The cabin

by HugeEndowments

 A story about two friends and some excessive sizes.

Added: Mar 2021 9,239 words 8,118 views 5.0 stars (12 votes)


I’ve never understood why people don’t like mornings. Like on every other morning, my alarm went off at 6:00am, I spent about 20 minutes on my phone, and then I ran through my morning routine. Crunches, reverse crunches, jumping jacks, pushups, and squats: a quick calisthenics workout to start my day. I always sleep naked, partially because I feel less inhibited, but mostly because I love to feel the weight of my dick and balls against my thighs or on the ground whenever I do my exercises.

It was the summer after senior year, and we had just had graduation. I had swum for my high school for all four years, and my hard work paid off in a full scholarship to a solid university. My swimming career shaped my appearance in many ways; hours spent in the chlorinated water had bleached my hair from a light brown to a dirty blond, contrasting with my darker eyes and thick Italian brows. My most noticeable features are my shoulders, which are considerably wider than my waist, creating a proud V-taper. It’s not bulky, but very lean, which I’ve worked on by eating well and exercising daily.

Unfortunately, it’s considered public indecency to run naked through the neighborhood, so I do the next best thing and throw on a pair of spandex, socks, and running shoes, grab a granola bar, and head out. I love my bulge. My dick is about 5 inches soft, growing to a respectable 9 inches when hard. However, what fills out my spandex most are my balls; each testicle is about the size of a tennis ball, and my sack hangs very low, especially in this kind of hot weather. When I think about how much I enjoy my own body, I’m usually in a state of semi-chubness, and my bulge is positively obscene. I don’t really care, though. I bask in the attention I get when I get it, but I don’t really get very much at 5 in the morning anyway.

Today was particularly exciting because it was the day I would go to my parents’ cabin with Matt. Matt, my best friend and also the love of my life. It was weird to think that we had been friends for so long and I had dropped so many hints, but he still seemed oblivious. While I wanted to move our relationship in a new direction, he seemed unaware that that was even a possibility. You might be thinking that he’s just not gay. I didn’t know one way or the other, but it was definitely worth a shot.

Descriptions don’t really do Matt justice, but I’ll try to illustrate him as best I can. His eyes are a light gray and his hair is dark brown, contrasting with his relatively pale skin. His jaw is so defined it makes me want to yell. While I stand at a somewhat average 5’11, Matt towers over me at 6’2. While that doesn’t seem like that much of a difference, he still manages to have that effect. Most of it stems from his physique; while I excel at swimming, Matt is the star of the wrestling team. He competes in the highest weight class, but his weight is pure muscle.

The closest to naked I’ve ever seen him is in his singlet, and Matt in a singlet should be one of the Seven Wonders. His shoulders are like mine, but much bulkier and fuller. His biceps are like pillows, and while they’re massive and thick, they aren’t super veiny or anything. His pecs are incredible, twin slabs of muscle that jut out proudly from his chest, creating a deep crevasse. His abs are visible even through the fabric of his singlet because they’re so thick and the gaps in between them are so pronounced. To top it all off, his waist is only 32 inches around.

Thinking about Matt at his skimpiest was getting me hard, which was uncomfortable while I was running, so I decided to turn around and head back home. My parents don’t wake up as early as I do, and by the time I returned at 6:00, they were still fast asleep; fine by me. I took out all of the ingredients to make an omelette—eggs, bell peppers, potatoes, cheddar cheese, and salt—and started cooking, thinking about my plans as I did so.

Matt and I planned to celebrate our graduation together before we went off to college. We were going off in the same state, and we would only be an hour away, but I really wanted to spend quality time with him before he left. He was really into the idea, which was definitely a relief. The last thing I wanted was him wanting to avoid me because of my romantic advances. I was hoping to get him drunk enough to loosen up and tell me what he wanted; I had a lot of alcohol that I had collected at the cabin, unbeknownst to my parents.

I was picking him up from his house at ten. After eating my omelette, I had a couple of hours to kill so I decided to play some video games. I wouldn’t be able to play any while we were at the cabin, so it was a bittersweet experience. I was about two hours in, absentmindedly stroking the bulge of the spandex that I hadn’t yet changed out of, when I got a call. It was Matt. My heart skipped a beat.

“Yo,” he said his deep, gravelly voice. “I’m bored, wanna come now?”

Heck yes I do. “Sure,” I replied and hung up. I decided to keep the spandex on, throwing over it some shorts and a t-shirt. I left a note for my parents and headed out the door to my car.

It was a beautiful day. When I pulled up to his driveway, he was already out the door of his house. He was in a tank top, not one of those douchy gym rat ones where the armholes extend to their waist, but still a small piece of fabric that looked like a second skin on him. His arms didn’t really touch his sides when he walked because of his shoulders, which rippled in the morning sun. I sat there, absorbing his physique as he strutted down to my car.

