Big Surprise

Big Surprise

Big Surprise by MuscleHed

I admit it; I've always been a size queen. The first time I ever saw a dick it was my dad's when he was pissing one day, and he had a whopper. At least it seemed that way when I was six years old. I don't know what happened in the genetics department but I got short-changed, literally. I only have about six-and-a-half inches and an inch-and-a-quarter thick. Maybe if I'd been bigger I'd have ended up as a top.

Oh, yeah, I'm a bottom, all right, with an insatiable asshole. The first time I ever got fucked was on my high school graduation night after too many beers with a couple of guys on the track team, and at the time I thought they were huge; both around eight inches long and about 1 and 1/2 inches thick. I never knew they were into guy sex before they started taking my clothes off me when I was too drunk to stand up. I ended up taking both of them three times that night, because being on the track team gave them great endurance. When I woke up the next morning I was hung over and my ass ached from being fucked so much. But I knew I was hooked.

From there I went on to bigger and better things, as often as possible. I started hanging out at the gay bars as soon as I knew where they were. At first I took on all comers as they came by, not knowing how to discriminate, and needless to say I was disappointed more often than not. There just aren't that many big dicks out there, no matter what the gay porn industry says. I got fucked all right but it just wasn't what I was after.

How did I respond? By getting fucked more often. I know it isn't logical, but I somehow thought that the more I got fucked, it would make up for my fuck-buddy's lack of size. I was heading off to the bars almost every night of the week looking for action. After I while if I wasn't satisfied with what I got the first time, I headed back to pick somebody else up. It got to the point where I was heading back to the bars four or five times a night.

Now, I know someone out there is going to complain, I can't even get a date, how do YOU get laid four or five times a night? Well, first off, I'm 5'11" with blond hair and I work out religiously. I weigh about 200 lbs. and it's muscle, not fat. And I ain't no model, but I ain't no dog either. But that's not my real secret. My real secret is when life doesn't live up to your expectations, lower your standards. I got some real winners, the biggest being about nine inches, but I was also picking up guys that, shall we say, didn't live up to my ideal. There are a lot of older, lonely, out of shape guys who were grateful for my accommodating asshole and nice body for the night. Now, I'm not dumping on these guys, a lot of them are really nice, but I admit that I probably wouldn't have gone to bed with them if I hadn't been desperate. I know, I know; that makes me shallow. Sue me.

Unfortunately, all this fucking had an effect on me. Around age 25 I started having trouble picking up guys I'd been to bed with already. If somebody was new in town or I went to another city, it was great, but they didn't want anything to do with me after that. I thought my looks were going, that I was getting flabby, anything except the obvious, and nobody was talking, unusual for a group of gossipy fags. It took a drag queen friend of mine, stoned out of her sequined little mind, to tell me the truth: "Honey, take it from me, and I should know, if they wanted to fuck a woman, they'd pick up a woman. They're calling you 'cavern-butt' over at Angles."

Angles is the bar I picked up most of my guys from. I didn't appreciate being called 'cavern-butt', but it made me start wondering. I hadn't really thought that getting fucked so much might loosen me up, so I went to my doctor to get a rectal exam. Thank God for gay doctors. When he checked me out, he said I was fine, and I breathed a sigh of relief, but then he said, "But I'd cut back on the fisting for awhile. The muscles can only take so much before they start staying stretched out." I was too embarrassed to admit that I'd never been fisted.

So I cut back to nothing, trying to exercise my hole back into a cherry. My resolve lasted about two days. After that I found myself down at the local adult toy store checking out dildos that would make a virgin faint. I fought it, but I'm weak by nature and ended up buying two really big ones, and they became my constant companions. The only time when I didn't have one or the other in my ass was when I was away from the house, and the only reason why was because these were the kind with bases that couldn't be hidden under clothes. This got kind of lonely after a while, though, so I ended up going back to the bars sooner or later anyway. And that was how I met the man of my dreams.

Now, when I say the man of my dreams, I mean before he even had his clothes off. He was a little taller than I am with sandy hair, great clothes, and a big, but tight, wrestlers build. I felt my heart skip a beat even before I looked at his crotch. And when I did that, my heart stopped entirely. I saw the outline of a dick that looked nice and thick and went down his left pant leg. Suddenly I wanted to pick out china and marry this dude.

