Climax/CLIMAX.BIN/CLIMAX/GIF/4/THATEVER.TXT

Text File | 1991-08-19 | 20.7 KB | 396 lines

WARNING! The following work of fiction contains sexually explicit
material that cannot be shared with anyone under the age of 18 in
the United States. If material depicting sexual acts offends you,
do not continue to read this work.

Do not remove this warning from any copy of this work, physical or
electronic.  The author has inserted this warning for his and your
protection.
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Whatever Comes Up
-----------------

                                                   By Torrid Affair
                                                             Member
                                                  NixPix Windy City
                                                       708 564-1069



        Chapter 1: There's A First Time For Everything


Hi. You've probably heard about me, even if you haven't read about
me in Time, Newsweek, People or the National Enquirer. You may have
even seen me on 60 Minutes, 20/20, Hard Copy or Oprah.

Yep, that's me. The guy with the 17-inch cock.

The way I figure it, it's time you heard my side of the story
without all the studio props or out-of-context quotes. I've been
answering questions all my life, but none of the interviewers has
ever seemed interested in anything more than what's hanging between
my legs down to my knees.

Let's start with the numbers so I can get them out of the way. The
17-inch measurement that's generally tossed around is when I'm not
aroused--and believe me, when you've got a bunch of doctors poking
and prodding and scratching down notes, you're not exactly in the
mood for arousal. The more practical numbers are 21 inches from the
top of the base of my cock to the tip, a diameter of 2-1/2 to 3
inches, and a circumference of 8 or 9 inches. Those numbers are in
effect most of the time, because I am a major fan of women.

During my life, I've been called everything from "Holy Shit!" to the
life-support system for one of the world's largest dicks. People
stop me in malls to call me a prick, then laugh like they're the
first ones to ever think of such a witty line. You can call me Matt,
though, because that's what my parents named me some 35 years ago.

Back in those days, ultrasound scannings before birth were something
out of science fiction, so everybody stood around waiting to see
what gender the baby would be. In my case, they had a clue during
the delivery because I was born with a hard-on and they nearly had
to cut my mother open to get me out. Mom says that right after the
doctor smacked me on the back, one of the nurses tried to use my
adult-sized shaft for a pacifier.

See, that's another one of the problems I've lived with. It's not
just the size of the bulge in my pants that sets off women, it's
some kind of animal attraction. I can be wearing baggy pants, be
facing the other way and still have feminists clawing at me like it
was mating season at the mink farm. Maybe it's pheromones--you know,
like they use in some of the newer colognes and perfumes--or perhaps
it creates some sort of biological magnetic field. I don't know, and
neither do a couple of people who have pulled down PhD's with their
research on it. Whatever it is, though, it works--and it works in
spades.

As you can imagine, that's come in handy any number of times over
the years. What you may not be able to imagine is how difficult it
can make ordinary day-to-day life. For example, I wanted to be a
gymnast, and I got pretty good at it--during practice, that is. The
coach eventually asked me to drop off the team because there were
too many disruptions in the stands every time I walked out onto the
floor in my skin-tight outfit during meets. Then, too, there was
always the near-fatal danger of any miscalculation while working on
the horizontal bar or pommel horse.

The same thing happened to my swimming career. I wanted to be a
diver because I could use my gymnastic skills, but Speedos don't
even begin to provide cover. It's kind of like asking Dolly Parton
to use a hanky for a bra. Jams weren't available in the early '70s,
and boxer trunks gave too many opportunities for my cock to thrill
the crowd as it snuck out a leg. We even tried some of the
wrestler's outfits, but gave up in the battle of the bulge.

Baseball was much the same. I got on base a lot because opposing
pitchers would get distracted--or pissed--and throw the ball at my
crotch. I've got some permanent dents in my left side from twisting
away from a fastball, but the experience gave me great reflexes--and
a terrific batting average.

Football? Ha! Try finding a cup that big, and then try fitting it
under a pair of football pants. And then try keeping opposing
linemen from trying to bury the top of their helmets below your
navel.

But you aren't here to listen my list of problems, and I'd rather
not dwell too much on them. There are advantages to cocks the size
of mine, though, and I'll get to some of those in a minute.