And we set off. We talk about all sorts of things for the two hours it takes to get to the cabin. I’m not much of a talker in general, but he is. Of course, I don’t mind because it allows his dulcet tones to wash over me. He talks about sports, family, college. He talks about girls too. He’s never slept with any of the millions of babes who line up to fuck him. It’s the hope that I cling to. But he’s always vague, which is just annoying. I nod and grunt and mhm when I have to.

And before I know it, we’re there. The cabin is picturesque, beautiful, perfect, everything right. It’s a little wooden house tucked away in a lush pine forest, surrounded by trees and bounded on one side by a creek that’s just deep enough to swim in. I mean, you can just picture it—it’s one of those places that shouldn’t be real but is. The only downside is that there are mosquitoes, but I’ve come adequately prepared to fight them off.

“I’m starving,” Matt says as soon as we pull into the driveway, which is really just a cleared path through the woods.

“It’s still a ten minute walk to the cabin,” I responded with a yawn.

“Oh hell naw, I’m running,” he declared, grabbing his duffel bag and strapping it on. “Race ya,” he said, taking off. I had just been gathering my things, so I was not ready. I also had more things than him; obviously I was faster (psh) but that was my excuse for lagging behind. Watching him run in his sweatpants from behind gave me a great view of his muscular bubble butt and thick, tree-trunk-like legs. That was another excuse—but not the one I’d tell him, of course. Maybe later.

Soon enough, we arrived there, panting and sweating in the summer heat. The cabin is basically a house that just happens to be in the middle of nowhere, so it has things like running water and electricity. Most of the amenities, like the stove and refrigerator, are old, but functional. My family is rich, but still frugal, only spending money when they have to. It works, I guess.

In my bag, I brought a lot of food, enough for a few days (adding on to what was already there), and there was a supermarket half an hour away if we really needed more. By the time I finished getting our things into our rooms—there are two bedrooms in the cabin—Matt had made sandwiches. Seven of them. The guy is a big eater, which makes sense considering his massive frame. “Two of them are yours,” he said with a grin, mouth stuffed with tuna salad.

“How kind,” I returned, picking up one and taking a bite. For once, he was silent, eating his sandwiches and taking in the environment. I really love it there, and so I appreciated those minutes of reflection and appreciation. Soon, the sandwiches were gone, though, and the fun had to begin sometime.

“So, are you ready to go swimming?” I asked. This was what I was looking forward to most, of course, being a swimmer. Most of my motivation stemmed from seeing Matt shirtless, but a large part of it was my love of being in the water, especially the creek, which I’ve loved since I was a little kid and what originally got me into swimming.

Matt’s face completely blanched, and his expression went blank. “Shit,” he said. “I forgot my bathing suit.”

Of all the tragedies that could possibly befall us! His reaction made me really worried for a second, that he’d left something really important or that he had forgotten about something and he had to leave.

“Okay? Dude, there’s no one around. You don’t need one, we’ll just go skinny dipping. I do it all the time out here.” If there’s one thing I am, it’s smooth. I don’t get flustered around sexy guys like Matt; even if they’ve stolen my heart, my composure will never be broken. I don’t even know how it happens; words just come to me easily and I let them out. This idea was one of these occurrences. After saying it, the thought of him naked blew my mind.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he mumbled. His face was contorted with some kind of emotion that I couldn’t pinpoint. It was honestly one of the strangest experiences of my life, to see him this way. Normally, he’s one of the most confident people in the world. What he worried about his size?

Discussion of his penis is something that I’ve been avoiding so far, and that’s because I honestly don’t focus on it that much, especially with someone like Matt who’s got so much else going on. I like dick, but here’s a confession: I’m a huge size queen, and I’m not just talking cocks that are bigger than my own. I like unrealistically huge dicks, and the muscular hunks that possess them. Well, none of them exist, so I don’t try to project that vision onto my real-life crushes. It just makes it more difficult to accept that they’re normal people, just like you and me, in the end.

However, it would be dishonest to say that I haven’t bulge-watched Matt, because I think everyone in the world has. Frankly, it’s impossible to tell exactly what he’s packing, even when he’s wearing a singlet, but it’s definitely huge. There’s just a bulge, though, and no distinction between his penis and his leg or anything. Outside of wrestling, he always wears sweatpants or athletic shorts, and it’s never really visible. But what could he be nervous about?

I asked myself these kinds of questions as I gathered my stuff to go swimming. The creek is practically in the backyard, which is great. I brought a towel and a handle of vodka (with bottles of water too; stay hydrated!), because why not—it looked like Matt could benefit from it. Then, I started stripping. I keep my promises, even if I’m only half-aware of what I’m saying.

I was about ready to jump in, butt naked, when I realized that Matt was watching, jaw agape. He had walked over with a towel from the bathroom, but he had dropped it. I had never seen him like that. Was it because of little old me? I blushed at the thought, embarrassed at myself but also proud of my body. I turned around, mostly-soft dick slapping against my thighs. He looked… Uncomfortable.

“Come on, Matt! Let’s go!” I called. He shed his tank top, maintaining his strange countenance. The sight of his familiar muscles caused my member to engorge, and I could practically feel the blood rushing to my groin. I felt sheepish, and so I turned around again, to jump in, so he didn’t have to see my dick getting hard at the sight of him.

