Derek 2

Size. It was always something that was on the table. We would chat. We would fantasise. There were stories of past conquests that focussed on size. There were websites and videos and pictures. And there were the casual glances in the gym, on the street...anywhere that a man aroused your curiosity. Size.

I was never sure if or when the freedom I had offered you might end up being embraced. You had always said that it wasn't really something you were looking for, and I was quite comfortable that you were happy. But equally, we both knew that simply because we were so comfortable and happy thinking and talking about it, that you might just decide that there was an opportunity to good to miss, with no real consequences for the act.

So when I got a message saying "I'm bringing someone home" I wasn't quite sure what it meant, even though the possibility was tantalisingly attractive. It was just another evening networking event, one like so many more when you would arrive home, tired, perhaps having had a glass or two of wine, and we'd just trundle off to bed.

So -- was this different? Had you bumped in to somebody I knew and it was a surprise re-introduction? Or had you found the optimum fantasy material, too good to chuck back in for somebody else to catch.

I heard the Uber pull up. I didn't want to look out the window, or pre-empt anything...if you wanted me to do something you would have sent me a message. Nonetheless, the window was open and I was listening for the signs. The click on the driveway indicated high heels -- only worn on special occasions. The dialogue was telling -- "are you sure?"..."it's fine, he won't have a problem"..."and it's just you and me?"..." oh yes darling, I'm having you all to myself".

The door opened, and two sets of footsteps ascended the stairs. I was somewhere between shock, relief and ecstasy. As you reached the top of the stairs I saw your new friend -- tall, younger, and definitely in excellent shape. "This is Derek" -- the words that opened a new door.

It was clear that I was to be present but entirely uninvolved. I couldn't quite tell whether it was because you could only do this if you could pretend I wasn't there, or that you wanted me to see you perform...or that you liked the power of sexual domination for this little moment in our lives.

You sat on the low coffee table...at what - under the circumstances - could only be described as crotch level. There was no eye contact with me, nothing more than the name, spoken as a fact and not an introduction.

Your hand quite naturally made its way across the front of his pants as he stood in front of you. It seemed that you had already had at least one go at this already...the sigh was more reassurance rather than discovery. And where you might normally titillate, it was straight in -- zipper downed and hand sliding in to the front of his pants to uncover the delights beneath.

There was a moment where things seemed to just slow down...whether it did or whether it was just the culmination of so much unrequited passion was not important. All I knew was that the next gasp was delight and wonderment...and then what could only be described as a slab of meat was slowly revealed.

I was honestly concerned -- having made the decision that you obviously had there was no going back. But seriously...how would you be able to fuck this monster of a cock without causing yourself harm.

But that didn't seem to be an issue...because your intent was clear -- make it as hard and as big as it could get. The one hand you had used so far was dwarfed...so you used both hands. Couldn't get the whole thing in your mouth...no problems, suck what you can and lick anything and everything else.

There was a moment of what seemed to be discomfort...were you having second thoughts perhaps. No...with an obvious gesture it was apparent that you weren't willing to let his cock go in order to remove your dress, so it was for me to do. Unzipped, arms released, dress off -- new lingerie and heels...and the unmistakable aroma of your horniness.

You indicated that he should disrobe too, which he did. Soon he was completely naked, all rippling and tanned, with the ever-growing cock not out of proportion. Your talents in getting a cock to its full capacity were indisputable...and having worked your magic there were only two words required. "Let's fuck".

You led him off to the bedroom...with but a gesture to indicate that I should sit where I was. The words spoken when you reached the bedroom "No -- leave the door open" indicated that I was to be witness to your depravity, but in no way involved.

You let him know your pleasure in being licked...he responded that he was quite happy to fuck you first, then lick you...and then fuck you again. That was the last coherent conversation for quite some time.

I can only guess -- based on the noise and the various invocations -- what transpired. It was clear that penetration was the sole priority to start with. The size was obviously challenging...but then I guessed you wouldn't be where you were for anything less.

Gasps, moans and groans accompanied what was the endeavour of having your cunt filled with the biggest cock of your sexual career. Various adventures of our own had sometimes tested your normal limits, but this was never going to be a normal fuck.

At some point things got synched up, and the challenge was met and overcome, with just an on-going erotic pinnacle in its place. There was a ruckus of the bed being pushed around, and the phrases of fabulously pornographic quality that you were expressing let it be known that on the basis of pure quantity this was the most impressive fuck you had ever had.

I had wondered exactly when he would switch from fucking you to licking you. Well, apparently it was once he had reached his orgasm and filled you with an unholy stream of hot sticky cum. The climax of his orgasm, coupled with his descent to tongue you, impacted you in a way that was almost troubling. I had assumed that you were cumming as he fucked you, but whether that was just lead-up, or whether you had discovered a previously unknown gear, his licking took you way over the top.

Screams and moans, grunts and groans, then he started to fuck you again -- so hard that I was worried about the structural integrity of the bed and the walls. Young, fit, huge and apparently inexhaustible -- you had chosen well.

Time wasn't really important, but by the time his grunts became a roar and he flooded your juiced-up cunt again, you had been hard at it for nearly an hour. And you finished with a mighty flourish worthy of the occasion.

And then he was out, collecting his clothes, dressing and leaving...while my wife wandered around, naked and dripping fuck-juices. He was gone, and you were still there. And I was left thinking that was the best fuck I ever gave you...even though I never touched you.