Big is Better
The Power Of The Pen - Dulum
|Large sections were split apart by the webmaster when he transferred the story. Unfortunately several chapters got jumbled in the process. Chapters 7.1 and 7.2 became VERY messed up. Readers should STOP reading this chapter (7.1) when you come to the part marked, "BARNYARD ANIMALS" (which is actually the beginning of Chapter 8.) Note: the reader should then SKIP READING Chapter 7.2 ENTIRELY and pick up the story again by reading Chapter 8.
|Somehow I got my head to rotate stiffly on my neck, and for the first time I looked directly at him. Gabe's eyes appeared to still be taking in their first (and very close-up) mental photos of my crotch. Though previously I'd always made sure that I was a moving and uncooperative target, this time however I found myself frozen solidly in place and motionless. There was ample time for this particular 'photo shoot'. In my mind I could almost hear the rapid clicks of his mental camera's shutter. He was changing from a wide-angle to a zoom lens, and back again. I was so aware of this strange tension running throughout my whole body. My heartbeat seemed even more pronounced to me.
As Gabe's visual cortex received and processed more and more visual images of me, I watched his eyes open wider and get glazed over. Gabe seemed like he was in a trace. He stared with such intensity at my jock that it felt like he was looking right through it with x-ray vision. There was something in his eyes though... the way he was looking at me... and his facial expression as well, as if there was a tidal wave building up behind his gaze. It was palpable to me. (I'd come to know this particular 'look' very well, but not for a long time to come yet.) But for the very first time in my life, at that moment anyway I was not feeling like running away and hiding. His whole body language was telling me that I was OK with him....
"W-O-W ... Are you EVER a man .... "
His tone was soft. Gabe looked awed, amazed and very appreciative all at the same time. Clearly he was fascinated and he was complementing me, too. I felt my skin getting hot and the surrounding air getting simultaneously very cold, and I got Goosebumps suddenly.
"A man with very BIG tools...."
He followed this with a short whistle. The whistle's meaning translated instantly to me. There was no questioning it. It said, "Unbelievable... I like what I'm seeing... You look HOT."
His pupils were getting dilated. I didn't understand why, but he really was finding my sack attractive, and his excitement was physical - and that was arousing me in turn. Still, I was afraid to let him actually see my dick getting even the least bit hard. Maybe still afraid that my senses were all lying to me and I was misinterpreting everything about this encounter completely.
The air seemed electrified with a force that was harder to deny. My senses were all telling me that he 'wanted'. I was detecting a sexual energy and interest pouring out from him. It was powerful and intoxicating. Gabe's eyes were roaming all over my body. I was becoming aware of another totally new and foreign feeling inside of me now. I was feeling oddly - strangely - sexy, as if I might be actually be an attractive HOT guy.
Big Gabe's intense interest was definitely highly stimulating to me. And being so close to him too, I could see with my own eyes how different he was from most other guys. His face was square-jawed and to me he was undeniably handsome. Even though he was clean-shaven, I could see he had a heavy, masculine beard. His body was utterly big, beefy and looked hard, too. Everything about it said he was a very powerful man. I saw how amazingly big his neck was. I admired it's sheer thickness and how his neck was cradled by these bulging ropes of muscle across the tops of his shoulders, and how they, in turn, flowed into round hemispheres that capped each shoulder like invincible armor-plating. His shirt seemed to hide absolutely nothing from my eyes. As if with x-ray vision, I could see all of the big manly muscular shapes underneath it. As I looked down at him, I imagined how it would actually feel to just reach out and touch him - to feel his muscles all over, their massiveness and their hardness. I imagined how it would also feel to be just touched by him, too. All my senses were telling me that I 'wanted' him, too.
All of these feelings going on inside of me were my sexual powers as a man (even if still a pretty short one, at that) just trying to awaken for the first time. These sensations were collectively utterly new and foreign to me. Mixed together they also felt like a very potent drug. There was a battle raging inside. I wanted to just 'let go' with everything I was feeling and indulge all of my urges They were powerful and tantalizing but also felt ominously dangerous. I was teetering on the brink- so excited and yet so scared. What if I was wrong?
Still powerful urges seemed to compel me to really turn him on - to be sexy for him as well as for myself. The sexual eroticism between us seemed solid and real enough, if I could only just accept that and surrender to it. My fruits were perfectly ripened and matured, and wanting desperately to be picked.
The words, "Do it Peter. Do it Peter. Just.. DO IT PETER," raced through my head many times in rapid succession.
Somewhere, that ruling body inside of my psyche sent a message.
"Peter, permission is granted."
I yielded and my surging hormones did the rest. I'd been thinking about what just might excite Gabe enough to take the perilous plunge himself. Moreover, I actually now wanted to turn him on- totally.
My mouth was dry and I was definitely aroused. All I needed to do was to let myself just begin to 'bone up'. Allowing my 'thing' to swell right in front of another man's eyes was a brand new feeling that excited me even more. And I was ready - Ready to BE big for him.
Gabe was still sitting down, equally as frozen and motionless and leaning forward slightly. His face was still at my crotch-level and only a few feet away.
So I just stood still-- absolutely motionless-- for the longest time. Purposefully. Intentionally. I didn't speak a single word, but just began breathing in-and-out more deeply, letting my expanding and falling ribcage subtly move my strap every-so-slightly up and down. Slowly. Rhythmically.
I let his eyes feast. I allowed him to gorge himself on just how really big I actually was. He was devouring all of me with his eyes, like a starving man. His eyes were drinking in the impressive fullness and circumference of my bulging jock which in turn was beginning to stretch further as I permitted my cock to swell without any significant inhibition now while Gabe's gaze remained totally transfixed.