“Come back,” he said, boomingly, in his deep voice, but still betraying a sense of uncertainty, an odd foreboding, apprehensiveness. He was still right outside of the house, in what could be called a patio, while I was down the steps to the creek. I was about forty feet away from him, but I was sure that I was fully visible to him.

I turned around yet again and started to walk back. As a sort of afterthought, I grabbed my spandex (which I had kept on since the morning) and put it back on. It was one thing to have a boner, and it was another thing entirely to be completely naked with a boner. I felt that it was basic courtesy to keep it under wraps when he was still dressed (which he was, from the waist down).

“I, uh…” he started, faltered, stopped. He’s never at a loss for words, and I was just as speechless as him.

“You okay?” I finally got out. “What’s going on, man?”

He started to say something again, and stopped. Took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, resignedly, as if he had just given up an internal fight (which he had probably just done). And he started to undo the knot in his sweats. “I guess I’ll just show you,” he muttered, almost incomprehensibly, in the lowest audible octaves I can imagine anyone can speak at. I shuddered.

He pulled down his pants, not seductively at all, getting his foot stuck in the anklehole of his right leg, swearing to himself, blushing. He’s so damn cute, I just wanted to kiss him right there, on the mouth. But I decided against it. I had an intense feeling of trepidation, that something important was about to happen, and I had no idea what it was, but it had to do with what was underneath his pants. I had the fleeting thought that he might have just been wearing embarrassing underwear or something, and I had to keep from laughing out loud at the thought of Matt wearing Spiderman tighty-whiteys or something equally ridiculous. I was fully hard at this point, but I was ignoring that, focusing on him.

His boxers were loose, very loose, even though his thighs are gigantic. His magical bulge was there, familiar as ever. I saw him take another deep breath, lasting about ten seconds. Inhale, exhale. My own breaths were bated. “Fuck it,” he said, pulling down his underwear in one fell swoop, adjusting something near his crotch while he was bent over, and then standing up straight.

To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. His dick appeared to be mostly soft, though I noticed it twitching and slowly inflating. The base of his was impossibly enormous, probably about as thick as my forearm, and it went down, down, down, until the uncircumcised head made contact with his knee. His knee! And his balls… While I thought mine were big, they were like little raisins compared to his, which were probably each the size of a volleyball. I had never seen anything so grotesquely beautiful in my whole life. I couldn’t stop staring.

When I finally looked up at his face, he looked relieved, but still tense. Like he was waiting for me to say something.

“It’s… wow,” I spluttered. Slick. “How have you been able to hide that, uh… that monster?” I finally got out. I mean, jeez. I had gone all my life questioning whether or not he was packing, and it turns out that an elephant would be jealous of his meat!

“I keep it strapped away,” he murmured, bending down and picking up a black cord that looked kinda like a thong. I had never seen anything like it, and I didn’t know how he would use it. It didn’t look particularly comfortable, and I didn’t want him to put it on or anything…

“Ohhh. Shit.” I realized with a jolt what he meant. If it didn’t go in front, or down his leg, or whatever, then it must go behind. “Dude, that’s crazy,” I said, and then I immediately regretted saying that because I didn’t want to make him feel bad or like a freak or anything. It certainly explained his unique bulge.

I went over to him to give him a hug. As I pressed my body into his, feeling his tight muscles against my own, I could tell that my fully hard dick was pressing into his abs, but I didn’t care. This was an intimate moment, and I really didn’t want to scare him away.

After a while, I broke the embrace and stood directly in front of him, looking up into his eyes where there was a pale fire flickering. “Does it hurt?” I asked, with genuine concern in my voice. I wanted to touch him more, to reassure him, not necessarily because I wanted to fuck him (though I did, I really did). I can’t remember or even attempt to describe the emotions that were swirling through my head in these moments. My dick knew, though.

“Well, I can keep it soft enough to stay there, and if I can’t, then, well, I guess I have to go to the bathroom and take the strap off and wait until it gets down again,” he responded, still murmuring very softly, as if he were telling me a secret that he didn’t want anyone else around to know. Like I said before, there was no one around, not within a ten mile radius of us.

“Have you ever had to do that before?”

He paused. For a long time. I couldn’t tell if he was thinking, trying to remember a time when he had to (if he ever had to), or if there was something he was leaving out. “Yeah, once…” he mumbled, even softer than before. His face was shifting through the red-white spectrum, turning various shades of pink before turning bright red or pale, pale white.

“When?” I asked, almost hesitating because of how uncomfortable he seemed. But to me, there was no turning back.

His response came immediately, but it was too quiet for me to understand what words he was saying. It just sounded like an extremely low-pitched mutter. “What?”

And then he took a quick breath that was more like a sigh, and snapped: “It only happened once at one of your swim meets okay that’s why I never go to those even when you want me to!”

