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

Chapter 51: 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 had never been one for shower fantasies, but every time her
hands touched any part of her body, it made her wish Arnold was touching
her, getting ready to move his massive body against her, thrust his huge,
swollen prick into her. She couldn't stop her cunt from flowing. Everything
was a sexual turn-on. She very nearly came when she soaped up her
breasts. And when it came time to rinse off her vagina, she had to resort
to thinking it was the building manager, Mr. Howard, doing the evil deed so
she didn't collapse in a puddle of orgasmic bliss.
	Oddly, though, she had trouble conjuring up the disgust that, until
that morning, she had felt for the older man. Suddenly he was a human being
with a life and a cock and troubles and joys and a reason for being on
earth. She could not find in herself the ability to identify with him, but
she seemed less inclined to dismiss him outright.
	Arnold.
	If she ended up actually liking Mr. Howard because of Arnold's
affect on her, she was going to be awfully mad at him.
	That made her chuckle. When you had a eleven-and-a-half inch cock
and biceps bulging and pecs swelling to satisfy your every sexual need, the
whole world took on a different look. That thought was followed by the hope
she wasn't so shallow a person that it was only Arnold's eleven-and-a-half
cock that was having its affect on her. Her extraordinary experiences of
the previous night had proved that something bigger than that was moving
inside her.
	Again she chuckled.
	She scrubbed extra hard on her hands to remove the last vestiges of
chemical odor which always seemed to collect there when working in the
lab. She had spent the time since Arnold left developing the shots taken in
his weight room the previous afternoon. And if those photos weren't enough
to put her down for the count, she also redid a couple of the spy hole
series to use as teasers. Nicholas was going to cum in his pants, as she
hoped every woman in the country would, when he saw the ad campaign she had
in mind.
	Just as she got out of the shower she heard a knock on her
door. Wrapping a heavy terry cloth robe around her and a thick towel about
her wet hair she peeked through the spy hole. Should she have been at all
surprised to see Mr. Howard standing there? Well, there was no time like
the present. She checked to make sure she was very decent and then opened
the door.
	"Good morning, Mr. Howard."
	"Mornin', Chris. I was sifting cigarette butts out of the sand in
front of the building this morning and I found this. It matches the
duplicate you gave me for the office." He held up the key she had lost in
her collision with the roller bladers. The entire event had completely
slipped her mind.
	"Oh, thank you. That must have been an awful lot of trouble to go
through all the keys for the building."
	"Not much. Besides, I recognized it as being the type of lock we
had put in here the when you was broken into. Not a whole lot of them
around. Held the two of them up, this one and the one in the lock box, and,
sure enough; two peas in a pod."
	He extended his hand to her. She took the key, but he held on to it
for just an instant longer than was necessary. A sly smirk spread across
his face. Chris decided that enough was enough. 'Take the bull by the
horns,' she thought.
	"Mr. Howard. I would like to have a little talk with you. Would you
mind coming in for a quick cup of coffee?"
	His jaw dropped to his chest. The sly smirk became one of
incredulity. Chris guessed immediately what was going through his
mind. 'Fine,' she thought, 'let him think what he wants. It'll put him off
his guard.'
	She stood aside and welcomed Mr. Howard into her kitchen. She moved
to the sink and began the process of making coffee. She started to ask if
he liked decaf but the question seemed pointless.
	"How's your brother-in-law?"
	"Huh?"
	"You told me yesterday you were going out to the valley to your
brother-in-law's place."
	"Oh, yeah. Yeah. He's, ah. . .fine. Fine."
	"Good. I hope it was a good visit."
	"It was all right."
	"How do you take your coffee?"
	"Uh, black. Black, no sugar."
	"That's easy enough. It'll be just a minute for the water to heat
up. You mind it made drip like this?"
	"Uh, drip's fine. Just fine."
	"Great. By the way, I noticed you fixed the light fixtures down in
the laundry room. It sure makes a big difference down there with all the
lights on. Thanks."
	"Yeah. We was waitin' for replacements ta come into the hardware
store. Took some time for 'em ta git here."
	"I thought there might be something holding you up. It's always
nice when things get done around here as promptly as that."
	"Just tryin' ta keep you folks happy."
	"I'm glad you feel that way, Mr. Howard, because I've got a problem
I need to discuss with you."
	The sly smirk reappeared.
	"Here's your coffee."
	"Thanks." He took a sip of it. "Nice cuppa coffee."
	It'd better be, at $9.50 a half pound. Chris sat down in the chair
across the table from him.
	"What seems ta be your problem?"
	"You may not believe this, Mr. Howard. . ."
	"Please, call me Ben."
	"You may not believe this. . .Ben. . .but it has to do with you and
me."
	Ben shifted in his seat, a motion halfway between expectation and
discomfort. "I hope there's nothing wrong with your apartment."
	"Oh, no. Everything's fine. No, Ben. It's actually between you and
me."
	Ben made the same motion, this time swinging more towards the
discomfort side. Chris smiled to herself. She had suspected that his bark
was worse than his bite; when she actually got around to what she was
trying to say, and she admitted to herself she was taking the scenic route,
he would be so relieved he would probably melt right where he sat.
	"You 'n me? I'm not gettin' ya."
	"Ever since the day I moved into this building you and I have had
certain. . . ideas. . . about each other. I don't know about you, but I'm
pretty sure those ideas have made both of us pretty uncomfortable."
	"Still not quite sure where you're goin' with this."
	"It's just that it seems every conversation we have has a second
layer to it. Kind of like an undertow down on the beach. My discomfort has
come, partially, from the way I feel about you after we're done
talking. But another part of it, and this is something I only recently
discovered, is the way I feel about the way I feel about you. Now I know
that's my problem, but I also know there's something you could do to help
me get over this discomfort and, in the process, maybe make you a little
more comfortable around me."
	Ben's eyes glazed over. She'd obviously gone a bit too deep into
the woods for him. He needed a few bread crumbs to find his way out. Very
dry bread crumbs.
	"Can I ask you a personal question?"
	"Uh. . .uh. . .sure. . .uh. . .I mean. . .uh. . .it depends."
	"You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I think it'll
help here. Yesterday afternoon, after we finished talking downstairs in the
lobby, how did you feel about our conversation? And I mean really feel."
