It's hard to describe how I felt, the first time I saw it.
Granted, my inhibitions had already been lowered. My husband had been pushing me to behave naughtily, fueling my arousal with cocktails and, insanely, his own desire to take me right there in our pool. Still, regardless of the wild afternoon I had experienced, the sight of Bob's gigantic penis awakened something in me, something I had subconsciously spent most of my life repressing.
My husband is partially to blame for my newfound sexual wildness, although I suppose maybe 'blame' isn't the right word. Perhaps 'credit', is more apt. Steve had always been proud of me, lovingly building my sexual confidence slowly over our years together. He loved to encourage me to dress provocatively, to show off my curves. Slowly my walls came down, and my sexual confidence grew. I will always love the man for his pride in me, for his twisted and delightful perversions. It's hard not to feel guilty sometimes, though. As his wife maybe I should have cautioned him more, pushed back even more than I already did. After all, those very perversions led us to where we are now, and our marriage would never be the same. Steve was now living in a reality where his wife was taking another man to bed regularly, a man who was infinitely more sexually equipped than he. As cruel as it was to admit, and despite my immense love for my husband, his penis simply had no way of competing with Bobs.
When I first saw it, that day in the pool, I couldn't believe my eyes.
Steve and I rarely watched porn together. I could count our drunken viewings on one hand, and even those films were rather conservative and without much graphic detail. I had heard of certain women sometimes being labeled "size queens", a cartoonish description for a woman who lusted after large men, and I never quite understood it. It was admittedly naive of me, but I always assumed most men were roughly the same size. I would soon learn how wrong I was, however, and as part of that education I would develop my own strong desire for a sizable man.
It didn't take long for my outlook to shift. As soon as I laid my eyes on Bobs penis, it all changed for me. He was so much bigger than my husband. It was like I was seeing peak masculinity, a beautiful, towering appendage that I couldn't peel my eyes away from. It made me question everything i knew about sex, about men, all in an instant.
I still blush to think about how I reacted. Simply put, it stunned me. It was startlingly long, and incredibly thick, visually spectacular in a way that looked nothing like my husbands package. At the base of his shaft there was a massive pair of testicles. In my shock, I somehow encouraged Bob to play with himself, inflamed by the taboo knowledge that he was aroused by the sight of me. Me, an otherwise demure housewife, had somehow caused that incredible cock to become excited.
Weeks went by and try as I might, I couldn't get the image of it out of my mind. I began to feel guilty, telling myself that a married woman shouldn't behave in such a way. I tried to manage my thoughts, and behave as the prim and proper housewife, and teacher, that I had been for so long. It wasn't working, and whenever I closed my eyes I saw his weight, his size, vivid in my memory. While it was true that Bob was a tall, muscular, and somewhat handsome man, for whatever reason all my fantasies gravitated solely around his manhood. I had never found him particularly desirable, not until I saw him in the nude anyway. After all, Bob was a bit jovial, a tad goofy, and I preferred my men somewhat more reserved. Steve, for example, was much more stoic. My husband was so stoic, in fact, that my he seemed dangerously confident in prodding my flirtations with our neighbor. He continued to encourage me to tease him, to toy with the bullishly hung man next door. I quickly learned that it turned him on, somehow, the pervert in him excited by my teasing behavior. Admittedly, it quickly began arousing me as well, perhaps because it was such a liberating departure from normality. Our sex had become more explosive, more teasing. Shamefully, I would often fantasize that it was Bob who was taking me, and when I would admit as much to my husband, he would cum violently with shameful lust in his eyes.
At the same time that I was struggling with my own internal battle, and the impossible encouragement of my husband, Bob weakened my defenses from the outside. He started to become more bold with me, suddenly confident in playing with my sexuality. He had quickly caught on to Steve's willingness to expose me, to show me off, and he capitalized on it, slowly seducing me over time.
It was soon thereafter when Steve naively sent me over to Bob's house, supposedly with the intent to help him with a casserole, though I knew my husband was perversely excited by the idea of me being alone with him. Bob obviously had no interest whatsoever in the food, and almost immediately pulled me into his living room. It was there that we hooked up for the first time, our attraction building to a breaking point. Bob dropped his shorts the second he got me on his couch. His huge cock bobbed upwards, large, sexy, and dangerous.
