"Harry, look at this."
I looked down at her phone and I saw an image of a woman holding two dicks. One was definitely smallish, probably below average despite seeming to be very hard. Like me.
The other was massive. Big, thick, hefty. By this one woman holding a dick in each hand, it was easy to see the comparison in size between this two dicks.
I looked up into her heavily-lidded, lust-filled eyes.
"There's more. Swipe left," she ordered me.
I did and I was now looking at yet another, obviously different woman, holding two different, but similarly different sized cocks. Again and again, each time I scrolled left, there would be yet another small cock in a different woman's hand with another comparatively large cock in her other one.
I kept going and going and the same thing over and over, until suddenly I came to one that was quite different.
In this one, a gorgeous, thin pale-skinned woman wearing a transparent laced body stocking was holding an average-sized erect white dick in her left and in her right hand she held this massive, long black cock. It was easily twice as thick and appeared to be almost three times as long as the white dick. A graphic on it said "neversatisfiedxo".
I looked up at my wife's face only to find her flushed and biting her lip. She was majorly aroused. She nodded back to the phone.
"Oh, you like that one too I see."
I nodded back as I returned my gaze to just as stark a comparison as I've ever seen.
Then, she leaned in a whispered in my ear, "Honey, was there any particular reason you picked my new friend to be black?"
(note: her "new friend" is how we'd recently begun referring to her dildo)
My mouth was completely dry. I couldn't answer her. It was absolutely an intentional choice I had made when I ordered it, one I immediately had regretted for fear it was a wrong one, something that might ruin the hoped for appreciation of the gift. But until now, that aspect of the toy had never been commented on.
"I honestly don't know," I replied. I was both admitting indirectly that I had made an intentional but that I couldn't explain why I made that choice.
Perhaps in desperation to avoid a topic that suddenly felt like the third rail in our sex talk, perhaps because it was a question that had been on the tip of my tongue since this exploration had begun, but I next uttered a question to her that was going to open a whole new, different can of worms.
"So how big was your biggest dick?"
Her face shot quickly away from looking at the photo on her phone to my face, searching my expression for I suspect some clue as to what was behind the sudden shift in topic.
"Do you really want the answer to that, Harry?"
I nodded.
Without answering, she took the phone and began shifting through the photos. She found the one she was looking for and handed me back her phone.
I was looking at yet another cock comparison photo. I later found out that these photos we had been looking at were all actually in her own photo gallery. She had saved them to her phone. They weren't just in some only gallery.
This new image (it wasn't one I had already looked at, which spoke to the sheer number of cock comparison images she had saved) showed yet again a woman holding two erect penises. It wasn't lost on me that the woman in the photo had a passing resemblance, mostly in body type and cute cheeks, to Maggie.
In her left hand was the noticeably smaller dick, similar in looks and size to my own. In her right hand, was this incomprehensibly thick that was easily twice as long as the other dick in the photo. It wasn't as long as the black cock in the last photo, but the girth on this thing was impressive.
"What? This one?"
She nodded, "Yeah, that's my best guess from my recollection."
"Jesus."
"Yeah," she replied, simply acknowledging my astonishment.
"Who was it?"
"What's that?" she asked. I couldn't tell if she was genuinely distracted by the photo or if she was stalling.
"Who was your lover with the cock like that one?" I said, using the visual she had provided and pointing to the big cock in the photo.
She swallowed hard.
"Babe, to answer that I'll have to tell a story about my past that I'm honestly ashamed about. So ashamed, it's one I truly believed I'd never tell you. I have so much trust and faith in you, in our love, I know I can tell it to you now. But understand it will alter some of the things we've been exploring."
"Wow. That's quite the buildup, Mags."
"I know. Sorry. I was laying it on a bit thick, wasn't I? But seriously, it is a big deal to me that I feel comfortable enough with our love to finally tell you."
We sat down on our couch together and she began her story:
(Switching to her perspective for the story as it makes sense to)
I had been dating my boyfriend Dean since the spring of my junior year in high school. Dean was a year older and I'm embarrassed to say I largely picked the college I attended so that I could be with him. Senior year, being stuck in high school while he went ahead to college was a rough one.
We had been having sex since the summer before he left for college. I didn't want him going away and being seduced by some college slut. I wanted him to know what he'd be giving up if he left me.
Dean was on the college lacrosse team. He'd actually been good enough in high school to get a scholarship for the sport. He was a fit guy, but lacrosse fit. Tallish and quick. Not burly, like a football jock. But Dean's dick didn't quite match his physique. He wasn't a big guy down there. For my pretty inexperienced, tiny body that was all well and good. I hardly knew any better and he fit me just fine.
It was one night my sophomore year that we had been partying late with a lot of his lacrosse teammates, which was pretty common in those days. Many of them had girlfriends too, some of whom I got along pretty good with. A few of them, the girlfriends I liked, got real flirty when drunk and even started different levels of flashing the other teammates, guys other than their own boyfriends. This became a frequent event at these parties, girls even getting awarded beers or cheers for their show. We're talking mostly just tits and ass. Early on, they'd be bra or panty covered. But as things progressed, they became more likely to be bare than not. There definitely was a bit of an arms race going on.
Thankfully, there wasn't much pressure from either the guys or the other girls to participate if you didn't want to. I tended to be one of the ones who chose not to. To be honest, I always felt my tits were too small and my ass was too big in comparison to each other and certainly to some of the well-built girls who were actively participating.
Dean thankfully wasn't the least bit pushy about me doing it and was relatively chill about any reactions to the girls who did flash. I think this was helped by the fact that as soon as the girls started flashing bare titties and asses, some of the guys responded by flashing their junk.
I should also mention here Dean's nickname on the team- "PeeWee". He took it in stride, he was a leader on the team and the guys truly did love him, but it is more obvious now that it was a reference to his relatively small dick.
This one night most of the couples had left the party as it had gotten much later than we generally had stayed, but this one was at our house, so we hadn't retired quite yet. Big Jim, as he was known, was the only guy still around that wasn't passed out. Big Jim was the guy who name was absolutely not ironic. If there was a group and you had a guy they called "Ox" or "Bull" or "Moose", Big Jim was that guy to the team. He was huge, a real brickhouse. He seemed out of place on a lacrosse field due to his size, but he was surprisingly fast and dominated on defense for the team.
Big Jim adored Dean. Dean was a really, really nice guy and was very supportive of his friends. You got the impression that Big Jim was not well treated throughout most of his live, likely picked on for being nearly six foot and wide as a doorway in like sixth grade. With this team, he used his skills to earn a well-deserved place as a star and no one was a bigger supporter of his than Dean.
I should also mention Big Jim was not a good looking guy at all. And despite his athletic skills and plenty of exercise, he has quite the big gut for a college kid. He was easily 300 pounds.
So here we were, the three of us as the last folks standing and I was really ready for bed. I had only drank a bit over the long night, so I was at best loosened and nowhere near drunk. I was about to ask Dean to take me to bed, when he said something I was expecting.
"MagPie, you should do Big Jim a great favor and flash him your pretty little titties. He played amazing for us today."
To say I was shocked was an understatement. I hadn't watched Dean drink a whole lot that night, so my first thought that he was so drunk he didn't know what he was saying. I looked at him and then at Big Jim. The big guy had the sweetest puppy dog eyes I had ever seen. He didn't have a girlfriend and I had no doubt he was likely jealous of his teammates with their hot little girlfriends. I later wondered if this had been a setup, planned in advanced for this night or some night where the elements fell into place.
"Excuse me?" I responded to this request from left field.