	Ben thought for a second, started to speak, changed his
mind. Finally he said, "Don't recollect feeling anything. Just thought you
might be a little nicer, maybe."
	"Good. And you want to hear something really amazing? That's
exactly what I thought, too."
	Clouds of thought raced across Ben's face. His eyebrows alternately
raised as he scrunched down on the meaning of what Chris was saying. After
a couple of moments, he shrugged. "Missy, I gotta tell ya, I'm not at all
certain of where you're goin' with all this."
	"That sort of makes both of us. Maybe I'd better just tell you my
side of it and how I see the situation. Then you can fill in your own
details. When I walked out the door to the lobby yesterday after talking
with you I had the distinct impression you hadn't talked to me as a human
being but as thing. An object. To be blunt, a sex object. Now I know I had
on an exceptionally revealing swim suit, and I guess I shouldn't be
surprised when I attract the attentions of the opposite sex. You included."
	"Well, you sure did that."
	"Thank you for being so honest. But there are different kinds of
interest. And there are different kinds of reactions, depending on who's
doing the reacting. I'll be perfectly honest with you. I was definitely
trying to elicit a certain kind of reaction from my new neighbor, hoping he
would notice me from his balcony. But he's a young man, not much different
in age from myself, and single, meaning available. The fact that I
attracted your attention as well compliments me on my broad range of
appeal. But you, unlike my new neighbor, are twice my age, married, meaning
not available, and, in the end, not someone I would immediately choose to
seduce with my racy swim wear."
	Ben had become more alert as Chris talked, gaining false hope as to
where she was leading. But the last sentence she spoke deflated him as
surely as sticking a pin into a balloon. Crestfallen, he slumped back into
his chair, almost letting his cup slip from his grasp.
	"And there, Mr. Howard. . .Ben. . .is our problem. It would be very
nice to be able to like you. But everytime I try, you misinterpret my
motives, or choose to see them in your own light. And so we end up feeling
very dissatisfied each time we talk."
	Chris sat back in her own chair and crossed her arms, a motion she
hoped would have its desired affect on the man: I'm defensive. Ben studied
her for a couple of minutes, set his cup down on the table, turned it
around a couple of times, picked it up and sipped, and set it down again.
	"I don't mean to make you think I don't like you."
	"Ben, I know that's not the problem. But just because you like me
doesn't mean you have to want to go to bed with me. This isn't black and
white. There can be a million shades of gray. Even an occasional color or
two. Do you like your wife?"
	"What's that got to do with anything?"
	"I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude. I was only going to make the
point that if you did like her, you probably would know the feelings you
have for her are different from those you have for me. And for everyone
else you know. I appreciate the fact that I'm an attractive woman. Some
would say exceedingly so, and I don't feel like I'm bragging when I say
that. I also appreciate the fact that you apparently have an eye for beauty
that includes me, and I thank you for the compliment. But appreciation is
one thing. Respect is another. I respect the fact that you're married. I
respect the fact that you're a human being with feelings that can be hurt
and emotions that flare and needs and wants and dreams. But it makes it
very difficult for me to offer that respect when I get the feeling you're
not returning it. The respect, I mean."
	"You want me to respect you."
	"That's kind of the idea, yeah."
	"And if I do, then you'll respect me, too."
	"If you do, you'll make it easier for me to do the same, yes."
	Clouds of thought, again. Finally he said, "I don't believe anyone
has ever sat down and talked to me the way you have. Not quite sure how to
handle it."
	"Take it at face value, Ben. I'm not hiding anything from you. I'm
not trying to kid you or make fun of you or put you down or even push you
away. I'm just trying to see if you and I can find some common ground so we
can start having a human relationship. Two humans relating to each other,
not two people trying very hard to get what the other person is not willing
to give. I promise. If you can make me feel like it's worth knowing you,
I'll definitely be able to make you feel like it's worth knowing me. But
you have to respect my own needs and boundaries. I do not want to have sex
with you, Ben. You're just not my type. And there's probably nothing that
can be done about that. But I would very much like to be your friend. If
you'll let me in that way. You catch my drift?"
	"You know, for a woman, you sure do have an awful lot to say."
Chris considered hurling herself off the balcony. Then she considered
hurling Ben off the balcony. "But you sure do make a lot of sense."
	Then again. . .
	"Ben, you make me very happy to hear you say that. I'm glad you can
see me that way. It's a start. A very good start."
	Ben studied his empty cup for a moment longer and then got up the
nerve to look Chris in the eye. He studied them for just a moment, as if
making sure she wasn't about to say "April Fool's" or something. He
sighed. She was serious.
	"You know, when my wife was about your age she used to get out of
the tub and wrap her head up just like that. Bright, bright red hair. Just
like yours."
	"Used to?"
	"Don't have to wrap nothin' up no more. The chemotherapy took care
of that."
	"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
	"Well, we don't like to talk about it much." He paused for a
second. "That's why we was up ta her brother's house. He lives near the
hospital and she's so tired after her treatments she can hardly stand the
drive all the way home."
	"How long has she had it?"
	"About six months. They think they've got it under control, but
then, I guess that's what they always say."
	"Lung Cancer?"
	"Nope. Never smoked a cigarette in her life. Never did much of
anything bad. Makes you go and wonder. I run around boozin' and smokin' and
cuttin' up and I'm never sick a day in my life. The Missus lives like a
saint and they gotta go and cut her chest up and. . .and. . ."
	Before Chris could realize what she was doing she had jumped to her
feet, gone to Ben and kneeled at his side, cradling his head on her
shoulder. He resisted for a moment, let his head be pulled to her and,
within seconds, was crying softly into her neck. She rocked back and forth,
stroking his sparse, gray hair, patting him on his back. He was a big man,
his body was firm, strong for a man his age. He had born many griefs, many
wounds, many faults on that back. And she suspected this was the first time
anyone, besides perhaps his own mother, had seen him cry. She said nothing,
not wanting to inhibit him.
	Ben tried to compose himself, tried to deal with the shame of
letting someone see him in this condition. Chris felt she should say
something to ease his embarrassment. She put her hands on either side of
his face and gently forced him to look at her. She smiled, hoping he would,
too. It took a couple of seconds, but a warm glow slowly rose up across his
face and one corner of his mouth raised in a sheepish grin.