First, though, I had to get him back to my place. In talking to him, though, I kept forgetting that I wanted to take him back to my place and get royally plowed. He was witty, charming, handsome, and knew how to push my buttons. (The mental ones, doofus! I hadn't gotten him into bed yet, remember?) I found out that he liked books (so do I), good cooking (I like to work out, but so do I), antique stores (I told him about the antiques that my grandmother left me and he said he'd like to see them), Mystery Science Theatre 3000 (we sang the theme song right there in the bar), and working out (we compared ab routines). And he was so nice, and when the light hit his eyes just right my heart went Uh-oh.

I wanted to get out of there and get him back to my place, but the more he talked the more I wanted to listen and I kept drinking and drinking, listening to him talk and falling deeper and deeper...I wasn't prepared to call it love just yet. I'd only met him three hours earlier. And then I made the best mistake I ever made.

That sounds kind of strange, but hear me out. It was nearing 2 AM and the bars were preparing to close. (Yes, there are places where the bars actually close. Not all of us live in LA or New York City or Las Vegas. There are still states where they have insane liquor laws, and this is one of them. I won't name it, but it sort of makes a pucker in the map just north of Texas.) I was sitting at the table, listening to him just ramble, and noticing for the first time that he was checking me out. Of course, he checked me out at the beginning, but this was different. Suddenly things were very serious, and I felt the electricity in the air between us. I thought, "Don't blow it, grab this guy! Fuck him, have him move in, give him your bank account, ANYTHING! Just don't LOSE him!" My first thought was to say something about the enormous slab he had resting on his leg that I wanted so badly, and I opened my mouth to say something appropriately nasty, but what came out was, "You have the most beautiful eyes."

He stopped talking in mid-word, his mouth open. Then he shut it. And I thought, "You idiot! That was the most asinine, stupid..."

He said, suddenly, "Let's go back to my place." Then MY mouth was open. Before I knew what was happening, he was standing next to me, saying, "Coming along? Or don't you want this?" He pressed his crotch into my shoulder and a lot of meat was touching me.

We were out the door in thirty seconds.

My heart was pounding the entire way back to his place. Partly because I wasn't sure exactly how big he was (but confident I could find a place to put it). Part of it, though, was something I hadn't really felt before. I kept picturing him sitting next to me eating dinner or watching movies or SOMETHING...and in these happy little fantasies I couldn't picture his dick. (Unusual for me.) I thought I knew what that meant and it scared me. I'd been fucked a few thousand times or so, but never had breakfast with the guy the next morning.

I was thinking of maybe making blueberry pancakes for this guy.

I felt like I was on a major poppers buzz when we actually got to the bedroom. I could barely remember the drive back, let alone what the rest of the house looked like. Without even a "This is my bedroom" he suddenly pushed me into the wall and ripped open my shirt and his tongue was in my mouth. Wow, a good kisser too. My clothes ended up in a heap on the floor, my painfully hard woody pointing the way to heaven. He was still fully clothed, but I hesitated to rip his clothes off: the shirt looked like silk and I didn't think I had enough in my wallet to cover replacing it. He solved the problem by ripping it off himself.

His torso was incredible. Thick pectorals capped off a perfect, deeply etched six-pack. His powerful, wide shoulders looked like they overshadowed mine, but I had more overall muscle mass by at least 30 pounds or so. I took a little pride in that, but it didn't matter. My tongue was worshipping every crevasse of this muscular top and loving every minute of it. He moaned in excitement. I hadn't even gotten below the belt yet.

I was on my knees, my tongue reaming out his navel and about to open his belt when he grabbed my arms and said, "Do you want it?" Who could misinterpret that? I nodded. "Good." And he proceeded to do a very slow and deliberate strip. He had moves. I knew that he'd be good in bed. He kicked off his shoes and whipped off his belt. And then his pants were on the floor.