I slowly turned my torso directly at him. Then I pulled my tight stomach in as far as I could, making my small waist appear extremely narrow indeed. More impressively though, that also made the already large hemispheres of my two low-hanging 'big boys'- already so prominently visible under the thinly-stretched elastic- even that much more pronounced. It also showed him directly the contoured-outline and genuine thickness of my cock. He watched it growing slowly, as it nuzzled its way down between my globes and pushed them further apart. Watching Gabe just watching me get hard was hot and turning me on even more. I wanted him to see my fat cock slowly engorging into the real major league slugger I knew that it was capable of becoming -the whopper of a club just made to beat around these two baseballs of mine. I wanted him to see the real magic in this wand of mine. It was time to give him the "big bat" treatment.
I began to shift my hips subtly from side-to-side, then up and down. This got my heavy equipment moving; stretching and rebounding in my swaying pouch. I could tell that Gabe was getting a whole new concept of what 'hung big' was, all close-up and personal-like, because his mouth was wide open. It almost seemed to me more like an expression of disbelief actually, not to mention the noticeable swelling in his own pants that only further encouraged me to continue to trust my intuitions.
"Wow.... Oh, God ...You're so.... Wow... What a HOG.... ", he said softly, more like he was praying.
He was very turned on. I knew that he 'wanted'- and very badly. He wanted to touch me down there. He needed to feel me up - to feel 'hung big' with his own hand, just a much as I wanted to feel his BIG shoulders, chest and arms. I wanted him to just take me.
Gabe reached up slowly towards my swaying bag of meat, but his hand stopped motionless just short of it; in fact his hand was so close that I could feel the heat from it on my balls.
He looked up at me with his eyes as if asking, "Is this really OK with you? Can I actually touch you?"
I just took his huge opened palm which was easily twice the size of my own hand and brought it up slowly the rest of the way underneath my Big Kahuna's. Then I just held it there for awhile. It was everything that I craved to feel, actually. I burned like a fire inside from the sensation of being touched for the first time by such strong man - and Gabe had the glove-size just made for these balls of mine. They felt incredibly good nestled in that big sweet-spot of his palm. I felt his hand start to move, so gently squeezing and kneading my rising bread-doe. He hand started moving all over my jock and pubes more enthusiastically, and he began groaning audibly with pleasure. He closed his eyes and seemed to get carried away to some far-away place as he continued to indulge himself with exploring all of my ample man-tools.
I was needing very much to also indulge my own desires as well. I wanted to feel his magnificent, massive body just as intensely. My own hands found their way on to his big cannonball shoulders, a bit cautiously at first. Surprisingly, he didn't react at all negatively but rather seemed to enjoying it.
Feeling his still sort of inflated-looking, hard torso was unbelievably hot. I let my hands wander all over his body as far as they could reach, exploring every separation, reveling in the unbelievable firmness of it all and then ever onward to each big, rock-hard muscle that I could find. The fact that he still had his shirt on didn't matter. I wasn't even aware of that particularly. What I was felt with my own hands combined with what I was feeling in my crotch was causing tidal waves of sexual pleasure.
Somehow I could tell that Gabe was mentally 'sizing me' up too- to be specific, my balls at that particular moment. It was the way he checked their 'weightiness' by lifting my package in his hand, then gently squeezing and kneading them. He was tracing the circumference of each one with his big fingers- then doing the geometry in his head -and getting more turned on as he considered the mathematical 'answer' he was getting. His fully erect cock that tented out his pants told me he liked doing math. The sensations of finally being man-handled by such a muscular guy was overloading all my pleasure centers.
My own hands and brain were also doing some 'measuring' of their own. They were evaluating the hardness and dimensions of his heavy chest muscles. I imagined him benching 300 pounds tirelessly - I'd never felt anything like them before- they were just solid, perfect mounds of muscle. I sensed how capable they each were of generating just enormous force. Touching such massive symbols of Gabe's physical strength with my own hands urged my big dick ever fatter and longer. It was the clearly dominating object in my jock now, pushing harder out from its base and lifting powerfully with it's broad back against the elastic girdle that was inevitably loosing the battle. My jock ballooned out like a big tent, the waistband clearly pulled away from any contact with my stomach. I knew my meat still had big magic yet to go. This was unknown of course to Gabe. If he kept on warming me up in the bullpen so expertly, the Big Slugger was about to burst on to the field.
But unfortunately right at that moment, Gabe's fingers definitely turned their attention fully to my cock, which must have already had achieved a dimension just as it was that exceeded anything Gabe was prepared for. He mentally started doing mental 'measurements' again - this was apparent to me by the way he was using his hand. I felt him measure it's thickness - its width - with several fingers. Then he surrounded it to check its circumference. Then he very clearly was measuring its length with his fingers. I think he lost it completely right then and there.
He just started moaning, and I mean real loudly too, "It's so big....Oh God... It's SOOO BIG!"
His breathes turned into panting sounds, and then ... and then.... I saw a very large wet spot forming inside of the crotch of his jeans.
I did not tell him I wasn't really all THAT big yet either, but he had no way of knowing that...
Hearing his pleasurable moans and seeing the wet evidence of his manly total excitement catapulted me into another dimension - another place altogether. The last thing I clearly remembered was my blood pounding viscously in my temples. I thought my heart would explode. I was turned on totally.
And then it happened. I felt it's presence - the presence of what I can only describe as a demon or powerful spirit. It was nothing I knew or recognized and this was a carnal Beast, too. Foreign. Terrifying but utterly thrilling. And this demonic power assumed total control over me. The Beast began manipulating my voice and my body, compelling me to blindly obey it's every wish.
"Please - please play with me. Play with me HARD now..."
Something or someone slammed Gabe's hand forcibly into my big bulge again and squeezed it tightly to emphatically demonstrate just how hard 'it' wanted to be handled now. The clear signal was to put his brute strength behind it.
And amazingly Gabe just did, as if equally powerless to resist the Demon's voice emanating from me. He immediately started to work me over, and much more forcefully than before. The dramatically increased pressure from his hand drove me just wild... God it felt good... Soooooo amazingly good. I'd never felt anything even begin to approach THIS feeling before. More miraculously, Gabe's continued panting and moaning indicated that he was still very aroused. He was into it and still totally turned on. I was amazed that his sexual interest had continued so unabated.
