Lost to big brother  

LonghairThick 63M
9 posts
4/16/2005 2:43 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Lost to big brother


This did not make the magazine. I do not know why, but as I did write it for this community I am including it here.

I don't mind editors, or deciders, but I would prefer they woould correct my typos.

I hope you enjoy...

Rex in Lola’s Art Studio

It had been an odd turn that brought Rex to Lola’s sun drenched loft. I stood where she told him to stand, dressed in only jogging pants, his limp dick alone hanging freely, his one testicle do its best to hide. He felt myself begin to turtle as he watched Lola shuffling through canvasses and other artist stuff; dress in a smock, she seemed totally indifferent to him. Finally she turned her head in a sidewise glance and groaned.

“Okay Rex, give it a shake and get out of those pants.” Her voice was stern and unimpassioned. He indeed loosened his drawstring and put is hand on his member.

Rex cupped his ball and shook his penis, warming and unfurling. He felt his nut drop, his sac relax, blood starting to collect in the head of his flushing cock.

He dropped his joggers and simply stepped out of them. He avoided eye contact but turn toward Lola.

“There, now that’s better. Now, you try to stay soft. Here I’ll get you a towel.”

Stay soft. That was easy for her to say. How could he control that under these conditions and after last night?

They had being at the same house party. After midnight and countless drinks and dances and charades, a hot bath was suggested and everyone, except the hosts, started rummaging through a pile of left over, abandoned, out of style, and down right ugly swimwear: many sizes, both genders.

Rex was a skinny guy, hell he didn’t even have an ass, and he found only two choices. One was small enough for his waist but short enough to ensure Mr. Johnson a view. The ones he put on were much to big, but they were had a drawstring which he hitched-up to his stomach. He hope for the best.

In the hot tub, Lola started flirting right at him. He was flattered but taking a back. He had met her once before and her eyes seemed always to go over him, that is over his head as if he did not exist. He knew she was married to some logger or something, strong and muscular, two things Rex was decidedly not. But there, in the tub, maybe a little drunk, he was all see was interested in. She said she loved to draw men, and that she would really love to draw him.

Rex remained shy and noncommittal. The heat was getting to him, so he began to pull himself up out of the water to sit on the edge. But just as his butt reached that edge, his trunks came off. Lola was laughing, holding her hand to her face as to hide her blush.

Now, Rex stood still. Concentrating on his slowly swelling penis, his eyes searching the sky light for distractions more horny thought.

Lola was now standing beside him like a doctor, but with a dressmakers measuring tape.

“Okay Rex don’t get excited. I just want to take some quick measurements.”

Quickly and delicately she used the tape on the still soft but plump: first length then circumference. She then quietly slipped the tape round is sack.

“Did that hurt?” He heard her ask.

“No, you are very gentle.”

“Thank you, but no, I meant that.” She was pointing at his groin.

“Oh, no, that I mean, I lost that when I was kid, a real little kid. I didn’t even know what it was all about.”

“Does it bother you?”

“No. I mean, I guess I just accepted it. I even have kids.”

“And a nice large penis. I knew you did. When you fell into that hot tub, I could tell. It looked like one of those pee-wee footballs bobbing away.” She was delighted.

He was now hard. Achingly stiff. He was complete. His scrotum taught, his manhood erect to bursting. His face flushed, he just stared. Somewhere, in his mind, he search for something normal to say. At least say something, God he could not think.

She looked down. She felt weak in the knees. She knew she needed to measure his erection, measure it as hard as possible. But she was disturbed and confused. It was for the record, that is what she did; keep a journal of personally verified penis sizes. It was purely an analytical study. Yes she fucked them. Even sucked them. But she wanted this. She was losing touch with what she was doing here. Records must be kept. They must be accurate. The rule says before sex, before touching, but talking dirty. But her bush was now wet, let along her cunt with its aching clit and swollen vulva.

The tape fell to the floor and settled against his foot. He did not move. He was all cock. He did not care where he was. But he was glad to be with her. He wanted to have her sit on his face so his cock could come out his lips and plunge as a tongue into her wetness which be could now smell as a musk.

She did not know what to do, but she did grab his ass with an open palm.

He turned to her. He held himself away, pressing against her firm hold. He was now dripping.

She could see from the top his beautifully cut knob: red, glistening, mushrooming.
She knelt down, still grasping his butt, reaching with her free hand for one of the many water bottles she had lying around the loft. She pulled the bottle open with teeth, and squeezed water onto his pulsing organ.

The tepid water refreshed him. Eased the ache of his stretched skin. More water slowly washed over him, dripping from his hard nut sack. The glands on the head of his penis started to feel dreamy as he stood with the firm grip of woman holding his ass just now with more tension; tension he could he his thigh muscle. He rocked back, then forward, steadying as he reached both hands into her hair.

