In Front Of Him

This is a work of fiction and does not represent any person, living or dead. This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author.

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Dean often told his friends that being exceptionally well hung sometimes made him consider some type of reduction surgery. But, most of the time, he loved the effect his very exceptional organ had upon women.

Unfortunately, several times during the past ten years of sexual activity, when he met a girl he thought he could fall in love with and marry, she recoiled when they reached the level of intimacy where she became aware of his prodigious genital endowment. Some would suddenly leave, making a variety of transparent excuses. Often they refused further contact with him. A few, only a very few, consented to alternative sexual contact. Most of the time that meant they would provide him relief with their hands, sometimes their breasts, and in a few cases, their mouths. Unfortunately those more orally adventurous young ladies found his peach sized glans too much to encompass.

So, by the time Dean reached twenty-one, and technically remained a virgin, his anatomical anomaly's hindrance of his sexual life, at least with a female partner, left him in a near permanent state of angry depression. What really disgusted him was that the homos seemed to zero right in on him. Apparently they had some sort of size radar, or were better at assessing another man's endowments through their clothing. Time and time again, Dean refrained from punching them out when they made blatant sexual advances, or even tried to caress his crotch.

Not interested in college, Dean bounced around from job to job. Of course he started in fast food, where there were always jobs available. He spent a while in an auto supply store, but found that a poor place to meet girls. And he wanted to meet a lot of girls, calculating the odds pointed out that the more he met, the sooner he might find one that would consent to real sex, instead of hand jobs and very shallow blowjobs. Of course those substitutes were better than his daily sessions of masturbation. Dean assumed, incorrectly, that his higher libido was directly proportional to the size of his penis and testicles. What ever the reason, he had to masturbate several times each day in order to avoid walking around with a near perpetual erection. And when he was erect, it was nearly impossible not to be grossly obvious to anyone looking at him.

So Dean started looking specifically for a job where he could meet more ladies. Luckily, he stumbled upon a bartending job. It was a nice, quite large, neighborhood bar just on the edge of a college campus. And this wasn't just any college; it was a woman's college! Dean just knew that he would finally 'go all the way' with the marked increase in the number of women he'd meet. And, considering that many of them over indulged in alcohol, their generally lower inhibitions would favor him even more. And he was right.

The first week the owner of the bar taught him how to mix all the drinks. It wasn't difficult, especially with a nice little quick reference binder lying behind the bar. By the end of the week Dean could mix almost all the regularly ordered drinks without having to use the reference guide. The downside was that as the junior employee, he had to work the first shift, when there were far, far fewer patrons present. And once he was off duty, the owner forbid him from hanging around to try to pick up girls.

That second Thursday, as he polished the bar, a couple walked in. Though they wore wedding rings, Dean suspected that they were having some sort of problem. They didn't smile at one another and barely spoke to one another. The balding husband, a fifty something guy with a belly that bulged out beneath his coat and depended below his belt, clambered up on a bar stool and ordered a boilermaker, leaving his wife to state her own preference. She took a stool several stools distant from her husband and asked for three shots of tequila, downing the first two very quickly. She then ordered a beer, knocked back the third, and nursed the beer for several minutes.

Dean became aware that she was staring at him as he went about his usual tasks behind the bar. She looked at least twenty years younger than her husband, who was now working on his own series of shots, though he was sticking with whiskey. While Dean, worked away, he felt the cute redhead's eyes upon him, and it began to have the expected effect. He tried to stay up close to the bar, so neither of the two patrons would spot his aroused condition.

As he moved near her to place some more beer mugs in the freezer to chill them, she lifted her hand to block her husband's view of her lips and whispered, "Packing a big gun there, Mister?" Dean blushed and didn't respond.

After her husband slid off his stool and weaved his way towards the restrooms, the lady picked up her purse and walked around the bar. Dean tried to explain that customers were not allowed behind the bar, but she ignored him and seemed to be looking for something behind the bar. Spotting a place near the beer taps, she crouched down and scooted under the bar into an area where a large box of plastic cups usually sat. Dean stepped closer to where she was crouching to repeat his words, but she just shushed him and dug into her purse.