He wasn't wearing underwear, and I could see why. The guy was a fucking tripod! I don't think they make jockeys to carry that much. For that matter, I don't think they make trash bags to carry that much. The shaft was big, almost wrist thick. I knew because I held up my wrist to it. (I know, tacky, but still...) And the length was incredible. (And yes, I did another tacky thing: I measured it! What I did was hold it next to my forearm and make a mental note where it started and where it ended, and later on I measured it. It came to just over ten inches.) The dick itself was so large that it nearly pointed directly down, even though it was fully hard. I knew that I was finally going to get the ride that I'd been desperate for.

All through this inspection, he just stood back, watching me. Finally, though, he put his hand on the back of my head and started guiding me in. I didn't need any other hints. I put the peach-sized head on the tip of my tongue and started vacuuming it in. Oh, God, the first couple of inches were heavenly, but I started having a problem right away: it was hard as steel and now almost too wide for my mouth. I looked up at him desperately. He just looked back at me and said, "How bad do you want it?" Suddenly I knew something about this guy I hadn't figured out earlier: he's a size queen for his own dick. He likes guys that can take it. And I made a decision: if I was going to do one thing, it was to take this thing any way he wanted, as much as he wanted.

I struggled to open my mouth wider and more slipped in, to almost half the length, but the width was beginning to daunt me again. He just kept applying pressure to the back of my head, pushing me farther and farther. I felt my teeth scrape his dick, which is a turn-off to most guys, but he said, "Go for it, baby. Your teeth won't hurt me any." Good, I thought. I plunged deeper, not worried about the teeth. Soon enough my tonsils were getting a good workout. Literally. I felt the shaft start to expand my throat as it went down.

I bumped into his belly with my nose and my eyes flew open. My mouth was around the base of his dick! I couldn't believe it. But I contracted my throat a few times and I could believe it well enough. He started rocking back and forth, slowly at first, moaning slightly. Even with that small movement, it felt like my throat was being turned inside out. Soon, though, he was pulling out and ramming home almost eight inches of dick. It was harder than steel. It was like diamond. Good thing he didn't mind teeth, because I wasn't paying attention any more.

I was getting into being so orally violated when all of a sudden he pulled out entirely. I looked up at him and his dick, but even as hard as it was it was no more than almost horizontal. (I told you it was big!) He said, "Get up." I obeyed without a word. Was I going to deny this man anything?

He put me on the bed on all fours, knowing I was in for the royal pounding of the century. He started stroking my back with one hand and rubbing his huge piece of meat with the other. I was overheating, alternately craving and dreading the experience coming. His stroking worked its way down from my shoulders to my back then to my ass and finally to my hole. I was a little afraid of how he'd react when he felt just how stretched out I was, but he inserted two fingers into my distended ass-lips and didn't say anything, so I rocked back on it. Soon he added a third and a fourth and I still didn't have a problem with taking them all up to the knuckle. But even though taking them was no problem, they were still getting my crank going. I was like an out of control steam engine and soon I was begging for his cock.

I'm glad he was responsible enough to put on protection, because at that point I lost my head entirely. I know it's completely irresponsible of me, but I'm not the only one. Unfortunately. In any case, his other hand was busy encasing himself in pressed latex and adding a generous portion of lube to his wrapped meat and transferring even more to my open and willing ass. I was so ready you could have driven a truck in and parked. The condom he had on was so stretched it barely reached two-thirds down his length.

Then he put the head at my entrance and I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. Opened up. I let out a sigh of relief as I felt my hole expand around the invading missile. Believe me, unless you've been there, you don't know what it's like to be deprived for so long and then finally get the size you need. I'd been putting up with, shall we say, pencil dicks for so long I'd forgotten what a real man felt like. I was moaning out complete nonsense. I have no idea what it was I was saying. I would have been giving out government secrets had I known any.