It was like a slap in the face, but, like, a good slap, the slap that you get when you’ve just fainted and he’s directly above you trying to wake you back up. I was completely speechless, staring off at some fixed point in the woods, and the thoughts that were whirling through my head suddenly attained clarity. It all made sense, in that moment, in the best possible way. A smile began to blossom on my face, and as I looked back at him, he started to smile too.

“I can’t believe you never told me that,” I finally said warmly, punching him in the shoulder (ow). “I thought you didn’t want to support me for some reason,” I added, my voice dropping a little.

He grabbed my shoulders and looked me dead in the eyes, a serious expression taking over his face. “I will always be here for you,” he stated, slowly but firmly. “Always.” Then he relaxed, and let go of me. His grip was strong, painfully strong. “I loved to watch you but I hated to watch you because it was painful. But I love…” and then he trailed off. But he didn’t have to continue.

“Hey, it’s cool, don’t worry about it,” I reassured him. “Let’s go swimming.”

Was it cool? I wasn’t cool. I was trying to stay calm, but my heart was pounding like crazy and I was breathing heavily. All I could feel was this intense euphoria from having been validated, for all this time he was avoiding me and my lurid advances—but for the best reason possible! The image of his massive dick—I mean, it was soft and the head was touching his knee, I swear, so it must have been at least a foot long—and gargantuan balls was seared into my mind, and I couldn’t get it out, but I hardly even wanted to.

Swimming was fun, I guess, though I don’t remember it that well. We just kinda headed down, I took my spandex off, and it was his turn to stare at me. Unlike him, I tried to make the best of the situation, posing for him and giving him sexy looks. I could tell he liked it by the way his eyes danced and his dick lurched.

We got decently drunk, I’ll say, on what I brought down with me. We splashed and giggled and had a great time, and didn’t really focus too much on what had just been revealed. At times, the whole event slipped my mind while we were enjoying ourselves in the water, until I felt his peach-sized cock head rubbing against my ass, or his hot breath on my neck. It’s a bit of a blur to me. I just know we had fun.

After what could have been just a few minutes or an entire day, I just decided to get out and start to dry off so we could head inside. By that point, it was getting dark, and I really wanted to see the sunset. I grabbed my towel, dried my hair really quickly, and then tied it around my waist. “You coming?” I asked him as I turned around.

“Yeah,” he replied. He was a little drunk, but he could still push himself up onto the flat rock that bordered the creek. I almost fell over when he did this. From my vantage point, I saw the thick muscles in his shoulders ripple with the effort, and his biceps curl to their full, massive glory. Most impressive, though, was the way there was more and more soft flesh showing as he heaved himself up. When he managed to get one of his knees up onto the rock, football-sized balls knocking together between his thighs, he smiled sheepishly as he reached down and flicked his dick over the edge, fingers not even coming close to reaching all the way around his girth. It hadn’t even come all the way up with him! I almost orgasmed on the spot.

He caught up to me, dripping and grinning, massive cock flopping. As we walked, every so often he’d reach down and cup his balls to keep them in front of him. It was quite a spectacle to see his hands—which were massive in their own right—fail to keep both melons under control, and he’d end up having to use both hands just to hold them. I could only imagine how it must have felt to have them free now, while during the day he had to keep his junk shackled. How did he sit down? I had no idea, but I didn’t want to press him on the details.

“You don’t have to wear anything while we’re here, Matt,” I said as I opened the door and entered, holding it behind me for him. “I mean, you can wear clothes if you really want to, but not that black thong thing,” I added. Thong thing?

“Okay, thanks,” he mumbled in response. I could never get used to how deep and sexy his voice was, and it sent a shiver down my spine (in a good way, I promise). I could tell he appreciated the offer, but I don’t think he was planning on keeping his clothes on while it was just us at the cabin, not after the big reveal. And boy, was it big.

“We’re going upstairs,” I declared, placing the bottle on the kitchen counter and throwing my towel and spandex into the adjoining living room, not caring where they landed.

“Sure,” he replied. We made our way up the stairs. Naturally, we did not walk side by side, because there was no way we would both fit in that staircase. In fact, I’m positive that I’ve seen him shift sideways to enter some doors, simply because of the width of his enormous shoulders. But I digress.

Every other step, I would feel his apple-sized head brush up against my calves, and the image of his manhood bouncing between his thighs popped back into my mind. I wondered how much it weighed, how long it really was, how much bigger it would get when it got hard, if it could even get hard at all. I tried to exaggerate my hips as I sashayed up the stairs, and I thought I might’ve heard a low-pitched moan.

I led him into one of the bedrooms and opened the window. “Don’t fall,” I laughed as I clambered out onto the roof.

“I’m fine!” he exclaimed indignantly as he followed, holding the window frame with one hand and his junk with the other. He actually had trouble fitting his jacked body through the window, but he managed to twist his shoulders to make it work, gingerly cupping as much of his package as could fit in his hand, which admittedly was hardly even one of his monstrous balls.