Producing a tube of lipstick, she refreshed the thick red gloss on her very full lips. Dean felt his penis lurch in response. At that time, his bladder apparently empty, her husband returned. He looked around for his wife.

"Where did she go?", he asked as he resumed his place on the stool.

Dean, half scared and half confused, said, "I guess she left, Sir."

"Good riddance. I'm tired of that bitch sucking up all my money and being so cold in the sack!" He immediately ordered another boilermaker. Scooping up the lady's empty beer mug and dropping it in the sink as he walked past towards the beer taps, Dean grabbed a chilled mug and filled it. Then as he placed the fresh beer in front of the man, Dean felt hands massaging his erection through his slacks. Almost immediately, he felt his zipper being tugged down slowly. A warm hand slipped inside his zipper, and then through the slit in his boxer shorts and began massaging the lower half of his stout shaft.

"What's wrong, kid? You suddenly look pale?"

Dean leaned forward, fearing that the man might lean forward and see his wife's hands at work upon his prick, "Nothing. Just a bit tired."

The hand on the outside of his slacks began unbuckling his belt. With his erection poking up above the waistband of his slacks, she couldn't free it without unbuckling his belt, and then the waistband button. As she levered his penis out, pulling his shorts down in the process, Dean heard her gasp.

"You sure your ok, kid? You look as pale as a ghost!"

Dean just shook his head negatively, then almost groaned as he felt the woman's mouth sink down over his glans, and halfway down his shaft. None of his dates or short term girlfriends had ever come close to swallowing that much of his cock when it was fully erect. He felt his knees tremble as her lips traveled back up his shaft and suck at his glans two or three times before sinking down just a bit deeper on her second effort.

The second time she traveled back up to his head and sucked even more powerfully at him, she made an audible slurping sound. Thankfully, Dean thought, her husband didn't seem to hear it, or ignored it. Reaching over to pick up the remote control to the large TV behind the bar, Dean turned it on and flipped around until he found a baseball game, and turned the volume up in the hope of drowning out any further sounds the man's wife might make.

"Hey! Thanks, kid! Now if that bitch was still here, she'd piss and moan until we put it on some bitchy female talk show or some artsy-fartsy bullshit. I'm glad she took a hike."

Dean felt teeth scrap his cock and uttered a defense of the woman without thinking, "Well, she seems like a nice lady."

"Well, kid, you don't have to live with the bitch. Hell, a couple of months ago I bought her a sixty thousand dollar Porsche Boxster and didn't even get a blow job out of the deal. Screw her!"

Dean felt the man's wife gulping at his dick, and realized she was laughing as his huge glans was pressed into the back of her mouth. He vaguely wondered what the joke might be.

For almost ten minutes, the woman skewered her mouth down and around Dean's swollen, ever harder, organ as he and the man exchanged comments on the baseball game. Dean kept the intermittent conversation away from the man's wife, even though he made some foul comment about her now and then.

As time passed, the man commented, "Kid, you aren't pale anymore, but your face is beet red now? You sure you aren't sick or something?"

Dean nodded 'no', turned up the TV a bit more, and wondered how he could suppress the imminent physical reaction that approached at an increasing pace. As his penis began to ooze slick fluid, the woman increased her pace, as if greedy for the salty precursor to his looming orgasm. The more fluid he produced, the more enthusiastic she became.

On one downward stroke, her drunken state caused her to press his glans too hard into the back of her throat. She gagged, choked, and coughed slightly. Her husband looked away from the TV, "What was that?".

Thinking quickly, despite the overwhelming physical sensations he enjoyed, and feared, at the same time, Dean blurted out, "The drain. The beer tap drain makes funny noises all the time."

Chortling, her husband said, "Damn! Guess beer makes anything belch. Or FART!" He slapped at the bar in drunken recognition of what he considered high humor. Dean made an effort to laugh with him.

Suddenly Dean felt slim, spit slickened, fingers pushing his balls apart and massaging the base of his cock. His prick grew impossibly harder, then to his enormous surprise, the fingers slipped further back. Her index finger began to draw light circles on his tight, totally virginal, anal ring. This time Dean couldn't help gasping.