By the time I was a teenager, teams of doctors had built their
reputations with the help of my penis. The medical libraries of the
country have had to add extra shelving just to accommodate the reams
of dissertations and books that have been written about my genitalia.
I remember doctors showing me pornography as they tried to measure
how long it would take me to become fully erect, but I didn't really
relate well to that as a child. They evidently had other plans in
mind, too, but my parents wouldn't let them fuck around with me
until I was old enough to understand what they were doing.

To give you a perspective, I was born with 4 inches. By the time I
got my first bike at 5, I had 10 inches--and had to get a girl's
model because my dad was afraid of what might happen otherwise. By
the time I entered junior high and started growing pubic hair, I was
carrying 14 inches of meat between my thighs. I topped out at 17
inches about the time I got my driver's license.

My sister had noticed these changes, and had been working on any
number of plans that would let her satiate the desires that had been
building as she matured from a girl to a woman. Vicci was and is one of
the most beautiful women I've ever known; she's three years older
than me and strongly resembles Raquel Welch in all aspects.

She was quite frustrated, too, because my dad kept a close watch on
whom she dated and when she got home and all the other things that
dads are supposed to do to keep their teenage daughters pure and
innocent. At some point--and from what she tells me now, that
happened a lot earlier than I had suspected--Vicci turned her
attention to me.

That meant more frustration for her, because we were a tightly-knit
family that lived in a fairly small home and did everything
together. She had no opportunity to try any of her plans--until my
mom won a sweepstakes one spring that awarded an all-expense-paid
trip for two to New York City. Vicci was 16 then, and old enough to
watch over me and the house while my folks took advantage of the
prize during mid-July.

I was just maturing enough to notice girls the way they're meant to
be noticed, as I discovered the Saturday evening my folks left for
New York. I was sitting in our living room watching TV when Vicci
strolled into the doorway wearing a flimsy hip-length peasant
blouse. That wasn't too unusual, because Vicci ran around the house
a lot that way. What was unusual, though, is that this time the
blouse was completely unbuttoned as she stood there with her
waist-length brown hair casually draped over her left shoulder and
her right hand resting lightly on the doorframe. The light from the
setting sun was to her back, and transformed the peasant blouse into
gossamer, haloing her figure and outlining in deep pastels every
inch of her woman's body.

"What're you watching, Matt?" she asked, in a voice far more husky
than I had ever heard before. "Up to a second ago," I said, "I was
looking at TV. All of a sudden, though, the sunset has my undivided
attention." (I was a precocious little bastard, and it got me into a
lot of trouble with teachers.)

I don't remember much more of our conversation, but I remember in
vivid detail every moment for the next hour or so. I remember
noticing that Vicci was wearing a lacy white bra and bikini panties
that I had never seen in the laundry. I remember Vicci sitting on
the couch next to me, and I remember that she smelled good in the
way she did before she went out on a date. I remember staring a lot
at her as she talked to me, and letting my eyes drift to her ample
cleavage.

We looked into each other's eyes, and she gulped, and she opened her
arms and pulled me to her. I could feel the firmness of her breasts
on my chest--and I was aware that my cock had become fully erect.
Vicci obviously noticed it, too, for she pulled back a moment,
looked at me again, and then closed her eyes and moved in for my
first full-fledged erotic kiss. As the warmth of the breath from her
open mouth let me know there was more to a kiss than what an aunt
produced, her right hand moved to my knee and she began stroking my
thigh through my levis.

As Vicci's hand moved higher, I became even more aroused and my cock
pushed through at the waist of my levis under my T-shirt. Her
fingertips found the base of my cock, and we both gasped as we
kissed. Vicci's hand closed around my hard-on, and she began to
slide it up the 18 inches of solid muscle, letting her hand slip
beneath my T-shirt as she moved upward. As her hand made contact
with the bare skin of my penis, I could feel her body tense and her
kissing become deeper and more frenzied, as though she needed all
the air in my body. I could feel her tongue exploring deep in my
mouth, and I responded instinctively.

As she reached the head of my cock high on my chest, she shuddered
and cried out, then pulled away to look at me with a newfound
understanding and awareness of what her body had been requesting for
so long. Vicci sat back and shrugged off the blouse, then guided my
hands to her full breasts, all the while watching my eyes to see how
I was responding. As I caressed her breasts through the brassiere, I
could see her nipples hardening through the lace, and I could feel
them press against my hands.

