RIPPED
by too_hot_in_bama@hotmail.com

I've found that a man's dick, more often than not, is proportional to 
his height.  Not always, but usually.  It's just common sense: tall guys 
usually have bigger dicks than average-sized and short men because 
everything else is bigger.  Duh, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to 
figure that out.  Some people swear by shoe size as an indicator, but 
for me height became the best measure.  

I love average-sized cocks; if they're long, I like them to be on the 
slender side.  I don't like pain when I'm being fucked.

Ironically, it took me a while to catch on to the height vs. cock size 
rule.  I'd literally bitten more than I could chew too many times.  
Being a real dumb ass while in the throes of passion, I've never refused 
a partner after things get started, so I'm the kinda guy who will endure 
his lover's monster pole if I have to.  

But with this new insight, I adjusted my taste and selection process 
accordingly, and my sex life improved significantly while my tight 
little butthole hardly ever got ripped anymore no matter how hard a guy 
would pound -- as long as he had a dick no more than about 1 1/2 inches 
thick and 9 inches long.

Becoming more confident, I began "advertising" my wares by dressing up 
for the bars.  I had a pair of extra-tight cutoff jeans that had cut-out 
hearts where the back pockets used to be.  My white asscheeks filled in 
the hearts and made access *sooooo* easy for exploring fingers.  I don't 
use underwear, so the pants were real attention getters and barely 
legal.  With the shorts, I was wearing a white half tee that looked 
great against my tan as I was standing between two bar stools sucking on 
a margarita.

A guy in his mid-twenties sitting across the U-shaped counter kept 
smiling and looking my way. I'm 5' 8" and about 140 pounds with the body 
of a cyclist.  This guy, though, was a god.  Sculpted.  He could have 
modeled for Greek statues.  

He wasn't a regular -- I would have remembered him.  I watched him head 
for the toilet a couple of times and figured he was a tad shorter than 
me, so I judged he was well within my "safety zone." Each pass to the 
can gave us an opportunity to lock eyes and smile.  

I have another rule: I usually don't follow a guy to the toilet. For 
some reason, it always works out better when they approach me instead.  
I guess I like to talk first rather than just get it on. But I was ready 
to break this rule in the very, very special case of this Greek god.  
Then, at the last moment, decided I'd stay put but invite him to have a 
drink with me when we returned.

Then came the interruption.  A guy sitting on a stool next to me brushed 
his leg against mine and put a hand on my ass, letting his fingers run 
beneath the fabric and explore my hole.  I looked over and we exchanged 
smiles and names, and I propped a foot on the footrest to open myself 
even more to his probing finger.  I was hard and leaking pre-cum like 
crazy, getting my cutoffs wet in front, from lusting after the god, so I 
was ready for about anything my new barmate would want to do.  The man 
with the expert finger said he was Pat.  I figured it wouldn't hurt, 
while waiting for my Greek god's return, to while away the time with 
Pat.  I dropped my hand into his lap and found his man-meat straining 
against his zipper.

I got right to the point: "Honey, you want me to suck that or fuck it 
for you?"

Apparently Pat was working on a serious case of the blue balls -- he was 
about as sexually needy as any guy I've ever seen.  He said, "Let's go 
find a stall."

I didn't want to lose my Greek god in the crowd, so I told Pat I needed 
to stay near the bar. However, by then Pat was using two fingers and his 
intent was clear.  He was loosening me up, and I was getting hotter than 
ever. 

"Maybe there's something else I can do for you," I said reluctantly.

I got down in front of him and sat on the footrest with his barstool 
between my legs. He slid forward till his toes barely touched the floor, 
and I unbuttoned his jeans.  Pat had the looks of an aging college 
athlete and must have been in his early thirties. If there was ever a 
dick custom-made for sucking, this was it.  It was slender at the crown 
and got progressively fatter on the way up the shaft toward his groin. 
It was a good seven inches cut.  I could get the slender part all the 
way into my throat but had to work harder as my mouth neared the base. I 
felt his dick spasm and swell in my throat.  His pre-cum was 
strong-tasting, rather tart, and he smelled mildly sweaty as if he'd 
been jogging.  As I stepped up the tempo, sucking that gorgeous 
love-meat and listening to Pat's moans, I forgot about time and place; 
it was truly Zen and the Art of Cocksucking: the dick and I became one, 
and there was nothing else.  I kissed the sensitive underside and licked 
my tongue all around the groove of his crown, explored his piss hole, 
and then swallowed the shaft again, finally getting the whole thing down 
and repeating the process teasingly over and over.

Pat was on the verge of cuming when I backed his cock out of my throat 
and put a lip-lock on his head, running my tongue beneath it in short 
steady strokes. Pat let out a whoosh!! of air from his lungs and got off 
the stool. He put both hands around my head and pulled my face into his 
groin as he fucked my face.  A second later, the largest single gush of 
cum I'd ever experienced blasted into my mouth.  But he was far from 
finished.  Spurt after enormous spurt filled my mouth with cum, and what 
I couldn't swallow ran down my chin and cheeks in long white ropes.  As 
his orgasm subsided I sucked his fading cock even harder, using more 
torque as it were, coaxing it dry, sucking til he was too sensitive to 
bear it.

When we finished, I was surprised to see that we were now surrounded by 
a crowd of appreciative onlookers.  As Pat zipped up, the crowd began 
cheering and applauding. I grinned and looked up at the bartender's head 
jutting over the countertop. "Hey! You want to get us closed down?!"

"Sorry," I said.  I rose, took a bow, and grabbed a bar napkin to wipe 
cum from my face and shirt.

