How Far Will You Go?

It was sheer luck that I ran into Susan at a sidewalk café when I was in Dallas for a job interview. We had been roommates for one semester in college at The University of Texas in Austin. Neither of us knew at the time how that chance meeting would impact our lives.

Susan had graduated a semester before me, and she'd almost immediately landed a job as a legal assistant in a fairly prestigious law firm based in downtown Dallas.

My degree was in Business Administration with a minor in Advertising. My job interview was with an advertising company only a few buildings down from where Susan was working.

"Do you have a place to live yet?" She asked me over lunch.

I chuckled, "No, I don't even have the job yet. I don't want to put the cart before the horse."

She acknowledged my response with a nod, and then she told me, "If they have a brain in their heads, you'll get the job. And if you do, I have a very nice two bedroom apartment just a few blocks from here, and I sure wouldn't mind splitting the rent. You won't even have to fight for a place to park. The apartment comes with two designated parking spaces in the underground garage, and you can walk to work like I do."

Wow! Her offer blew me away. Susan had been the perfect roommate in college. She was very neat and clean, and she was all business. Like me, she wasn't a party girl. We had both taken our education and grades very seriously. Also like me, she wasn't from a well-to-do family. Our parents helped us, but we both still had to work for spending money—her as a temp in the university admin department, and me as a waitress.

I got down to business without beating around the bush, "I would love that, but how much are we talking?"

She scrunched her lips, "I pay thirty-three hundred plus utilities." And then she defended, "I know that sounds like a lot, but it's a very nice place, and it's really handy to everything. My parents gave me the furnishings for a graduation present, and it's all very nice stuff. Are you staying in town tonight?"

"Yes . . . but-" She cut me off before I could protest about the price. Even if I got the job, I would be hard pressed to afford that much right out of the gate.

"No buts. Do you already have a hotel room?"

"No."

"Then it's settled. You'll stay at my apartment tonight and check the place out. I know it's not cheap, but you'll fall in love with it. I promise."

"Okay, but I haven't even had a first interview yet."

"You'll be fine. I just know it. Jan, I have a really good feeling about this. Fate brought us both here today."

Susan and I exchanged cell phone numbers and agreed to meet again when she got off work. "I'll try to sneak out a little early so you don't have to wait around too long." She told me.

* * *

My interview went very well, and when they found out I was in town just to meet with them, they scheduled my second interview for the following day.

Susan had been right about her apartment. I couldn't believe how gorgeous it was. All of a sudden, the rent she was paying seemed way too cheap for the quality of the apartment. "Wow!" I exclaimed. "This place is only thirty-three hundred?"

She giggled, "My boss—well no, my boss's boss, is a part owner of the building, and their employees get a break on the rent."

The apartment was on the fourteenth floor, with a doorman and all. It was over fifteen hundred square feet with two spacious bedrooms, each with a walk-in closet. And the bathroom was to die for, with a walk-in shower and a large garden tub. The open floor plan made the living room; kitchen and dinning room seem even larger than they actually were. There was also a spacious balcony, even though the view was just of the similar building across the alley.

Susan hadn't exaggerated about the quality of the furnishings either. The furniture and decorations all looked like they had been hand picked by an interior decorator.

I had to laugh at Susan's method of cooking. She had her iPad connected wirelessly to a small TV on the kitchen counter. She had purchased all the ingredients and had them laid out and handy. Remote in hand, she started the video, pausing it every few seconds to do what it had just instructed.

Almost an hour later, we had a full Chinese meal ready to eat. We had prepared Hot and Sour Soup, General Tso's Chicken, and Hunan Shrimp with vegetables.

"Well, what do you think?" She asked me.

"It's delicious." I answered honestly.

She shrugged, "Not bad for a first try. We'll do something Indian tomorrow evening."

I'd never eaten Indian food, but if this meal was any indication of what was possible, I was all in.

Lying in bed that night, I almost had to pinch myself. Twenty-four hours earlier, I never would have dreamed I might land a great job, a gorgeous place to live, and a wonderful roommate—all within hours of getting to Dallas. It was a dream come true.

