The Secret Life Of Darla Kensington

The state slogan of Kansas is "as big as you think."

And somewhere, nestled neatly in between the countless corn rows and vast Great Plains, there are a lot of big surprises.

The year, 1985, brought President Ronald Reagan's second term, the movie, 'A Chorus Line,' and the hit song "And We Danced," by a group called The Hooters.

Meanwhile, two country boys, Dylan and Buck, always on the lookout for a nice set of "hooters," were enjoying their own heaving helping of teenage hijinks.

But on May 12, 1985, they got a little bit more than they bargained for.

They saw - and experienced - something that would change the course of their sexual lives.

***********

"Man, I just feel so guilty though," Buck said. "Ms. Kensington is so sweet."

"Of course she's really sweet, but it's not like we're doing anything against her," Dylan rationalized. "We're just...copying a test."

The plan seemed full-proof. Ms. Kensington, the boys' English teacher, lived next door to Dylan. He noticed the pretty brunette was always grading papers out on her patio deck during the afternoon.

Given that it was a beautiful week of weather in Silver Lake, the boys fully expected her to do the same that splendid day.

"We wait for her to go inside, I hop the fence, run up onto the deck, copy the answers to the test, and 'shazam!' I'm outta there," he explained with brevity.

Buck took a deep breath.

"And you said she's usually gone for..."

"Dude, at least an hour, hour and a half," Buck replied. "Once she goes inside, she gets her dog, takes him for a walk around the block; I think they go all the way down Parks Place and around the block. Then she comes back out and finishes her work on the deck. It's like clockwork."

"How many times have you watched her?" Buck said with a laugh.

"Uh, more than I'm proud of," Dylan admitted.

The two had both discussed - at great length - many times before how cute they thought Ms. Kensington was. But the matter at hand called for their focus and attention.

"Dude, I haven't read a thing this entire semester. If we don't get the test beforehand, there's no way I'm passing," Dylan said.

***********

The next day came.

Kindred spirits after all, the two young men both were sporting Quiet Riot t-shirts and jeans.

That had little bearing. All they cared about was what Ms. K was wearing.

There she was, out on the deck as planned. Dylan and Buck, watching from one of the upstairs bedrooms next door, waited to make their move.

Each was trying to hog the binoculars, checking out Ms. K in her afternoon attire, which consisted of a lightweight, white t-shirt and a pair of satin, pink running shorts. She was barefoot and casual.

Leaning back in her chair, presumably preparing a test - the same test that the boys were greatly interested in, she put her feet up on the table, pushing herself back and forth in her chair, her knees extended upward.

"Ms. K has some nice thighs," Buck felt almost compelled to say.

"Yeah, she does," Dylan confirmed, as though what Buck said was an understatement. "They're big, but nice..."

"That's what I mean," Buck answered, handing the binoculars back to his friend. "Thick, full-bodied. Nice and supple..."

The boys cracked up as they found so many ways to describe Ms. K's amazing thighs. But the time had come.

Their teacher retreated into the house, leaving her work out on the patio table. Dylan had convinced Buck to go with him. That way, they were in it together.

"Shouldn't we wait, to make sure she's taking her dog for a walk?" Buck asked hesitantly.

"Dude, it's like clockwork," Dylan confided in his friend.

***********

The test was nowhere to be found.

"Fuck," Dylan said in a short, desperate gasp.

"Dude, let's just go," Buck insisted. "It's not here..."

Dylan walked up to the sliding glass doors, peering inside.

"There are papers on the kitchen table," Dylan stated. "The test has gotta be there with them..."

He slid the door back.

"Dude, that's breaking and entering," Buck told him in a scared, now desperate tone.

"I'm only going right there," Dylan replied, pointing his finger to demonstrate. "Just gonna copy down the answers and I'm out..."

Buck, feeling a strange allegiance to his buddy, followed him in, albeit just a few steps to the kitchen table.

Now, Dylan got reckless. He couldn't find the test, so he went into the family room.

Buck had started to calm down, though, hopeful there was nobody home.

He glanced at a huge bookshelf, each shelf filled to the max.

There were a few books by Douglas Adams, John Irving, and one curious book entitled "Temple's BIGGEST Secrets" by Phyllis Dorshten. There was also a collection of short stories by Angela Carter.

"Man, we gotta go," Buck said, as Dylan rifled through a stack of papers with no success.

Then, suddenly, the boys heard something.