	"I know it's not easy for you to open up like that. I take it as
the ultimate compliment that you did it here. This has been a very good
visit. For both of us."
	"I'm sorry."
	"There's nothing to be sorry about. It's perfectly all right for
men to show their emotions. You have to let it out or it just sits in you
and makes you sick."
	"I mean I'm sorry about how I've treated you. It's kind of hard to
go around treating other people good when you can't even treat yourself
right."
	"Like I said. There's nothing to be sorry about. We just needed to
talk, that's all." Chris looked at the wall clock. She had an hour to make
it to her appointment with Nicholas and his yapping mutts.
	"I don't want to give you the bum's rush, Ben, but I have to be
across town for an appointment. You okay?"
	"I'll be fine. Fine. Sorry to hold you up. I guess you got better
things to do than sit here baby-sitting an ol' coot like me."
	"Ben."
	"Huh?"
	"Cut the crap, okay?"
	Ben chuckled. "Yeah. I guess I gotta stop doin' that, huh."
	"Yup. Thanks for stopping by. And for finding my key."
	"You're welcome. Oh, that reminds me. I was just wondering how you
got into your place without it."
	Chris smiled slyly. Her eyes flashed to the balcony door. Ben
followed her glance, turned back and shrugged. He thought for a second and
then: "Ah! I get it."
	"Yeah. Connecting balconies."
	"Long way down. I hope you weren't too scared."
	"Only for a little while. I got over it real quick, though."
	Ben studied her face for a second to see if there was any more
information forthcoming. He chuckled and headed for the door. As he opened
it he turned back to Chris with the most honest and open face she had ever
seen on the man, and said, "Thank you very, very much for the coffee. It
was the best I've ever had."
	"You're quite welcome. I'm certainly glad we had the chance to do
it." Ben started out the door. "Oh, Ben?"
	"Yes, Miss Chris."
	"You were right, by the way. Those were mighty tight britches."
	She could still hear him laughing as he turned the corner into the
stairwell.
	It didn't occur to her until she reached Nicholas' office in just
three-quarters of an hour that there was anything unusualÑuntil she
realized she had reached Nicholas' office in just three-quarters of an
hour. The elevator had run smoothly, the car had started promptly, there
hadn't been a single red light the entire way to the freeway, not a single
slowdown once on it, nor another red light from the freeway to his office,
the entire distance being over ten miles. And she'd gotten dressed.
	Nicholas was sitting in his office, a set for some B-rated flick
about a designer who thought he knew everything about taste. And
didn't. Plaster cupids and vases with plastic flowers stood on plaster
columns of various heights in all combinations around the room. Fabric in
colors that had no right being seen in the same state with each other
draped from ceiling to floor, column to column, vase to cupid to vase. It
never ceased to confound Chris how a man with such abhorrent taste could
come up with such a hot line of make-up.
	Pillows of different sizes were placed on the furniture. On each
one was a little fluff of hair, the collection of which erupted into
obnoxious yappings and howlings the moment she walked into the
room. Nicholas had to perform his ritual of going around to each of the
nine (!) hairballs and assure them intimately that everything was okay. He
spoke so sweetly to each of them Chris was not sure if she was going to
keep a straight face or her breakfast.
	When everyone had settled down Nicholas launched into a replay of
their phone conversation of the day before. Chris thought she might want to
cut him off, but realized she had missed some of this the last time, being
otherwise occupied at the spy hole in her front door. The knowledge of what
she carried in her portfolio and the affect it would have on this mad man
helped her hold her tongue. She'd let him get it out of his system.
	Finally, he wound down with a hesitant "So what do you think?"
	Chris jumped in with both barrels blazing. She laid out her
philosophy on sales, on make-up, on the woman he was trying to target, on
the pluses of the product, the amazing achievements he had made in the art
of changing the modern woman's image of herself through this amazing new
line he had created, ending with the point that, with such a stunning array
of colors and styles he was ready to present, he certainly should see how
his new line needed to have the most spectacular, amazing, provoking, maybe
even controversial presentation ever put together in any make-up ad
campaign.
	Nicholas nodded as she stroked his ego, smiled with each
compliment, even laughed a bit when she mentioned the word 'controversial.'
She felt she was on the right track. She also knew what she had in the
black folder leaning against her knees.
	"Nicholas. What we want to do is get your make-up on the face of
every woman in this country, right. If this isn't what you want, then I'm
outta here, because the only worthwhile campaign is the one that blows the
competition out of the water. I know you have your ideas about
presentation. I also know you have a certain budget to work with. But I
also know that you're looking for the best campaign around. That's why you
hired me. I want you to give me just a little leeway here. Indulge me for a
moment and let me lay something out for you which I believe will accomplish
the very thing we're both after. Blowing the competition away."
	She reached into the portfolio and, before Nicholas could object,
spread several dozen shots of Arnold in all his naked, natural beauty,
across his desk. The effect was just as she had predicted. Nicholas was
speechless. For several minutes. This was Chris' best indication that she
was on the mark. He slid the photos back and forth over each other, not
being able to find one to focus on. When he finally realized he was just
drifting above the sight of this incredible body he raised his eyes to
Chris.
	"If your intention was to give me an erection, you have
succeeded. As much as I would enjoy looking over these photos for as long
as you care to allow me, I must ask what this has to do with selling my
line?"
	Chris grinned. "Nicholas. If this man walked into this room right
now and told you to put your make-up on your face, would you do it?"
	"Without hesitation."
	"So would a very large percentage of the female population of this
country. At least that's what I'm willing to bet."
	"Who is he?"
	"A friend. A very good friend. Shall I go on?"
	"Please."
	"I am also betting that we can make this campaign run so that
magazines will pay you to run your ads."
	Nicholas' eyes shot up from the photos for a second. He smiled in a
way which Chris could only define as greedily.
	"I have this image of women placing kisses with all your different
colors, on various parts of his body. We run a series of ads featuring
different body parts and therefore different colors. Perhaps have a special
color which we place in a special spot that one of the more liberal-minded
magazines carries. Maybe even a contest to guess which color it will
be. How many women do you think would want to help place that special
color?"
