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

Chapter 27: 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

========================================

	She opted for the depressing ride up the elevator so she wouldn't
arrive at her neighbor's door out of breath. She was breathing hard already
and had to make a concerted effort to get her adrenaline flow under
control. She hadn't felt this way since her first big shoot. Vivid memories
of that day flooded her mind. The drive to the studio, knocking on the
door, meeting the photographer who looked her over like a piece of meat in
a butcher's window, the make-up man who kept trying to put the make on her,
the gay assistant who was the only one who attempted to make her feel
comfortable. Fear, excitement, apprehension, anxiety, pride. She realized
she was suffering from stage fright. It was as though this whole thing had
been set up like a performance and now the curtain was finally going up.
	The elevator bounced to a stop and the doors slid almost all the
way open. She turned down the walkway, past his apartment, and tried her
own door once just to make sure she wasn't about to make a fool of herself.
	The good news was that it was locked.
	The bad news was that it was locked.
	There was no turning back now. She would have to get into her
apartment via Arnold's balcony.
	It suddenly occurred to her that she didn't have to fuck this guy
just to get into her own place. All she had to do was ask if she could
climb out over the railing of his balcony six stories above the ground...
	Fuck. Right. She was just going to swing her daring young ass out
over the edge of a barely trustworthy railing and climb around that
divider. Maybe she could climb over the top of it. She wasn't dressed for
either activity. Not that she was being a fashion slave or anything. She
just felt the minuscule bathing suit she had on would do little to protect
her as she dragged herself over or around whatever she was going to drag
herself over or around.
	Unless it was her neighbor.
	And then there was this thing with her new neighbor. Arnold. She
had spent the last six hours doing nothing else but fantasizing about
him. Her general experience had been one of disappointment when fantasy
finally became reality. There was, of course, the thought that it would be
pretty hard to be disappointed about that body and that cock. But looks and
size didn't count for absolutely everything. There was a real chance that
the stud was an asshole. Not that she had anything to base those odds
on. But life sometimes sucked and the book with the best cover usually
turned out to be the biggest piece of trash.
	But those arms, those pecs, those abdominals, that back, those
legs, shoulders, thighs, ass, face, skin, hair, eyes, cock...
	Knock, knock, knock.
	She heard his steps as they approached the door. Her heart
immediately began to bump against the inside of her chest. She looked down
to make sure she hadn't grown an extra leg or breast in the last few
seconds and saw that her nipples were very erect and obvious through the
fabric of her
now-far-too-small-to-be-appropriate-for-first-time-introductions-to-the-new-neighbor
swim suit.
	A heat, a presence, an energy seemed to radiate from the door. The
door knob moved as he placed his hand on it, then all stopped for a moment,
the entire world going into suspended animation. Why was he taking so long
to open the door? Her cunt became moist again and she blushed as she caught
a whiff of her passion emanating from her unbelievably well-primed
vagina. Still the door didn't open. It was like a lover who prepares to
enter and then hesitates at the last possible second to drive you crazy
with anticipation. Shit. The incredible stud was making love to her before
he even opened the door. And it was making her hotter and hotter.
	The knob turned, and the door began a movement inward that seemed
to take forever. Chris's eyes were glued to the knob as it turned with
excruciating slowness. They stayed there as the door opened before her. As
it swung open it crossed the line of sight level with a pair of burgundy
gym shorts. Behind the burgundy gym shorts was the huge bulge she knew
would be there. Extending down from the burgundy gym shorts were a pair of
powerfully built thighs, a couple of knees, massive calves and a pair of
bare feet. She noted that the second toe of each foot was longer than the
big toe.
	She suddenly felt she was being very rude, just staring at his feet
and all, so she scanned her eyes in the other direction. The bulge in the
burgundy gym shorts attracted her attention again for a moment and then she
let her eyes wander up across the firm, agonizingly well-defined abdomen,
those two round, full, massive pectorals, the shoulders, oh my God, the
shoulders. And there were his biceps, powerful, huge. If he stepped forward
right then and began to tear her apart she would have let him do so
willingly just so she could feel the strength of that incredible body in
action.