"I know you want to see it." He said, confidently.
He was right of course. He surely knew, from the look in my eye that day at the pool, that I had never seen one as big as his. I blushed, face going red and panties immediately dampening at the sight of his beautiful penis.
"I want you to play with it." His voice was calm, deliberate, and in control.
The last vestiges of my wife-hood were in tatters, my sexual defenses unraveling over the last few weeks of teasing. Still, my rational mind attempted to save my sanctity, voice soft and nervous, "My husband-"
"Your husband is a cuckold in waiting, Anna. Why do you think he sent you over here?" Bob replied, voice deep and honest. It was a bit startling to hear him drop his normally lighthearted demeanor, and adopt a dominant tone of voice. It confused me, but crazily, it also turned me on. He added, "Steve is a smart man, damn well smart enough to know he can't give you what I can." He chuckled, adding, "I saw his little dick in the pool."
I blushed, which caused him to smile. He grabbed his beautiful cock with his hand, tugging at his immense length and drawing my attention even further to it. Bob added, "I think all three of us know you deserve a bit more than that."
Arousal and embarrassment both swept across my face, guilt swelling from the inexplicable excitement I felt. His comparison to my husband's smaller penis dampened my womanhood in a strangely taboo way. My husband wasn't small, not technically, but he certainly was in comparison to what I was now looking at. Bob gently grabbed my hand, and to my horror, I melted. I immediately gave into my womanly desire to touch him, to my need to feel his supremely masculine cock in my hands.
It was hot to the touch, and hard as steel, power coursing off every inch of his member. I tried to encircle my hand around his impressive girth, but my index finger wasn't even close to my thumb. It was fascinating to see my delicate hand contrasting so starkly against the incredible masculinity of his organ. I began to stoke up and down his length immediately, out of my mind with arousal over the surreal sight of me exploring him. His huge balls began to flop up and down, testicles smacking against and peeling perversely from the leather seat of his couch cushion, I had to feel them, to caress them, and began doing so with my free hand. They too were hot, heavy, and undoubtedly boiling with his essence.
"Fuck Bob." I bit down on my lip, instinct taking over. "You're cock is so sexy." I heard myself admit, not quite in control of my thoughts, or my emotions, body driven by lust. This was completely foreign territory for me, but I loved every moment of it.
It was then that we kissed for the first time, a passionate, taboo, extramarital kiss. Bob eventually peeling the lace down my breasts, taking my large tits in his hands, spurring me even further to the brink. We stayed that way, exploring one another in complete arousal. Me, a married woman, letting this large man have his way with my tits. Still, despite the intensity in the room, somehow I managed to keep our physicality on second base, my rational mind barely fighting off his advances to take me up to his bedroom. My husband admitted later that he had watched much of it, sneaking over and peering through the window like a pervert. His unfathomable acceptance only spurring my need, propelling my desire closer and closer to realization.
Throughout the following week, I couldn't get Bob's penis out of my mind. I thought about it all day long, absentmindedly performing my lectures with lust controlling my brain. I was desperate to see it again, to continue exploring him, to let him continue to explore me. When I got home, I immediately and shamefully went next door, red faced and embarrassed when he opened it, smiling. Minutes later I was back on his couch, only now I leaned down and lustfully wrapped my mouth around his penis.
I rarely went down on Steve, I simply never felt the desire too. That wasn't at all the case with Bob, however. I was quickly becoming intoxicated by his manhood, it's incredible presence arousing me in a scary way. I planted kisses up and down his thick member, running my tongue across his big balls, trying to take as much of him in my mouth as I could manage. My actions became quickly depraved, enamored by the raw, masculine, pillar of testosterone against my lips.
"Suck that big cock." Bob would taunt, slapping his hand across my bare ass as I happily did.
I would even have to take the occasional break, to pump him with my hands in order to allow my jaw some needed recovery time. Perversely, I even enjoyed slapping his cock into my face, somehow loving the submissive feeling of something so masculine against my cheeks. In the middle of one of my frenzies, I received a fateful text from my husband, curious as to my whereabouts.