	"All of them."
	"Any questions?"
	"How much?"
	"He has an agent. He also knows about this idea and has warned
them. You'll pay dearly. You'll get your money's worth."
	"Is he gay?"
	"No." A little lie, but not completely.
	"I guess he'd have to be around alot, though."
	"No doubt. In fact I was planning on it. Nicholas. Picture your
hottest color hanging from the end of that amazing cock. It's
eleven-and-a-half inches long, Nicholas. Eleven-and-a-half."
	Nicholas stared at the photos and shook his head. He leaned in very
close to the several taken through the spy hole.
	"What's going on here?"
	"I thought he didn't know I was shooting him. I was wrong. He's
quite a showman."
	"Perhaps the tearose pink should go here, on his left bicep. It's
quite large."
	"You could be right. Maybe we should leave those details until
after we're sure the deal is set." Chris began gathering up the photos.
	"Don't you think you should leave those with me?"
	"No, Nicholas. These are the property of the subject. Besides, I
would think the image of his body is etched firmly in you mind. It
certainly is mine."
	"Very well. What do we need to do?"
	"I'll have his agency draw up the contract. I'll submit it to you
next week with my own. I assume you've hired the proper press people."
	"Oh, yes. Sure. Here's their number." He slid her a business card
which listed the name of one of the most prestigious firms on the
coast. Chris' eyebrows shot up. "As you can see, I've hired the
best. You. Them. Him."
	"Yes. Especially him. Now I just want to make sure we're on the
same track here. About your doggies and the ladies at tea. . .?"
	"Just a passing fancy. I believe I can persuade my backers that you
have presented the superior concept. Far superior. Mother will be
disappointed."
	"Your Mother?"
	"Yes. She was going to be the focus of the campaign. She was so
excited about the tearose pink. ‚'est la vie. I'm sure she'll get over
it when she sees your friend."
	"Your Mother?"
	"Oh, yes. She's quite the swinger. Seventy-eight years old and
still goes to see the Chippendales every chance she gets."
	"I guess you're never too old."
	"Dear God, I hope not. By the way, just how good is 'very good
friends?'"
	"He'll do anything for me. Anything."
	"I was hoping you'd say that."
	"For me, Nicholas. Not you."
	"Well, maybe I can watch."
	"It depends. Voyeurism is not in either of our contracts."
	"I don't know. From the looks of those photos there, he might have
different thoughts on the matter."
	Chris considered for a second. What were Arnold's limits? Where did
he draw the line? Was there a line? She'd have to investigate that with
him. In the mean time: "You'll have to take that up with Arnold, himself. I
can't answer for him." She was sure that's what Arnold would want her to
say.
	"I look forward to that very opportunity. Very well. I think we
have a good start here. When can I expect a proposal?"
	"I'll work on it this week and present it on Friday, if that's good
for you."
	"That'll be fine. I trust you'll bring Arnold, himself, along for
the meeting."
	"If he's available."
	"If he's not, we'll reschedule the meeting."
	"You are incorrigible, Nicholas."
	"No, my dear woman. You are. Do you think for a moment that waving
nude photos of a man with a body like that, a face like that and a cock
like that would be in the least bit fair?"
	"Of course not. This is advertising, for God's sake."
	"Very well. At least we both know what kind of people we're dealing
with."
	"Yes. People with similar taste in men."
	"I look forward to seeing you both on Friday. Thank you for this
most pleasant meeting. I trust you'll excuse me if I don't stand up right
now. I seem to be caught in a rather uncomfortable position."
	Chris laughed and shook her head. That seemed to be a common
problem with Arnold. Was there a person on the planet the man wouldn't turn
on? Rhetorical question. At least she was betting on it with this campaign.
	"I'll show myself out. Just remember, Nicholas. You won't be able
to spend all your time behind that desk. We'll have to see what you're made
of eventually."
	"Get Arnold in here and make it worth my while. Have a good day."
	"You too, Nicholas. See you Friday."
	As she got up to leave the hairballs rose in song and Nicholas had
to go through his ritual all over again, this time from the relative
discomfort of his office chair. She said a silent thank you to Arnold for
having made that so easy. She then realized two difficult men had been
handled with ease thanks to him. Was the traffic his doing, as well?
	As if to prove that nothing was so predictable, it took her over an
hour to get home. She didn't know what Arnold's schedule was, didn't know
what Patty's was either, and so let herself into her own apartment. There
were several messages on the machine, including one from Nicholas who was
already spewing ideas. She would have to set him straight as quickly as
possible as to who was running this show. If he wanted to run his campaign,
then he could do it himself.
	She called the press firm Nicholas had hired and found several
friendly and familiar voices to talk with. They were all very pleased she
was on the account and seemed genuinely excited as she ran down her ideas
for the campaign. She left certain details out, giving only a concept
description. As she had figured, her name and reputation got around a lot
of the crap that usually came with working with a firm. They may have had
their ideas, but they shut up and listened. Maybe Nicholas had gotten to
them first and told them to go along. He really wanted to meet Arnold.
	The rest of the afternoon was spent working with some of the photos
from the previous days shoot and an hour or two on the beach trying to get
over the slight feeling of dread she harbored over seeing someone, anyone,
other than Arnold that evening. There was also the smallest twinge of
jealousy when thoughts of Patty came into her head. The thing that saved
her was Arnold's comments on the matter. He was looking forward to their
next meeting, when they would. . .how did he put it?. . .compare notes;
bring the different experiences back and make a book report or
something. She conjured up the image of Chuck's cock bulging deliciously in
the front of his swimsuit the previous day and sensed the tingling begin
deep within her.
	She knew she had gone through great changes since meeting Chuck on
the beach the previous day. She had, in fact, been going through them at
that time, though she hadn't been aware of them, their extent or
source. The thought of doing to Chuck what she had done with Arnold the
previous night began to excite her. If everything went as Arnold predicted,
Chuck was in for one hell of a ride. Should she plan? Lay out in her mind
the way she would screw her neighbor into the next dimension? Or would
spontaneity be the order of the day? As the buzzing within her grew she
realized that she was very close to needing release. She decided to hold
off. When she finally popped, she'd unload so powerfully the man wouldn't
know what hit him.