He followed me up to the highest part of the relatively flat roof where I sat down and indicated for him to follow suit. I brazenly gaped as he rearranged his equipment into a comfortable position, which ended with his enormous balls pooling on the shingles between his legs, and his flaccid member draped over his left leg, apple-sized glans nudging my hip. He smirked. It was all intentional. I could barely contain myself, so I mustered up the effort to shift my attention to the landscape.

The sunset was beautiful. What remained of the sun’s rays poked their way through the trees, creating dark orange silhouettes. Wispy clouds turned pink and amber as the sky’s color gradient gradually darkened into a deep indigo. I leaned my head against Matt’s shoulder, breathing in his musky scent mingling with the fresh, piney air. It was so serene, and when I glanced up at Matt’s face, his eyes were closed, shoulders relaxed, peaceful and carefree.

I looked at him for a while like this as our surroundings darkened. I reached my left hand up to gently trace the shadow of his jawline, feeling his stubble and then the smooth skin below his ear, moving my fingers through his hair. My other hand gently traced abstract shapes in his shoulder and upper back, his musculature providing me an ample canvas to explore. After a minute of this, he slowly opened his eyes and looked down at me warmly, ashy gray eyes twinkling with some unidentifiable emotion.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” I responded.

And then we kissed. I don’t remember who made the first move, and we might have both leaned in at the same time, but I do know that it was magical. Sparks flew. I had never kissed anyone like that. It wasn’t a crazy makeout session or anything, which was what made it so much better; it was very tender, our bodies moving together in harmony. While I was in the moment, I couldn’t imagine leaving it, leaving him, leaving that roof, that dusk, those lips. I nibbled on his bottom lip a little bit and we both opened our eyes, smiling and laughing through our locked lips.

After a few minutes of this, I cautiously moved my hands to Matt’s body. I let my fingers guide themselves, following the contours of his muscles, the striations of his pecs and the bulges of his magnificent abs, stroking the light dusting of hair on his chest. I tweaked his nipples, which were big, rock-hard, and facing towards the ground due to his barrel chest, eliciting a moan. Eventually he followed suit, feeling my body, reaching down to take my ass in his giant hands, squeezing and mauling my flesh, making me squirm with arousal.

My respectable dick was standing at attention, reaching to my belly button, bucking and lurching involuntarily with my lust. After some more minutes of more aggressive kissing and touching, Matt’s hand found its way down, down my treasure trail, and onto my member. I was also uncut, and he stroked my foreskin down, revealing my sensitive, red glans, and then back up, covering it again. I could barely keep it together, and every time he’d touch the head of my thick cock, I would groan with erotic pleasure. Every so often, gobs of precum would appear at my cumslit, which he would vigorously work over my whole dick.

And speaking of precum. I could tell that his python would take a long time to reach its full glory, but even ten minutes in, at a semi-turgid state, it was literally leaking precum onto my thigh. I turned myself so that we were facing each other rather than sitting next to each other, and I started applying some of his ooze onto his rod. I could feel the heat and power emanating from it as I tried to encircle it. I could barely manage to get two hands around it, and after a bit, I just started jacking him off with foot-long strokes, haphazardly reaching down and massaging his balls, sagging so low in his sack that they almost reached down to his knees themselves.

“Do you want to get to the bed?” I murmured. The shingles were scratching my ass and I wanted to be able to see him better and appreciate him more. He gazed back at me—what had previously been a faint twinkle in his eyes now appeared to be a blazing fire, emanating lust and making me want him even more urgently.

Without a word, he picked me up like a groom might carry his bride (or his groom!) and carried me over to the window. “Matt, be careful,” I giggled, while also marveling at how effortlessly he managed my weight, as if I were just some doll that he could play with. Which, if I’m being honest, I would be fine with. A dollop of precum oozed from my slit and fell to my abs. I kissed every part of his body I could reach while he held me like this, finding his nipple and latching onto it, devouring it with licks and nibbles.

The window was still open, and Matt set me down in the bedroom before clambering in himself. The way he entered meant that his gigantic prong made its way into the room first, poking me in the chest as it extended straight out from his crotch. I instinctively grabbed it, and found that even when he got all the way in and was standing up in front of me, I could still hold it to my chest without even bending down.

We just looked into each other’s eyes for a while like that, my grip on his cock bridging us together physically, his intoxicatingly beautiful silvery eyes gripping me mentally and emotionally.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” I repeated, my voice cracking a little bit. I gave him a weak smile, impulsively spreading the constantly leaking precum across what I could reach of his mighty shaft. At this point, it seemed to be mostly hard and had almost doubled in length. In its full glory, it was thicker than a two-liter bottle and about as long as a fucking baguette. His foreskin still partially covered his glans even as he was hard, and I found pleasure in moving it back and forth, up and down, stroking his staff with both hands. I could tell he found pleasure in it as well, his hips instinctively gyrating as he closed his eyes and let out a low groan.