"Kid, what...?" The man looked perplexed and glanced over his shoulder, thinking something behind him surprised Dean. But the bar was empty, the entry unoccupied.

"Just bumped my knee, Sir. But I'm ok."

"Well, be careful. If you go down, then who'd get me a fresh beer?" He shoved his empty mug across the bar to Dean.

Dean nearly fainted at the prospect of fetching a beer. He had to walk several feet to the beer tap, and return, without his huge, reddened, drooling, erection being seen. Thinking quickly, he snatched up a fresh bar towel, which thankfully lay right at hand beneath the bar. Thankfully, the woman realized he was going to have to move, so she removed her mouth and extricated her hand from beneath him. Holding the towel by one end, in his right hand, at waist height, he was able to turn to his left and take two steps to the beer tap. Sliding the freezer open with his left hand, he turned his body so his back was to the man, plucked out an ice cold mug, filled it, then switched the towel to his left hand as he took the beer in his right. Successfully using the towel to screen his organ from the man's view, he returned to stand before his customer. As he wiped the condensation that had dampened the bar from the previous mug, Dean felt that warm mouth return to his organ, and start sucking ever more powerfully. Her hand slide across the lower limits of zipper and lowered shorts and began massaging his anus once more.

Dean didn't last another minute. Working hard to control his breath, he felt his prick lurch and spew forth a preliminary shot right into the back of the woman's throat. Thankfully, she neither gagged or choked. She swallowed that burst of semen, and the next six or eight more powerful spurts, seemingly sucking ever more intensely. As his ejaculation dribbled to a close, she worked at sucking every drop out of him.

Withdrawing her hand, she nursed softly at him as his organ slackened to about seventy-five percent of his erect size. Then, carefully, she tucked him back down into his pants, pulled his shorts up, buttoned his pants, tugged the zipper carefully upwards, then buckled his belt.

Amazingly, her husband didn't notice the not too subtle changes in Dean's expression as his wife had drained the young bartender dry. But, as Dean moved back to some of his tasks, he wondered what would happen next. He didn't have long to wait. The man turned his almost full beer upwards and drained it dry.

"Guess I need to head on out, kid. How much I owe you?"

Dean tallied up the bar tab and gave the man the register receipt. The man pushed a fifty dollar bill across the bar, "Keep the change, kid. Appreciate the hospitality."

Amazed that he had just been tipped twenty dollars by the man whose wife had just given him a world class blow job, Dean thanked him. As the man exited the bar, the woman scrambled out of the cubbyhole beneath the bar, gave him a quick, tongue lashing, kiss, then literally ran for the restroom. Just as the door swished shut behind her, the husband returned, looking angry.

Dean's heart leapt into his throat. Had the guy somehow known what had happened. Dean turned to look at the mirror behind the bar. He didn't think the angle was right. The man couldn't have seen what his wife was doing!

"That bitch's car is still out front! Where the hell could she have gone? Is there another bar around here?" His eyes narrowed, with drunken suspicion.

"Uh...no sir. The closest bar to this one is Maggie's, over on Fourth Street. I don't think she would have walked that far in this heat."

As the man stood there fuming, Dean was at a loss for words. Thankfully, at that moment, his wife emerged from the restroom, patting her hair and said, "You still here, asshole?"

"What the hell have you been doing back there for half an hour?"

Snidely, she laughed, "I met a hunk with a dick as big as my forearm and sucked him dry."

Dean felt the room spin around him. He feared the worst.

"You stupid, fat, prick, what does anyone do a restroom? Were you timing me?"

The drunk whirled, "You said she left, kid!"

"No, Sir! I said I guessed she left. I wasn't watching her and she just wasn't there when I turned back around from loading the mug freezer."

That seemed to mollify the guy. But he got just as pissed when his wife walked over and laid a twenty on the bar, "Thanks for the fantastic service, Dean. I look forward to you servicing me again in the future."

Her husband missed the double entendre, but was upset anyway, "Hey! I already tipped him a wad!"

"I'll tip who I wish when I wish, asshole." And with that she flounced out, with her husband trailing her and cursing loudly.