	The shoulders sloped dramatically up to a massive, thick neck which
had the ability to carry huge, ponderous weights. That column of tree-trunk
sturdy muscle ended in a firm, dimpled chin, a mouth of full lips formed
into a nicely amused smile, a sharp, sloped nose, cheek bones you could cut
diamonds on, a pair of eyes whose steel-blue-flecked-with-gold was hot
enough to melt the deepest, coldest heart. They also mirrored a great
sensitivity and humor which was not to be found in those prone to the
normal afflictions of the unstable male ego. One eyebrow was raised to
match the amusement of his smile. It disappeared up into the brown hair
that hung down over his forehead. The hair swept back and fell in small
waves over his ears, kissing the back of his neck.
	She hoped he didn't mind her taking this tour. He seemed willing to
stand there all day while she took in all the details of this magnificent
sight. She almost took advantage of it, taking another cruise back down to
those pecs, but thought better of it. Something in the way she shifted her
focus told him she was finished. He spoke with a deep, clear voice.
	"I've been expecting you. I'm Arnold."
	"Hi. I'm Chris. I've lost the key to my apartment. The super's gone
for the night."
	"And you want me to participate in a little B and E."
	"If you wouldn't mind. I just need to sneak over the railing. I'm
pretty sure I left the balcony door open."
	"You did."
	"You checked?"
	"I hoped."
	She gasped, her clit throbbed.
	"Why don't you come in? I haven't got much of the place together
yet, but the living room is all right."
	"Thanks. I'd like to. Come in, that is."
	Arnold stood aside and let her pass into the apartment. She walked
toward the living room, glancing into the rooms off the hallway as she
went. The kitchen was still boxes. The first bedroom contained bed,
dresser, the two seabags she had seen him carrying with clothes pulled out
and scattered. The second bedroom contained the boxes of equipment he had
brought up. They were mostly empty. Around the room were scattered various
sets of free weights and dumbbells. A small stack of floor mats were piled
in one corner. Standing in the middle of the room was a piece of equipment
that had the appearance of some medieval torture device. Cables and handles
and bars and weights and springs and seats and benches sprouted from all
sides. Along the far wall was a huge, flat cardboard box. Across the door
jamb to the room was a chin-up bar. Her clitoris hummed at the thought of
watching him put all that metal through its paces.
	"This is where you build all those bulges?"
	"This is just the home entertainment system. I do the serious stuff
at a gym."
	"Which one?"
	"I was just at Patty's place, looking it over."
	Chris's fantasy of those two magnificent bodies' passionate
encounter flew rapidly across the film screen of her imagination.
	"Hmmmm."
	"Hmmmm?"
	"Patty. Nice body."
	"I've noticed. I'm having dinner with her tomorrow evening."
	Well, there it was. Patty had definitely staked her claim
first. Should she climb over the railing and hide in her apartment,
frustrated and shamed, for the rest of her life or take the short cut and
just jump.
	"You have a very nice breast."
	"What!?" She could feel the nub of flesh between her legs push its
way forward. Her breath rate increased.
	"Your breast. On the beach. I recognized the form of introduction."
	"You have a very nice cock." There was no sense beating around the
bush. He knew she had called him at his own game. She knew he had
appreciated it.
	"I expect copies."
	"They're on the coffee table." She tilted her head to indicate her
apartment. She widened her eyes and smiled seductively. If he wanted them,
he'd have to go get them.
	He moved past her and went to the balcony. He put his hands on the
railing and jiggled it a bit. It would hold, no doubt, but there wasn't a
lot of psychological confidence in its movements.
	Chris came out to the balcony. There was one small problem.
	"Ah, Arnold? There's just one small problem."
	"What's that?"