Like a tape loop repeating over and over again, Gabe moaned, "It's even bigger.. BIG cock.. God damn HUGE meat!"
And my 'meat' was getting nice 'n' hard now - no doubt about it. Time became suspended. It seemed to stop completely. I was totally immersed in the sexual stimulation and heading towards the brink of an abyss very fast. I had surrendered completely to this sexual beast commanding and controlling me and deep within my own sexual fantasy. Moreover, it was a fantasy I'd prayed for, and happening with exactly the type of man I'd prayed for as well. Then the demon spoke again.
"Gabe," It half-gasped and half-panted, "... Gabe, show me how STRONG you really are - NOW!"
"But I'll... I'll hurt you," he replied, hesitating momentarily as if trying to resist and reassert some self-control again.
"Bring me to my knees, Big Boy. S-Q-U-A-S-H 'EM. C-R-U-S-H IT. Do IT H-A-R-D !!! "
The Beast again took my own hand and slammed it forcibly against the back of Gabe's - that very hand that was in command of all of my manhood.
Gabe again succumbed to the commands of this Beast, as if unable to resist. The Beast had Gabe where he wanted him to be exactly.
"Feel this now. Feel... my ... STRENGTH."
"Oh, yes...That's... that's IT ... Y -E-Sssss," the Beast yelled out, and I felt Gabe's grip on me becoming an iron vice. Never once did the thought occur to me that Gabe might actually hurt me. My man-tools were industrial-sized and industrial-strength - built mighty tough. I wanted to absorb it all - every millidyne of masculine power that this massive hunk of a man could muster.
I watched his face grimace more as Gabe brought even more of his brute strength fully to bare on my equipment. His face told me that nothing was being held back. All the power he'd built up from years of lifting the big iron was now being directly applied on my sac and balls and exploding schlong simultaneously. This pressure was more intensely arousing to me than anything I could have imagined. It was better than being in Heaven itself.
"MAKE ME CUMMMM!!!" the Beast commanded. "H-A-R-D-E-R !!!!"
I was recording every minute sensation I was experiencing in my memory banks. I watched as Gabe's the very large and impressive muscles in Gabe's upper arm started to enlarge noticeably, along with his distending veins... those snakes were exposing themselves fully, and their sexual beauty was unimaginable. I watched his arm muscles become just so.. so full - so rounded out- so separated- and so amazingly hard. I didn't know their correct anatomical names back then. They were just 'big muscles' to me, but THAT is exactly what the Beast wanted to see. To hell with the names. It was everything I'd ever dreamed of, deep in my darkest soul....
I chanted, "God.. My God, those HUGE muscles," over and over again in my mind as I melded what my eyes were seeing and the astounding sensations in my groin all together in my mind.
I could not take one second more of such sexual ecstasy. My floodgates fully-opened involuntarily, I guess. I started to blowout my ballast tanks utterly, and with unbelievable pressure. Cum just began to pour out of what remained of my jock from every side, actually. Quickly my juices completely encircled and covered his hand and then ran down to cover his forearm and eventually finding it's way onto the floor. Incredibly intense orgasmic contractions continued to command me to drain my large storage tanks to their very bottoms. I just sprayed over and over again like a fire hose, seemingly forever. Gabe's magnificent hand still held me tightly in its erotic iron grip. It was easily the most intense and longest orgasm I'd ever had - and Gabe was witnessing the full power of it all right in his own bare hand. I was still shooting hard when I heard Gabe just gasp - and then gasped again a few times- and I saw the previous wet spot in Gabe's jeans suddenly doubling in size, too. He was spontaneously cumming again. I think he really like seeing me ejaculate. There was a lake of my expelled man-juice spreading over the floor below; that much I do remember seeing.
And then I heard the Beast - and myself - just saying, "WOW...."
Slowly I began to regain my senses but I was also totally spent; my knees seemed weak. I was pretty stunned actually; utterly amazed at everything that had just happened. A part of me was in total euphoria certainly, but I was also very troubled by something too. I'd said things and done things... things that I'd never even conceived before, not even in my dreams. It seemed that I had been just a puppet and something was pulling all of my strings involuntarily. I had been possessed, at least momentarily, by some very real demon- a savage and frightening Beast. What had just happened to me? What was that? Was it gone now? I didn't seem to feel it - that strange presence - anymore. Would it suddenly come back again?
But Gabe interrupted my deep thoughts by saying, "Hey, are you OK big guy? You look kind'a funny..."
As I pulled myself out of my thoughts again, I noticed that Gabe was standing up. He was looking down at himself and using a towel to try to clean up the cum bath I'd discharged, a lot of which seemed to have gotten all over his jeans and boots. He just smiled - a big, broad smile actually... a smile that said that everything was A-OK with him and that he didn't mind cleaning up this particular mess at all!
I walked over to a stack of towels and grabbed a handful, then quickly started helping him mop up more of the evidence that was all over the floor around us. When we'd done cleaning up the best we could, I started to get dressed. I didn't know really if Gabe was even going to say another word. He just stood there silently, patiently waiting for me to finish as if he was in no rush at all.
"Say Peter, I... I could drive out to your farm on Saturday... and .. and I could maybe help you with your chores, or something ...you know if... if you'd like me to, that is..."
Inside, I felt this sudden flush of absolute joy sweep through me as I thought, "Jeez, he really seems to like me!"
"Wow Gabe - would I like you to? That'd be really super," I replied breaking into an equally big grin.
Yes, I know it was all very tame stuff, looking back. Just touchie-feelie games actually. Hell, I'd never even taken off my jock and Gabe had remained fully-clothed. There was no sucking or fucking or real man-imal sex. But it was my 1st time and I was still very young. But it really was incredibly hot in its own way. There was an element of simplicity and innocence about what happened between Gabe and me, and I appreciate that for just what it was. Certainly that vivid memory has remained with me so far, and probably will for the rest of my life.