The next morning, after my second interview, I was offered the job, with a starting salary substantially above what I expected. I didn't find out until months later that Susan's boss was a golf buddy of the owner of the company I'd applied to. I was beginning to understand the old saying "It's not what you know. It's who you know." and I had accidentally fallen into the downtown Dallas cliché.

To celebrate my new job, Susan and I walked a few blocks to the famous Dallas West End, a group of very nice clubs, restaurants and stores. It was Friday night, so they were all too crowded and too loud, so we ended up taking our drinks outside on the patio and watching a blues band playing in the closed off street. All in all, it was a wonderful night, and within walking distance from the apartment building.

In bed that night, I had to force myself to resist the urge to get up and walk out onto the balcony, where I would surely have screamed out to the city "Look out, Dallas! I have arrived!"

* * *

For the next several months, Susan and I worked, cooked exotic meals with the help of the internet, and shared a glass of wine on the balcony. We walked over to the West End every Friday or Saturday night. On Sunday, we cleaned, did our laundry in the basement laundry room, and caught up on our favorite TV series. We spent two hours every Tuesday and Thursday evening in the building's gym working out. Some might consider that all very boring for two fairly attractive young ladies in their early twenties, but it suited us both very well.

We were sharing a glass of wine on the balcony after supper one warm May Friday evening when Susan exclaimed too loudly, "Oh my God!"

When I looked at her, she pointed to the building across the alley. When I saw what had caused her reaction, my eyes shot open. Straight across from us, and one floor down, there was a naked man standing on his balcony. The apartments in that building were almost all tall windows on that side. They had heavy drapes, but his were all open. The lights were all on, so his apartment and balcony were really lit up.

His balcony, unlike ours, which was enclosed by a four foot wall of wooden planks, was only protected by a rod iron railing. The spaces between the iron pickets left his anatomy totally exposed to us and anyone else in our building that just happened to be looking his way. And I should add that the view was very impressive.

I was afraid he might look up and see us staring at him, but he seemed oblivious. He was just standing there, leaning on the railing, and sipping on some kind of drink. Of course, we kept watching him, although we did move back a little so as not to be so noticeable.

Neither of us were virgins. Susan had had three sexual partners to my two, but neither of us had ever seen anything like what we were staring at. The guy's cock was huge! It hung three-fourths of the way to his knees, and even flaccid, it appeared to be very large around.

The only words Susan and I shared were whispered, "Holy shit!" and "Oh my God! Can you believe that?"

After several minutes, he turned and walked inside his apartment, but we could still see him clearly. He was walking back and forth through his apartment while talking on his cell phone, his huge cock swinging from side to side with every step.

Now, with his sliding door closed, Susan asked aloud, "Do you think it's real?"

Feeling the slight tingle of my second glass of wine, I chuckled, "I don't know. Why don't you go over there and find out?"

She gasped, "No way! That thing isn't getting anywhere near my pussy."

I had to laugh. I'd never heard Susan use a word like "pussy". We'd never talked much about sex, and when we did, it was always in the most generic terms.

Finally, the guy's lights when out, and the show was over. When Susan and I went back inside to go to bed, she giggled, "Have fun tonight. I know I will."

I knew what she meant, and the thought that we were probably going to do the same thing in our respective beds made me blush.

* * *

At breakfast Saturday morning, Susan shocked me by asking in a matter-of-fact tone, "Well, how did it go for you last night?"

When I just stared at her, not knowing what to say, she chuckled, "To be honest, I haven't cum that hard in months."

I thought back to the night before, and a half grin crossed my lips as I remembered my own powerful orgasm. I showed her a wink and gave my grin permission to widen.

Susan laughed, "It was that good for you too, huh?"

"You might say that." I finally managed a response, still not believing we were having this conversation while pouring our coffee as if we were discussing a movie we'd both watched.

"Can you believe the tool on that guy?"

"I'm still not sure it's real." I said honestly.

She shrugged and finally changed the subject. "We need to plan our menu for the week and go shopping. Do you have any suggestions?"

We spent the next two hours looking up recipes, book-marking the web pages, and making a list of the ingredients we'd need. "I want to go for a drive after grocery shopping." She told me. "Care to come with me?"

