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Definition of a grower

By Luke B.

Description Kyle is pretty sure people don’t understand the magnitude of what he means when he says he’s “a grower”.

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AddedApril 2013
Updated12 Apr 2013
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2 Parts tap bar to showtap bar to hide

Part 1

I still can’t believe what happened that night. If I told anyone else about it, they’d just look at me like I was insane. But I’m not. I swear it. That’s why I’m writing about it here, on a site I know people will believe me. This is a site where people write about this stuff as fantasy. Hell I read it and get off on the fantasy, but this wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t a fantasy. It happened, and he’s real, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I got to touch and rub and kiss the biggest fucking dick the world has ever known in all its glory.

I suppose I should actually document the event, though I admit it’s going to be hard without constantly getting aroused and needing to take care of myself. When you see and experience something like that, it sticks with you. Fuck, I think I still have some of his cum in my hair. And there it is: rock hard erection.

Right. Before I get distracted any further, my name is Kyle. I’m just your average dude, not too skinny, not too beefy, certainly not too fat. I try to keep that off, but I’ve never seriously gotten into weightlifting or anything. Just cardio to keep the pounds down. That said, I am a pretty decently attractive man and I always considered myself above average down there. You know, in the dick department.

They say average is 5.5 inches or something, right? Yeah, I got that beat. I’m a nice 5.5 soft, but rise to a decent 7 or so when I get aroused. But that’s nothing compared to this guy. Nothing. It was… goddamn, I can’t even think straight thinking about it. How can a cock be that huge? Shit, I gotta jerk off before I can keep writing this. I’m too distracted by my own dick tenting my boxers. Might as well take care of it.


All right, now that that’s done, maybe I can focus a bit better. Jerked off twice. Still hard though.

Anyway, so I go out last Thursday night, right? Standard gay club, standard slow night, but I was in the mood and I needed a good drink. I don’t go for anything seriously normally, just a couple drinks and some gazing about for any hot eye candy that might be showing off. My eyes darted over a few guys in the club, but nothing was really special until I laid my eyes on him.

There he was, sitting in a corner on a couch, leaning against the cushions in the back. He had on this tight black T-shirt that hugged every curve of his massively muscled frame. Why he wasn’t swarmed by what few people were there escapes me. Only thing I can think of is they were either too scared to approach him or weren’t into big dudes. Doesn’t matter. Their fear is my desire, and fuck if this man wasn’t the epitome of my desire. His body was so wide he nearly took up the whole two-seater couch all by himself. Massive lats and traps framing his bulk. It was hard to make out all the details due to the low red and yellow lights in the club, but I could tell he was rock solid. Those arms. My god, those arms. The poor shirt couldn’t take it, the sleeves were bunched up behind his bicep, and he wasn’t even flexing.

And you’d think on a guy that fucking huge that he’d have a muscle gut or something, right? Not this sexy bastard. His waist was thick, but trim and tight. That black shirt made a delicious taper all the way down to his jeans, tucked away as to not get pulled out by the simple act of breathing and filling his massive chest with air.

But let’s not get too distracted by his amazing musculature, Kyle. The fact that the guy was bigger than any bodybuilder I’ve ever seen is second fiddle, and that’s saying something. Down below his massive torso was a pair of legs about as thick as his waist, stuffed into a pair of jeans that I have no idea even existed in that size. Seriously, I could fit both my legs down one leg of this stud’s jeans and still have room to move, but him? He filled them up to the brim, tight as hell, hugging every curve as they sagged heavy on the couch, casually spread wide apart, feet planted on the floor.

And then I laid eyes on what I’ve been leading to this whole time: his motherfucking massive cock. Stuffed inside his jeans, shoved down the right leg, was the biggest damn shaft I have ever seen in my life. You could tell the pants were straining extra tight on his right leg because of this beer-can thick salami stretching down, curving toward the inner part of his leg, the head of that monster sitting evenly with his goddamned kneecap!

Fuck, I gotta get off again. Hang on.