I walked towards him, trying to close the physical gap between us, still gazing at him longingly, his rod in my hands. I let his massive dick ride up my body as I sauntered over to him, spreading precum up between my pecs to my neck, and finally my face. At that point, I was standing directly in front of him, his meat tower the only barrier between us. I only had to tilt my head downward to kiss his cockhead, right on the slit. I felt him shudder, and then a spurt of precum erupted like a geyser, mostly getting in my mouth but also spattering my face. It tasted good, salty and somewhat bitter, but musky in a way that was distinctively Matt.

“Sorry,” he gasped.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, licking my lips and giving him my best sexy eyes. I took one hand and rubbed his cockhead, as if I were polishing an apple, well lubricated from the sheer quantity of pre oozing from his gargantuan dick. Without hesitation, I started licking his cock, still stroking with both hands, occasionally moving them to his chest or his abs before returning to his member. When my hands strayed down to his meaty sack, I could swear that I heard and felt cum sloshing in his balls. There was no way I was going to be able to give him a traditional blowjob, but I was determined to do the best with what I had. I found that I could fit a finger into his cumslit, which I did, making him squirm and moan. I couldn’t imagine what that must have felt like, but I’m sure it was amazing.

“Can you, like, suck yourself off?” I asked him. I mean, stupid question. If I couldn’t fit it in my mouth, he wouldn’t be able to in his.

“Well,” he said, not finishing whatever thought he had so he could lean forward and try it. He must have done it before, because he seemed to know exactly what he liked. His tongue made slow circles around his cumslit before moving around to the sensitive area where the glans meets the shaft. I widened my eyes in amazement that even his monstrous hands were both able to knead and stroke the red, bulbous head that his foreskin pulled back to reveal. I was jealous that he could do that, but also intensely aroused, because I was living one of my wildest fantasies, and with the best possible person. My heart was aflutter.

While he was licking and sucking himself, I hugged his trunk-like dick and leaned in to kiss him, sloppily making out with him while simultaneously lubricating it as it drooled slimy, wonderful precum. Then I moved my gentle pecks to his magnificent jawline, his muscular chest, and his sexy eight-pack, all the while grabbing and massaging his impossibly thick shaft, feeling veins that were as thick as my fingers as I jacked him off. As I made my way down, I went on my knees to worship his balls.

Huge balls have always been a fascination of mine, starting with my own. However, even my plums paled in comparison to his massive, basketball-sized orbs. The base of his cock was powerful, exuding raw masculinity. His dark pubes were trimmed and sweaty—or still wet from swimming—and his groin smelled of sexy, manly musk.

His sack was just unbelievably enormous, like a plastic grocery bag stuffed with two cantaloupes. I could almost hear and feel pints of cum sloshing around as I batted his scrotum like a cat does a ball of yarn. I didn’t really know where to start, so I just buried my face in his hairy pouch and went crazy, mauling his majestic man-melons with gusto. I could tell that he was enjoying it by the sounds he was making and the way his cock would lurch, dripping precum onto my back. It seemed that he was finished with his autofellatio now that my attention was elsewhere, and since it was too heavy to hold itself up, his thick fleshtube stuck out horizontally, resting on my head.

While I squeezed and groped at his huge testes, my hands explored the surrounding regions, massaging his thick quads and pinching his taint, going so far as to borrow some precum from his endless supply to lubricate my fingers so that I could play with his ass. That drove him crazy, and after a little bit, he roughly shoved me away from him, pulling me up to a standing position again. I was powerless to resist.

“Now it’s my turn,” Matt declared, eyes burning with an intense desire. He went down to his knees, spreading out his legs so as to not crush his beautiful balls between them. I bent down and helped him get the fleshy orbs out in front of him, each virile sphere requiring two hands to control.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, seemingly embarrassed that he couldn’t handle his own body on his own. Not that I could blame him, really, since he really was so much more man than anyone I had ever seen.

“It’s fine,” I murmured in response, giving his dick one final two-handed tug before standing up again and looking down at him. “I don’t mind getting up close and personal with all of you,” I added. In this position, his behemoth knocked between my knees whenever he adjusted his position. In its turgid state, the battering that my poor legs were taking even hurt a bit, so I moved my feet such that I could clamp my calves around his monster cock, reveling in the unique sensation.

Matt smirked in response and began to jack my cock. Like I mentioned earlier, I get to about nine inches hard, which is quite respectable in my humble opinion. I’m pretty thick too; my girth is about six and a half inches. I’m also uncircumcised, which gave him the ability to give me a handjob without needing a lot of lube. After a bit, he tentatively licked my knob, sending a shiver down my spine. I could tell that he had never given anyone a blowjob before, except technically himself.

Every once in a while, I would feel a gob of precum rise to the tip, and I’d shudder as he worked in over the shaft, slowly taking more and more between his lips. His tongue flicked across my head, making me writhe in ecstasy, before he would go down again, taking half a foot of dong in one fell swoop.

I could tell he was struggling, though, from the way his dark eyebrows furrowed and his pale eyes watered. On the one hand, I was proud that my dick was well above average (I just tried not to focus on the dick right below me that was twice its size at least), but I wished guys could just take it all the way. I moved my hand to his head, stroking his hair supportively but also exerting just a bit of pressure, trying to encourage him to take more and more down his throat.