"A drive? To where?"

She raised an eyebrow and showed me a naughty grin, "It's a surprise."

"Okay" I said with a shrug.

* * *

It was a beautiful day, so we took Susan's Mustang convertible. Both of us were wearing tube tops and shorts, so we put the top down and let the sun bathe our bare shoulders and legs.

I felt a tad uncomfortable shopping in the grocery store dressed like that. Even though our attire was entirely appropriate for a stroll down the sidewalks of downtown Dallas or walking around the lake at the local park, I wasn't sure it was all that appropriate for the grocery store full of soccer moms.

When Susan pulled her mustang up onto I-30 East and hit the gas, I couldn't imagine where we were going. She still wouldn't tell me, so I just sat back and enjoyed the wind blowing my long brown hair behind me and the sun on my bare flesh.

We both giggled when truckers blew their air horns as we flew past them. Susan said with a laugh, "They're probably on their radios telling the truckers ahead of us to 'check out the two babes in the blue convertible heading your way'."

Twenty minutes later, she took the exit of Bass Pro Drive, and it was obvious then where we were going, although I couldn't imagine why.

After walking around for several minutes looking at the dozens of large stuffed animals; deer, bear, elk, mountain goats and such, we spent some time admiring the Largemouth Bass in the huge aquarium.

I was sure we hadn't driven all that way to look at the fish and stuffed animals, and finally, Susan took my hand and led me to the hunting department.

She knew exactly what she was looking for, and soon she'd made her purchase and we were on our way out. I was laughing all the way out of the store and still intermittently while traversing the huge parking lot to her car.

* * *

Susan and I hadn't fully made up our minds, but we were leaning toward walking over to the West End later that night. In the meantime, we were in the mood to do something different for supper.

While she put the finishing touches on our Shrimp Scampi over Angel Hair pasta and garlic bread, I spread a white table cloth over the table and lit two tall candles. When the food was ready, we dimmed the lights and enjoyed the wonderful meal.

When we were finished eating and filling the dishwasher, it was still fairly early, so I drew a bath and sat back in the large garden tub with a second glass of wine.

Over the next thirty minutes under the warm bubbles, I reflected on my situation. I felt like I'd won the lottery. I had a great job, and the people I worked with were very nice and helped me learn my way around the company and clients. And I had a beautiful place to live with the most wonderful roommate anyone could imagine. It was all like a dream I never wanted to wake up from.

With only one bathroom in the apartment, Susan and I weren't shy about being nude or partially so in front of each other. It wasn't uncommon for one of us to be at the sink while the other was in the shower. Unless we were on the toilet to do more than pee, we rarely bothered closing the bathroom door.

I looked over to see Susan standing in the doorway grinning at me. "What?" I asked her.

"He's back." She said in a giddy tone. "Hurry up. I'll be out on the balcony."

"Is he naked?"

"Yep." And she turned and left with a naughty giggle.

I got out of the bath and dried off quickly, pulling on some panties and a robe as I made my way toward the kitchen. I refilled my glass without turning on the light. I guessed she'd turned it off to keep it from revealing her presence on the balcony.

I quietly slid open the door and stepped out onto the balcony. I had to force myself not to laugh when I saw Susan using her Bass Pro Shop purchase from earlier in the day; a small but very powerful pair of binoculars. I slumped down into the chair next to her far enough so that I could barely peek over the wooden wall.

The man was standing in his living room, again talking on his cell phone. He was turned sideways to us, so we had a great view of his enormous cock—her better than me, of course. After a minute or so, she handed me the binoculars. Wow! I couldn't believe how powerful those little binoculars were. I could clearly see the veins that traversed the long, heavy shaft of his man meat. I could even see his low hanging balls as they rose and fell slightly as he breathed.

When Susan pulled the spy glasses away from me and I was back to watching him without the advantage of enhanced vision, two things became apparent to me. First, he was very proud of what he had between his legs, and secondly, he knew, perhaps even hoped, that he had an audience.

The thought hit me that we were being foolish to hide ourselves. Had he seen us, he probably would have given us an even better show. But then again, it sunk in on me that we wouldn't want him to know where we lived, and that would be easy enough to figure out by counting floors and balconies. No, that wouldn't do at all. We wouldn't want him knocking on our door.

