Foreword: This is a work of fiction. None of the people in this story are real. None of these events ever happened. This story is nothing more than words that came from my imagination. Any similarity to any real people, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Operators of erotic story web sites, whether free or fee-based, have my permission to post my stories for public reading, provided that credit is given to "Hungry Guy" as the author, and as long as you don't make changes other than fixing typos. Even beware of fixing typos, for I occasionally use local slang and dialects that may be flagged by your spell checker. Thanks.
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John Silver had a long dong. I mean he had a
really
long dong! The result of a genetic birth defect, it was over 30' long! He wrapped it around his body, up his chest and back down again, several times, like a spool of wire. He wore tight-fitting underwear to hold it in place. He avoided erotic thoughts and fantasies in public, for he bulged out like the Michelin Man whenever he did. He had occasionally considered getting it surgically shortened to, say, a more manageable 12 to 15 inches, but the idea of
shortening
one's cock seemed, well, bizarre.
Despite his gift, he had never been laid. He had never had the guts to make an advance toward a woman, fearing her reaction when things got intimate.
He even went so far to get into a freelance writing career so that he could work from home and not have to go to a 9-to-5 job.
However, that didn't mean he stayed homebound his whole life. One Friday night, he was in his neighborhood watering hole. He never went there looking to get lucky -- he actually avoided women whom he caught checking him out from a distance.
He had just finished his beer and had gone to the men's room. As he came out, a woman ambushed him by the door and asked, "Is it true that you don't like women?"
"Uhm, huh?" is all that he could say. Checking her out, she was really cute. She was a redhead with short straight hair and big brown eyes, and she was a little shorter than he was. She looked hot in a plain white blouse and tight jeans.
"I've been watching you," she went on, "and I can tell you're not gay."
"I, er, well," he continued his end of the dialog.
"So what's your story?" she persisted.
"I, uhm," he continued keeping the discourse alive.
"Listen, I'm an egalitarian girl. Why don't you buy me a drink, and I'll buy you one? Deal?"
"I guess so," he replied his first coherent statement to her.
"Good," she answered putting her arm around his waist, then shrieked, "Oh my!"
Every head at the bar turned at her outburst.
Feeling his face turn beet-red, he answered, "It's nothing. I -- uhm -- excuse me," and pulled away from her to leave.
"Oh no! You're not going anywhere until you tell me what that is!" She rubbed her hand up his back, under his arms, and down his chest. Despite his best efforts, he got so hard, and felt himself inflating like the Michelin Man. He knew that she felt it too.
"Oh! My! God!" she stepped back grabbing his arm.
"I'm -- I'm -- I'm sorry," he stammered and tried to pull away from her again.
"I don't think you have anything to be sorry for; except for hiding from me these past few weeks that I've seen you in here and you've ignored me."
"Please," he begged, "I don't mean to be rude, but I think I should go now."
"Fine with me!" she answered. Without releasing his arm, she reached for a coat on a table by the men's room door. "My coat's right here. Let's go! By the way, my name's Kim."
"Nice to meet you, Kim. I'm John." Resigned to his predicament, and even slightly elated to be going home with a woman for the first time in his life, he escorted Kim out of the bar to his car. He opened the door for her and helped her in, then got in the driver's side. John was hard the whole way home being that Kim couldn't keep her hands off him.
At one point, she said to him in the car, "Please understand, John, that I don't normally do this."
"Do what?" he asked.
"You know -- go home with guys I just met."
"Yeah, I understand," he answered.
"I'm sure you do," she replied with a grin.
Once up in his apartment, she really turned on the aggression. "Want me to show you around?" he asked.
"I just want you to show me what you got under there!" she answered still pawing and kneading his chest.
He led her into his bedroom, and took off his denim shirt. His undershirt looked like a flimsy tarp over a wound up coil of hose.
"Don't stop now!" she urged.
He pulled his undershirt up over his head and his long dong flopped down to his waist.
"Holy shit!" she screamed. "Let me see the rest! Please!"
Scared shitless for getting naked in front of this strange woman, he pulled his pants down and then his underpants. At that, his dong flopped and unwound to his feet.