	She needed distraction. Her old stand-by, thinking of
Mr. Howard. . .Ben, was no longer an option. The man had cried on her
shoulder, for God's sake. How can you hate a man who cries on your
shoulder? He certainly had a load to carry. And her lying out on the beach,
thinking terrible thoughts about him, was not going to help him get through
life. Maybe she should check in with him later and see if there's anything
they needed. With his wife in the condition she was in, there was no doubt
home cooked meals were few and far between. Unless Ben had taken to
cooking. That made her chuckle. But he had surprised her already, no
telling what other human qualities lay beneath that rough exterior.
	The breeze shifted to on shore and carried the sound of the surf
across the beach. Surge after surge bubbled in her head and Chris soon
found herself fighting off sleep. She knew if she drifted off she might not
wake in time to get ready for dinner at Chuck's place. She had, in fact
lost track of the time, anyway, and wondered how long she had been lying
there. Raising her hand between her eyes and the slowly sinking sun, she
saw she had forgotten her wrist watch. The sun was low enough that it
caused some concern so she glanced around to see if someone was near enough
to ask what time it was. Her eyes lowered to the horizon, towards the
ocean, and gathered in a sight which made her heart jump.
	At first she thought it was Arnie. The huge musculature, the
distinctive burgeoning crotch in silhouette against the setting sun. Even
something in the way the man stood, turning to look at her at the precise
moment she looked at him, as Arnold had anticipated her every move the
night before, said it was her massive lover. The beautiful man moved
towards her, keeping directly between her and the sun so she was unable to
see his features. As he moved closer she noticed subtle differences which
said it was not him. But who could remind her so much of her gentle giant?
She got the same vibes from him as from Arnold. She also noticed he had a
watch on his wrist.
	He moved purposefully towards her, as if he had been standing there
all afternoon waiting for her to notice him. The walk, the swinging of the
hips, the sure carriage of the Herculean shoulders all reminded her of
Arnold, but. . .
	"Hi."
	"Hello. Could you please tell me what time it is?"
	"Ten minutes to seven."
	Even the voice. Not the tone so much as. . .what? The pace. The
inflection. It felt frighteningly comfortable, as though she had just spent
the night listening to it in her ear. Her heart trembled and her cunt
hummed.
	"Thanks."
	"Did you loose your watch?"
	"No. Just forgot to wear it down here. No problem."
	"Okay."
	The man remained before her, his enormous torso blocking the
sun. He seemed to be waiting for something and, although she thought she
should be feeling uncomfortable, she was surprised by how unthreatening the
situation felt. She could see, now, that it was not Arnold. What facial
features she could make out confirmed this. And the bulge in his trunks,
while formidable. . .quite formidable. . .still did not measure up to that
of Arnold's. She chuckled a bit at the thought of being so adept at
discerning the difference. A day ago, something as big as the cock before
her would have been classified as magnificent and huge. Now it was big and
smaller than Arnold.
	"You're amused."
	"Just a little irony, that's all."
	"I'm a big fan of irony."
	"It's just that you remind me of a friend."
	"In what way?"
	"Little things." She paused and took in the straining fabric of his
suit. "Big things."
	"How little? How big?"
	"Just the way you walked up the beach. Something in your walk, I
guess."
	"That seems like a little thing."
	"Yeah. I guess it is."
	"And the big things?"
	"He's quite well-developed. Like you."
	The man turned profile and the sun highlighted the tops of every
bulge on his body. And his suit. His cock was held high and tight in his
suit. His hard, firm ass pressed achingly against the fabric behind. His
pecs swelled perceptively as he pressed his arms against his sides and the
nipple furthest from her seemed to catch a ray of light and sparkle like a
shot through a diffraction lens. He stood there with the same casual
attitude she had seen in Arnold on the walkway the previous day, his huge
cock cradled in his hand, his bulging bicep thrusting towards her view
through the spy hole. The whole thing felt so unbelievably familiar, she
could not help herself.
	"I know this is going to sound strange, but you don't happen to
know a guy by the name of Arnold, do you?"
	The man's head shot around to her. Suddenly the attitude dropped
away. He was instantly on his knees in front of her.
	"You know Arnold. I knew it. I knew I was right."
	"Who are you?"
	"My name's Ed. What's yours?"
	"Chris. You act like you haven't seen him for a long time."
	"I haven't. Not for ten years."
	"Ten. . ." A chill ran up her spine and made her skin crawl
perceptively. Something else about ten years. What was it. The image of a
tall, hard, muscular blonde flashed in her mind. Sam.
	"Sam."
	"Sam? What do you know about Sam?"
	"He talked about her."
	"When?"
	"Last night. I take it you know her."
	"I guess you could say that. I stay at her place when I'm in
town. You were with Arnie last night, huh?"
	"Yeah. I just met him yesterday. I guess if you know him, you
shouldn't be too surprised."
	"Nope. Not at all. I'm just so happy to find someone who I can talk
to about him."
	"How do you fit into this Sam thing?"
	"He didn't tell you about me?"
	The tone in his voice carried such disappointment she could almost
see him become physically smaller.
	"Well, we didn't do much talking, if you know what I mean." A
little lie probably wouldn't hurt, at this point.
	"That's very kind, but you don't have to cover for him. I know him
too well. Can't shut the jerk up sometimes. He and I were lovers after he
met Sam."
	"And now you and Sam are?"
	"Yeah. He left town the day before Sam came back. Kind of like he
was running away. I don't know what he was afraid of. But I ended up with
Sam."
	"And that was ten years ago?"
	"Yeah. Sam and I tracked him down to the gym he's working out
at. But we just missed him this morning. I don't suppose he told you where
he lives, did he?"
	Chris had to think fast. What would Arnold want her to do? She knew
he was meeting with Patty for dinner and whatever. He had seemed genuinely
excited about it. Could he handle meeting up with this old flame in the
same evening? Then there was the whole issue of were she fit into this
lengthening list of past and present loves. She had even gotten something
of a vibe from Arnold that morning. He seemed to be eager to get to the gym
in a way far beyond just a normal need to workout. Patty was out of town
until that evening. Was there someone else, as well?