	"Well, it's about my lock. You need a key to open it from the
outside and the inside."
	"And you don't have a spare." A statement, not a question.
	"There's a small chance there might be one in the drawer of the
desk next to the door." She hoped he would get the hint. "Top drawer. On
the right. In a white envelope marked 'spare key'."
	"Ah. I see. Can I bring you back anything else? A change of
clothes? Pizza?"
	"The key would do. Thanks."
	He grabbed hold of the divider, swung his leg up over the railing
and down into her balcony. His cock was crushed deliciously against the
metal frame and she could have sworn he actually pressed himself against it
before sliding off the other side. She didn't know if she should be
pessimistic and go to the front door to await his discovery of the spare
key or stay here and hope that the damned envelope was empty or, better
yet, missing entirely. She decided that today was her lucky day. She leaned
over the railing and around the divider to see if she could watch him.
	He was bent over the coffee table, his lusciously firm ass flexed
full and round as he cantilevered his massive torso to the horizontal to
study the collection of photos that was laid out there. He picked up
several and flipped through them as though he was completely unfamiliar
with their subject. He glanced back out and saw her watching him. Pointing
at one of the pictures and then at his cock as if to ask "That's me?" made
her giggle. She nodded.
	He set the pictures down and moved to the front door. She couldn't
see him. She waited. She waited. She waited. The suspense was killing
her. What the hell was taking him so long? Had he opened the door and was
waiting for her there?
	Finally he appeared with the envelope in his hand. He stepped out
onto the balcony, held it in front of her for a moment. This was
maddening. He then crumpled it up and threw it over the railing.
	"What the hell..."
	"Relax. It's empty."
	Chris's clitoris almost exploded right then and there. She had
never been so happy to be so incredibly inconvenienced. Now she would have
to cut through his apartment for the rest of the day, staring at his cock,
maybe watching him workout.
	He climbed back over the railing. She gasped yet again. The bulge
in the front of his burgundy gym shorts was considerably larger than when
last she had studied it in minute detail.
	He apparently noticed the subject of her attentions.
	"I guess I got a little excited looking at those photos. They
certainly are unusual."
	"An unusual subject. It took me a while to figure out that you knew
I was watching you."
	"I could hear the sound of the camera shutter through your door. I
could also hear talking. I guess you were on the phone."
	"I was until I started taking pictures. I had been talking to a
client I'm doing a photo shoot for. New product introduction."
	"I've got a couple of shoots coming up this week, myself."
	"You do a lot of modeling?"
	"Not too much. Yet. But as soon as the agency I'm with found out I
was moving into town they started really pushing me. Three this coming
week."
	"Busy boy. Any idea what they are?"
	"The one tomorrow is some soap product. I guess their going for the
strong angle." He popped a quick double bicep shot and Chris felt herself
get dizzy. "So you're a photographer by trade as well as hobby?"
	"Ah, yeah. I used to model, but I got tired of dealing with asshole
photographers. Now I are one."
	"What are you going to do with those shots on your coffee table?"
	"That's up to you. Personally, I've been masturbating with them."
	"Aren't you afraid of paper cuts?"
	"Quick."
	She paused to drink in the sight of his body. He stood back and did
the same to her. "I wish I had my camera now."
	Arnold flipped his huge, muscular leg back over the railing and
slid to the other side.
	"Where is it?"
	It took her a moment to collect her thoughts. She tried to locate
everything in her mind so she could give exact directions.
	"Grab the camera bag on the door to the dark room, the same as your
equipment room. The camera's on the table inside. There's a case of rolls
of film in the little dresser just inside the door. Second drawer, black
leatherette, gold clasp."
	He disappeared. She couldn't stand it any more. Her hand moved to
her crotch and she pressed desperately on her clit. It was screaming for
release. Shit, she was hot. She could feel the hard button of flesh
sticking out from under its protective hood. As she moved her hand across
her suit the fabric rubbed against the sensitive, jutting protuberance and
her body shivered in delight.