And sure enough, Gabe did keep his word. The very next Saturday afternoon he drove out to our farm in his truck. I remember my father's distinctly disapproving look as he pondered this mechanized vehicle sitting behind his house. And so our relatively short friendship started that Spring. But it was a special friendship like I'd never experienced before, and I think frankly it was the same for Gabe as well. He started to regularly come out to see me on every Saturday while we were still in school, and then even more often during that following summer after he'd graduated from high school when he seemed to be around most of the time, in fact. Whenever he wasn't 'doing his weights', he'd be out at our farm. My parents were a bit slow to warm up to my new friend, however. He had "the ways of the outlanders" and that was initially viewed with some distrust and suspicions at the least.
Gabe really did pitch in and help me with the chores - a lot, actually. He was a big bruiser even for a high school graduate. Only really 3 years older than me, he nevertheless dwarfed me completely in size. Let me tell you though that when you don't have the benefit of machines of any sort, having THAT kind of physical strength comes in mighty handy around a farm. Moreover as time went on, Gabe really seemed to quite genuinely enjoy working on our farm. Perhaps it was his own version of 'culture-shock' in reverse, but I think 'our ways' as well as our Amish way-of-life actually fascinated him. I know there was something that also strongly appealed to him about such manual labor too. He really loved doing hard physical labor- and that we had in absolute abundance. He was, I swear, just as strong as an ox. He'd demonstrated that to me on more than one occasion and that always resulted with me springing a 'big one' instantly.
I don't know why really, but he even took to showing up in more traditionally Amish 'work attire' too. Maybe it was to feel like he just fit in better, or perhaps to placate my parents a bit and feel more accepted. But anyway, I had to stifle myself from laughing aloud on the day he first showed up wearing a solid colored shirt, broadfall black trousers with suspenders, black socks and boots - and - a straw broad-rimmed hat. I remember Zec just rolling his eyes and grinning at me when he spotted Gabe's 'Amish drag' for the first time. I thought Gabe looked absolutely incredible in anything he wore however, and an Amish work shirt suddenly looked very hot indeed when Gabe was wearing it - I never saw one look any better on any man, in fact.
Well, Gabe became accepted as at least 'a regular' by my family in a short time. My mother just automatically took to setting him his own plate at the dinner table after awhile. But much more symbolic of his real acceptance, she spoke English whenever he was present. And Gabe, not the least bit bashful or shy, fumbled openly to speak the little German he began to pick up from me as time progressed. He thought my mother's cooking was simply the very best he'd ever tasted in his life- and in fact, it well may have been. Amish women, despite not having literally any of the conveniences commonly found in a outlander's kitchen, nevertheless CAN cook incredibly well. And that boy could pack away more food than anyone I'd ever seen. Mein Gott did he ever love to eat! At least he loved to eat my mother's home-cooked meals anyway. But Gabe worked as hard as the rest of us, and arguably maybe even harder, for his supper.
Nothing seemed to please him more than when we ended up alone together somewhere at the end of a hard day's work, when he'd often work up an even bigger appetite after he'd enthusiastically worked on me. We did what many other boys did - we just 'fooled around' out in the loft of the big barn. That kind of fooling around still had no name whatsoever, but we certainly managed to do 'whatever-it-was' with amazing regularly, indeed! Regardless, and thanks directly to Gabe, at least my sexual vocabulary grew by veritable leaps and bounds that Spring and Summer.
When we were done working for the day which was usually out in the fields during the summer, Gabe and I would start to head back to the house. If Zec or my father wasn't around at that time, Gabe would often encourage me to jump on his back and he'd carry me at least part-way back through the fields and over the rolling hills to give him 'a good workout'. He was as big as a horse to me anyway - certainly as strong as one. Oddly, he seemed to actually enjoy carrying me around on his back very much whenever it seemed 'safe' enough to do so.
I'd leap onto that mile-wide back of his and then he'd grab my legs - and off we'd go. I'd usually grab hold of him around his large shoulders (the little of them I seemed to actually be able to get my arms around anyway) and then I'd pull my body right up close to his back, resting my chin on the side of his neck. I actually savored inhaling his manly scent at such close range. The mere smell of him usually acted like an instant aphrodisiac. Usually it didn't take long at all before his manly pheromones, combined with feeling his powerful shoulders in my arms, aroused me. Sometimes the feelings were so intense that I'd close my eyes and nibble at his neck and ears, kissing him wherever I could. He really liked that a lot, I could tell. My dick inevitably would begin to get pretty big, and he could feel my sexual arousal pressing ever more prominently along his spine between his shoulder blades. Sometimes he'd bend over and sort'a start rubbing my whole body all around his back just so he could feel my 'big fatty'.
"Just hold that thought, Peter," he'd say encouragingly. "We'll be there in a flash."
Then he'd often picked up the pace, usually making a beeline for the barn with me on his back at a full gallop.
Once safety inside of the barn, our games were private from the rest of the world- out in those big piles of curing hay, where maybe God wouldn't notice the sins that were about to take place either, or so I told myself. Somehow my anticipation of how Gabe was going to 'do me' as he referred to it seemed to always far overshadow my concerns about the nature of my sins in those moments.
He'd often start by just gently laying me down into the soft hay. Gabe would gaze at me and I would gaze back at him, each of us enjoying our own lusty anticipation of the events that would immediately follow. Each time I saw his body it seemed like the very first time. Each and every time was a totally erotic miracle to me. He'd often begin our sexual ritual by very slowly unhooking his white cotton shirt and I'd get hotter just watching each new perfectly-chiseled muscle being revealed. He knew exactly how to go about getting my cock right up to the 'desired specifications' which he so obviously coveted. He was one undeniably built-huge specimen of manhood from hitting the big-iron as regularly as he did. And once he'd figured out that his muscles aroused me, he began hitting the gym even more often than he already did.
