She never would have guessed that her college classmate was "big". He was of average height and average shoe size (for whatever that was worth), but when they met on the first day of the new semester, she was immediately drawn to him. He was charismatic and confident, funny and kind -- "big dick energy," she reasoned later -- but he gave no hint of what he was packing until they hooked up weeks later. His cock was only slightly longer than normal -- but he was thick. By far the thickest she'd ever seen.
She'd settled for using her hands that night, and afterward, she was intrigued. Surely, she was not his first. How did this work, exactly?
"A lot of girls talk a big game," he had said. "But when I'm sitting in front of them, well..." From experience, he knew what to expect: he'd disrobe, and the girl's eyes would widen. She'd get him off once -- maybe twice -- and then he'd never see her again.
She understood. The dream of a big cock and the reality of one were quite different, both for the wearer and his partner. The women he had dated before had innovated in their own way. Two hands. A mouth. One let him rub the underside of his cock against her cleft. But he'd never pushed inside. That took, he admitted, a lot of self-control.
Sitting before her, her partner was a 22-year-old virgin. Not because he was awkward or weird -- he simply hadn't met the right girl yet.
"I can take it," she told him. "Not tonight, but I will."
"Yeah, we'll get you relaxed, and make a date of It," he laughed sarcastically.
"I mean it. We'll work up to it. But I'll do it."
"Sure," he said. But he didn't quite believe her.
They kept meeting each other, and kept hooking up. He commented once that he'd never spent three nights with a girl -- most gave up before then -- and she was determined to beat that limit at least. In that time he learned to work his hand inside her, to give her the pleasure she needed herself. And she became more skilled at working her hands and lips around his shaft. A large cock presented some logistical challenges, and some navigational challenges, but she was a good sport.
After meeting at his place for several weeks, he finally slept over at hers. He came hard into her mouth that night, and afterward she lay her head against his bare chest. She played with his cock as it softened in her hands. She looked up at him.
"I want to try it," she said. "Next week."
He booked a hotel.
*
His plan -- for relaxation -- involved dinner, wine, and a bubble bath in hot tub. He wasn't particularly creative, she thought, but the setting was right and the evening was nice.
They found, as many others have, that a hot tub was actually not a great place to have sex. No friction. But it was a great place to relax and play with each other. She slipped into his lap and they let the jets of fluid massage their bodies. After about an hour, as the water began to cool, he pulled the drain.
They sat in the tub as the water drained around them, letting their skin dry naturally in the evening air. His shoulder cradled her head, and they lay cheek-to-cheek, except when she turned to kiss him. His left arm wandered over her body while his right hand played with her vulva. He had pressed one finger into her, and then two, letting her right hand guide his palm as it pressed against her clitoris. She used her own left hand to give it the finer attention she wanted.
She became acutely aware of his cock, rock hard, settled in the cleft of her ass. It was distracting, in a good way. She turned her head toward him and smiled deviously, lifting her lower body -- just barely -- to let him feel the friction of her ass against him, before sinking down into his lap again.
He was appreciative. He pushed his face toward hers and gave her a long deep kiss. His left hand gave her breast a squeeze while his right delivered more pressure inside her, against her the slickening front wall of her vagina.
Enough of that, she thought. She could only take so much. She was tempted to just ride the waves, enjoy his fingers, and then bring him to orgasm later with her hands and mouth. But that wasn't what she wanted tonight--tonight she would have all of him.
She broke away from the kiss, stood quickly, and half-pulled-half-dragged him backward toward the bedroom. She fell back onto the mattress and wriggled toward the head of the bed. He stumbled over onto her, his face just above hers.
He let her be his guide, and she wasted no time. With two hands she pointed his cock down at her pussy, lining him up for entry. He kissed her face and stroked her hair as he began to push forward. She closed her eyes and her hands met behind his lower back.
His hips rolled forward and pushed into her, parting the slick skin of her cleft. She felt her tissues stretch around him. She had the sense, once again, that he was definitely thicker than his two fingers. Much thicker.
"Oohhhh fuck...." she gasped. A piercing sensation radiated from her vagina throughout her lower abdomen. Not pain, per se -- but a flashing warning sign from her body. This was going to be thick -- was she sure? Briefly, she wasn't. Her right hand, as if by its own will, slipped from behind his back and pressed into rough hair of his lower abdomen.
He froze and pulled back just a bit, suspending himself just an inch deep into her. She opened her eyes and looked up, finding his forehead furrowed with concern.