	She looked around the living room. He seemed to have little need
for extravagances. The furniture was well-worn and utilitarian, though it
all looked very comfortable. The miniature Japanese garden was a nice
surprise. This must have been what he was carrying when she saw him come
out onto the balcony earlier. The thing looked like it weighed at least two
hundred fifty pounds. God, she wanted to see those muscles of his bulge and
swell.
	She went to the bookshelves and scanned the titles. A whole lot of
metaphysical stuff here. Psychology, stuff she identified with those
crystal freaks. Books about women, books about men, how to's and why's and
why not's. Either he was out to impress people with this esoteric and
eclectic selection of reading matter or the guy was into some pretty
serious shit. Kything, meditation, astral projection... Astral projection?
Holy shit. Joy of Sex, More Joy, Men who...Women who...Can, Can't,
Won't. He was studying the human race. That's what all this added up
to. Yoga, Zen, meditation, nutrition, fasting, the complete scripts to all
the Marx Brothers movies? Now there was some truly essential reading. A
Bible, a Koran, a Torah, The Cabal, Francis Bacon's New Atlantis, Philip
K. Dick, Assimov, Heinlein, Card, The Complete Works of William
Shakespeare, Monty Python's Holy Grail. She gave up. She had expected a
couple of comic books. That's what she got for prejudging. This guy was
over her head. She'd heard of most of this stuff, read about some of it,
had actually delved into a bit of it out of curiosity, but...
	Arnold swung back over the railing with her camera bag. He came
into the living room and gave it to her. She opened it and found that he
had carefully packed her camera in its appropriate spot and had restocked
the empty film canisters that lined the strap, something she had been
meaning to do for a long time. She checked to made sure that her favorite
lenses were in there.
	"Thanks. You're very, ah. . . thorough. You didn't happen to grab a
pizza while you were in there, did you?"
	"Are you hungry? I just picked up some stuff at the grocery
store. You want some fruit?"
	"Sure. Whatever you've got. I could use something to drink, too. I
feel a little dehydrated from lying out in the sun."
	He went to the kitchen, made some clinking and banging noises and
returned with a bowl of assorted fruits and a glass of juice.
	While he was gone she loaded up her camera and slapped a lens
on. When he appeared with the refreshments she was ready to shoot.
	Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick. He moved
un-self-consciously into the room, set the stuff down on the coffee table
and turned back to his tasks. He assembled a dining table, arranged the
chairs around it, decided he didn't like where the sofa was and moved
it. Each job kept him moving and lifting, his muscles swelling and bulging,
bulging and swelling, flexing and relaxing. But he seemed to be doing it
just a little more than what would be normal. He was in front of the lens
again. The performer was turned on. When he grabbed the sofa he lifted the
end of it with one arm and swung it around to its new position. The bicep
looked like it would leap right off his arm. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick,
ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick.
	Chris dove into her bag and grabbed her strobe unit. She pointed
the flash up at the ceiling and continued to click away. He seemed to
completely ignore her except that each thing he did was positioned with the
location of the camera in mind.
	When he had moved the furniture around to a more desirable location
he went to the room that contained his weights. Chris's heart began to
pound heavily. She grabbed her camera bag and followed him. He stopped at
the door to the room, raised his arms to the chin-up bar and said to her,
without turning around; "The negatives are mine. You can have a set of
prints, but the negatives are mine. Okay?"
	"The negatives are yours."
	He went to the large cardboard box leaning against the wall, opened
one side of it and slid out a huge mirror. Putting the box over in a
corner, he stood the mirror up against the wall opposite the door to the
room. Next he returned to the chin-up bar and did thirty agonizingly slow,
muscle bulging pull-ups. He seemed to really enjoy watching his efforts in
the mirror. Chris knew she certainly did; she captured his progression to
muscle fatigue in shot after shot. With each repetition his muscles bulged
more and more. His face drew into a knot of frightening determination. By
the last pull-up he was screaming in agony as he forced his arms past the
point of endurance to perform just once more.