From the very first time that Gabe removed his shirt in front of me, I'd knew instantly - inside every fiber of my being -- that big muscles were definitely my thing -- my primal sexual on switch. Gazing at Gabe's massive body got my own particular love muscle inflating FAST - well that means fast for me, anyway. ( I'll tell you more about that later, too - the real truth about what it's really like to possess such an unusually large tool) But Gabe was the very first - the beginning of a very special relationship I was to develop with 'muscle'.
So I'd lay there, just watching him slowly strip as he stood towering over me. I stared as if in a trance as his hard upper body was finally fully naked and exposed...and what I secretly longed for him to do right then was - you know - 'make a big muscle' for me, too. I was too embarrassed to ask though, and there also this implicitly understood 'rule' that little to no actual talking about what we were doing was allowed. In retrospect, perhaps it would have made it just too real - too undeniable - for either of us.
But I'd spread my legs apart further and start to thrust my hips up and down rhythmically. It was almost automatic- instinctual- as if it was what I was supposed to do. That was Gabe's cue to begin rubbing his hand all over the crotch of my overalls. He'd rub and squeeze me gently at first God, did his hand ever feel good, too. He begin working it ever more forcefully, maneuvering and coaxing my swelling cock to eventually emerge right through the side of my overalls, over the top side buttons usually. Then Gabe would reach down and take my extra-beefy mantube into both his hands and work it up and down until I'd start erupting like a volcano. Actually these orgasms never took very long at all. My jiism would explode out of me in violent waves, heading high up towards the barn's rafters. Gabe quickly 'capped the gusher' (as he termed it anyway) by opening his mouth as wide as possible and putting it over my exposed cock head. Then he'd just start swallowing and gulping; gulping and swallowing- voraciously. He loved the taste of my cum. He couldn't seem to get enough of it, even though I produced extraordinary amounts of the stuff in my oversized factories. Often my manjuice would start leaking out of his mouth. Apparently I emptied my reservoirs faster than he could gobble me down, and at times I noticed my cum dripping out of his nostrils, too. I never touched his cock though - not even once. In fact, that wasn't even necessary for him, I guess. Gabe seemed completely contented to just play with me, jerk me off and then 'cap my gusher' as best he could, forcing every last drop of me that he could manage anyway down his throat while he beat himself off with his other hand.
But I did make some mental notes about another male's full erection for the very first time. I noticed just how very - well small, actually - Gabe's stiffie was compared to my own. And when Gabe came, there were only a few small globs here and there on the hay - maybe a couple of teaspoons at best- that's all. But the size of his cock really didn't matter at all to me. It was his hard, developed musclebod that was THE gasoline powering my comparative whopper of a sex engine anyway.
We performed this basic ritual many times while we were together. Our games 'with no name' inevitably had to end however, and the following Fall Gabe enlisted in the army. The activities in the barn were never spoken of between us - ever. It was just something we did together. Regardless, when Gabe and I said our final good-byes the following Fall, I saw his big square linebacker's chin quivering more than just a bit, and there were also big tears in the big guy's eyes.
But every night, regardless of how many times Gabe might have played with me that day, I'd inevitably spray more batter liberally around my bed while I slept and still awaken sitting in an ocean of cum again in the morning. My mother would just silently and dutifully change the bedding, just as she had been doing for the past several years already.
I produced enormous amounts of the stuff, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. My scrotal factories just churned out my manjuice non-stop. I'd adjusted to the whole nightly scene by this time and never really gave it much thought anymore -let alone if this might be more typical of the amount produced by your average black angus bull rather than an average teenager. There were some unexpected pluses to the 'plus-sided' overalls that my mother had made me, too. That other aspect I quickly came to understand. When I'd spontaneously ejaculate during the daytime, I discovered that I could position myself so that the large legs of the overalls allowed my cum to often just run down my leg and out the bottom onto my boot. No fuss - no muss, and with some luck, even no wetness visibly showing if I positioned the leg of my pants just right. It always worked best though when I was outside somewhere, of course - preferably a field.
Oh, I did have one more 'sexual encounter' after Gabe left for the Army that I should probably tell you about. There was that 'first time' with a girl, too- well sort of, anyway. I call it my fledgling attempt at 'straight-dom', and it happened at a neighbor's barn-raising. Yes, I did it with the proverbial farmer's daughter. And yes again, we also sort of did it in the loft of a barn.
BABY BABY DO ME ONE MORE TIME
It was customary that every family in our community participated in these occasional building projects. This was especially common when there were newlyweds involved. Understand that it's just a very Amish cultural thing. Rachael was by every outward appearance a reserved, pious and chased young Amish woman. She wore the traditional black woman's prayer-cap on her head indicating that she was single. Not so obviously however, she also had a very lustful 'eye for the boys' apparently, and never passed an opportunity to raise her long skirts up with abandon whenever she could find a hard male outlander's pole to mount, I suspect.
I'd been working steadily all afternoon framing the new barn with the other men, and I'd worked up a real sweat with a thirst to match. Usually the boys did the high-up pegging work in the roof rafters while the men assembled the sections on the ground. I assume that Rachael had targeted me as suitable 'stud material' sometime earlier in the day. Why she'd selected me and not one of the older boys, well I'm not really sure. Maybe she'd taken notice of the enticing full contour that formed in the crotch of my pants whenever I was squatting down knees-to-chest on a high beam, pegging the new joists together. In some specific situations I was still 'hard to conceal' even in baggy pants. But no matter.
I clambered down to fetch a drink for myself. Rachael approached me as I walked towards a large table loaded with refreshments that was set out on the grassy lawn. She extended a glass of cold lemonade to me and was smiling... I'd say invitingly. She feigned some concocted excuse that she needed some help from "a big, strong man" with something or other, just to get me out in the barn with her alone. I dutifully - if somewhat naively - went off to help the fair young maiden in exerting whatever force my virile teenage manhood could to assist her. But it wasn't my strength that she apparently was seeking though, I would quickly discover. As we turned the corner out of site from the rest, she moved in very close to my side. The full-court press was on.