	"I know he's having dinner with a friend from the gym tonight. I'm
not sure what time he will be home, but I could give him a message if I
speak with him."
	"Great. Could you tell him Sam and I will see him at the gym
tomorrow?"
	"Tomorrow. Sure. I'll tell him if I see him. So Sam's here, too?"
	"Yeah. She caught a glimpse of him down at Norma's and the girls at
the front booth told her he had mentioned The Pump House."
	"Well, I'll give him the message if I talk to him."
	"Great. Thanks." Ed stood up, his huge shoulders again eclipsing
the rapidly setting sun. He gazed down at Chris and she could feel his eyes
physically sweep over her body. The power and sureness of the man again
reminded her of the incredible experiences of the previous evening. Her
eyes dropped to the full load of cock meat that stretched Ed's suit. Mouth
watering.
	Ed stretched and flexed just a bit and then looked back down at
her. "You're very beautiful."
	"Thank you. So are you."
	"Thanks."
	"By the way, Ed."
	"Yeah."
	"You knew before I even spoke to you that I knew Arnold, didn't
you."
	"Kind of had a good idea, yeah."
	"How did you know?"
	"Have you ever met anyone else who has been with him?"
	"Only you."
	"And didn't you know."
	"Thinking back on it, yeah. I guess I did."
	"Same here. You just. . .know."
	"Our friend leaves big footprints, doesn't he."
	Ed chuckled. "Yeah. Footprints." He paused for a second, as if
thinking. "I don't suppose you're busy tonight, are you?"
	Now it was Chris' turn to chuckle. Here she was, talking to a past
lover, a man at that, and the thought of running off and sharing memories
and whatever with him seemed almost natural. Again her eyes dropped to the
bulge in his suit.
	"You know what I'm thinking, don't you."
	"Yeah. You're thinking how weird it is that it seems so natural to
have me asking you."
	"Arnold, right?"
	"Right."
	"I've got a date."
	"And then?"
	"I don't know."
	"Well, I guess we'll have other chances."
	"I hope so. You are, indeed, very beautiful. In a guy kind of way."
	"Thanks. A lot of that has to do with our friend. I was just a
ninety-eight pound weakling before I met him."
	"Yeah. I bet. And I suppose you only had three-and-a-half inches,
too."
	"Still do. I just carry my sock collection around with me. Never
know when a extra pair of socks will come in handy."
	"Well, Ed. If you're half as talented with your socks as Arnold is,
then I've got something incredible to look forward to."
	"He's still good, huh?"
	"The best. Nothing. . .nothing. . ." Chris drifted off.
	"I understand. I'll be seeing you, Chris. It's been a pleasure
meeting you. Give our man my love and tell him I've been saving myself for
him."
	"I have my doubts about that, but I'll relay the message. See you."
	Chris stood and gathered her beach towel and stuffed it in her
bag. The straw stretched and creaked around the strain of its burden and
she again thought of the tightly stretched material of Ed's suit. Chuck had
better be in very good shape, because she was going to want more than just
dessert after dinner. Ed headed off down the beach at a half trot, his
tight buns and huge muscles bouncing. She wished he were running towards
her so she could see the load in the front of his suit. Just at that moment
he turned around and began running backwards, waving good-bye, his huge
cock jumping back and forth from thigh to thigh. She was only mildly
surprised that he would know to do that.
	Had she ever, in her entire life, turned down a hunk that gorgeous?
Had there ever been a time when she passed over a cock that big, just
because she had made another date? But then, she knew that, sooner or
later, that delicious piece of cock meat would be hers for the taking. He
was of Arnold. Just as she was. And Patty would be. And Sam.
	Sam.
	What would happen to all this when Sam came back into the picture?
Would Arnold head for the hills with his first love, forsaking the crowds
who hungered for his incredible body, his incredible cock, his incredible
self? And what about herself? Now that she knew Sam was around, would she
be able to handle it? She was very comfortable with the knowledge that
Arnold and Patty were going to be pounding pelvises tonight. In fact, she
looked forward to her next meeting with Arnold so they could each bring
back the experiences of their other lovers. But Sam seemed different. She
was already there. You could mention Patty's name and Arnold got
excited. She hoped the same was true for her own name. But mention Sam and
it seemed Arnold's world turned upside down. And hers, as well.
	She had seen Sam, for God's sake. In her head. This woman had a
power over her powerful lover. Tides and moons and stars and planets and
gravity stood aside when Sam was in the picture. Would Chris have to stand
aside as well?
	She was of Arnold. So was Sam. There was no problem. Arnold had
talked of the effect Chris had on him. If he was hooked on Sam then he was
hooked on Chris as well. No problem.
	Ed had dwindled to a very well-proportioned speck at the other end
of the visible beach. One final flash of the beautiful bulges that covered
the man's body swam before her eyes. She picked up her beach basket,
checked to make sure she had her key and headed for her apartment to get
ready for her dinner date.
	For the second time, the image of Chuck's nicely shaped body and
cock floated to the surface of her memory; the feeling of his hands
lovingly massaging the oil into her skin on the beach. Strong hands. Smooth
hands. Caressing hands. She would ask him to do that again for her. Only
this time without any clothing to impede his progress.
	Was that just a tiny sense of a tingle there? Did her nipples press
ever so slightly against the fabric of her suit as she rode up the
elevator? A hint of her scent? Maybe even a little pressure as her clit
began to extend itself towards the outside world, seeking the attentions of
whoever might be available? She mounted a supreme effort of will to keep
from joying herself as she quickly jumped into the shower, rinsing off the
slight sense of salt that one always gathered when spending time in the sea
breeze.
	The air felt especially fresh, the scent of ocean filled her
nostrils as her entire body shifted to a state of heightened awareness. She
pulled an especially sexy pair of panties and a hardly effective bra out of
her dresser, thought about it for a second and then realized they were
going to be a waste of time. What she really wanted, when the door to
Chuck's apartment opened to her knock, was to peel the clothes off the man
and suck his cock deep into her throat and then offer her swelling clit to
him in exchange. There would be no time for clothes. She wanted to share
herself.