	When he was done he moved to the mirror and began a slow, sensuous
posing routine. After quickly changing to a fresh roll of film, Chris
continued to click away, capturing him in long shots, close-ups, mid-shots,
shots of individual muscles, shots of him in the mirror, shots of muscles
he wasn't flexing. She especially liked the ones that caught her in the
mirror with him, her own beautiful body barely contained in her stunning
swim suit.
	Two or three minutes into the posing routine Chris noticed the
bulge in the front of Arnold's shorts was getting larger and larger. She
didn't know if she was the cause of it or just the fact that anyone was
photographing him or what. But she sure did appreciate it. It grew and grew
until she thought that it must be getting very painful. Arnold continued to
pose as though nothing were out of the ordinary. But more and more
frequently his movements would bring his hands in momentary contact with
the front of his shorts and he would brush against the growing bulge. And
each time he brushed against it, it would grow until his shorts were
stretched to their maximum limit by his hardening cock.
	All through this routine Chris kept talking him up, as she would
any model that would be working for her. She urged him on with compliments
and admonitions, directions and suggestions. The more she drew herself into
the process, the better Arnold got. Soon she couldn't stand it any more.
	"Let me see that big cock, stud. Whip it out."
	Arnold tensed his entire body causing every muscle to leap into
full relief. He grabbed the waistbands of his shorts and jockstrap and
yanked them down with a violent motion. His gigantic cock leaped from its
restricting confines, flew up and slapped against his rigid abdomen with a
resounding "thwap". He stood there for a moment, as if allowing his cock to
enjoy its new-found freedom, and then grabbed the shorts and jockstrap and
violently pulled them off. He flung them off to a corner of the room and
then grabbed his huge cock with both hands and squeezed it so hard the head
turned almost blue-black and a generous amount of pre-cum flowed from the
huge slit in the head.
	Chris couldn't stand it any more. Her long clit kept rubbing
against the material of her suit and it was driving her up the wall. She
was having a wonderfully difficult time operating her camera but decided if
she was going to do this right she had to get rid of the distraction. She
set the camera down, slipped the bottom of her suit off and kicked it
away. Then she practically ripped the top off and it followed its mate. She
reached down and pulled her cunt hair and lips apart and thrust her hips
forward to show Arnold her aching, protruding clit.
	A low, rumbling growl flowed from Arnold's throat. He walked over
to her and knelt before her. Chris picked up her camera again. She could
feel the heat of his breath upon her exposed clit.
	"I see I'm not the only one around here who's well-hung."
	"Suck me," she begged.
	He moved closer and suddenly sucked her miniature erection into his
mouth. Chris gasped and almost dropped her camera. But she continued to
focus and click away, capturing his oral attentions to her aching bud.
	He sucked and sucked until her hips were bucking against his
mouth. He grabbed her ass and held her firmly to him, pressing his mouth
deeper into her crotch.
	Chris's moans and cries of pleasure became more intense. She knew
she was very close to popping her cork, and she didn't want to risk
dropping her camera on such a mundane activity as cunnilingus. Her eyes
strayed to his huge, bulging arms. She had more exotic ideas in mind. She
waited until he pulled away for a moment and she quickly shifted her
position so that she was rubbing her clit against the swollen mass of his
right deltoid. Arnold seemed to sense immediately what she was after and
flexed the giant muscle even more. The heat of this mass of flesh pressing
against her clit was more of a turn on than even her wild fantasy of
earlier in the day had projected. She thrust her hips forward and slowly
worked her way down his arm until her clit was sliding up and down the
bulge of his bicep.
	Arnold passed his arm between her legs and slowly raised it up
until her crotch was pressing firmly on the center of his bicep. It was so
hot. So hard. So big. And the pressure of it against her clit was much more
than she had imagined it would be. She put more and more pressure on it
until she was sitting with very little weight on her legs. In fact, she
only barely touched the floor in order to keep her balance.