Taking my hand in hers and with her eyelashes batting away, she coyly asked me, "Do you think I'm pretty?"
"Why yes - Of course!" I answered completely automatically, ever the kind and polite boy.
I noticed also that as our arms swung hand-in-hand, the back of her hand was making very regular contact with my crotch. The fact is that I started to spring one completely automatically. In truth, literally any manual stimulation of my male equipment almost instantly produced that reaction. It strangely never mattered particularly to my cock exactly who or even what was doing the stimulating, either. It was as if it always had a mind of its own. Sometimes just going about my usual daily chores, I noticed that my baggy overalls would still rub me in just that 'right way' and I'd get hard, sometimes cumming right in my pants. I didn't even have to touch myself. So with just the very littlest amount of contact or rubbing, I always got an erection.
Just a few steps into the barn however, Rachael suddenly transformed from the chased Amish girl virgin into the chasing wanton women that she really was - and what she was wantin' was my pecker stuffed into her pussy - and real fast. A virgin she definitely was not. So down into the hay we went, with Rachael's hand working non-stop on my boner like she was manning the bilge pump handle of a sinking ship. It definitely worked for me.
"Yeh, just like I thought.. A really big one," I heard her mutter as she continued to raise my mast.
In the blink of an eye, she unbuttoned my pants with speed of a consummate professional, and yanked them down to my knees. Then to my complete disbelief, she produced a box of condoms from somewhere - probably from one of her dress pockets. I was amazed because I didn't think that condoms were even sold anywhere in the surrounding towns, and I wondered just where a sweet Amish girl would even acquire such possessions.
She opened the box, ripped one open and handed it to me. "Here, do you know what this is?"
"Sure I do," I said, all-so-confidently.
The fact is, I knew what it was alright - I'd heard about them from the outlanders in school. I'd just never really seen one before, let alone used one.
"Good then," she replied coyly. "Put it on that big fat dick of yours, then show me what a real man you are."
The words just did not seem to go at all with this perfectly-dressed vision of Amish chastity in front of my eyes.
Actually, I struggled and struggled- and then struggled some more- to get the damn thing on me during the entire time she was dropping her skirts and undressing. God it was like this awfully tight vice on my dick. Now buck-naked, Rachael rolled onto her back with leg spread wide apart, her pussy all wet and wildly waiting for me to just stuff her. And oh, did I- OK, I admit it. I try for a long, long time in fact - I really did.
"Come on - FUCK me with that huge thing, stud," she demanded, and in English no less. She repeated it again and again, as if she was possessed and needed to be exorcised of her own demon - or maybe at least beat it to death- using me as her holy weapon of choice. And she was intent - absolutely relentless! I lunged and I pushed. I thrust and parried. I drilled like a North Sea oil rig. Seemed to me that her eyes were bigger than her ... cunt. Every push seemed to meet an insurmountable resistance. Rachael had worked up an incredible sweat too, and began to take on more of the active rather than passive role now.
"Wait a minute...."
Then she rolled onto her back.
"Wait a minute..."
Then, onto she rolled onto her front.
"Wait a minute..."
Then, she tried to impale herself from on top of me. Meanwhile, my cock was acting completely on it's own behalf, anyway. I seemed to be able to watch all this somewhat detached from what was happening, and in sheer amazement at the degree of her lustiness actually. She was a cowgirl just born to ride. But try as she did, she could just not seem to get me inside of her. And that unfortunately wasn't all of the problem either. To make matters even worse, the damn rubber would be thereon my cock one second, and then suddenly just be gone the next, like magic- or maybe more like some real voodoo curse cast on me.
She panted in frustration, "Where'd your rubber go?"
"I don't know!" I grunted , and then I'd reach for the box of condoms and struggle to put on yet another one. God those things felt so uncomfortably tight! And then we'd change positions and then same damn thing would happen. It was gone again in the blink of an eye.
"Where'd your rubber go now?" she said with a much more puzzled, quizzical expression, realizing finally that something very odd was going on indeed.
"I DON'T K-N-O-W ," I said in total exasperation. "It was just there a second ago - honest!"
Rachael was getting progressively more impatient when I'd have to break off the assault and struggle to get yet another rubber on my totem pole. In total, I must have had at least 4 rubbers disappear just like Houdini on me, in exactly the same way. It was there one second and gone the next. This was to be my very first hint at just how really incompatible latex and I really were.
Eventually, we just gave up exhausted- and both of us probably equally as sore, too. I felt like I'd been trying to ram a torpedo into a mouse hole.
This fiasco of back-to-back failed attempts at 'hetero' intercourse was to be my first and very last attempt. It was a total disaster. I was hopelessly humiliated that I couldn't manage to 'do it' with her. I felt it was somehow all my fault- and I was a failure. And as I had more time to think about it all afterwards, deep inside I was revisited - even haunted again - by that old thought that I was really just some kind of circus freak.
I was so traumatized, in fact, that I never had sex again while I lived in Lancaster County. Even though I had the sex drive of the whole Dallas Cowboy Team combined, along with the gonads of a prize stud bull, my experience with Gabe was never to be repeated with another man while I was in high school. That was going to be almost 5 long and lonely years, too. I would graduate high school essentially as I had entered it- a shy, self-conscious and still naive young man, though not perhaps quite as naive as I once was. I knew I was probably 'a homo'. I knew that my experience with Gabe had left an indelible legacy with me- new feelings that I could not put out of my mind. I even had fantasies for the first time that someday I might find a REAL stud of a man to call my very own- some guy I could love and who could maybe love me. I also knew that it would never happen if I remained within the Amish society, but at least I had a plan now.