I pulled the binoculars away from Susan and had another close up look. This time though, I actually looked at more than his monster cock. He was a fairly handsome man. He was fit, his stomach flat, and his biceps pronounced. His chest was moderately hairy. I guessed him to be in his early to mid thirties.

I also took a few seconds to look around his apartment. It was every bit as nice as ours, with beautiful furniture and appointments. He was obviously neat and clean. Like our apartment, it was an open floor plan, so I could see his dining room and the top part of his kitchen counter. There were flowers on the table and a designer bowl full of candy on the counter.

His bedroom was equally neat. His bed appeared to be a king, with a western looking duvet. Of course, it was well made, and there were several pillows neatly placed with matching shams. I wondered if he had a maid or cleaning service.

My turn on the binoculars was over just as he stepped out onto his balcony. Again, he just leaned on the railing and sipped his drink, seemingly totally oblivious to the fact that others could see him. He never looked up, down or around. Perhaps that was his way of encouraging people to feel free to look.

I whispered to Susan with a chuckle, "I guess the West End is out for tonight."

She responded without taking the binoculars away from her eyes, "Oh yeah!"

It was almost an hour before "Cock Man" as we'd decided to call him, finally went inside, and it was another hour after that before he turned off his lights, all except for those in his bedroom. Before turning those off, he turned on a bedside lamp. Then he carefully set the throw pillows aside and turned down the covers. Only after crawling into bed, did he switch off his bedside lamp.

* * *

"Wine isn't cutting it." Susan told me when we were back inside. "I need something a little stronger after that show."

"I could use a Screwdriver myself." I told her with a chuckle. "A stiff one."

While we were making our drinks, Susan said, "Speaking of 'a stiff one', can you imagine how he'd look hard?"

I gasped, "Oh my God! No, I can't."

When we were seated in the living room area, Susan said what I was thinking, "Hell, even if it doesn't grow at all, no woman could take all of that thing. It would split her open."

"Hell, it's at least three times bigger than my vibe." I said without thinking, and then I was embarrassed at having just admitted to my roommate that I use a vibrator to get myself off.

Susan just laughed and said, "I thought my dildo was big, but it's not even close to as big as him."

"I can't believe we're talking about the size of our sex toys." I confessed meekly.

"Oh lighten up." She scolded me. "They get the job done, and they're a lot less hassle than men."

She was right. My life was going too perfectly to risk screwing it up by introducing a man into the situation. We both garnered plenty of offers though, especially when we went down to the West End. "You can say that again." I agreed.

When we finished our drinks and headed to our bedrooms, Susan giggled, "Just try to ignore any sounds you hear coming from my bedroom tonight."

"You're soooooo bad." I teased her.

"Oh, like you're not going to need new batteries in your toy by morning."

"Okay, maybe." I jokingly admitted.

And Susan was right. The minute I closed my eyes, the image of Cock Man's gigantic cock flooded my brain. Almost without thinking, I began massaging and kneading my C cup breasts. Before long, I was rolling my nipples between my fingers and pulling on them.

I finally quit kidding myself. I was horny, and I needed to take care of myself. I slid off my panties and began teasing my clit and pussy. After a couple of minutes, I pulled my vibe from the drawer beside my bed. It only took a few minutes to push myself over the edge. No longer afraid to make a sound, I moaned loudly as I came.

* * *

The next morning over coffee, muffins and oranges, Susan chuckled, "I don't have to ask how last night went for you. You beat me by a full five minutes."

I felt my face flush. I didn't realize I'd been that loud. "Sorry, it doesn't take me long when I'm primed."

She reached across the table and put her hand on my arm, "Honey, never apologize for having a short fuse. That's a huge advantage when you're with a man—at least the ones I've been with."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm lucky. I've never had a problem in that department."

"My last boyfriend was a one shot wonder . . . and the one shot wasn't all that great. I usually had to finish myself off after he fell asleep. I even tried giving him a blowjob first, hoping he'd be better on the second go, but he just lost interest and went to sleep."