The Coming Of Doug Priaps 01

A View to a Spill

Some years ago I had dropped over to visit my friend Sharon, who worked in the office of a naturst group I belong to. The group runs a private beach on a secluded stretch of the Jersey Shore, generally for couples and the occasional single female. I hadn't been able to visit all last year and wanted to see how business was going this season.

Sharon was in a good mood that day, although she noted that things had been slow lately. There had been no new members that year, although current membership was holding steady and things seemed to be lively at the beach club house. She told me that she had only been able to visit perhaps three times so far this year, and we talked about scheduling a possible visit in the near future.

The office was dry and spartan, sparsely decorated with a few not-telling artifacts from the lifestyle. Sharon talked freely, flinging her large, sumptuous legs across her desk. I sat on a small file cabinet to her left, kicking my legs and shooting the breeze.

During a lull in the conversation, I stared idly out the window for a moment, so I happened to see the stranger before she did. He looked like a villain out of an '80s movie: in his late 20s or early 30s, overly tanned, overly buff, wearing an overly tight grey shirt and jeans and wraparound shades, maybe Mediterranean, with a jheri curl and a slight mullet. Even from two floors up I could tell by the way he crossed the street to the building that he was bound for the office. I reckoned I would finally get to see Sharon's famed temper in action, and prepared myself for a treat. I did get a show, but not at all the one I expected.

The stranger introduced himself as Doug something and made himself comfortable in the seat across from Sharon's desk, flashing a half-smile. I made a move to leave, but Sharon raised her eyebrows and I plopped back down. The stranger barely gave a nod in my direction, and focused entirely on Shar. He told her he was interested in joining the club and asked about the rates.

Sharon sighed and took off her glasses. A redhead in her mid-40, with only a few extra pounds on her voluptuous frame, I had nearly forgotten what a stunner she could be. She turned a mock-smoldering, pitying glance on the stranger and smiled, her teeth almost the same color as her lily-white skin.

"Look," she said. "I appreciate you coming down here, but you could've saved yourself the trouble. How much do you know about our group?"

The stranger just shrugged and said he heard it was a private naturist group with a beachfront clubhouse that was open almost year round.

Sharon nodded. "But if you would've called I would've gladly informed you that we rarely, if ever, accept single males into the group. The selection process is extremely intensive." She gave me a look and rolled her eyes slightly. I knew what she meant. My wife and I had been admitted only after a rigorous background check many years back. In my time there I had never known them to admit single men.

But the stranger seemed determined. He was silent for a moment, then asked who was on the selection committee and what it entailed. Sharon explained that she was the chairwoman and discussed the criteria with him, but again stressed that it was very rare that single men were allowed in on their own accord.

The stranger leaned forward, as if to whisper to her. Shar showed a strained smile and bent forward. What if he had something that could change her mind?

She laughed, and I wondered if the man's weird charm and good looks were getting to her.

"That depends," she said, "On what you're offering."

Well, the stranger said, he could certainly satisfy them with regard to all the financial aspects of membership, but in addition he had a very peculiar...bonus that he could provide, perhaps in the realm of aesthetic experience for club members, especially the females.

Sharon raised her eyebrows. "And what would that be? You're certainly an attractive man, Doug, but there are a number of those in our club. And if you're talking about...other elements of your anatomy, well there are many there who may beat you in that department, as well."

Doug just gave her a smirk. "I don't think so," he said.

Sharon giggled. "Fine then," she said. "Let's see it."

Doug turned slightly in my direction, but Sharon nodded. "Don't worry about him," she said. "He's a club member in good standing for many years. It's not going to be anything new to him, either." I chuckled.

With that, Doug stood up abruptly. He removed his shirt to show off a strong, not-overly-chiseled physique, with a bronzed, barrel chest. Then, in one swift motion, as if he had done it many times before, he pulled down his pants to reveal the most enormous penis I have ever seen.

Sharon gave a little sound as if all the air had gone out of her. I could tell by her expression that the huge appendage was indeed the largest she had ever seen, as well. Even I, a seasoned naturist who was not unfamiliar with male nudity, was taken aback. For a second I could feel my own testicles recoil, as if in terror.

"Well that...that's..." Sharon sputtered. "Wow." Seated across the desk, she was at eye-level with the thing. She seemed transfixed by it.

Doug was obviously not unused to being on display like this. He placed his hands nonchalantly on his hips.

The organ itself was obscene yet magnificent. It hung down well past the middle of his thigh. Flaccid, it was as wider around than your average broom handle, and even from where I was sitting i recognized that it was almost a foot long. It was dark, almost purple. The top of the shaft was wholly smooth, but the sides were riddled with a network of veins. It was circumcised, yet a giant knot of what remained of the foreskin almost covered the head, which in itself was the size of an orange. Two mighty testicles hung low behind it, each the size of a softball. Without exaggeration, it didn't look like it belonged on a human being, but rather a horse or donkey. It seemed to nod, as if breathing of its own accord.

"Is it real?" Sharon asked, still stunned. She ambled around the desk just to get a closer look.

"Touch it," Doug urged, his voice flat and emotionless.

Sharon gave Doug a look, then tentatively reached out an inspected it, first feeling beneath the shaft, then weighing a testicle in each hand. She nodded, exhaling. The prick bobbed lightly as she gave it a parting pinch.

"The ladies of the club will certainly get a kick out of this...thing," Sharon said with a grin. "and perhaps even some of the guys." She winked at me, and I winced.

