I run a highly successful women's fashion boutique in Boston. Each summer, I close the store for a week and treat the highest performing girls to a vacation on Nantucket, renting a big house and inviting everyone's husbands and/or significant others.
During the recent year, a new associate had come to work for me. She was a pretty little blonde, recently graduated from a small upstate college with a design degree, eager to launch her career in the world of high fashion. Karin was a real looker, but honestly not the sharpest tack in the box. She was the typical dopey blonde, making silly mistakes at work, always running her mouth, and often lost in her own little daydream world.
Her saving grace was her supermodel thin body that looked spectacular in our high-end fashion line. She could model our clothes, talk up our products, and drive men customers bonkers with her fantastic figure. Needless to say, she was one of my leading salesgirls.
But my motivation for inviting her along on this little junket was not completely altruistic.
As I mentioned earlier, she talks incessantly, and one of her favorite topics is her boyfriend. I have met Todd on several occasions, and he makes Karin look like a Rhodes scholar. He is tall, maybe 6'3" and rail thin, a mop of dark hair sitting atop a constant 5 o'clock shadow. He has a perpetual lost expression on his face and though he is a trained engineer, he spends most of his time looking for work or watching soap operas.
I once made the mistake of asking Karin what she saw in this loser, not realizing the Pandora's box of emotion I would unleash.
"Todd may not look like all that much to you two," she replied, Jane, my Assistant Store Manager also in on the conversation, "But he has special talents that you wouldn't believe."
"Try me," Jane challenged.
"Well," Karin began, "Have you ever noticed how big his hands are? And his feet? And his Adams apple?"
"Where are you going with all this?" Jane enquired, but I could plainly see her angle.
"You see," Karin sighed, "Todd has the biggest, most spectacular wanker." As she said this a sparkle gleamed in her dark eyes, her hands outstretched, her palms nearly a foot apart as she gave the classic fishermen's 'it was this big' gesture.
"Oh that's gross," Jane remarked. "No way it's that big."
"Believe me," Karin whistled, "And damn does he know how to use it."
"What's so special about a big penis?" Jane queried.
"Spoken like a deprived woman," Karin giggled, giving me a knowing wink. "Trust me; try it, you will like it."
Ever since that conversation, I had been unable to get the picture of Todd's big dick out of my head. I'm not a nymphomaniac. I'm married to a great guy, a successful lawyer who is drop dead gorgeous, but visions of Todd's wanker repeatedly invaded my day-to-day life.
When Karin would arrive at work, her hair slightly disheveled and a goofy grin on her face, I immediately pictured Todd's big dick as the source of that far-off expression. When he met Karin for lunch at the store, I caught myself hiding behind the racks, my eyes glued to his crotch in hopes of sighting evidence of his wicked manhood. Much against my better judgment, I was becoming deeply infatuated with Todd's infamous dick.
Offline, I had discussed our conversation further with Jane. "So how big do you think his dick really is?"
"I don't know, Lisa," she replied, "But aren't most guys about five or six inches. My husband is about six, and he does alright."
After a few glasses of wine one night, my curiosity got the better of me, "Paul, exactly how long is your penis?"
"One way to find out," he chuckled. Emerging from his study with a ruler in hand, he unzipped his trousers, presenting his flaccid tool. "Hard or soft?" he joked.
Dropping to my knees, I took the ruler and measured, "3.5 inches soft," I announced. "But I think we can do better than that."
I tend to be pretty conservative about sex; straight missionary stuff in the bedroom with the light out. But the wine and fantasies of Todd's dick had me feeling amorous. Much to Paul's surprise, I opened my mouth, inserting his slowly hardening penis. I don't really like to give blowjobs, usually saving them for special occasions like birthdays or as reward for a nice present, you know like a diamond tennis bracelet or a new car.
"Wow," Paul exclaimed, "What has come over you?" as I eagerly sucked his weenie.
Silently, I bent to my task with clinical precision, my goal to coax the biggest boner yet from my handsome husband. After several minutes, I withdrew his penis from my mouth and ran the ruler along the topside of his hard erection, "6.5 inches hard," I proudly concluded.
"What's this all about?" Paul demanded again.
"Oh nothing honey," I replied. "One of the girls at work was reading an article in a magazine about penises, and it got us started on the subject." I lied.