Her mouth was now stretching getting the fat cock passed her teeth, receiving it with her tongue. Her mouth was soft and so was the swollen apple now pressing against the roof of her mouth, reaching for her throat.

He floated. Spellbound. Enraptured. Whole.

She was swallowing, sucking with her throat, both hands holding his hot rod. Pulling her head back, she looked at the wet glands.

He began to see, and moved his hands to her shoulders, pushing her slowly backward toward the floor.

She succumbed to his direction. Sitting on the towel, she rocked back onto her back, opening your legs as he put his head into her muff.

She was full, succulent, ready. Her hooded clit was hard as it brush against his nose. She opened as his lips kissed softly, softly, opening and closing around her whole cunt.

His cock was fire. As he swam face down in honeydew, his hardness hovered and hummed, vibrated and dripped. He was his tongue: probing, circling, darting. Long linguine laps came from his wide lustful licks.

She felt him lift her bottom off the floor, his mouth still stuck on her hole.

As she held herself still, shoulders to the floor, back arched, butt clinched, his head move up, and he got to his knees.

With one hand fingering, opening cunt lips, he took his cock in the other centering his dripping hole in on her wet slit.

Her face on the cool floor, her mouth opened as she felt herself spreading and buzzing.

He was stuck. Caught by her cunt, his cock’s mushroom head was inside, the stiff shaft seemed too wide. Rotating his hips, he turned his cock in place and twisted.

She felt tortured. She needed to fuck. The buzz was whirling from her head to her bottom and her feet began to twitch. Her knees began to shake, her calves seared.

His penis popped out, he took a finger and worked it into her honey. Adding a second finger he reached into her, reaching toward her G-spot. As his fingers pressed from the inside, he used his thumb to flick her upright clit. He rolled the fat of his thumb over and over it.

She pressed her pelvis against his hand, rocking and roll. Building a climax, aching for climax, now pumping that thumb. She could feel the lingering fingers inside, but her humping clit seemed to be finding air. She humped and arched and reached. Her face now facing the ceiling, strained to feel more, more, more, more.

He now kissed her clit. Licked her clit. Nibbled her clit. Sucked her clit. Sucked hard, his tongue now sticking into her to meet his still pressing fingers.

She bucked: first her hips thrust into his face, and then her back arched higher. She was beginning to come. Moving her head from side to side she was helpless as the first orgasm shook her, she opened her mouth, her tongue thick, She felt she might scream, until yet another climax was engulfed a larger one.

He felt her electicity. He laid her flat on the towel. Her legs fell absolutely open. She was still but steaming. He grabbed her by the feet, pulling up her legs. He was harder then ever, skin stretched to breaking. He held her ass just off the floor as his cock hovered at her now open hole.

She was in space floating free. All she felt was deep inside. Then she swooned has she felt herself being entered. She hadn’t felt empty before, but now she felt a void. A void she thrust her hips to fill.

Before her first push he had been slipped into butter. He had held himself there, holding in space, he was merging with her. Her face came into his mind: that look of desire, that smile.

Her need began consuming. She reached for his back, push herself onto him, but he seemed stuck. She pressed. Pressed deep.

He hung over her, feeling her fingers grasping at him, her hips grinding, her body begging. He pulled back enough to free his movement. For an inch he slid out, then in priming her, then he plunged. Stopping short, he held still.

She was on fire. She wanted more. She had a hole she didn’t know she had and she wanted it filled. Stretched wide she didn’t feel wide enough. Filled so deep, she felt a new need to be filled. She wanted to push. Push onto that beautiful hard on. Her mind was full of the picture of the cock now deep within her. Oh, she pushed.

Nearing tears, her eyes pop open has he stuffed her and she knew he was all inside. She could no longer see.

He was in and he started a slow fuck. At regular strokes, he would flex his hips in concert with the shallow thrusts of his buried cock.

For her it was now an endless ride of floating and coming. The orgasms were many and varied in intensity, coming and going. She was fucking.

He felt her moves; he watched her face; he kissed her ears and eyes; he was riding a dream. Suddenly, heat tore through him. She was drawing him still deeper; he shifted himself until he was now truly on top. Her legs were now wrapped around him and they were now riding each other. Riding each other’s moves.

Now they were conscience: conscience of each other. Their eyes were locked. They were seeing into places never seen before. They were in a total rhythm. Rocking and grinding, they followed each other from high to high and higher.

She watched as he was now locked into a steady rhythm. She was now riding what she knew was the final ride of a fabulous ride she never wanted to end. She was floating, feeling him build in intensity, twitching as his cock touched new places.

He was now caught in his own orgasm. He was frozen, then as she made the final push he came with a gush followed by a jerk and squirt, another squirt and another jerk, The jerks and squirts repeated, slowly quieting.

She was crying, She clung to him, feeling him drain and relax. Her mind was still hazy from all the multiple orgasms, and she was sure this was not forever, but she felt she had found something worth remembering.

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