I as covered in sweat less than two inches later. The thickness was incredible, but I was still taking it. Slowly, inch after inch, he entered into me and finally stopped. I knew I did not have ten inches inside of me. He stopped and said, "Are you sure that you can take the rest? Most guys get scared about this point." I responded by backing onto the shaft. I engulfed at least another inch and he took that as a yes. He then slid the rest in, still taking care not to go too fast. I could tell he learned to go slow from fucking other guys not so receptive as I am. But after an eternity of sweet invasion, he bumped his rippled belly against my ass and wrapped his arms around me. "My God," he gasped, "you've got it all! You've really got it ALL!" Believe me, I could tell I had it all, and I was loving it. It felt like I had another spine installed. Then he shocked me by saying, "Nobody else has EVER taken it all!" He started humping me, short strokes but with increasing speed.

"You're kidding me!" I said, feeling the shocks open up my insides more and more. But I realized that it had to be true. Too many guys really would get scared at about midpoint on the shaft, if not by the mere sight, and too many others are just not physically big enough to take something this size. I can't imagine trying to fuck somebody under 5'8" with something this size. I don't think they could physically accommodate it. But I was pulled back from my musings by his thrusts that were now going at least half the length and then plunging back in. "Oh, God, baby, I have got to have more of you!" He pulled out the entire length and plunged back in. I yelped but I took it. He it did again, and again, and then I felt him shudder. "Oh, FUCK!" he cried out. "I'm gonna cum!" I felt the shaft actually increase in size inside me and then the pulsing started. It felt like I was getting a massage from the inside out, it was so strong. He went entirely rigid and held on to me tight. Not that I was trying to get away. The hammering inside my fuck hole went on for another minute and then finally abated. With a sigh of relief, he pulled out, holding onto the condom. I felt like I was being pulled inside out, but in the sweetest way possible.

He flipped me over onto my back and I looked at him in amazement. Not just because it was without question the single best fuck I had ever had, but also because I'd always heard that sex was better when... I shook my head and pushed that thought out. I didn't need to borrow trouble. I looked down at his incredible cock. The condom was so full of cum that it was bloated. I was surprised it didn't spill out into me. And on top of that, he was still fully hard. He got off the bed and unraveled the rubber, making sure not to spill any. Just hanging limp, it was still half-full of cum. He looked at me in amazement and said, "I have never cum that much before. I never got that excited before!" Then he took a good look at me and said, "I guess you never got that excited before, either."

I looked down at myself. I was still hard, and now purple, but I'd been concentrating so hard on getting fucked that I'd not paid any attention to my own orgasm. I said, "That'll change the next time you fuck me." And with that, he just smiled, tied off the old condom and put on a new one. The rest of the night was incredible.

No, I'm not ending the story right here. We had a fantastic night, and I woke up next to him the next morning, satisfied for the first time in a VERY long time. And I looked at him, still sleeping, and knew I was in trouble. Not only was he a great fuck and big enough to satisfy me, I liked him and had a lot in common with him. My thought about having breakfast came back. Hoo, boy, I lost my heart at that moment. Shit! I thought. In another minute he'll wake up, thank me for a great night, and tell me not to slam the door on the way out. Shit, shit, SHIT! Well, I wasn't going to play that game. I was going to be positive and assertive and not let... I realized with sudden horror that I was in love with a guy and I didn't remember his name.

I headed off to the bathroom to clean up (and only slightly bowlegged, thank you), my sore ass squishing every step of the way. I had to get out of the house before he woke up. Dump him before he could dump me. Yeah, that's the ticket. Unfortunately, as I was emptying myself of excess lube, I kept thinking how handsome he looked... Argh. I chickened out. I decided to stay until he woke up.

Which wasn't that long. He was standing outside the door of the bathroom when I came out, and when he saw me, he flashed the most dazzling smile... I even forgot to check out his dick the morning after. He told me he was glad I stayed. I melted, and he took me in his arms. I KNOW this is getting soppy, but it gets better.

Later on, after breakfast, we were lying in bed just talking and I asked him why he so suddenly took me home. He told me that he was iffy on it until I said what great eyes he had. Every other guy he'd ever met at the bars made some comment on how big his dick is, and he was pretty sick of that approach. I resolved to never tell him that that was what I almost did. And now that I was there, he said he wanted to get to know me better, starting with my name. He didn't remember either! I laughed so hard I nearly rolled off the bed. Then I told him the same thing. After formal introductions, he pressed his now-recovered meat into my side and asked if I was ready for a repeat or five. Was I.