Had the bartender not interfered, I could have chain-sucked ten or 
fifteen cocks.  But, with the show over, the guys dispersed and Pat 
disappeared.  I went back to my beer and saw my Greek god back at his 
place.  He grinned broadly and held up his glass of beer in salute.  I 
did the same and nodded toward Pat's empty barstool.  The Greek god came 
over.  I thought I would cum on the spot!  Yes, I am such a *slut*!!

Well, the Greek god turned out to be Randy -- an apt name at that.  And 
at close range he was even more beautiful.  As he slide onto the stool I 
couldn't see his package in the dim light, so I placed my hand high on 
his thigh and said, "I've been wanting you to come over all night."

My height vs. size rule of thumb didn't work with Randy. I felt his 
hard-on -- it was every bit of nine inches if not more, yet he was no 
taller than me.  He was much thicker than my self-imposed limit.  But, 
oh! -- to get to blow that dick like a flute and then get him to 
pile-drive my ass! Oh, what a way to go!!!

"You put on quite a show," he said.

"Yeah, well I've never been bashful," I said as I played with his dick.

"I'm a little shy, myself.  Can we go somewhere?  How about to my 
apartment?"  I felt his hand slip through a heart and finger my pucker.

Fortunately for my dripping dick, Randy lived nearby.  As we entered the 
apartment, he told me that he had two roommates, but neither of them 
were home.  Once inside, we flew into each others arms and his tongue 
thrust into my mouth. I caught it between my lips and sucked it and 
brushed it with my own tongue as I unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled 
his pants.  He was undressing me as well, and in a moment we were 
cock-to-cock, tits-to-tits, head-to-head, standing there kissing and 
getting hornier by the second.

The hard shaft I felt against my abdomen, however, presented a problem.  
Honey, that thing was *much* bigger than I expected.  He must have been 
merely semi-hard while I was feeling him up in the bar.  I stood back a 
step and inspected my prize.  Every bit of 11 inches and thicker than my 
wrist!  What was I to do??  A nightmare and dream come true all at the 
same time!!

I confessed my fears and desires to Randy, and he said, "Don't worry, 
we'll go easy. You can take as much or little as you want."

We moved to the living room sofa.  He gently pushed me over onto my left 
side and indicated that I should lift my right leg.  He smeared KY all 
around my rosebud and in my hole, then put the tip of the tube in my 
hole and squeezed.  I felt the cold lube gush deep.

"Don't you think that's overdoing it a bit?" I asked.

"When it comes to fucking tight asses, too much lube is almost just 
enough," he said back with a grin.  His fingers felt wonderful as they 
spread the KY and loosened and opened my portal.  I felt significant 
pain when he worked his way up to three fingers, but I continued to 
relax and grew accustomed to it.  Then he was putting four fingers up to 
his knuckles in me, and my poor sex-starved prostate gland was about to 
gush.

Randy lay down behind me, spoon fashion, and I felt his enormous 
cockhead press against my hole.  Let me tell you: I didn't think it was 
possible.  I just didn't think he could get it in me.

He began playing with my dick as he pressed harder.  I tried to relax as 
I pressed back.  Then my tight ring of muscles began to open and I 
experienced the most excruciating pain ever!  And he only had the head 
in me!!

"No! I can't take it!" I pleaded. But I reached behind me and felt of 
his steely shaft and his balls and knew I wanted it, the whole thing, 
and I pressed back against him again.  He exerted more pressure, and 
tears rolled down my cheeks -- it was like having a baseball bat stuffed 
up my ass.

I would have ended it at that point, but Randy was stroking my dick, 
kissing me on the neck, and speaking to me in a soft, cooing tone.  He 
was still for awhile to allow me to adjust, maybe a couple of minutes, 
and promised I'd grow accustomed to it.  Over the next half hour, Randy 
fed millimeters at a time up my ass, and the pain was giving way to the 
most intense pleasure I'd ever felt. Before long, I felt his pubic hair 
and balls against my ass and I was grinding back against him with an 
intensity that surprised me.

"I can't believe it," he said.

"Believe what?"

"That you're taking *all* of me.  You're the first guy who could do it!"

"What?!?!!"

Pat giggled quietly as he resumed rocking his pole back and forth.  

"Oh, man, I gotta break you in so you'll be mine," he said.

His rocking motion progressed to an in-and-out fucking, though with very 
short strokes that gradually grew longer and deeper, as I complained 
that he was killing me.  At the same time, his hand was pumping steadily 
on my cock and I knew I couldn't hold back.  Just as I began feeling the 
orgasm, Randy bit into my shoulder and rammed his cock home.  I felt an 
explosion inside as he filled me full of his cum.  Just as I began 
spurting, the front door opened and Randy's two roommates entered.  I 
didn't care -- I spurted and spurted and bucked against my lover's 
studmeat.

In a moment, I felt Randy deflate, which, for his size, isn't saying 
much.  His half-mast was more than enough for me.  I heard the door 
close and the two roommates giggled at the sight. 

"All right!! Way to go!!" said one.

The other guy patted my ass cheek, with Randy's prong still in me, and 
said, "If you still want company, come back and see us."

We were alone again, and Randy began pulling out.  Cum ran out of my ass 
and dripped down my legs.  I looked at his dick expecting to see traces 
of my blood, but there was none. I wasn't ripped!

"You're the best I've ever had," he said.

With tears still rolling down my face, I said, "So are you!  And now I'm 
custom-fitted!"

He reached behind me and lightly ran his fingers along my crack and 
gingerly touched my still-open pucker.  My dick began to stand up.  

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.

As he put my dick in his mouth, I replied, "Yes -- you!"