Vicci moved my hands away for a moment, then reached for the center
clasp between the cups. With a quick movement, she unsnapped the
clasp and opened the bra, giving me my first look at live naked
breasts. My whole body quivered with tension as I responded to the
sight of her magnificent breasts, outlined with tan lines and
punctuated with two small hard nipples thrusting out of rosy
aureoles like beacons.

I started to move my hands toward her again, but she stopped me with
a shy smile, then stood and rolled her panties down her hips,
uncovering her thick brown thatch of pubic hair that spread neatly
up to her belly. I could see that it had been carefully trimmed to
match the tan lines from her bikini, and I pictured her lying on a
towel at the beach while guys clustered around, hoping for a better
view.

I was getting that better view as she let her panties drop down her
long golden legs. As Vicci stood erect, she looked down at me and
playfully posed by running her hands through her hair and turning
from side to side. When she slowly turned to show me her perfect
ass, I could smell her perfume more strongly as her body heated with
anticipation, and I could sense another, less familiar musk mingled
with it.

"Your turn, Matt," she teased as she reached for my T-shirt. Her
breasts swayed with the movement, and I reacted as though she were
trying to hypnotize me with them. I let her tug at my shirt for a
moment before I reached down and pulled it up over my head. As my
dick came into view, I could see Vicci's face flush and her eyes
devour every inch of it. One of her hands unconsciously moved to her
left breast and began to softly caress it; the other dropped to her
pussy and her fingertips began a slow rhythmic up-and-down movement.

"I want to see it all," she whispered in a husky voice nearly choked
off with lust. "Take your pants off for me, Matt. Please take your
pants off." That sounded like a great idea, if for no other reason
than to relieve the pain from the thrust of my erection. I stood up,
unclasped my belt, unzipped my pants and let them drop to the floor.

As I stepped out of them and pulled off my socks, Vicci moved closer
and hooked her fingers in the waistband of my underwear, pulling
them down as she sank to her knees in front of me. I stepped free of
them, and Vicci moved her fingers to cup my balls and cock as though
she were handling a fragile and priceless artifact. She left her
right hand clasped around my balls and began a slow stroking
movement with her left hand up my shaft. The sound of my staccato
breathing filled the room as she excited me to levels I had never
even dreamed of before, and Vicci's sharp gasps punctuated the gaps.

I was aware of colors and textures and the almost-overpowering scent
rising from Vicci's body. As she teased and played and explored, I
stared at her breasts and their glorious nipples, and at the tangle
of hair covering her mound. My body was rigid as I reacted to the
touch of her fingertips, and I began to feel an unfamiliar stirring
within me.

Vicci slowly stood, keeping her grasp on my groin, and moved against
me, kissing me deeply and passionately as she picked up where we had
left off. She pulled her hands away as though she had been forced to
do it, then put her arms around me and pulled me tight against her
body. Reaching down with her hands, she cupped both cheeks and
pulled our hips as tightly together as my erect penis would allow.

In each other's arms, we began a slow circling dance that kept us in
contact while moving against each other. The pressure finally became
too much for me to stand, so I stepped back slightly, reached down
and moved my cock to a horizontal position. Vicci responded
immediately by opening her legs and straddling my hard-on as though
she were riding a horse. I could feel the heat pouring from her
pussy as she straddled me, and the wetness that was building. We
moved back together and continued our dance of desire as Vicci and I
kissed in the way that new lovers have defined over the ages.

I could feel Vicci spasm as we danced, and her breathing become more
irregular. She slowed the dance to a standstill, then began stroking
her pussy across my cock ever more quickly. The more quickly she
moved, the harder she buried her face in my shoulder, biting and
crying out in pleasure. "Matt, I'm coming on you," she gasped, "I'm
coming all over your cock. Can you feel me?"

I had felt her become wetter, but didn't have any reference point to
compare it to. As she cried out louder and louder, I could feel her
pouring wetness down my shaft, and I pulled her tighter to me. I
could also feel my cock curling around behind her into the crack of
her ass, and the sensation was almost more than I could stand.

"What do we do now?" I asked as she quivered again and again. "I
want you inside me. I want you deep inside me," Vicci whispered.
"Come with me to my bedroom."