He moved into my place a week later (it was bigger for less rent) and that was the start of our relationship. And our relationship was NOT based on sex. We discovered we had a lot more in common than I'd even suspected. The fact that he had a huge dick that he loved using on me and that I loved getting plowed with it is just gravy. White gravy, but still just gravy. And so we settled into marital bliss. For a while.

But two years down the road, we started having problems. Well, I started having problems. One of the first things that he insisted on was us being monogamous. That was fine with me. I loved the guy that much, and besides, I'd already realized that no one else could satisfy me anyway. And as time went by, we both got tested on a regular basis and after a year and a half of just each other and negative results, we decided to go bareback. God, was it worth the wait! But I do NOT recommend it for just anyone! We went through a long period of constant testing before we took the plunge, so to speak. There is the obligatory safe sex message. My conscience is clean.

Once we were past that hurdle, we were going at it even more than before, three or four times a night. I got used to being flooded with cum. I never did quite get used to having cum running out of my ass all day and all night, though. I was in the gym working out doing some heavy squats, and all of sudden I let loose a gush that soaked my shorts. It was kind of embarrassing.

But that wasn't the real problem. The real problem was I got too much of a good thing. Terry (that's his name, by the way) was plowing me every day with a huge tool and over the span of two years it took its toll on my ass. Where I was loose before, I was now gaping. This was not good. The sex slowly went from mind-blowing to incredible to great to good to just okay. Not because he lost his skill or because I didn't love him, but because I was becoming more and more unsatisfied. His dick, as big as it was, was no longer enough.

And he knew it. He tried compensating by fucking me more often, and while I enjoyed it, it didn't do the trick. Without telling him, I hauled out my old dildos and started using them when he wasn't home. I figured he might get upset if he knew I was using them again. Things started getting tense between the two of us. We were having fights. We'd had fights before, of course, no healthy couple doesn't, but these were different. We were yelling and screaming at each other for no reason. One time he picked up the TV and threw it across the room. (Our 30-inch screen. He's pretty strong.) We started getting really hateful at each other, saying really bitchy remarks that hurt. And making up got harder and harder to do.

So we just went on, waiting for something to happen. I knew that if something didn't happen soon, our next fight might be our last one. Realizing this scared me, because despite it all, I really loved the guy.

And then our third anniversary came up.

Actually, the whole thing started about a month before the big day. Suddenly Terry started acting strangely. We stopped fighting altogether, which was a relief, but he became almost completely uncommunicative. We'd spend whole evenings together and not say a word to each other. And the sex seemed almost mechanical. He'd just get in bed, roll me over, spread my ass and plunge in. After humping away for awhile, he'd cum and then roll over again. I was not happy, needless to say.

Then he had wonderful news: he had a business conference to attend in New Orleans and would be gone for two weeks. My heart sank. That's when I figured it was over. Especially when he told me the night before he left that he was getting a big surprise ready for our anniversary. Yeah, right. I considered changing the locks before he got back as a surprise for HIM.

That two weeks was a long time for me. Partially because I was chewing my nails until they bled wondering whether it was really over, and partially because I was hornier than ever with him not even there. My rubber pals got a real workout during that time.

Terry only called twice during that time: once after he got there, and then three days later. That last call was strange; he told me that if anything went wrong that he loved me and that his will was made out leaving me everything. I was stunned. I asked him what brought that on, and he said he'd explain it all when he got back. He sounded sleepy, almost dazed, so I didn't press it, but I was not reassured.

And ten days later, right on schedule, he came down the ramp off the plane, none the worse for wear. In fact, he looked better than ever. He seemed happier, more confident and self-assured. I got a bad vibe from that, but when he came up to me he looked me in the eyes with that old look and I melted just like the first time. I came up to hug him, but he kept his suitcase and coat between us, keeping us at a distance and making it an awkward hug. Another strange thing. Also, he was wearing sweats, and I know he doesn't like sweats. I started to ask, but all he said was, "Wait till we get home. I have a surprise for you."