Footsteps.

From below.

They grew louder.

The boys were in a panic. The sliding glass doors - their exit - were too far away now. Instead, they jumped into the nearby closet. Luckily, there was plenty of room.

"I am going to fucking kill you," Buck whispered angrily to his friend. "What the hell are we gonna do?"

***********

The boys stared out into the family room, in between the small slits in the white, wooden closet doors.

They heard the clickety-clock of footsteps approaching, and the door to the basement swung open.

There was Ms. Kensington. She was most assuredly not taking her dog for a walk.

Instead, she was dressed rather...differently.

Dylan and Buck audibly gasped.

Ms. Kensington had on knee-high black boots and a sexy, sleek, one-piece black leotard. Her thighs and legs were bare.

"Holy shit, dude," Dylan whispered, almost a bit too loud.

Luckily, Ms. Kensington turned on the radio, indirectly drowning out any small sound created by the two brash 18-year-olds hiding in the closet.

Ms. K walked about the family room with authority, hands on her hips.

With her back to the boys, she lightly slapped her ass a few times, showing off, even though she thought she was alone.

"Ms. K has a big ass," Dylan whispered.

"Sssssssshhhhhhhhh," Buck pleaded, begging his friend to keep quiet.

Ms. K - and her big, sexy ass - sauntered closer to the basement door.

"Are you coming?" she shouted down the steps. "I'm not gonna wait here all day..."

The boys wondered who she was talking to, but they didn't have to wait for long to get the answer.

A man came up out of the basement, a big man. Roughly 240 pounds they guessed, well-built. And wearing only a speedo.

Ms. Kensington giggled.

"Glad to be out of your cage for a bit?" she asked him.

"Very glad, Goddess Darla. Thank you," he said in between hurried, hectic breaths.

"Goddess Darla?" Buck questioned aloud. Now it was him making a bit of noise.

"How do you like the underwear I bought you?" Ms. Kensington kidded her friend.

"Very tight-fitting," he answered.

She giggled.

"Dude," Dylan whispered to Buck, "tomorrow's test is gonna be on The Battle of the Bulge..."

Buck had to chuckle. The man's crotch bulge was obscene, to the point of hilarity.

Ms. K led him over to the middle of the family room, having him dance to Duran Duran's 'Wild Boys,' which now blared on the radio.

"What the fuck is happening?!" Dylan whispered to his buddy, the two unable to believe the situation they got themselves into.

"I am going to fucking kill you. That's all I have to say," Buck replied.

Ms. K cheered the man on and laughed, clapping at his wild, rhythmic movements. The song was soon over, and the station went to commercial.

Ms. K turned the radio back down and decided to get down to business.

"Alright, buster, take 'em off," she instructed.

The tight-fitting underwear was discarded, and out flopped a rather sizeable penis, the proportions of which impressed even the young men peering through the closet doors.

"Jeeeeeezus Christ, dude," Buck recoiled.

Dylan laughed at his friend's response.

"Come over to me, slave," Ms. K further instructed.

Dylan and Buck's eyes widened, their hearts racing.

The slave walked with frantic steps.

The calmest one in the room - or closet - seemed to be Ms. K, totally unfazed by the sudden onslaught of full-frontal male nudity.

She calmly walked over to the radio, put in a cassette tape, and soon the sounds of Olivia Newton John's 'Let's Get Physical,' sounded through the entire house.

"C'mon, time for your daily dose of exercise," Ms. K informed her slave, with tremendous enthusiasm.

Ms. K hopped about, jumping and high-fiving the air. Her rather large breasts bounced about, but supported by her bra and covered up by her leotard.

The slave had no such luxury.

Certain parts of his anatomy bounced up and down, right out in the open.

"There ya go," Ms. K cheered on. "Now you're getting into it..."

They danced for three, four, maybe five minutes, for the entirety of the 1981 classic.

"I can't even process what's happening right now," Buck said in a deadpan sort of tone.

When the song was over, Ms. K acted perfectly natural, as though they had simply finished a hard workout.

Both Dylan and Buck were gasping for air themselves. They stared at Ms. K's sexy thighs, so big and so supple, even lightly-tanned from the week's worth of spring sunshine.

Another song came onto the radio, and Ms. K and her slave returned to their workout.

This is where Dylan and Buck, God bless their hearts, almost lost it.

"C'mon, I wanna see ya swing those hips," Ms. K demanded of her slave.

