Having an over-large dick isn't all a bed of roses, you know, sometimes it can be a problem. As a young teenager I had to put up with smirks and sniggers in the showers at school from the other lads and often found myself trying to cover my modesty in whatever way possible. I earned so many nick-names that even I hardly managed to remember them all.
As an older teenager things didn't really get much better. I'd discovered girls and had started dating. By this time I had stopped growing but my endowment had reached a size of over ten inches in length and with a girth the size of most girls' wrists. Not that I got to make that sort of comparison very often. It was all right petting in the back seat of a car; I'd have the young lady's skirt up around her waist and with my hand nicely ensconced in her panties we would both be having a good time. But then it would be my turn. Inevitably most of the dates that I had would already have heard the rumour about my size and would be curious to see. But that was usually as far as it went. As soon as my long, thick rod was exposed most girls would point blank refuse to go anywhere near it and a few even ran screaming back to their homes.
And so I lived out my adolescence and young adulthood in a frustrated blur of pornographic magazines and masturbation. I longed to find a woman who would not be put off by my size and my discovery of the Internet fuelled my fantasies almost to the point of obsession.
Most nights would find me in my room alone, in front of my computer and either masturbating to pictures of naked women or trawling through chat-rooms in the hope of finding…well, anything, really. Usually I found this form of sexual entertainment equally as frustrating; conversations would be broken off for no apparent reason and I was well aware that most of the "women" that approached me were probably men playing some sort of sick joke. But then I found Sylvia.
Sylvia was the only chat partner I had ever encountered who was prepared to listen to me. Unbelievably she had a web-cam and I was allowed a few glimpses of her – just so that I would know that she was real, she claimed. Night after night we chatted into the small hours about anything and everything but it took a few weeks before I broached the subject of my size. I was unsure of how to tell her but it was clear from the messages that I got back that she was eager for me to enlighten her of everything. So I just blurted it out. I told her that I was well above the average size of most men, told her how difficult it had been over the years and said that this was the first time I had felt able to talk about it with anyone (only a little white lie, really). Our chat dialogue went quiet for a few minutes and I wondered if she was sitting back in her bedroom laughing her head off at me. I began to become more and more frustrated again until suddenly a message flashed up on my screen: "I understand."
That night Sylvia went on to tell me that she had encountered a similar situation in her life. She had developed early and, while she was now very proud of them, when she was younger, her large breasts had caused much consternation and been the subject of some ridicule by her peers. We continued talking, both of us beginning to feel more and more comfortable with each other. Sylvia asked me more questions about my appendage and I answered truthfully. As the conversation became more intimate I was becoming more excited – and I was fairly certain she was too. I asked her for another glimpse of her through her web-cam but on this occasion I was refused – she told me that her family were in the house. But then Sylvia told me that she had another idea: she would take and send me a photograph of herself if I would do the same.
For the next few days I wondered how I was to achieve this. I desperately wanted to see her – in all her glory, as she had promised – but I didn't possess a camera of any description. I thought about asking a friend, but quickly decided against this. Also, it was not as if I could just pop into a photo booth, drop my pants, get myself fully hard (a process which, without external stimulation could take time) and then press the button. No, I had to think of something else.
When I saw the advertisement on a card in my local shop window I was so surprised I had to look at it twice.
PROFESSIONAL PHOTOGRAPHER
AVAILABLE TO TAKE GLAMOUR
PHOTOGRAPHS
The notice was short and to the point and it listed a telephone number that was well out of town. Whilst I had never considered myself to be glamorous, I reasoned that any photographs the company took would be professional and, anyway, I had no intention of trying to break into the Glamour industry. I hoped that they would simply take the photographs, take my money and then give me the finished product.
The man I spoke to on the telephone was cheerful and professional. He informed me that he and his wife ran the business. They were discreet and would take tasteful photographs. I explained what I wanted and, whilst he was a little surprised at my request, he assured me that they would be able to help. A price was quickly negotiated and an appointment made for me the following day.
When I arrived at their studio the next day, the photographer David and his wife Caroline were extremely pleasant and immediately put me at my ease. David explained that, usually, Caroline was just there to assist with female clients and could leave if I wanted her to. But I had already seen the lady; long blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders and framed an attractive and sexy face that seemed to be fixed in a constant and genuine smile. She wore a pair of casual jeans with open-toed sandals on her feet which revealed red painted toenails to match her fingers. Her thin blouse was tight across her well proportioned chest and it was quite obvious that she was not wearing a bra. No, I didn't want her to leave!
David started with a couple of head shots and I was beginning to lose some of the nervousness that had been cramping my stomach all morning. He used a hand-held camera and buzzed around me as I stood or sat, snapping shots off and telling me to turn this way or that. Caroline sat patiently on a sofa against the far wall still wearing the smile and just watched as her husband worked.
"Right, Michael," David finally said as he loaded a new roll of film into the camera, "lets get to the shots that you asked for, shall we?"
Immediately my nerves returned. I was now sitting naked on a chair in the centre of the studio with my cock hanging limp and useless between my thighs. David had already taken a few shots when he stopped and looked at me.
"Er…Michael?" He began. "These photo's are alright, but I don't think they are exactly what you wanted, are they? When we spoke on the telephone yesterday I had the impression that you wanted more…em…explicit work?"
"I know, Dave. I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I just don't seem to be able to get….any…harder!"
My eyes dipped to the floor and my acute embarrassment stabbed me like a thousand knives.
"Don't worry," he continued, "I'm sure we have a magazine or something lying around somewhere. You think that might help?"
As I nodded slowly and dejectedly, I saw Caroline from the corner of my eye. She had stood up and was walking towards me.
"Why bother with a magazine?" she said, "when the real thing is right here!"
I looked towards the blonde woman approaching me and did a double take. Caroline had pulled the top her blouse down to reveal the smooth womanly slopes of her naked breasts. The large orbs were tipped by stiff pink nipples that seemed to quiver and throb with a life of their own. My head swivelled back to David who gave me a resigned shrug.
"It's up to you man. They are your photos!"
"Yes," I blurted, "but she's your wife."
David and Caroline both gave a hollow laugh at this.
"If I got jealous every time that Caroline..er..helps out…during a shoot, I'd have torn all my hair out by now!" David said.
I turned back to the blonde assistant and smiled back at her. Caroline's breasts were still exposed and now only a few millimetres from my face. It occurred to me that I had been given a complete go-ahead from her husband and I could already feel a stirring from between my legs.
Without thinking again I buried my face in the soft, womanly flesh of Caroline's tits and breathed in her perfume. My hand dropped to my lap and I gripped my rising tool, squeezing and pressing the excitable flesh while I licked and sucked each of Caroline's stiff little buds in turn. I was still only half erect when I heard a soft moan emanate from her lips and felt her hand replace mine on my cock.
"My God!" Caroline breathed huskily, "you are big aren't you! David told me what you two talked about on the telephone yesterday and told me that you were well-endowed. But I never expected you to be this big."
My breathing was now coming in short hard gasps as the sexy blonde used her hands on me. She cupped my balls gently and stroked them allowing her other hand to slide exquisitely up and down my growing shaft. She murmured words of flattery and encouragement as my penis grew from strength to strength.
