what we
need."
	Arnold moved to set Chris down but she clung to his neck, hanging
suspended, curling her legs around his waist. He locked his arm under her
knees and carried her out to the living room and onto the balcony. As he
reached the railing he lifted her high in his arms and announced in a
booming voice:
	"Hey world. Look what I've got and you don't. Nyah nyah-nee nyah
nyah."
	He felt so full of joy. So full of love. He was always so full of
joy and love, but at the moment he had Chris in his arms, hugging him,
laughing at his antics, pressing her luscious breasts against his huge
pecs, her lips against his. His glorious muscles were still swollen and
pumped, the feeling of strength and tightness made him bubble with
sensation. His huge dick swung freely back and forth between his hard,
thick thighs, the head bouncing off them just above his knees. What could
possibly make this moment any more wonderful? How could he imagine it being
any better?
	One thing. And one thing only came to his mind.
	Sam.
	He'd have to tell Chris about Sam. He always told them about
Sam. He loved them all. Truly. Deeply. Each man and woman he had ever had
sex with. Their minds and bodies were sacred to him. He would never do
anything to hurt them. And that was why he always told them about Sam. And
if they understood, he loved them even more. And if they didn't, then he
understood and loved them even more anyway. But they always had to know
about Sam.
	Tonight.
	After dinner.
	Sam.