	A barely opaque dress and a pair of her sexiest high heels were all
that she allowed on her body. She pulled her fiery red hair back into a
thick pony tail and wrapped it with a large, cloth-covered elastic. Four
things on, four things off. A quick visit to the bathroom and a little
make-up. Not too much, for she was never one for excessive war paint. Then
a healthy serving of the most expensive, seductive perfume on the shelf.
	At the front door she grabbed her key. The view in the full length
mirror by the door made her want to fuck herself, she looked so hot. After
locking the door behind her she walked up the flight of stairs at the
center of the building and down the walk way to Chuck's door, her heels
clicking a staccato beat that sent shivers up her legs and made her clit
hum delightfully. She thought she would conjure up a vision of Arnold's
amazing cock just once more to send her into this tryst properly primed,
but, to her surprise, the image that now came to her was of Chuck, his swim
suit valiantly containing his very rigid cock. It seemed she was going to
be quite happy with the evening's diversion.
	She knocked.
	He answered.
	The look on his face should have told her all she wanted to know
about the effect she was having on him. And it should have, except that she
was just as affected as he was. He was positively glowing with energy. He
seemed to her more. . . more. . . just more. He was barefoot with a pair of
tan chinos slung low on his hips. He wore a light blue polo that clung to
his body, revealing round, hard pectorals capped by two nipples that
pressed against the fabric. There was no doubt that he wore nothing under
the pants, and the evidence was becoming more noticeable by the second. She
stared as the length of his cock grew before her eyes, pressing harder and
harder against the fabric.
	Her own nipples began to ache as they forced themselves against the
light silken dress that she suddenly wished she didn't have on. And her
glorious, long clit was pressing itself into the world so hard she thought
it might be as visible as Chuck's growing penis. One of them had better say
something or the whole universe was going to explode right then and there.
	"I see we both dressed for dinner. Please, come in."
	Chris felt herself moving into the apartment as though she were
being pulled on a wagon. She had little sense of her feet moving at
all. Suddenly, Chuck was two or three inches taller. She realized she had
stepped out of her heels and left them just inside the door. She moved to
Chuck and ran her hands around his waist and then up inside his shirt,
lifting it over his head and tossing to the floor. Her lips dove for the
nubs of flesh that adorned his pectorals and hungrily sucked and chewed
them, flattening Chuck against the hallway wall. She pressed her body to
his and ground her crotch against the bulge that decorated the front of the
chinos. She pressed hard, longing to rid herself of all the barriers
between herself and this man who she desperately wanted to fuck.
	Chuck's hands gathered the hem of her dress and slowly drew it
upwards until her moist, warm cunt was exposed and she could feel the
fabric of his pants stimulating her rock hard clit which was protruding out
between her cunt lips. She increased the pressure and felt the nub of flesh
sing and hum. Her fingernails raked his skin and her lips sought his.
	Their mouths hungrily sucked at the soul of the other, their
tongues entwined and battled for more and more of their mates'. Chuck's
hips began to heave against Chris's attacks and within seconds she felt him
tense and a pool of warmth spread across her thigh as he violently came in
his chinos.
	Then he was a mad man. The dress was up over her head and flying
away. His mouth devoured her aching nipples as she had his only moments
before. His tongue circled one as his hand flicked and tweaked the other,
sending sparks down through her abdomen, causing her hips to thrust against
his thigh even harder. She desperately needed him to suck on her clit. She
ran her hands up to the top of his head, grabbed hold of his hair with both
hands and slowly forced him to kneel before her. His tongue continued to
lick, his lips continued to suck, his hot breath continued to melt her all
the way down her torso until she felt his heavy breathing against the area
just above her cunt. She silently begged for him to take her, pressing
harder on his head to force him to the point. She felt his tongue flick out
and tickle the small trace of red hair that surrounded his target. His hot
breath blew on the sensitive point of flesh which she knew was protruding
out to greet him. One of his hands roamed up the inside of her thigh and
slowly worked its way between her lips, pressing, seeking, spreading the
hot lubrication that flowed from within her. She shuddered and rocked from
side to side, each time spreading her feet wider so as to gain him freer
access. The other hand traveled up her other thigh, lightly dragging
fingernails along her flesh. She sensed his destination, knew he was aiming
with both his hands to reach and part her aching cunt lips, expecting to
hunt for the prize. Slowly the lips were parted and a deep, rumbling sigh
flowed from his lips as he came upon her magnificent clit. She felt him
spread her lips and dive towards the erect finger of flesh. Now she was the
one plastered against the wall.
	"Oh, God!"
	Was there ever anyone who had done this to her like this. She could
feel herself slowly sinking to the floor as her knees gave up the strength
to support her. He sucked. He licked. He teased. He drank. He kissed. He
hummed, for God's sake. The vibration set her to shaking, her knees flayed
out as wide as she was physically able, and still she could not give him
enough. She felt her hips begin to buck and thrust against his efforts and
a flood of sensation consumed her, filled her, washed over her. The dam
quickly burst and she let loose with a torrent of juices and screams,
heaving, swaying, gasping, panting, crying. She was on the floor, he was on
his knees, his face buried deeply between her thighs. He would give her no
rest and there was none wanted. She would die if he stopped.
	As her orgasm subsided she rocked forward and moved on top of
him. Her hands quickly undid his belt, found the snap and zipper and pulled
the pants from off his legs. His cock lay hard and ready on his abdomen and
she watched it for a moment as it throbbed and bounced to the beat of his
racing heart. Chris dove on top of him, locking her lips with his and
backed herself quickly onto his steel-hard member. As it filled her she
felt him begin to thrust himself against her involuntarily. She pressed
herself up to a kneeling position and placed her hands on his chest,
stroking him, calming him. She didn't want him shooting off to the moon
without her. She was going to enjoy this ride.
	A look of intense wonder came over his face. He was suddenly so
beautiful she was nearly moved to tears. His cock felt so good. His body
felt so good. His hard, firm chest called out to be caressed and rubbed. As
she reached for his pecs to massage them he reached for her breasts,
standing proud and firm on her chest. His hands sent shocks through her as
the flesh moved within his grasp. She began to raise and lower herself on
his tool and the vibrations spread inside her. With each downward motion
she felt him grow perceptively, pressing hard against her vaginal walls,
setting her to shaking. One of his hands traveled down her abdomen and
sought out the length of clit that still begged attention. As he found it,
spreading juices from her hot cunt up onto its length, she felt waves of
orgasm flow smoothly through her body. They increased as she picked up
speed until she was flying up and down the length of his glorious cock,
driving herself and him right to the brink.