I did not waste the rest of my high school years. I was a bright and intelligent guy and got good grades rather easily. Yep - straight "A's, or just about. My brains were going to be my ticket out of the 'dark ages' of the Lancaster county of Pennsylvania and propel me into the REAL world. And (Thank you Sweet Jesus), I had a good growth spurt (finally) in high school and at least ended up at 5' 10", certainly not what I'd hope for - I was never going to be a big guy - but I wasn't complaining anymore either. My boy's body had turned definitely into a man's body, and one with at least some attractive attributes - those being wide shoulders and very narrow hips. I was a chip off the 'ol block apparently.
I worked my butt off academically to make damn sure that I would get accepted at a college- and hopefully, even a prestigious one in some large metropolitan area. In my senior year, all of my hard work paid off beyond my hopes. Not only did I get accepted at a college but I also even had my pick - and with a full scholarship, no less.
TOTO, I DON'T THINK WERE IN LANCASTER COUNTY ANYMORE
Goodbye to overalls. Goodbye to horse-drawn buggies. Goodbye to reading by candlelight. Goodbye to stiff, starched plain white shirts and black pants, black coats and straw hats. Goodbye to getting up every morning at 4:30 AM to tend to the cows.
Hello movies! Hello cars! Hello electricity, showers, cell phones, magazines, movies, stereos, television, VCR's and rock-n-roll. But most of all, I was thinking- HELLO MEN! I left on a bus that Fall, destined for my first college semester, off to seek his fame and fortune among the outlanders at last.
My first semester was plain awful. I was a fish out of water. The quintessential 'hayseed'. I was also homesick to the point I thought I'd physically throw up. It was culture-shock for me on a scale I never was prepared for, regardless of what direction I turned. I did survive however. I adapted and I learned - and actually fairly quickly too due to an intense, burning personal need to fit in and 'belong'. I wanted to become, in fact, an outlander. Failure was not an option.
John was my very first college roommate during my freshman year. John was the proverbial heterosexual stud in my eyes, anyway. WHAT A MAN. Tall, dark, and good-looking (and fucking every coed in sight, I quickly gathered.) He was extremely gregarious and had a great sense of humor, to boot. For whatever reason, the two of us hit it off very well in short order. Plainly, John just liked me. Maybe he found something involving about my so-very-backward 'countrified' notions and ways. He'd even told me at one point early on that he found me, "charming and quaint". Those were his words. My words would have been something more like "socially-retarded", especially that 1st semester. I know I did an awful lot of listening and very little talking to anyone- well except to John that is. I talked with him non-stop. I just mostly observed everything and everyone during that first crucial semester. It was as if every minute of my day offered me something absolutely new to be learned - acquired - picked up on. It goes without saying I suppose that I was still locked ever-so-firmly in 'the closet', as well. But I saw advertisements for campus gay organizations as well as for gay establishments in the city, bars and the like and made mental notes on all.
Also needless to say- but I will anyway- I had to give up wearing those overalls mighty fast as well; talk about sticking out in a crowd I was trying desperately to 'blend into'! But the current fashion styles smiled on me, and I discovered that a real loose-fitting pair of jeans and extra large pullovers or shirts, when left untucked, worked effectively well to 'minimize' attention to my crotch.
Now please understand that John was also just as straight as an arrow. I always showered and did my bathroom routine when the dorm was the least occupied and John wasn't in the room either. One such afternoon, I was just getting dressed and had just zipped up my jeans when John unexpectedly entered our room. This was also the most exposed that he'd ever seen me, more a testimony to just how very careful and self-conscious I always was about exposing my body to anyone. John quickly scanned me from head to toe and then back again, but stopped noticeably at my waist-level. With his eyes clearly focused on the profile of my crotch, he said rather wryly, "I'd ask you if you stuffed a sock in there Pete, but in your case, I think you misplaced your bath towel."
"No... ahhh... well- that's just me," I said, automatically turning away from him and grabbing quickly for my sweatshirt on the back of a chair.
I heard him whistle and then came his skeptical comment, " Yeh, sure it is, Pete. So who's the chick that you're trying to over-impress?"
Although the words weren't quite the same, my mind flashed back instantly to my very first encounter with Gabe in the locker room. Well, I was quite happy to leave it all just at that. I quickly changed the conversation and tugged my pullover down to my thighs somewhat involuntarily, as if to reinforce to John that the door had definitely closed on any further conversation about that topic.
John was a sophomore, all-worldly and wise. I think I was completely in awe of him. I hung on his every word of advice. He was a handsome man actually, just not exactly the kind of man that put an instant bulge in my pants, thankfully. I wouldn't have known what to do with that back then.
But in that first critical semester, John really helped me begin to fill in all my 'gaps'. Literally everything was a new experience for me. Beyond just the whole mass media bombardment- television, radio and the like- there were the thornier issues of booze and drugs- and SEX of course- all of which were completely new territory for me. I was vulnerable and could have gotten just SO completely and quickly lost. Gratefully I did not however, and I have mostly John to thank for guiding me through those initially very rough, turbulent waters.
John became a true friend, and seemed to actually care very much about my welfare. I think my backward, ultra-naive ways actually shocked him initially though. But always the willing and available resource, he helped me adapt to this whole new world that existed outside of Lancaster County. That was no small challenge for him either. John was there completely for me every step of the way and I think he actually relished this self-appointed role of his, too- that of being my guide and mentor into the modern world- and most especially, into the world of sex. To him, I think I was 'a project' of sorts- a very rough, uncut gem to be formed and polished. Apparently through our long and regular conversations, John eventually pieced together that I was still technically a virgin. I think he felt sorry for me in a way. He must have thought I was totally deprived of all normal masculine outlets. (Well, what I was really deprived of was men.) Upon finding out this new fact about me, John also strangely made this his very personal and sacred crusade to rapidly have my membership in the '17 year-old Virgins Club' cancelled.