	Then the moment of her greatest fantasy came true. Arnold began to
stand up, lifting her off the floor with his arm. Her clit pressed heavily
against the huge bulge of his bicep and waves of pleasure raced through her
body. She wondered if he would know the full extent of this fantasy. Would
he be able to send her shooting over the top. He straightened his arm and
flexed it again. Yes. She was taking shot after shot of his incredible body
from this bird's eye view. But after a few more flexes she gave up trying
to concentrate on her camera and just let herself go to the intense
pleasure of living out one of her lifelong fantasies. She hung the camera
around her neck and grabbed onto his head for stability. She ran her free
hand down over his incredible deltoid and then to his pec. With each
movement her camera bounced against her breasts, knocking into her already
hard nipples, aggravating them even more.
	Finally, when she was just about to loose total control, he set her
down on the floor. She was whimpering with frustration, her hard clit
crying for release. Why was he doing this to her? She was so close. He
aimed his huge cock, dark, thick, hard, long, at her clit. With both hands
he spread the slit in its head apart. Chris had no idea what was happening.
	"Fuck my cock."
	"What?"
	"Fuck my cock with your clit."
	Chris looked down at his cock. Sure enough, the slit looked like a
little cunt. Just the right size. She moved forward and pressed her rigid
clit into the opening. As it slid in he let go of the head and the slit
closed around her tiny shaft. The effect was immediate and intense. Her
whole body was wracked with a mildly earth shattering orgasm as she quickly
thrust her clitoris against the head of his cock. She grabbed hold of the
gigantic shaft and mashed herself against the head again and again. Her
entire body was overcome with sensations beyond her ability to
decipher. She squeezed the head of his cock to increase the pressure on her
clit. Again her body exploded. There seemed to be no end to the energy that
was being released with this unbelievable physical union.
	Arnold took both of her breasts and began to massage and twist the
achingly hard nipples. His palms pressed into her and jolts of energy shot
from the hard, jutting buds of flesh down to her clit where it seemed to
fly out of her body and into his cock, making the circuit complete by
running through his blood-engorged shaft and up through spine and powerful
arms, only to return, amplified, through his hands to her nipples
again. She continued to grind herself against his cock until the sensations
became too much for her. She felt herself becoming light headed and so
pulled out of the end of his member to keep from passing out.
	"Are you scared?"
	"That would be putting it mildly."
	Arnold was lost in thought for several minutes. What was he
contemplating? Surely he knew she wanted him. Badly. Her body ached with
longing to have his huge cock deep inside her, filling her, stretching
her. She wanted to be destroyed by this phenomenal penis. It was just so
risky. The one thing she had always demanded in her sex was control. She
got it in the studio, she had it with Arnold when she was shooting him. But
now, as their bodies joined, all control was gone. She had even forgotten
about needing the control for a few moments as she had frantically rammed
her throbbing clit into the head of his gigantic organ.
	Chris realized that, to continue with this, she would have to
abandon all need for control. She sensed the turbulent maelstrom of sexual
energy seething just beneath the surface of this magnificently built
man. She wanted him. Needed him. But could she trust him?
	He trusted her.
	Implicitly.
	How could she not.
	Chris returned her focus to Arnold and saw that he was studying her
face, awaiting her decision. She placed her hands on the sides of his
cheeks and drew his face down to her open, hungry mouth, her tongue diving
through his parted lips and snaking and entwining around his own hot,
seeking tongue.
	Arnold seemed relieved. Chris pressed herself against him, her legs
spreading to allow her cunt to slide up his massive right thigh, her still
erect clit throbbing against the heat of his huge muscles. His penis,
pressed between them, felt hot, alive, powerful, like the rest of him. She
squeezed her hands between their pressed bodies and traced the left and
right sides of his organ lightly with her fingernails, from the base of the
shaft to the tip of the head. He moaned. He shuddered. His head fell back
in abandon, his face frozen with a look of ecstatic, excruciating
agony. Small drops of pre-cum constantly leaked from the slit she had so
recently fucked with her aching clit.