"Well how do I stack up?" he asked.
"Above average. Bigger than all my friends," I lied again.
"So what do I do with this erection now?" he asked wryly.
Taking him by the hand, I led Paul into the bedroom, switching off the lights and pulling a condom from the bedside table before lying back on the bed, "Put this on and make love to me."
Five minutes later it was over, my thoughts returning to Karin's boyfriend's dick. 'Try it, you'll like it' she had said. Indeed, I thought, a mischievous plan taking shape in my head.
That plan was culminating in our annual summer trip to Nantucket. All spring I had been setting the scene. Much against Paul's wishes, I had repeatedly asked Karin and Todd over to our house for dinner, trying to build a warm friendship. At first, Paul was appalled.
"We don't have anything in common with these two kids," he shouted.
But Karin slowly worked her magic on Paul. From what she had said to the girls at the store, I knew she found Paul attractive. She flirted shamelessly with him, laughing at his jokes and taking interest in his sports car collection.
While Paul would take her for a spin in one of his convertibles or show her around his garage, Todd would sit on the couch, drinking beer and watching baseball on TV. Most attempts at conversation were met with stoic grunts; "yea", "I guess", "sometimes", not much of a talker was old Todd.
Unfortunately, he wore very loose clothing, affording almost no opportunity to ogle his reportedly huge package. After several beers, he would stumble toward the toilet to relieve himself. If Paul and Karin were out, I would camp outside the bathroom door, listening to the raging river of pee he unleashed on the bowl, trying to picture the penis capable of such a Niagara Falls like torrent.
Once, after several beers, Todd failed to completely close the bathroom door as he relieved himself. Peering through the open crack, I caught a fleeting glimpse of his private parts in the dressing mirror. My jaw dropped open and I pinched myself; was I hallucinating? Even soft, it was considerably larger that Paul's erect penis. It hung lewdly from his body, limp and heavy, his foreskin still intact, a mass of wiry hair jutting from his pelvis.
The show was brief as he shook it dry and zipped back up, but visions of his hairy monster brought me to a euphoric orgasm as I later masturbated in my bathroom. I rarely masturbate, considering it dirty and perverted, but thoughts of Todd's big tool had awakened a primitive sexual desire deep inside me. My self-diddle sessions became more frequent and intense.
As the Nantucket trip neared, I was pleased to see my plan taking shape. Karin and Paul were getting along famously. I could tell he was ecstatic about the attention a cute young fashion model was piling upon him. She was bragging at work about the plans Paul was making to introduce her to several of his clothing designer clients.
Todd and I had fashioned a friendly relationship; I kept the fridge stocked with beer and the TV tuned to ESPN. In return, he had opened up a little to me. I am in my early thirties, maybe 10 years older than Todd. I work out regularly and have a well-toned body. My breasts are a little large by today's fashion standards, but they are in fine proportion to my curvaceous figure. I have long curly brunette hair, bright green eyes, and big, full lips.
When Todd and Karin came over, I had taken to wearing my bikini around the house, "Oh, I was just out sunning myself," or "I was working in the garden" my typical excuses.
Karin was so infatuated with Paul and his expensive toys, she didn't even notice. Todd on the other hand, was clearly appreciative of my wardrobe. As I shuffled around the house, preparing a meal or grabbing Todd a beer, I noticed the furtive glances he shot my direction, often followed by a gentle squeeze of his trousered package or a quick repositioning of his heavy snake.
I knew he and Karin were engaged to be married, and she continued to brag at work about her incredible sex life. My goal was not to break-up the happy couple, just to get a few days alone with Todd's impressive penis. I wanted to experience what Karin was enjoying and make my own mind up about the benefits of a big dick. My marriage was strong enough to overcome a little indiscretion, especially if I could coax my unwitting husband into a similar sexual faux paus.
As we arrived on the island, six couples in all, Paul had a special surprise for Karin.
"I have a meeting set-up for you with Ralph Lauren when we get back to Boston," he announced. I hugged Karin, happy to share the joy of her first big break. After all I had instrumented this little offensive, and know I was hoping to bask in its final glory.
"We should spend some time together this week going over some sketches and formulating a game plan for the meeting," Paul suggested.