I didn't want the sensation to stop while we walked to her bedroom,
so I told Vicci to wrap her long legs around me and hold onto my
neck. With my cock as a support, I carried her that way to the
bedroom and rolled her back as gently as I could onto the bed. Vicci
moved farther onto the bed and spread her legs, pulling her pussy
open with her fingers as she did. "Put your cock in here, Matt.
Slide the tip into me--but do it slowly. Thanks to daddy, I'm still
a virgin."

What could I do? What could I say? I stared at her pussy spread wide
before me and felt a responding throbbing in my cock. I bent forward
and knelt onto the bed, then moved between her legs. As I lowered
myself to her, I kissed Vicci's breasts and sucked at the nipples.
She gasped with delight at the sensation, but pulled at me urgently.
Her hands moved between us, and she took a firm hold on my dick to
guide it into her.

As the tip of it touched the lips of her pussy, all of the tension
seemed to rush from her body, and her hips rose to meet me. I slid
forward to thrust into her, and Vicci recoiled slightly with a
stifled sob as her hymen ruptured. I pulled back, thinking I had
hurt her, but she pulled at me hungrily to continue.

I felt her warm wetness envelop me, and the muscles in her vagina
grasping at the intruder in their midst. She took me in for about 4
or 5 inches, then released and drew back. We began to develop our
rhythm from her response, and I was able to reach deeper with each
thrust until I hit her cervix about half way in. By this point,
Vicci was crying out and shuddering with orgasms on nearly every
movement. As I struck her cervix, she gave a great heaving
convulsion and, through clenched teeth, inhaled an "Oh, Matt......"

I continued to stroke, letting the pleasure build as her pussy
stimulated the top half of my cock and her hands caressed the lower
half and my balls. At some point, the head of my cock surged past
her cervix into what felt like another vagina. The sensation
overpowered me, and I began to erupt within her. She could feel the
cum pulsing through my cock on its way to the inside of her body,
and she could feel me exploding deep within her. I buried my face in
her hair as I came, and she moved in rhythm with me as I spurted
again and again and again.

Vicci continued her rhythm as I ran out of air from the violence of
the experience. As she moved, I first learned of the sensitivity a
man experiences after orgasm, and I pulled free with a yowl of pain.
I explained that she hadn't hurt me, that the pain was a good kind
of pain, but that I needed a minute or two to calm down and catch my
breath.

As I gasped that out, Vicci watched my cock continue to twitch and
spurt with the aftershock, then reached over with her fingers to
touch my cum. Quite tentatively, she touched it to her tongue, then
exclaimed, "Hey, this is salty--but I like it. And, look down
here--your cum is leaking out of my pussy." She reached for a
Kleenex to dry herself with one hand; with the other, she began to
tease my cock again.

We continued to experiment for the rest of the night. I found I was
able to recover in about 5 to 10 minutes, and that Vicci was nearly
insatiable. Near dawn, we fell asleep in each other's arms
and--appropriately enough--with my cock deep inside her pussy. When
the phone rang about two hours later, we were able to quite honestly
tell our parents that everything was going fine and that they could
stop worrying and enjoy the rest of their week in New York.

As it turned out, they did--and so did we.


             ]  Watch for Chapter 2: Speaking In Tongues  [


====================================================================
Originally uploaded on 8/19/91 to NixPix Windy City 708 564-1069,
the only place where the rest of it will be uploaded by the author.
Re-upload elsewhere freely, as long as you got it from a NixPixNet
BBS and you don't change it. Fair enough? Thanks!

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For 99 percent of those who can read, this is a needless reminder,
so I address this to the one percent.

If you enjoyed this story and/or appreciate the time and effort
that went into writing it, there's a simple way for you to quietly
show that appreciation -- by acting as a responsible BBSer. That
means:
  o Don't let any minors read this;
  o Don't send it to any BBS that wouldn't welcome it. (You may not
     agree with the SysOp's restriction on x-rated files or stories,
     but that's the SysOp's perogative and as a guest/subscriber/user
     of his or her BBS, you are honor-bound to respect that
     restriction);
  o Don't change or modify the file name or the text itself; that's a
     cheat and we both know it.

On a personal note, I ask you not to remove either this afterward or my
handle.

Thanks, in advance.
                                                                  TA