	Her hands continued upwards. The fingernails left trails in the
surface of his massive pectorals. She flicked the nipples simultaneously
and he groaned loudly, pressing himself and his member hard against
her. She could feel the moistness of the head as it jutted up into the base
of her left breast. She bent her knees slightly and the hot poker of flesh
rose up and teased her nipple. She pressed her two breast together,
capturing the head of his cock between them. Lowering herself further, the
head rose to her mouth and she took it in and sucked hungrily at the
precious fluid which flowed from it in ever increasing volume.
	Arnold's voice was now a constant rumbling of sexual tension. He
was very close to orgasm. Not here. Not now. She straightened back up,
letting the shaft of his penis slip free from its captivity and began
licking and sucking his nipples, her fingernails again tracing paths across
the surface of his pecs.
	"They're so unbelievable. It's like grabbing on to a balloon with a
rock in it. Can you make them bigger?"
	He stepped away from her and dropped to the floor.
	"Sit on my back."
	She swung her leg over his shoulder and mounted him like a child
playing 'ride the pony'. The muscles of his back, hard and defined, moved
and rippled with each change of position. He began a series of long, slow
push-ups that set his muscles to writhing. Chris squirmed joyfully,
pressing her swollen clit against his body.
	"I feel your heat. You're very wet."
	"I'm very horny."
	After two dozen reps he pushed himself up so that his arms were
straight.
	"Do you want to fuck?"
	Chris groaned in ecstasy. She slid off his back and slipped under
him, her back to the floor. Her hands went to his pecs again and began to
knead and caress them. Arnold continued to perform the push-ups, but now,
every time he reached the lower limits of the movement he ground his huge,
throbbing cock against her hot, wet cunt. Chris thrilled each time his
incredible hardness pushed against her rigid clit. When he reached the top
of the cycle she held him there with her eyes. His eyes locked on her firm,
proud breasts. She took each one in her hands and held them up to him. He
lowered himself and kissed the nipple of one. Up again. He lowered himself
and kissed the nipple of the other. Up again. Over and over, each time
grinding his huge member against her, her moans becoming more desperate,
more wanting.
	He pushed himself up a final time and stood. He held out his hand
to her and she took it, being lifted to her feet with absolutely no effort
whatsoever, his huge bicep swelling. He then flexed his pecs and they
exploded to many times their original size. She could stand it no
longer. Her hands and lips were suddenly all over him. His arms, his
shoulders, his face, his pecs, especially his pecs, his abdomen, his
cock. God, it was huge.
	She had seen it through the spy hole. She had photographed it,
enlarged it, studied it, masturbated to it. But to have this gigantic cock
actually throbbing and pulsing, swaying and thrusting right before her was
more than she could stand. Her mouth dove onto it and began sucking and
licking and nibbling and kissing it. She had no care for what this gorgeous
stud wanted. The only need she could answer was the incredible urge to have
this huge cock inside her.
	She licked and sucked and kissed her way back up to a standing
position and pressed herself against him and his hot cock. When she spoke,
her voice was husky, lust-filled.
	"Fuck me. Now."
	"How do you want it?"
	"Deep. Hard. I want you to split me."
	She looked around the room and saw the bench press. She laid down
and spread her legs.
	"Fuck me. Hard. Real hard. No games. Hard."
	His huge cock was fully erect, becoming darker with each
passion-passing moment. His heavy, cum-filled balls were pulled up against
the base of it, ready to unload their contents. He looked down at her and
the lust in his eyes practically drove her to an orgasm. She began rubbing
her clit and little, pleading, mewling sounds escaped from her lips. He
walked to the end of the bench, grabbed his cock violently with one hand,
and one of her ankles with the other. He looked like he could plow right
through her. It was so dangerous, so vicious, so hot. He stopped, staring
into her eyes. He wanted her to beg.