So there I was, lost in my stare. I don’t know how long I was staring. It was very obviously long enough to get his attention, because he smiled my way. Actually, I have no idea how long he was smiling because I was too entranced by the python he had stowed away in his far-too-tight pants. I remember thinking to myself, “holy FUCK! Look at that thing! That is the biggest cock I have ever seen in my life! Shit, it’s gotta be a foot or more of thick fucking meat! And this guy’s just sitting here showing off his hard cock to everyone in the club!”

Hah. ’Hard cock.’ If only I knew.

Eventually I break my gaze at his stuffed rod and notice he’s smiling at me with this half-crooked sexy as fuck smile. I remember my mouth instantly going dry. Caught in the act, I suppose. If it weren’t for that smile, I would have had every right to believe I was going to be eating fist sandwich any time soon, but I could tell he was getting off on the attention. He looked at me, then briefly looked down at his foot-long sausage, then back up at me with a raised eyebrow. My gaze followed his, and when my eyes locked onto his meat once more, I saw it pulse in his pant, pulling the fabric tighter as it throbbed, the head pushing an entire fucking inch further past his knee before the swell passed and it returned to the size I first saw it. When I looked back up at him and that raised eyebrow, he had one of his beefy arms lifted, his hand turned upward, and a finger signaling for me to come over to him.

Fuck. How could I say no?

I got up out of my chair, not even caring that other people would see me tenting my pants so hard. Fuck ’em. All five of them in the club that night other than him. For all I cared, they were invisible, and this god-like man was the only one I could see.

Every step I took to approaching him only made him look even bigger than I thought. At a distance you can’t tell how tall or large someone is. You can only estimate. When you get closer, you see how they compare to yourself, and when it’s comparing yourself to someone of this size, it breaks everything you know about the world.

How did this man even exist? He was the biggest fucking man I had ever seen in my life, and he just sat there, casually leaned back with his hard dick showing for all the world to see like they’d never seen it before, but someone that massive would have HAD to have been seen before. You literally could not hide this man anywhere. I stand a good 6’1” tall, but as I approached this beast of a man, I could tell he was easily taller than me. Easily. I guessed him at about 6’8”, which I found out later was slightly short of his actual 6’10” height.

And that cock. From a distance it looked huge. Up close it looked like a 16 inch tube of the heaviest flesh the world would ever know. I also found out later I was close to that measurement too, which surprised me. I was overstating.

Needless to say, I didn’t even get a word in. As soon as my feet stopped next to him, my eyes glued to his body, my mouth hung open, dry and unable to say anything. And then he did it again. This time I heard him, being closer. Heard him grunt. It was a low rumble that sent a chill up my spine, and my eyes watched as his enormous dick filled up ever so slightly thicker, but the head pulsed and shoved down further past his knee in his pants, straining the fabric, and as if I hadn’t seen enough unbelievable shit that evening, I saw something even more unbelievable in that moment.

As his fucking massively thick head ballooned downward another inch, I saw a massive wet spot form from inside his pants. It was easily the size of the head of the monster it was birthed from, but not enough for me to believe he had actually cum so easily. And then it hit me. It was pre. The fucker shot out a load of pre so big in that one pump that it soaked into his tight jeans and made a very, VERY visible wet spot the size of a can. What amazed me is that his cock hadn’t receeded back like it did the first time he did this. It was still nearly two inches bigger than when I saw it a few seconds ago. He held the swell, kept it flexed, and just when I thought I was about to cum myself, he grunted and reached one of his massive mitts down and gripped the monster right through his jeans, right in front of everyone. He squeezed it and pulled downward on it. For every inch his hand moved down the head of his prick moved down with it. I shit you not the thing had to have stretched another half a fucking foot long before he stopped, groaned again, and once more spotted the inside of his pants with pre.

It was at this point in time that I came. Right there, in the club. I shuddered and moaned deeply and just fucking came in my pants. What the hell was I supposed to do? I was turned on like I’d never been turned on in my life, and the beast stared up at me, still gripping his hand on his dick, watching my face as I made a mess of my underwear right in front of him.

His grin told me he liked it. Fuck, that grin. That grin alone is enough to make any normal man lose his shit, especially attached to that incredibly handsome face, black chinstrap stubble, and short-cut black hair atop his perfectly squared head. That grin told me he was a cocky motherfucker, with every good reason to be with the body he was sporting. He didn’t need to be intelligent or talented or skilled or anything, so long as he had his body, his enormous dick, and his cocky smile, and he knew how to use it, he could get whatever he wanted.