On the ride home he kept his coat over his lap and just smiled and kept silent the whole way home. I wanted to murder him. He always could keep a secret when he didn't want to tell. I tried to put my hand in his crotch, but he just swatted it away and said, "When we get home. Drive."

Finally we were in the house and I started to round on him and he said, "All right, all right. You deserve an explanation. First off, I wasn't at a business conference for the past two weeks." My eyes started to bug out, and he said, "And no, I haven't been cheating on you either." I relaxed, but not fully. "I had to go to a, uh, specialist in New Orleans for an operation."

"What!" I said. He hadn't told me anything was wrong. "Why didn't you tell me?! What's wrong?"

He held his hands up. "I'm fine! Will you relax?" I tried, and he continued. "It wasn't life threatening. It was...sort of cosmetic surgery."

NOW I knew. "You mean to tell me," I almost ground my teeth, "that you put me through hell just for a tummy tuck?! Terry, I could just...!"

He cut me off. "It wasn't a tummy tuck, sweetie. And it was for you, not for me, although I'm glad I did it, now." He finally put down his coat, turned his back to me and started taking his shirt off. "Close your eyes." He looked back. "Close them." I closed them.

While I listened to him taking off his clothes, I said, "Am I going to like this?"

"You damn well better! It's your anniversary present and I paid enough for it!" I started to peek, but he said, "Keep them closed!" Rats.

After a minute, he said, "Now have a seat. But don't peek!" He led me onto the sofa and stepped back. "Okay. Open them." I opened.

And promptly had cardiac arrest. My eyes got wide and I grabbed the arm of the sofa as I fought for breath. Remember I said Terry was big. I was by this time quite intimate with his huge piece. But what I was looking at wasn't the dick I was used to. It wasn't big; it was enormous, humongous. It was so much bigger than it had been before that for a second I thought I was looking at an optical illusion, but I looked up at Terry, smiling at me with his arms crossed, and he nodded. "Yes, it's real. Come over and find out."

Like in a dream, I got on my knees and crawled over until it was inches away from my face. I was too stunned to do anything, so Terry said, "Go ahead!" I reached up and hefted the now-monstrous slab. It was hanging straight down and was much heavier than I expected it to be. It was like lifting an anvil. And it was as hard as a rock. My own cock was so hard that my pants tented in front of me, something that had NEVER happened before. I never got that excited before, even the first time we did it. I attempted to wrap a hand around it and barely got halfway. I made it with both hands.

I couldn't resist. I hefted the shaft up until the head was level with my mouth and attempted to swallow it. I say attempted because the head now looked to be about the size of a tennis ball, and besides that, the shaft swelled even larger. I did NOT think I could get it in my mouth. Terry said, "The doctor said I'd have this problem." I wanted to ask, but now was not the time. "Looks like I have to give up your mouth, baby. Too bad. I liked it." Well, I wasn't willing to give up so easily with this option staring me in the face, so to speak, so I just opened my mouth as wide as possible and pressed it onto his meat. Oh, God, it was MUCH larger than I expected. I felt the piss slit on my tongue and then the head swelled up and out beyond the capacity of my mouth to open. And believe me, I tried. I could barely get two-thirds of the head in, and there was plenty more behind it. Damn. I'd miss it being in my throat. I pulled back, frustrated but hotter than ever. I let the mammoth piece fall back and it landed against his thighs with a loud smack.

I got to my feet, still gaping at it and still tenting my pants out. Terry reached out and stroked me through the fabric. "How," I said, "did THAT happen?!"

Terry, still stroking me, turned and started toward the bedroom. I followed without comment or hesitation. When we got there, he laid back on the bed, put his hands behind his head and said, "Lick me and I'll explain. And shuck those clothes. I want you naked." I was out of my clothes instantly, my puny dick grateful for the freedom, but slightly ashamed to be in the presence of the Cock of God. I got on the bed and started a slobbery tongue job on the massive piece. It was like licking a hot, throbbing, baseball bat. A Louisville Slugger.