Once the door shut behind them, Dean picked up the twenty she had laid on the bar. A business card fell out onto the bar. He picked it up, read it, discovering she was a professor at the college. She had a doctorate in psychology! Scrawled across the back of the card was a note: Call me. Next time we can have a better time! Her cell phone number was written below a series of X's and O's. Dean tucked the card into his wallet.

The rest of his shift was just a blur. Dean had never ejaculated into a woman's mouth, and now this woman not only seemed to have enjoyed it, but wanted to see him again! To his dismay, the mere thought caused his penis to swing upwards and press strongly against his slacks. Checking his surroundings, he reached down beneath his belt and pants to lever his cock upwards, where it could stand straight up, but be less obvious behind his untucked shirt.

As his shift ended, the late afternoon produced a half dozen patrons. The second shift bartender arrived, along with the short order cook and two waitresses. Just as he prepared to punch out, the other bartender called out to him, "Hey, Dean! Phone call! She sounds sexy!" The people in the bar, mostly female college students, hooted and hollered. He gave them an embarrassed wave and headed back to the owner's office to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, stud. Ready to finish what you started this afternoon?"

Dean recognized the sultry voice instantly, and his erection, which had finally subsided a few hours earlier, returned with a vengeance, "Uh, yes, ma'am."

With mock anger, "Ma'am? If you want your dick sucked again, you better not start making me feel like I'm old enough to be your mother!"

Dean, dipped into his shirt pocket after her business card. Glancing at it, he said, "Sorry, Paula. Force of habit."

She laughed, "Ok, you're off duty. Now I'm your slut, your whore, your lover... Are you free now?"

Dean assured her that he was and she responded, "Ok, grab a bottle of sparkling wine, whatever you guys have on hand, and I'll pick up around the corner in ten minutes."

After hanging up, Dean stepped back to the bar's big cooler and selected a bottle of Bollinger. After walking back out to the bar, he paid for it. Ed, the elder bartender, chuckled, "Guess your gonna get lucky tonight, Dean!" Ed took Dean's cash, rang up the purchase, then added, "Take one of those cheese and cracker samplers the salesman left the other day. They're free. And you can also grab one of those two flute promo packages. And don't forget a corkscrew!"

With customers waiting on Ed, Dean didn't have to suffer any more embarrassment. He just stuffed the wine into an insulated sack, along with a handful of ice, then dashed back to grab the flutes, a corkscrew, and two of the sample cracker and cheese packs and add them to his now bulging backpack.

Outside, in the heat of the afternoon, he moved quickly to the corner and around it. In less than two minutes of peering up and down the street, the Boxster wheeled up the curb and rocked to a stop. Dean stepped forward and opened the door. Paula, at the wheel, gave him a lip licking, seductive smile, and said, "Get in, quick, before one of my students or the faculty sees you!"

Dean almost dived into the tight confines of the Teutonic roadster. Thankfully, she had the convertible top up, giving them a great deal of privacy behind the darkly tinted windows. As soon as he had the door closed, she rocketed away from the curb as he searched for his seat belt.

Paula drove fast, darting through traffic with alacrity, as he finally located his shoulder belt and pulled it across his body to latch it.

He wasn't too surprised when each time she made a gearshift, she reached over to fondle the bulge in his slacks. Dean was only vaguely aware that they were headed out of town on the Interstate within just a few moments.

"I think we'll go to our lake cabin. Jerry won't be looking for me tonight. As soon as I got him home, he started hitting the bottle pretty hard."

Before they were out of town, once she was in top gear and had the cruise control set right at the 70mph speed limit, Paula had his pants open and was fondling his erection.

"Wow, it really IS as big as my forearm." She held up her arm, with a small clenched fist, "God! You seem to be bigger than my forearm! My fist is comparable to your glans, but my wrist is much thinner than the corresponding portion of your shaft. To tell the truth, I don't think my little cunt can handle all of you, at least not the first few times, but I'm going to try real hard." As she slid her hand down the length of Deans ten inches of thick meat, she added, "Amazing! That last few inches of your fat root IS thicker than the widest part of my forearm!"

Dean, loaded with expectancy, just sat there and grinned stupidly. But as she started smearing the fluid emitted from his meatus, he pulled her palm from the knob of his organ and said, "What about your husband? Did he see what we, what you, did?"