	Closer and closer he came to orgasm. His face contorted as he drove
himself higher and higher. His body tensed and she thought she had never
seen anything so beautiful as this man, heaving, thrusting, flying towards
sexual release. She dove down and swallowed his soul through his
mouth. They rolled against the wall and she suddenly felt herself flying.
	Or lifting.
	He never stopped his attack of her clit. He never stopped his
heaving thrusts with his cock. But suddenly she was standing, her back
pressed against the wall of the hallway. She wrapped one leg around his
waist, grabbed his shoulders and was transported over the chasm of reality
as a nonstop flow of orgasms washed over her and drove her up the wall,
through the ceiling, out the roof of the building and up to the moon. He
was so big inside her mind. He was so complete. His juices flowed in cannon
shots from his cock and each volley landed against her mind like an
explosion. She grabbed him everywhere she could and pulled him with her, up
over the moon. And still he thrust. Still he heaved and plunged. Her cunt
continued to cry for more until she felt the last vestiges of orgasm drain
from her body.
	Just before she reached the point where she thought she would have
to stop him, he slowed and pressed himself to her one last time. His cock
stayed deep within her and he flexed its still rigid shaft, triggering tiny
little eddies of pleasure deep inside. They tickled her mind and made her
nipples hungry to be licked.
	"Suck my nipples, please."
	He obliged, lifting one and then the other luscious breast, taking
each nipple into his mouth, worrying it to the point of distraction. She
ground her hips against him and felt him flex again.
	After several moments he raised his eyes to hers and stared
deep. She knew he had questions. She knew he had never experienced anything
like that. She also knew she hadn't either. At least not until last
night. She tried to judge his depth, his size. Tried to compare it to the
magnificent lover who was, at that very moment, having similar experiences
just one floor below, but somehow it didn't matter. In a certain way, she
knew that Arnold couldn't have measured up to what she had right
now. Partially because she had it right now. But there was something
else. Even without the eleven-and-a-half inch cock, even without the
behemoth biceps and deltoids and rock hard abdominals and cantaloupe sized
deltoids, Chuck had driven her just has high, filled her just as deep, made
her clit sing just as loud as Arnold had the previous night.
	Her eyes flitted back and forth between his, probing for his
thoughts. She felt she could use a little rest, maybe even a little
food. His cock softened within her and he lowered her to the floor. She
waited for the tiny wave of depression that usually hit when her partner's
cock slid from within. She waited and then realized he was already out. She
still felt filled. Still could feel him inside. She moved to him and this
time their mouths met gently. They explored each other's face and neck, not
hungrily, not like the starving maniacs they had been only moments before,
but like two lovers who had known each other forever.
	The plane of the bridge of his nose felt familiar to her tongue. As
his lips sought out her chin she felt he knew its every secret and
curve. She found that, even with her eyes closed, she could easily see each
feature on his face as her mouth sought it out and identified it, explored
it, categorized and named it in her memory. Her hands moved up his chest,
slowly plowing through the wisps of hair that covered him, and up to the
sides of his face. Their mouths kissed again, and then she held his face
away from her to study it one more time. How could he be so beautiful? How
could she not have noticed it before? How could he fill her body and mind
so completely?
	"So, what's for dessert?" Chuck said as he continued to look into
her eyes.
	"What?"
	"Nothing. Or everything. I don't suppose you found that the least
bit unusual."
	"Well, it wasn't bad for a start. I think I'll probably feel a
little better once I get to know you."
	"I know this is going to sound crazy, but this doesn't happen to
have anything to do with our new neighbor, does it?"
	"What makes you say that?"
	"It's kind of hard to say. It's just that I had the weirdest
feeling that I was, ah. . ."
	"Bigger?"
	"Yeah. I mean, I've got nothing to complain about, but I kept
having these flashes like I was somehow hooked in with the new guy. You
slept with him last night, didn't you?" The tone of his voice was not
accusing, only matter of fact.
	"Well, we slept a little. He said something like this was going to
happen."
	"What do you mean?"
	"I told him we had a date tonight and he told me I would take my
experiences with him along with me. It's not like I was fantasizing about
him or anything. . ."
	"I know."
	"It's just that, well, it was as good, if not better, than last
night. Certainly as wild."
	"I got the feeling I was having sex with. . .that there was too
much energy for just two people."
	"That's what he said. And he couldn't wait until he and I had sex
again so he could taste the experience I had with you."
	Chuck leaned back heavily against the wall. Chris pressed herself
against him and nestled her face into his neck. She flicked her tongue
across the heavy tendon that ran up the side and then nibbled on
it. Chuck's hands glided up her back, sending shivers and goose bumps
coursing across her skin. His fingers moved into her hair and he slowly
massaged her scalp. Chris' hand drifted down his body and found the heavy
flesh between his legs. She tickled it lightly, delighted to feel it stir,
and then slowly stroked the contents of his scrotum. He did not immediately
grow hard so she took that as a sign that he needed a little rest.
	"I could use a little fuel. I can't wait to see what you were going
to seduce me with."
	"Does mademoiselle wish to dress for dinner?"
	"I'm as dressed as I want to be. I'd hate for something to happen
to that dress. I'd be stuck up here without any clothes and no way to get
home."
	"Very well. I have a feeling everything is a few degrees cooler
than it should be, but not unsalvagable. Actually, I fixed stuff that
doesn't care too much about when it's eaten, just on the off chance. Come
on, let's eat."
	Chris raised her hands to his face again, drew him to her, kissed
him deeply and then pushed his head down slightly. Chuck smiled, knowing
what it was she wanted him to have for dinner, and decided to oblige
her. She felt his hot breath on her skin as he paused for a moment to
burrow into her belly button with his tongue. She squirmed and giggled,
marveling at how exquisite it felt. She caught a hint of her own odor
floating up from between her legs and she groaned lowly, pressing down on
his head. Within seconds dinner was forgotten as the long, hard shaft of
her clit disappeared, yet again, between the talented lips of her new
lover's mouth.