He did so, sort of hesitantly at first. But Ms. K's persistent instruction made him get more into it in a heartbeat.

Making the slave swing his hips in affect caused something else to swing about, much to the delight of the authoritative woman in black.

For the first time all afternoon, she broke character. And sharp, snappy instruction gave way to giggles and full-throated laughter.

The slave's penis, although completely flaccid, displayed its tremendous length by wind milling about in long, circular movements.

Ms. K just took a seat and enjoyed the display.

"That guy's got a huge frickin dork, dude," Dylan felt compelled to remark.

"No shit, Sherlock," was Buck's response.

The slave was still wind milling, doing his best to keep his goddess entertained.

"I love when it goes all the way around," she noted, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

Her responses were met with greater enthusiasm by her subject.

His unusually large dick swung about haphazardly between his legs.

She cheered him on, slapping her thighs: "See if you can do it consecutively...Oh my God (laugh), do it three times in a row, four, five! Round and round it goes (laugh)..."

He did it so many times, she lost count. Her laughter was incessant.

"I can't even process what's happening right now," Buck repeated.

In fact, both young men had trouble processing what was happening. Mainly because, they were loving it. And they weren't sure why. Sure, there was no female nudity whatsoever, just male nudity. But for some reason, they had never been more turned on.

Watching the darling Ms. Kensington boss around this big-dicked male slave awoke things in them they didn't know were there.

When the exercise was over, things only got more interesting.

"You have a really big schlong," Ms. K said in such a factual, complimentary, and down-to-Earth, matter-of-fact sort of way.

"Thank you, Goddess," he said. "I don't have a lot of things going for me but at least I have this..."

He swiveled his hips again, making it swing gently from side to side.

She laughed.

"It's so big and floppy," she raved. "When you were dancing, it was flopping up way past your belly button..."

She said it so calmly and so directly.

"Yeah..." was all he could manage in response.

"Trish told me you were into BPH, and I kinda looked at her...I mean, I've heard of SPH - Small Penis Humiliation, when guys with a small penis want you to tease them for being small..."

"Well it's the same thing, only at the opposite end of the spectrum," he explained. "I like when women make fun of - "

"How big it is," she finished for him. "I'll say..."

He just stood there, thrusting his midsection out ever so slightly to further emphasize his big, hefty package. She studied it, up and down.

"How big is it soft?" Ms. K inquired.

"Uh..."

"Oh don't tell me you've never measured that thing," she belted out. "Any guy with, with a schlong that size is gonna measure..."

"Uh..." he continued to stammer.

"Oh, oh, oh, that's right. Trish told me you like to BE measured," Ms. K said, crossing her legs. "Guess that would ruin the surprise if you started rattling off figures."

She stared again. She didn't mind the long, awkward pauses in conversation because it allowed her more time to look, to gaze upon the biggest penis she'd ever seen.

"Flop it up, make it hit your stomach," she laughed.

He did so without complaint. Over and over again.

"That is amazing," she clapped, again the hearty laughter returning.

Dylan and Buck had to laugh themselves.

"Oh my God, your balls," she observed. "Your balls are huge too..."

"Yeah, about the size of chicken eggs," he replied casually.

"Hold up...hold your dick - up and out of the way," she instructed with a laugh.

He obliged, allowing Ms. K to look at, investigate and even weigh in her hands his rather large set of nuts.

"I guess they're in proportion to your penis," she rationalized, rolling his balls around in her hand until she fully exhausted her curiosity.

"You can let go of your dick," she said ever so casually.

Watching this display and listening to every bit of intimate dialogue had its effect on the two young men hiding nearby.

"I think I just came in my pants, dude," Dylan said.

"I don't need to know that," was Buck's retort.

"No, dude, I think I really just shot off in my pants," Dylan insisted.

"I don't need to know that!" Buck fired back, albeit in an enraged whisper.

"Okay, so...," Ms. K began to say, all three men present hanging on her every word.

"I guess the only thing left is, to see you fully extended," she said aloud. "You've been such a good slave, staying nice and 'relaxed' for me.

"But now, I wanna see what kind of monster that thing grows into," she said in a bawdy, loveable fashion.

Right before her eyes, the slave's humongous peen grew from a fat, dangling participle to an engorged, hardened pole.

Without any stimulation from his hands, the slave's prick grew and grew and grew, extending outward, running perpendicular to the floor beneath.