Can you imagine how I reacted inside when I first heard that the perfect vehicle John had so carefully selected to very quickly de-flower me was to be a special trip to a local whorehouse that very next weekend. I felt like I was between a rock and a hard place, not feeling either that I could say no or come up with some plausible excuse, and not wanting to tell him my cock got rock-hard for big men either. But contrary to what you might be thinking- my being gay and all- this really posed no particular sexual performance problem for me either. Getting it up for a whore wasn't anything that would have worried me particularly. You see, I'd been 'getting it up' usually several times a day often involuntarily since I was a 10 year-old man-boy. Getting it up was never a struggle. It was getting it to go down to avoid totally embarrassing myself that was far more often my particular dilemma.
I'll tell you for now that I was just perpetually horny, but I'd find out eventually that there was more going on with me than just normal teenage male horniness. Having spontaneous 'hands-off' daily organisms was perfectly normal to me, and it had always been that way. Moreover, with the constant guy jokes, innuendoes and kidding around that I heard literally all the time about 'spanking the monkey', I probably assumed that all males involuntarily sprayed from their hoses as often as I did.
The truth is that I literally got a hard-on just hearing the word 'sex'- and just hearing the word 'fuck' all by itself was literally orgasmic. Get it? While I certainly had a gender preference myself, my dick's on-switch was essentially genderless. Anyone's touching it at all, and my boner was fully-automatic and fully-guaranteed. Hell, it'd been at least semi-automatic with nothing more that my pant legs brushing it on too many past occasions.
The following Saturday night, John successfully orchestrated the loss of my virginity, exactly as he'd promised to do. He made sure I was well loosened up for starters with a six-pack of Bud, I recall. I was already shit-faced when we headed off in John's VW to that 'little house of illicit love' located just a few miles away in a neighboring town. I was too inebriated to be even nervous by that point. The thought of finally getting laid was all that my then single-tracked mind could think of. John wasn't initially thinking of getting laid himself, but once we'd gotten there, he seemed to quickly reconsider.
So, cutting now directly to the chase... in short order, I'd selected 'my date' from the smorgasbord of willing babes and so had John, and off we went to our own 'dates' rooms. And there, I was FINALLY - almost unbelievably - actually going to have real sex with my very own dick.
The perfume-drenched wench slipped off her slinky one-piece dress exposing her 'largest assets' - a set of quadruple "D" cup breasts that must have cost her a small fortune in silicon.
"Here baby - you wanna feel my big boobs?" she asked coyly.
I have to admit to you that her implants were so cartoonishly oversized that I had an unexplainable desire to actually play with them. Only years later would I understand that it was another odd manifestation of my special relationship with 'size' just expressing itself, rather than any real heterosexual proclivity. I was so sex-deprived that they really did seem to further 'stimulate' me, at least in that moment - and feel them, I definitely did. I proceeded to probably squeeze the daylights out of them - and probably so much so that she wanted to get me right down to business before she suffered a fatal silicon-bladder rupture.
"So, you wanna fuck me, stud?" she asked seductively. Frankly, I was more expecting the, "Do you think I'm pretty," opener that Rebecca had used. The word 'fuck' though literally ignited my fire.
The word swirled in my already swirling head. My dick finished stiffening, fully up to the challenge.
As I stripped off my clothes as fast as I could, she laid back on the bed and spread her legs.
"Come on stud and FUCK my hot wet pussy." Her fingers seemed to point the way or maybe they were just opening the barn doors.. whatever... I got a clear idea of the intended target zone even through my alcohol-fogged vision.
"FUCK".. the word was like a god damn lightening bolt. Magical. My cock responded more enthusiastically, and continued to harden fast in anticipation as I went down for the score.
Like that Amish wench before, she actually had to rotate through several positions. I will say that Madame X was a consummate professional though. Eventually she did manage to accommodate my fully-erect girth, but she definitely worked very hard for her money and must have gone through a whole tube of that 'lube stuff in the process, too. I began to explode just about the moment she managed to actually get me into her. Man, what an incredibly tight fit! I was so hot from the rapturous sensations radiating from my dick that I just started the pumps working to completely deplete my sperm banks. She seemed to really enjoy me rather surprisingly. Being a pro who'd had untold numbers of John's previously, I hadn't expected such a reaction at all. As I continued cumming strongly, she started to take noticeably increasing interest. Her eyes opened wider. Then she started practically screaming, "God .. Oh yes... Oh Ooohhhh... YES... Shit- I'm cumming!! Oh God.....YEESSSSS ... Oh fuck! Oooohhh FUCK!! I'm cuuummmiinnnnggg AGAIN!!!" and that probably went on for minutes, actually. This professional female pleasure-giver was experiencing one incredible and unexpectedly intense orgasm.
And so my 'real' virginity became a page in history. It wasn't lost unfortunately with the man of my dreams either, but rather with a hooker - and one with an unusually big smile on her face by the time I was finally done. Eventually I withdrew, and she propped herself up with her elbows on her pillow. Her slightly distended belly began to flatten out as all of my man-cream drained out of her puss forming a large pool. That seminal lake was no stranger to me anyway. I'd seen it every morning for many years. I noted that she rather quizzically looked back at the condition of her working bed several times as she slipped into her dress again.
Then she reached into a dresser and pulled out a Polaroid camera, asking if she could take a picture of me for the house 'memorables' collection, whatever that was.
"Just your dick. No face shot," she promised.
"Sure, go ahead," I said, far too drunk to really protest.
She snapped the photo, and then added, "Your Daddy must have been a bull elephant. I must'a seen a thousand men, and I ain't never seen the likes of you. And I definitely ain't never seen the likes of that," gesturing toward the semen-soaked bed. "You're some kind'a mighty big freak."
The fact that she'd clearly intended that to be a complement completely missed me. Probably because of the alcoholic fog in my head, there were actually a few long seconds before the bomb detonated in my brain. But when it finally did, all I heard was the word "FREAK" again, as if being screamed over a PA system. The word slashed me like a knife. I felt deathly ill suddenly, bolting out of there as fast as I could.
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