Clive Beckett leaned back on his thighs and slowly withdrew his fire-hose cock from Linda's sore, reddened vagina and watched her recover as the combination of her orgasm juices and his dripped slowly down her crevice to the bed sheets below her tight, sweet ass. There was always a recovery period for women after being with Clive. Slowly, she slid her feet down the sheets until her legs lay flat on the bed. Even more slowly, she tried to open her eyes, but her senses were still circling the airport. When she did open them, Clive could only see the whites of her eyes briefly until her pupils centered and her clearness of vision returned. Her body tingled all over, radiating from her fire down below the closely trimmed V of her pubic bush and she didn't want it to stop, but it had begun to subside. She raised her right forearm to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. All she could say was, "Wow", but it wasn't in a loud voice. It was more of a whisper. Her toes slowly uncurled and the tension in her thighs released as she further relaxed rotating her ankles. But that was a few years after this story begins.
Clive Beckett wasn't a ladies' man, smooth operator or a pick-'em-up easy kind of guy. In fact, most women might easily pass-by him on the street. There was, however, a type of girl who did wanted to meet Clive. He stood six-foot, three-inches tall, had black hair, pale white skin and was rather plain in his thin, lanky appearance. The stainless-steel nose ring, the stud piercing his left nipple and his diamond left earring separated him distinctly from other men. It wasn't until his shirt came off at the basketball court in Sherman Park that you'd notice his red dragon tattoo incorporating the nipple stud in the dragon's design. This is how the guys described Clive as in, 'Yeah, that's the guy'. He was a pretty good ball player, but he had few if any, real male friends - just a few hangers-on.
Clive had pretty much kept to himself. Either that or the other guys just avoided him. To put it delicately, Clive had a hugely long penis that hung straight down below the left leg of his boxer shorts and there was nothing he could do to hide it. The other guys were envious, but Clive knew it already to be a curse. It was damned uncomfortable many times. Nobody talked about it while he was in the room. The guys were decent and friendly to him, but knowing what they knew, didn't want to appear homo or phobic about knowing. It was tough all around because of the obvious sexual stigma. Were you friendly with Clive because he was a decent guy or were you friendly because of his huge cock?
Because he was tall and well-coordinated, he had earned a spot on the varsity basketball team primarily because of his height and abilities, but his dick would never fit inside any jock strap, so he supported his balls as best he could and let his man-meat just dangle freely. He was satisfied that the uniforms were the longer leg, baggy styles these days. Perhaps he could hide his affliction as he ran down the court, made jump shots or grabbed for rebounds and sometimes wrestled for control of the ball during the game. Most girls in college wanted to date the Lettermen in sports, but they dated just to be seen with the popular players, not really to pursue relationships. It was a popularity contest among the other girls. Clive thought college girls were silly, and he was in his final semester and looking forward to attracting a possible professional power-forward position.
Linda had not been his virgin first girl - not by a long shot. His days of one-night stands with some of the hottest girls started long before. Marcia was his virgin first. They were both barely just eighteen. She liked Clive because he was tall and she could wear high heels at dances, but that wasn't the only reason. He seemed nice, friendly and easy to talk to when he talked at all. More than that, she was curious about all that odd movement in the front of his basketball uniform shorts when he played. Was it from the extra loose material or something else? Her hormones were working overtime.
The day after the homecoming dance was the picnic, usually held in a state park about an hour away outside of town. The other students got their friends together, pooled their resources and headed out to make memories. Clive and Marcia were pretty much on their own, but Marcia had wanted it that way. She'd saved money from her part time job at the Fashion Shoppe. Clive's parents arranged for anything optional he needed so he could concentrate on his college studies and sports. They arrived at the park earlier than the others and located a suitable spot with a nice picnic table in a secluded area so they could be alone. The day had been chilly up until now, but soon turned too warm for long pants and sloppy, comfortable sweatshirts. As Marcia set-up the picnic table for their feast, Clive set-up the grill with charcoal briquettes and doused it with lighting fluid. Allowing a moment for the fluid to soak in to the charcoal, he then tossed a match into the pile setting the charcoal slowly and safely on fire. Things were looking good but it is was getting hot - both near the grill and as the sun rose higher in the sky.
"Marcia, I'm going over to the restrooms and change into some cooler clothes. I'll just take my bag over and be back in a quick moment."
"That's a good idea, Clive, but do you think I could go change first? I'd rather you watch the charcoal while it's still in flames here in case something awful would happen - in the interest of fire safety, you know? We wouldn't want Smokey the Bear coming down on us." She grinned.
"Oh, yeah. Good idea, Marcia. What was I thinking? Ladies first."
Marcia trotted off with her little travel bag. Clive watched the fire and attached the clips to the vinyl tablecloth so the wind wouldn't catch it and wipe-out their lunch preparations already on the table. He grabbed his bag and took off his sweatshirt and replaced it with a soft, old, nearly worn-out university Phys. Ed. Dept. t-shirt from school. He quickly sniffed his armpits to be sure his morning shower was still relatively fresh, and his antiperspirant was working.
Marcia was a nice girl. She was pretty, tallish for a girl, very smart and very sexy. She played varsity volleyball and had applied for several scholarships at a few universities before taking the best offer. In her mind, she and Clive could become a sports power couple since they both decided to attend the same college. Clive was a nice guy, seemingly quiet and shy, a decent student and great power forward on the basketball team. She brought up the subject of future goals, but they were interrupted and never got back on the subject.
They were both pretty good dancers... on the slow songs. That's when Marcia felt - or thought she felt - Clive's hidden secret as they pressed their warm bodies together in the closeness of dancing. She thought to herself, "Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?" and smiled quietly to herself. She loved that bawdy Mae West from those old black & white comedy movies from the 1930's and 1940's. The university sometimes held classic film symposiums in a lecture hall.
The picnic table looked pretty good. Clive rearranged the place settings so that he and Marcia were sitting next to each other instead of across from each other. Marcia could change it back if she wanted. He poked at the graying edged charcoal with a stick, getting it fired up for their burgers and grilled veggies which were still in the ice cooler. Marcia sneaked up behind him and squeezed both of his ass cheeks hard announcing her return.
"Heeey!" Startled, Clive jumped and turned around to see Marcia's smiling face accented by her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a cropped-top, deep V-neck top which accented her perky, now braless breasts and a nice pair of shorts. "Wow! Are you more comfortable now? You look scrumptious."
"How's the fire? Your turn to get comfy. I see you've already started without me."
"I just changed my sweatshirt to a t-shirt. No big deal."