After jizzing in my jeans, I tried to catch my breath, but my breathing stopped when he said, “Looks like you need to clean up. Let’s go back to my place.” His voice was like rolling thunder. I wanted to cum again.

In fact, I am going to cum again. Third time’s a charm to keep this hardon away, right?

Part 2

I’m fucking sore down there now. Been jerking myself off so much lately just thinking about this stud that my dick is red and raw. I really should give it a rest, but I can’t get him out of my head.

Anyway, continuing. After I cum in front of him, he lets go of his rod. My eyes never stop watching the monster as it slowly inches backwards resting near his knee once more, two very dark wet stains further down his leg. He stands up and it’s at this point I realize just how much taller he is than me than I originally thought. The beast is easily twice my width, maybe three times, and more than half a foot taller. He stands there and looks down at me before nodding his head in the direction in front of him and walking away. I didn’t hesitate to follow his booming footsteps. I swear everyone in the club could feel them and watched as we walked out the doors.

He led me to his truck. This was the kind of guy that needed a truck. He’d never fit into a compact car or even a regular car. He was just too huge. The whole thing sagged down and squeaked as he stepped in and sat down, right before his beefy hand reached across and pushed open the passenger door for me. I stared in at the behemoth and crawled inside, shutting the door behind me. The engine started with a roar and soon we were on the road.

I remember wanting to reach out so fucking bad and stroke that cock of his. I wanted to feel it, wanted to see how hard and thick it was, but I’ll admit I was both too turned on and too scared. Even after cumming I was rock solid just being in this guy’s presence. His biceps and triceps twitched and flexes as he drove his pickup back to his place. It wasn’t far at all, but it was far enough for me to learn his name was Grant and he’d only recently moved to town. No wonder I’d never seen him before.

He parked the car and stepped out without saying a word, looking behind in at me, signaling to once again follow his lead. I didn’t need to be told twice.

I recognized those apartments. I’d never been to them myself, but I’d driven past them plenty of times. Pretty nice, I thought before I even stepped inside. He walked up to the front with me staring at his impossibly wide back, the porchlight highlighting the hard curves and angles stuffed inside that black shirt. I heard a click and the door opened. We walked up the two lobby flights of stairs to reach his door before heading inside and shutting it behind us.

I know, I know, things seem rushed right now, but trust me, I’m getting to the part you’ve been waiting to read since you started reading this.

We get inside and he kicks off his shoes, turns around, and plops himself down on his couch. Right in the middle of it, fucking owning it like he did back at the club. Once again, let me reiterate, he needed to sit in the middle because the man was so damn big he nearly took up the whole thing.

And he grins at me, that fucking grin, then slowly moves his hand down to grab his belt buckle and undo it, pulling the leather out of the loops of his pants and chucking it across the room as I stood in front of him watching. Next his big, burly hand grasps at the button of his pants, undoing it, then pulling down the zipper. Those pants had to be custom made. That zipper was massive in length, just like another part of him, but given the equipment he was packing, it needed to be. When the zipper got to the bottom, he pulled both the flaps apart, giving me a momentary glance at the thick, hairy base of his enormous shaft before his hand shoved inside. I could literally hear the pants tear and rip as he did so, reaching down, grabbing his ballsac, and pulling back up. It must have been pretty tight in there because I heard him say “Fuck it” and shove his hand forward, tearing the divide cause by the zipper down so far the pants were ruined, but he accomplished his goal.

His heavy paw pulled out his massive nuts and let them drop, making an audible thump against the couch. Again, I swear to god you’ll think I’m making this up, but those things were as big as grapefruits. How he even got them in there in the first place is beyond me. They must have just been pressed in tight, smashed against his muscle, looking like muscle themselves. Hell if I know, but here he was, sitting in front of me, now having both arms resting on the back of his couch, legs spread once again, and his huge nuts sagged down and laying on the couch between his thighs.

And up above that? There it was. The root of his monster cock exposed, beer-can thick, two or three inches of the shaft showing before it disappeared down into the leg of his pants, not exactly hidden, but also not exactly exposed. I just stood and stared. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was supposed to do except gaze in awe of him, but he had other plans.