Ms. K could only laugh.

"Oh, brother," she marveled, hands on her cheeks.

Even when the slave's giant dick had met its full potential, it still throbbed and flexed, bouncing up and down in the air.

"Wah-ha-how," Ms. K marveled, standing alongside him, saying the word 'wow' in such a long, drawn-out fashion.

"That is something else. I've never seen one that big before," she continued. "And look at it bouncing. It's like it's so happy to see me..."

"What the fuck, dude," Buck said to his buddy.

"A shower and a grower," Dylan responded with amusement, as if the two were casually watching a porno at home.

***********

Ms. K's reaction to the slave's giant erection was yet another curveball thrown at the boys.

She swatted it, over and over again.

"You like having your dick slapped?" she asked the slave gently.

"Yes, Goddess Darla," he told her.

Seeing the affect she had on him - his dick bouncing around violently, Ms. K increased the tempo and the speed of her hits.

She went from light taps to now open-handed slaps, laughing with delight as she watched his huge boner boomerang all over the place.

He sometimes groaned after a particularly hard slap, but she didn't seem to care.

"Trish said you were a lot of fun," she told him.

Ms. K continued to slap the slave's dick around for 15, maybe 20 minutes.

To the point where pre-come glistened from the tip.

"Somebody's ready to come, I think," she said a sing-song fashion.

"Yes, Goddess Darla," he replied.

"Goddess Darla," Buck repeated with a laugh again.

Goddess Darla brought the slave over to the center of the room. She laid a trash bag down on the floor underneath him.

"This is frickin wild, dude," Buck said.

"Trish said you can do the thing where you don't even use your hands," Ms. K said excitedly, biting down on one of her fingernails.

"You want me to do that?" he inquired.

"Just come already," she persisted.

Ms. K backed up, all the way to the closet, making the boys a bit nervous, but that was quickly erased when Ms. K bent over, her big ass practically right in their faces.

Dylan quietly fantasized about bending over and kissing each big, luscious ass cheek.

"I'm looking at it from a different perspective," she teased her friend. "Your schlong looks even bigger from below (laugh)..."

The slave's erection flexed in the air, up and down. Ms. K anticipated what should be a rather substantial burst of ejaculate.

He thrust his hips, seemingly humping the air a bit. Ms. K grew ever so slightly impatient.

"Come on, already," she demanded.

Without any further delay, the slave's huge prick released the first of many big bursts, thick ropes of semen that drenched the covered-up floor below.

"Oh wow," Ms. K said, this time a bit more restrained with her demeanor, as if proud and confident in the reaction that she had created - the slave's massive burst was her doing, her achievement.

One after another came the ropes, drenching the bag below and creating a wonderful, light splashing sound when each seismic release hit the plastic. One surpassed the bag and hit the carpet, but Ms. K didn't seem to mind.

Just about when one would think this display should be over, it continued.

"Eight? Nine (laugh)?" Ms. K said, now counting the number of thick ropes that rocketed through the air.

"AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH," the slave moaned. "I think I'm done, Goddess..."

"Sheesh. That was a lot of come," she said in that matter-of-fact sort of tone again, investigating the plastic below.

"Look at all that...Is that normal for you?"

"Yeah. Well, you get me terrifically excited," he admitted.

"I guess so," she revealed.

She went over and gave her 'slave' a warm embrace.

"That was amazing," she said.

"Glad Trish could get us two together," he said, his big, hulking figure contrasting greatly with how he fully and wholeheartedly submitted to this gorgeous, 25-year-old school teacher.

"Trish said you wanted to have fun...with a 'big one,'" he laughed.

"Well I had never seen, like you said, 'a big one,'" she replied. "Trish didn't specify how big you were, just that you had quite a uh...quite a Duesenberg."

He chuckled.

"God, look, even diminished, you're really big," she said, giving his tool one more shake, feeling how slick it was.

"Oops, some more come just flew off your dick," she laughed, with him following suit.

She had him clean up 'his mess,' and get the family room back to its perfect state.

"You wanna watch T.V.?" she gladly announced.

"Sure," he said.

And the two sat down, taking in the 6 o'clock news. The slave remained completely nude - why would there be any reason for him to get dressed?

He also made numerous trips to the kitchen, the sight of his long, pendulous penis not lost on the darling Ms. Kensington.

But for the most part, the two just had casual conversation, his nudity not even really acknowledged, like it was perfectly acceptable.