Sharon's lips were parted slightly, jaw slack at the monster that hung before her. As the longtime chief of the naturist group, Sharon had seen many penises over the course of her years in the business, certainly even more than I, but this one beat them all. I looked down. Involuntarily, my own meagre erection had sprung up, as if it had a mind of its own, shocked into action by the site of this lovely woman entrance by a gigantic cock.

Sharon shook her head in amazement at the gargantuan dick presented to her. She wasn't wearing a bra; he high, tight breasts jiggled slightly beneath her blouse, and I realized that, despite the air conditioning, she was sweating profusely under her arms. Her pink nipples, fully erect, were visible through the blouse.

"That is one massive prick," she said, slapping it playfully.

"Ms. Porter, this just came--" said Esmerelda, opening the office door. She was the twenty-something Dominican girl who worked in the travel office downstairs, a regular visitor and Sharon's friend. As such, she was no stranger to our enterprise, though she might not be privy to all its little details. Ez stopped short. Her eyes registered shock, first at the situation in the room, then at the size of the grotesque cock jutting out before her.

Suddenly, as if possessed by some unseen spirit, it jerked and rose up, veins stretching, throbbing. It was as if someone was blowing up a balloon. The penis lurched to the right then stood up. Doug's face didn't change. He simply turned toward Esmerelda, his hands behind his back, the huge penis swinging before him, bouncing. From several feet away I could feel the heat from the thing. Even I was unprepared for the full erection, its grotesque length and girth. It was almost comical; I wondered whether Doug had ever had a woman who could fit the entire thing inside her. Certainly his stomach muscles must've been extraordinarily strong to bear up such a beast. Esmerelda's face blazed red, and she brought a hand up to her cheek.

"I'm...I'm...excuse me," Ez said, backing out and shutting the door. Doug and his vast prick turned back to Sharon, accidentally brushing up against her blouse where she sat on her desk. The protuberance seemed to point up at Sharon menacingly, as if it were waiting.

"Ah, just something to tell her friends," Sharon laughed.

I looked instinctively to the window, and realized that anyone down on the street across from us could, in theory, stop and look up and witness the carnality unfolding in that small room. As if against my will, I began absently stroking my penis through my pants. A wet spot appeared.

Sharon was perched on the front of her desk, and Doug's dick seemed to rest on her leg. She raised a hand to her freckled cheek, and then got up. "I need to know," she said, and began ransacking her drawers. She came up with an old ruler, and laid it atop the penis, starting where the shaft began in a tangle of coarse black hair. She marked where the ruler stopped on the head with her finger, then measured again.

"13 1/4 inches," she said breathlessly. "But it's arching, so it's probably even bigger than that. Freakish." She reluctantly removed her hand from Doug's tumescence and put the ruler on her desk. Then she immediately turned back to Doug. She got down on her knees, as if to give his prick a closer inspection.

I had seen Sharon in her role as the free-spirited life of the party, ruling over the merriment at the clubhouse, and as a keen businesswoman negotiating the club's interests. And I had often heard takes of her fearsome temper. But this was a side of her I'd never expected. Her stare was unmoving and electric. She gazed at Doug's towering erection with unconcealed animal lust. Anything could have happened. I had the sudden urge to leave, to give them privacy, but couldn't bring myself to look away.

"Can I--" Sharon began to ask, then unprompted gave the swollen head a cautious kiss. She nibbled daintily on the pendulous skin hanging from the glans, then nuzzled the shaft like a lover's neck. A tiny bead of come gleamed from the tip. Doug's face was unreadable, like stone.

Sharon ran her hands along its underside, then began kneading it. Finally she ran her tongue along the bottom, from its base to the knotted tip. It took a long time.

Doug looked down at her, the fixed half-smirk etched on his face.

"Good grief," she said, struggling. "I can barely..." She was right--the head wasn't going to fit in her mouth. With an extra effort, she finally slipped it inside. Her jaw was straining to encompass the enormity. Her cheeks briefly blew up like a trumpet player before the head popped out again with a slurp. Again and again she tried to force it into her mouth, but it was simply too large to stay in there for any length of time.

Through it all Doug remained impassive, his stone face hardly changing. I realized he hadn't even taken off his ridiculous sunglasses.

All the while, Sharon's hands worked up and down the massive shaft frenziedly. After what seemed like an age, the head turned an ominous beet red, then seemed to swell yet again, surging against its very skin. Then it turned the color of a candle apple.

"Come on," Sharon cooed to it softly, wrenching Doug's dick with two hands.

The first blast made an audible whoosh. It looked as if Sharon had been splashed with fresh cream. Rivulets of semen ran down her shocked features, dripping from her chin onto the floor. Some droplets splattered across the desk. The dick bobbed expectantly. Another blast came, then another; finally I stopped trying to count the number of ejaculations. Doug gave a slight, barely discernible grunt, but his expression didn't change. His hands were clasped behind his buttocks, as if supporting the weight of his giant cock. Sharon was covered in it. A skein of semen hung from the knob to her cheek. Her hair was matted down by jism.

I gave a groan. All the time I had been pinching and tugging my own fully erect member, twisting it through my pants. Glancing down I could see a sudden streak where I had come.

"Doug," Sharon gasped, spent, "You're in." She gripped the bulbous head in her hands, dripping and glistening with semen, and rubbed it numbly against her cheek.

And that was the first time I met Doug Priaps.