Matt was also fucking with me, though. He’d go down a ways, taking in maybe another inch, but then he’d come back up, just licking and kissing the head, which was practically trickling pre at this point. Or sometimes he’d go down and play with my balls, completely neglecting my cock, which bucked and lurched without any stimulation. I’d reach down and jack myself slowly while he focused his energy elsewhere, moaning at the sensations I was feeling.

Matt was getting farther down. “Come on, babe,” I said to encourage him, not even realize that I had let slip calling him “babe” even though just yesterday I never would’ve imagined anything like this. He smiled around my dick, then resumed his focus on making it down to the base. The sounds that his gag reflex were making were positively obscene, but I kept my hand firmly on his head, keeping him down so he could get accustomed to it.

Finally, he made it all the way down, and I could feel his face in my trimmed pubes. At this point, he had been going for over ten minutes, and I was starting to feel a familiar pressure in my balls. I cupped them in my hand, feeling my sack spilling between my fingers, squeezing them ever so slightly.

“Matt,” I whimpered, lost in the raptures of pleasure. That was all the warning he was going to get.

I was still in his mouth, albeit not all the way in, when the first shot erupted, and I can tell it took him by surprise despite my eloquent warning. I also don’t think he expected there to be so much. I cum a lot.

His lips popped from my head as the second shot spurted out, hitting him square in the face as some remnants of the first one spilled from his lips. The third shot was more voluminous than the previous two, lasting probably a full second as my cum spurted just above his head, landing somewhere behind him. He just kneeled there, flabbergasted, while I unloaded all over his countenance, vigorously jerking myself to get it all out. In the end, he was practically unrecognizable, his normally fair skin turned a shade whiter by the layer of jizz covering his entire face.

He licked his lips and kept his mouth open for more, his eyes closed—or plastered shut. I used my still-turgid dick as a tool, scooping cum onto it like a shovel and feeding him my load, helping to clean him off while also lightly tapping his face with my cock. I would never have imagined playing such a dominant role with him, but he really seemed to like it, and if he was willing to get into it, then I was too.

It took a minute or two, but his face was mostly cleaned up as a certain point, all of the jizz down his gullet. “Yum,” he declared, finally opening his eyes and smiling up at me. My dick had mostly softened at this point, but there was no telling when it would make its way back up; with the fantasy-cum-to-life who was kneeling in front of me, it could be a matter of minutes before my dick inflated and my balls began to churn out more batter.

Matt’s dick, on the other hand, was harder than it had ever been to this point, confirming what I thought about him enjoying his submissive position. I could only imagine what fantasies I was fulfilling for him, and it made me feel good that I could do that for him while he was checking every single one of my boxes, and even some that I didn’t know I had.

“Can I measure that thing?” I asked, not really waiting for a reply and digging through my backpack, which I had tossed near the door to the bedroom. On my way there, I stepped in a small puddle of sticky cream, and I sighed. The plight of a human cum fountain. My dick, now just semi-turgid, slapped my pelvis as I meandered across the room, and I couldn’t help but think that this was the first time I had ever had the smaller dick in a sexual encounter.

“Sure,” he replied cheerfully as I found what I was looking for: a tape measure. I couldn’t remember why I had brought that along, but I thought it would be a good idea. Well, it definitely was. As a size queen of sorts, I loved measuring men’s sausages. This one was in a league of its own, though, in both appeasing my desire and just in general. I mean, damn.

He was standing when I got back to him, flag flying at full mast. His cock didn’t point straight up at him, its sheer weight forcing it to extend at a forty-five degree angle with his torso. Even so, the head seemed to almost be at eye contact for him, or at least at the same height as his massive pecs, meaning that if he held it up to his face it probably would reach higher than his lips now, maybe even higher than his forehead. And speaking of eye contact, he was glancing at me, a familiar smirk creeping its way onto his face as I remained fixated on his other head, which was drooling more precum. I found myself drooling at the sight.

“Eyes over here, big guy,” he chuckled. I gaped at him. Over here, not up here. I shuddered and snapped my attention back to the task at hand, a task that was far, far too big for even both of my hands.

“Oh, right,” I mumbled. I was quivering with excitement. It had hardly been a few minutes since I came all over Matt’s face, but my dick had fully hardened yet again, possibly even harder than last time.

I drew out a length of the tape measure and placed the end of it at the root of his mammoth shaft. I marveled for a few seconds at how girthy it was, how much flesh still showed on either side of the tape measure, and then how much there was left. “Hold that,” I commanded, waiting for him to do so before I moved the measure up higher and higher, unraveling more and more.

I passed the 1-foot mark and there was still so much to go. Fifteen, sixteen… Nineteen, twenty! Two fucking feet! Finally, I reached the leaking head at 25 impossible inches. Twenty-five inches. It must have been the largest penis in the world, by a long shot. As I stood there, dumbfounded, Matt leaned over to see the tape measure reading, lifting his dick so that he could get a better look. As I suspected, the head reached past his eyes when he held it vertically. “Nice,” he chuckled as he released his shaft, which bounced wildly before stabilizing, making me wonder how much it weighed.

