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

Chapter 9: 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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	For the rest of the morning he kept wondering what had happened in
the apartment next door. Occasionally, as he came by with a load, he would
pause for a moment to see if he could detect anything. He continued to hear
a muffled voice having a conversation with someone on the phone, so after a
while he gave up. Later he was walking past Patty's door and heard a series
of moans. They must have been quite loud to be heard all the way out on the
walkway. He recognized the source of these and knew what was occupying his
new friend. The thought of her lying naked (where? On the bed, the couch,
the kitchen table?), her hand working over her clitoris, bringing herself
expertly to orgasm made his cock stir. He pictured her breasts free of
their barely restraining halter top. Firm and round, jutting out from her
chest, suspended on a lovely architecture of highly developed pectoral
muscles, they wouldn't need any support. He imagined running his hands up
the sides of her body to her arms, hard and muscular. Her beautiful chest
tapering down to a narrow, rippling abdomen hiding in the shadow of those
luscious breasts. The nipples he saw jutting out beneath the fabric of her
halter would be erect and stiff. He wanted to lick those nipples to orgasm.
	He knew Patty's abdominals would be pretty developed, meaning a lot
of muscle control within, his cock, raging hard, up inside her as she
flexed and contracted the muscles of her vagina. Like the blow-job he had
gotten that morning.
	Suddenly he remembered that the woman had given him her phone
number. He reached into the waist of his shorts and pulled out a very soggy
piece of paper. Carefully opening it, he discovered a series of smudged ink
marks that, at one time, might have resembled a numbering system of some
sort. Not one of the numbers was decipherable. He wouldn't have even been
willing to bet that there were seven numbers they were so run together. He
thought of calling his old house to see if she was still there, but balked
at the thought of asking which one of his housemates had a girlfriend who
could take eleven-and-a-half inches down her throat without thinking
twice. Not cool.
	As he walked by the door of the end apartment on the next trip, he
could clearly hear a woman's voice, as though she were standing right at
the door. All morning he had noticed someone watching him out the window of
that apartment and he thought she might be watching him now through the
peep hole.