	"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. Hurry. Please. Fuck me hard."
	He lifted the lower half of her body by her leg. She vibrated on
the edge of an orgasm. The strength, the muscles, the cock. It was all too
much. He brought the head of his cock right to her open, throbbing,
dripping cunt and drove it in.
	She screamed. Her body was immediately wracked by a series of
contractions. She was filled to the limit by this glorious man, this
glorious cock. He knew exactly how far to go with the violence, the lust
and his huge member. The only agony she was in was of her own desire. Even
in this incredible state of animalistic debauchery she sensed his concern
for her safety and fulfillment. Her cunt gushed.
	"Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh, yeah. Oh. So big. So fucking big. Come on, big
boy. Fuck me hard. Fuh...Fuh... Oh. OH. OH.... Unh. Unh. Unh. Big cock. Big
fucking cock. Uh Uh Uh Uh Uh Uh Uh Unnnnhhhhhh. Arrrgh. Uh Uh Uh Uh Uh Uh
Uh Unh Unh Unh Unhhhhh. Cuh, cuh, cuhhhhhming. Oh, God,
cumming. Big. Big. Don't stop. Don't stop Oh shit. Uh oh. Oh, my God. Oh my
God. OH MY GOD. Unnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
	Once his huge cock was inside her, Arnold grabbed her other leg and
began plowing into her. He kept up a fast, steady rhythm and Chris soon
found herself being flung through the vortex of another overpowering
climax. It continued to increase in intensity until she just could stand it
no more and then it got even more intense and she began to pass out but
then it got more intense and she couldn't pass out and then she thought
she'd passed out and then she climaxed again and still he continued to
pound his hot, huge, blood engorged shaft into her clasping cunt as it
grabbed for more and another climax and another (or the same one still) and
they all ran together and all she could see was this huge, muscular stud
between her legs with a look of ultimate joy on his face and still she came
and came and her clit exploded and her head whirled and her nipples ached
and throbbed and her hands were all over her body trying to touch
everything at once and finally his huge cock thickened even more and the
head stretched her cunt to a painful limit and she felt him cum in her and
she exploded again and collapsed.
	Darkness.
	Warmth.
	A hand on her head, stroking her hair.
	A large mass of firm, hard muscle pressed against her cheek.
	Huge arms wrapped around her, rocking her back and forth.
	The sound of crying.
	Chris became aware that she was sobbing into one of his huge, naked
pecs. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. She had been sent beyond
her limit and it had been too much for her. Huge sobs wracked her
body. Loosing complete control, she had given herself over to him as she
had done with no other person in her life. A very scary proposition in the
best of circumstances. And this was a man she knew even less than hardly.
	But something had allowed her to turn herself over to him. He had
reacted to her passion with the exact amount in return. There was never any
question that he would know and do exactly what she needed. And there was
no doubt in her mind that she had needed him. 'Needed' seemed like such a
weak word. Lusted, desired, was compelled, driven. All these and more. And
the scary thing was that she knew she had only begun to plumb the depths of
that desire.
	She rallied her psyche and pulled her libido back in line, wiped
her eyes and kissed him deeply on the mouth. He responded with an equal
passion. His hand traveled across her breasts and held them, stroked them,
pressed them.
	Flames of passion ignited in her once again.
	"Teach me how to do that."
	"You already know."
	"Teach me how not to be scared."
	"You no longer are."
	And she wasn't.
	"I know what you did then, how you played for me what I
needed. Thank you. Thank you, you dear, sweet man."
	"You're very welcome."
	"What can I do for you?"
	He shook his head. Did he mean 'nothing' or 'I can't think right
now'?
	"What can I do for you?" she repeated.
	He thought for a very long time.
	"Make me breakfast, please."
	Chris smiled so big her cheeks hurt.
	She knew she wouldn't have to climb over that stupid railing
tonight.