For good measure (ha), I kneeled down and wrapped the tape around the thickest part of his shaft, which was about at the footlong mark. The circumference was greater than a foot, of course: 16 mouthwatering inches around. My cock lurched.

“Do you masturbate?” I asked him brazenly, moving my hands all over his shaft, marveling at the amount of his mighty rod that was still left untouched. I hadn’t even noticed that he added his own hands into the mix until I collided with them accidentally, but there was plenty of room for all four hands to spread his slippery pre all over his prong. I realized pretty quickly that I could add my own supply to the mix. I had never been so turned on in my entire life, and it felt amazing.

“Sometimes I have to,” he sighed as I focused my attention on his magnificent balls, each a veritable watermelon in a burlap sack. His musk was overpowering, sending my senses into an erotic frenzy. I attacked his man-melons enthusiastically, slobbering all over them as I let my innermost drives take over.

“Why?” I finally asked, realizing after a while that he had answered my question and that I wasn’t paying attention.

“Sometimes my balls feel swollen and heavy,” he explained, “and I have to get off to relieve the pressure buildup.”

“Do you feel that now?” I inquired, still tugging on his sweaty gonads. As I lightly batted them from side to side, I knew what the answer to that was. At this point, it wasn’t just my imagination; I could swear I heard pints of cum sloshing around in those pendulous orbs.

“Keep doing that,” was all he said, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the ceiling. He was jerking himself in footlong, double-handed strokes, holding his dick upwards so that he could lick the sensitive head. Judging by his urgency and the frequency of his gasps and moans, I could tell he was about to blow.

I stood back up and joined him at his cockhead. We made out hungrily on one side of his cock where I was standing, and then I started gently nibbling the apple-sized glans, coaxing more ooze to flow out. My hands were exploring his body, pinching his nipples, clawing at his back, and I was grinding my dick against his. We were both soaked in sweat and pre, but we were also both stuck in an animalistic frenzy that would only end with Matt’s release.

Suddenly, Matt’s moans reached a higher volume, and though he couldn’t articulate it, I knew he was about to cum. He roared, his cock pointing directly upwards, all four of our hands aggressively stroking it, and he came.

Watching Matt cum was an experience that defies description, and I think I experienced it in a slow-motion daze. The first shot was absolutely incredible, a finger-thick rope of pearly white jizz that extended from his slit to the ceiling, splattering there and then raining down on us. The shot lasted about five seconds total; I can only come in spurts, but this was like a jet from a fire hose gone berserk. The ceiling was relatively high, too; neither of us could touch it from a standing position. I just stood there, transfixed as he groaned and unloaded, still jacking vigorously in over-1-foot strokes with both hands.

The second shot came immediately after, as he was bringing his cock down, presumably to aim it at me. As a result, the dollop formed an arc through the air that went over my head and out the door, landing on the wood floor with an audible splat.

By the third shot, I was standing directly in front of the menacing monstercock. It erupted and another load headed straight towards my chest, hitting me with surprising force and forcing me to take a step back. My bare chest was immediately covered in sticky jizz, which I began to instinctively scoop into my mouth.

Matt made sure that my whole body was drenched in his semen by the time he was done. Over a dozen more shots reached me, hitting my face, arms, crotch, legs, and leaving me shades whiter than I was before. The other dozen either missed me or went flying across the room, hitting all of the walls and rendering the bedsheets completely unusable. After about 25 massive wads, his spurts were smaller; only the size of an average man’s total cumload. They didn’t come out with as much force, either, so I dazedly approached his cock and made out with the tip, sticking my tongue inside and swallowing as much as I could.

“Shit,” he finally said. “Sorry about your room.”

I just laughed. I laughed and laughed for a solid minute until I couldn’t breathe anymore. Matt’s dick had begun to soften, only extending in front of him about eighteen inches, his foreskin sheathing the angry, red glans. I picked it back up and gave it one final kiss, sticking my tongue inside the slit, making his whole body shudder and produce one final drop of ball batter, which I happily slurped up.

“I’m going to go wash off,” I simply said, and went downstairs and back out to the creek to go to that. It was pitch-black outside at that point, but I knew my way. While I was there, I tried to suck myself off, and I managed to get most of the head into my mouth. I basically jizzed upon contact, and while there was a lot (as usual), I managed to swallow it all.

When I made it back inside, mostly clean of Matt’s sticky semen, he was standing in the kitchen, naked, drinking a beer from the fridge. I almost started staring again, but I shook myself out of it. Seeing his body like that was going to take some getting used to.



“We’re… together, now, right?”



I grabbed his soft snake and dragged him over to the couch. I just wanted to cuddle with him. He, of course, was big spoon, and I draped his cock between my legs so that it was touching mine.

“I love you,” he murmured into my ear.

“I love you too, Matt,” I replied instantly, feeling his breath on my neck, his heartbeat, his pulsing penis, his thick arms around me. “Everything about you.”


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