The Big One
For mature audiences only, as this contains explicit sexual content.
Something big is coming!
My nerves ping crazy warnings when I first get a sense of what is about to enter me.
Big hands. Is the ‘big hands’ theory true? Big hands, big... you know what?
From the first millimeters of pressure from his erect organ engaging with my most sensitive region, my suspicions are about to be tested.
This guy’s big hands had stripped my shirt and pants before grasping a sizable portion of my breasts. He was being a little rougher than I would have hoped, but not enough for me to complain, particularly since his manhandling of me out of my clothes and onto the bed had raised my level of arousal to new levels.
He had been a fantastic kisser! He had followed up with kisses around my ear and upper neck which sent chills down my spine outside the restaurant as we had waited for a cab—a cab that took way too long to arrive. I was about to get to know more about him than the friend of my friend who vouched for him would know. I had agreed to go back to his place in those tender moments in the cab while he was plying me with more soft kisses and gentle caresses of my static-charged arms. All my thoughts of caution were pulled out of the cab as it sped through the light Hartford traffic. We had caught each others’ eyes on several occasions as I witnessed the gentlemen transforming into a future lover.
The caution returned when we approached the door to his apartment and while he fumbled with his keys. It was a respite from his hands being occupied with one part of my body or another. Those brief concerns were once again dismissed with our subsequent kissing, touching, fumbling, groping, and dance of hands and bodies leading up to being manhandled onto his bed. While he had removed his jeans, I had not seen what his tight boxers concealed, though I could see a promising bulge.
I am pleased to see him retrieve a condom from a side table, but can not see the process of donning the protective material beyond my bent legs on the bed. I know the condom is fitted when the soft smooth material tenses against the wetness layer on my labia. As though an instinctive response, my legs spread further and the edges of my vulva pulse to a larger size with more moisture. My body opens to allow and welcome the foreign object pressing into me.
If the tip is any indication, his cock is huge!
New concerns develop as the tip pushes my labia wider and stretches the opening to allow entry. I balance concern for my body with growing eagerness to feel something so massive probe into me. My only experience with sex had been with two other men and neither had been this massive or solid. They had been good guys. I still wear the ring my long-time boyfriend had given me during our high school years, though we both accepted we had grown apart.
“Ooo-oooh-oooh!” I cry out in a combination of warning and welcome.
He grunts in return and pushes a little further. I witness the gentlemen consumed by the lover inside his soul just as my consciousness self is replaced with a desirous cunt, literally.
I make a sound that is a combination of a whine and a moan. His organ stretches me wide enough to trigger discomfort, but that sensation is more than offset with the new sensations and the pure anticipation of how big this member will be and what it will do to me—physically and mentally.
“Oh God!” I hear myself exclaim in response to what I think is the lip of the head. He is so tight inside me that I can sense every bump, crevasse, and vein in his enormous cock as the mass works deeper inside me. At that thought, my vagina constricts around his dick as though to consume or restrict and hinder its progress. I tell myself to relax and let the massive flesh drill deeper. My body relents and his organ pushes another inch or two deeper, sending explosions of wonderful sensations flooding into my head and clouding my mind.
For how full his dense cock feels, I imagine I am being impaled by a cob of corn. I once witnessed a massive purple dildo on the internet. I thought such a thing would not fit in any woman, but now I think even that might have been less thick than the object sliding deeper into my pussy at present. What a wonderful moment!
I’m glad that I’m wet and getting wetter at the anticipation and absorption of the idea.
I arch my back as he pushes even deeper with a low groan or growl. Something about the shift in position and the anticipation and the desirous thoughts alter my vagina such that the massive object begins to move more freely with less resistance. It sinks deeper up to its hilt as his groin pushes against mine and his balls slap against my inner legs. He is as deep as he can go.
As though to emphasize that point and to take advantage of my new looseness, he pulls out and then pushes his solid tip and massive cock back into my vagina several times.
I’m so full with him inside me. I’ve never felt this full. This is a game-changer for sex. He might have to be “the One” because I can’t imagine being with anyone smaller who could not fill me in the same way. I’ve been permanently stretched to only accept an extra-large dick of this magnitude.
My lover releases his hands from my waist and moves them to encompass my breasts again. I’m not abnormally huge, but even though I’m large, his hands make me feel smaller as he squeezes them with a firm grip each time he pushes into me. I’m in heaven and at his mercy. I remind myself that he’s wearing a condom and then retreat back into my bliss.
I want him to touch my firm nipples as he fondled me, but I can’t catch my breath or stop thinking about the enormous dick filling my insides. I imagine the massive object pushing aside my stomach, intestines, and other inner organs with every thrust.
Our breathing seems to fall in sync as he pushes me forward and backward with each thrust in and out of my stretched pussy. Our rate of breathing accelerates faster as our voices get louder and more urgent. I’m getting close to some miraculous climax. Part of me can not wait and part of me does not want this to end. I’m on the verge of a fantastic moment.
“Oh yes! Yes! Keep going!” I scream as he grunts louder and faster to a new pitch of excitement in sync with my cries.
Joy. Appetite. Need. Excitement. Timing. Happiness. Intensity. Now!
He screams loud enough to hurt the ear he had been kissing so tenderly in the cab.
I’m surprised I don’t feel my insides filled with gallons of his fluid, but I know he came by the sound and the immediate impact on his body. He also stops along with his final grunt. Nothing more.
I keep rocking him and picking up the pace where he left off, but he becomes dead weigh. I try to push into him because I know I am close. I am so close with his massive cock buried inside me and the magic moment and my emotions!
But he stopped. His massive organ is deflating inside me as I make a frantic effort to reach my own climax. Done. Nothing.
“Fuck!” I say, more in exasperation than as a command. How awesome would it be if I could command such a thing. I would give anything to have him finish me in my anguish and desire at the orgasm that happened.
“Sorry,” was all the fucker says as he slides his no longer massive cock out through the gaping hole he left in my body as much as in my hopes, desires, and anticipations.
He collapses on the bed beside me. Before I can decide what to say next, he’s snoring. I say the words that form in my head anyway, “Would you at least help me get to my climax?”
I think about completing the act myself. I hold together the shattered remnants of my emotions and expectations and need for completeness. Touching myself proves dead on arrival. The moment is gone. His erratic snoring doesn’t help matters. Fucker!
“Fuck!” Beside me, his withered penis is still sheathed in the spent condom. The material is glistening with her own inner juices left to rot.
I get up, feeling the soreness of my stretched vulva as well as deeper inside me.
Or, is that just my soul that feels that uncomfortable?
I settle on the toilet seat listening to my failed hope belting out unpleasant noises from his slumber.
“Fuck,” I repeat in a resigned tone as I walk out of his apartment after clearing my bowels and emptying my remaining spirit down the drain.
He calls me later the next morning, but I don’t respond. My expectations of spending my free day with him following a wonderful evening were dashed when the evening came short of being anything but wonderful.
Tomorrow is another day.
** Should I go back to him? Give him another chance?