Terry explained, "There was no business conference, love. I arranged my vacation time so I could fly to New Orleans. I knew you were getting unsatisfied with my size." I felt my face turn red in embarrassment, but he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder while I kept up the job at hand. Soon he was sopping with saliva. "It's okay. I know it isn't your fault. Actually, it's mine, because I'm the one who kept plowing you wider and wider." He reached over and stuck two fingers in my well-fucked hole and it dilated in response. "Anyway, I heard from a newsgroup about a doctor in New Orleans, Dr. Berlin, who does silicone injection."

I stopped immediately and looked up at him. "Silicone injection?! I thought that was risky." But he looked fine, albeit enormously bigger.

"Yes," he admitted, "but Dr. Berlin has a reputation for doing good work, and I met one guy who saw him several years ago and is still doing fine. He is much, MUCH bigger than this." I gaped at him in disbelief and he nodded. Terry was a fucking tripod, REALLY a fucking tripod, now. This other guy must have a tool the size of a fence post. "Get back to work." I started drooling over his bull cock again.

"Anyway, I planned about a month ago to come down here, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I'm sorry if I seemed standoffish all this time, but I had to keep it a secret until it was done." He went back to my ass and it started opening and closing over his fingers. He easily added a third and then a fourth. If I hadn't been hot enough before, I sure as hell was now. "When I called you the second time, I was about to go under for the operation and I wanted to hear your voice as the last thing before it happened." I gave him an embarrassed smile, but kept up a slobbering pace. Even though it had actually swelled somewhat, the mighty shaft had not budged. Not surprising. It was just too damn heavy. "I needed the full two weeks for recovery, to let the dick adjust to the new size and to make sure there were no complications." He slid his hand into my ass until only the thumb was left. "And now I'm ready to use it." I froze. "On you."

I pulled back, but with the hand halfway up my butt, couldn't go far. His other hand took me by the shoulder and he said, "You ARE going to take it, too. I went through a lot of trouble to get a dick that would satisfy you, and I'm not letting it go to waste."

"But, but..." I stammered. "I don't think I can take that thing!" He responded by wiggling his fingers inside me. I moaned in response and spread my legs. "But I could be wrong." He smiled. "Just how big is that thing now, anyway?"

"So get a measuring tape and find out." I scrambled up and got the tape from the sewing kit. (Yes, I'm a big old bottom fag who sews! I know judo too and if I hear one crack I'll start breaking heads!) With difficulty, I hefted Terry's dick and slid the tape under it. Then I wrapped it around to measure for circumference. There was no way I was going to try to hold it up and measure it. My eyes must have been like saucers, because Terry said, "Yeah, I know. I felt the same way when I measured it the first time." I readjusted the tape to measure for length and my look did not change.

I couldn't believe it! Looking at it was one thing, but seeing the hard numbers, pardon the expression, was another. He had gone from just over 10 inches to nearly 12 inches in length. And the width was mind-boggling. It had only been wrist-thick before. Only! The damn thing was 12 inches around now! I could let you work out the math, but I'll just tell you: that's 4 inches across! And those were rock solid inches. And they were going to stay that way permanently. Oh, boy, did I get nervous. But I still wanted it. For the first time I wasn't sure about taking it, but Terry was not going to take no for an answer. Also, I knew that if I didn't take it now, I never would.

Terry put me on my hands and knees on the bed and proceeded to bring out six or so jars of Elbow Grease. I'd heard of it but never used it. He'd prepared for this. He reached in to get a handful of grease, and I do mean a handful, and pushed it into my willing hole. This time, he folded his thumb under and I felt a fist in my ass for the first time in my life. He had no difficulty at all. Oh, God, did I get off on that, having his paw up my butt! But I was only being warmed up for the main event. He pulled his hand out and got more grease and pushed it in. While doing this, he explained a few things. "This is why I showed up looking like I did. You know I usually don't like to wear sweats. But after I recovered I couldn't get back into any of my old pants. They're just too small for me now." His hand shoved in the third gob of grease and this time kept going. I moaned, way too turned on by this. "Sorry, babe, but you're gonna need all of it, as deep as possible." I felt like I was swimming in it already, but I knew he was right.

He pushed back and forth for a couple of minutes until the lube seemed ready to come out my ears and then slowly withdrew his hand. The excess lube that came out with it he wiped off on my butt and shoved back inside. He greased himself up with almost an entire jar himself and then wiped his hands on a towel. He then came around and stood in front of me, putting this mountain of meat right in my face. This close up, and ready to go, it was more imposing than when I first saw it. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer, in fear and excitement. He looked down at me with a dead serious expression. "How bad do you want it?"

"Please," I said. "I want it. I want it bad. I NEED it bad." A voice in my head was telling me I was crazy for taking this thing, but I shut it up. Terry just smiled and walked behind me, hefting his brand-new cannon with both hands. He got on the bed behind me and laid the heavy mass on my back. I got scared. Really scared. Then he lifted it off and aimed the club-like head. At first, all I felt was pressure, but the head swelled rapidly and I was in pain. "Take it out!" I yelled. "It's too big!" That was the first time I'd ever said that!

He didn't pull out and I was going out of my mind. "Relax," he said softly, still pressing forward. "You've almost got the whole head." What! It felt like he'd already put in a bowling ball! He pushed again, and then rested. "There." The sensations were about ready to drive me insane and all he had in was the head. I knew I was going to suffer. "Oh, God, please, Terry, take it easy. This is too much." But slowly, very slowly, he kept feeding me more cock. He took five minutes to give me an inch, mainly because I'd yelp every time he went faster. I know it took forever, but it all went by in an eyeblink. All I could feel was immense size, and before I knew it, he was pressed flush up against me, filling me more completely than my wildest fantasies. Suddenly, feeling all of that huge mass inside me, I went completely crazy. "Fuck me!" I yelled. I pressed myself back onto him and moaned as it reached new depths.

He gently shushed me and said, "Relax." He then started rocking back and forth slightly, giving me increasingly longer strokes. Soon he was thrusting in more than half the length and pounding me like a jackhammer. And then he pulled out. Being so completely filled and then left high and dry started giving me the shakes, but he flipped me over on my back and put it back in. I literally had the wind knocked out of me when he put my legs on his shoulders and rammed it in. The sweat poured down off of him like a waterfall. My cock was bouncing between the two of us like a steel pipe, but I ignored it, knowing that if I touched it right then I'd spew everywhere.

The frantic pace kept up for almost a half hour until he suddenly stiffened and I actually felt him swell inside me. I grabbed my cock and I was over the edge, taking him with me. I felt the cum jet into me until it started backing out my insanely stretched, aching hole. I was out of it for a few minutes. When I came back to my senses, he had repositioned us so that we were lying on our sides and he was now fucking me from behind. I couldn't believe he wanted to keep going, but I didn't have to worry about him going soft. I looked over my shoulder at his handsome face and stuttered, "Terry, I, I..." He said, "Shh. Me too." He kept humping me and I started getting hot again. "You're in for a long, long night, babe..."

That was two years ago. Terry and I worked out our differences and we're still together. That first night with his new cock was the beginning of a whole new life for us. Terry had to quit his job shortly thereafter because he couldn't wear dress slacks any more. At his urging, I quit mine too, and we now have a small business that we operate out of the house where he can be naked most of the time. He likes having his mammoth meat hanging out as much as possible and he knows just seeing it turns me on.

After a few weeks of regular pounding, my ass finally adapted to his new size and we were fucking non-stop, making getting any work done difficult, but we've managed. And yes, I naturally widened in response to all this loving, more than ever before, and my doc says there's no going back now. I don't care. Terry's big enough now that I never get dissatisfied.

At least, most of the time. We have a vacation coming up, and I've been thinking that New Orleans is a great party town...

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This is a fantasy. The people in it do not represent me, any of my friends, or anyone I personally know. It is strictly a bit of one-handed entertainment. Also, I have NOT had a silicone job and do not have any information about how it's done or where you can get one. So don't bother asking. In fact, any info sent to ME would be greatly appreciated. Pictures of real silicone jobs, or of just plain mammoth cocks, would be even more appreciated. This story is a paean to an article in INCHES magazine several years ago, "How to Get Bigger," wherein the author told of his (allegedly true) experience having the procedure done, giving the doctor's name and location as being "Dr. Berlin" in "New Orleans," both changed to protect his privacy.

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