“Why don’t you reach in there and pull it out? You’ve been staring at it long enough, you should see what it really looks like.”

My eyes shifted back to his. The expression on his face told me to do it. I stepped forward.

Writing this, I’m as nervous now as I was when all this was happening. My hands are literally shaking, just as they were when I stepped in front of him, got down on my knees inbetween his legs in front of the couch, and reached forward toward his enormous cock. I stared down at it, literally having to move my head to see all of it, but I didn’t want to waste any more time. Hand shaking, I reached forward to grab at the biggest dick known to man.

And oh god. Oh god, fuck. That’s when I felt it. I felt his warm cock in my hand. Thick. Huge. Soft.

Fucking soft.

I thought this beast of a man was hauling a massive hardon around town and in the club, but the fucker’s cock was legitimately soft. I remember saying out loud “no fucking way” before I progressed any further. I just couldn’t believe it. I thought this guy was carrying a 16-inch boner around to entice me, but as I started slowly tugging it from the confines of his overly tight jeans, it turned out to be 16 fucking inches of soft, heavy cock.

I kept pulling, and pulling. Inch after inch of that python sliding out of his pants. It must have felt good because I could hear him groan loudly. Fuck, I would too if my dick was sliding between some tight jeans and my hard, muscled leg.

When I got to about 10 inches of it out, bent and heavy, I gasped again. This fucking thing was real. Not some sock or sausage shoved down his pants. Real fucking flesh. I didn’t even have the massive head of it out yet, and it was 10 inches of enormous, thick, muscky shaft sitting in front of me. With a few final very slow pulls, because hey, I wanted to savor this moment, I finished taking his cock out of his pants. The head itself must have been the end three inches of his dick. I held it in my hands. Both my hands. I could feel the weight of it as I pointed it straight out toward me. It was massive. It was beautiful. And he was grinning wide.

“Let go of it for a second and go grab the measuring tape on the counter.”

I gulped hard hearing these words but didn’t dare miss a chance to do what he said. He said to let go, and so I did, and I watched that heavy fucker fall down, over his balls, gravity taking over to make it smack against the couch with a heavy thump before wobbling under its own weight, suspended in the air halfway to the floor.

I grabbed the measuring tape as fast as I could and rushed back into position, my hands not even sure what to do. Looking down at it in all its glory, I was stunned. Most people think an 8-inch hard cock is impressive. This was twice that, and twice as thick, just hanging there, tugged down because it was so heavy, resting atop a pair of massive balls the load of which, back then, I could only imagine.

And I heard him grunt. Another one of those grunts like he did in the club, and right before my eyes his cock did it once again, but out of the confines of his tight pants, it seemed much more extreme this time. It swelled, not really growing thicker, but lengthening down an inch, two inches. He was flexing it, forcing it to plump. Three inches, four inches more, at least that’s what it looked like. The enormous tube of flesh had to be at least 20 inches long, nearly touching the floor before it finally happened. The same thing that happened in the club only this time not restricted.

A burst of pre cum shot out of his dick and made a small glop of fluid in the carpet inbetween my legs. Let me repeat that. It SHOT out of his dick. It didn’t ooze out or dribble out. No, it fired out of his cock like it was an orgasm, pooling in the weave of the short shag carpet. It didn’t just soak up either. The stuff wasn’t as thick as cum, but it was still thick, and it just sat there, like he had just marked his territory or something. I swallowed hard.

Watching his dick, I saw it regress once again, slowly losing its pump and shrinking back to what I thought was its normal 16-inch size. Again, I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

“Let’s see what I measure out to be tonight, hmm?”

I didn’t even bother looking up at him as he rumbled his words. Grabbing the tape measure, I wasted no time in putting the end of the reel agains the base of his cock, sticking it against the flesh and hair, placing my hand upon it and his dick to keep it in place, and rolling the tape measure down along his length. Five inches came and went. Ten inches rolled on past. Twelve. Fifteen. Apparently my judge of length was terrible because I hit the base of the head of his cock at fifteen inches. My hands were shaking as I pulled the tape measure along and over his massive cockhead. At least I was right there. The end of it was just slightly over three inches. I read the number. I read it and couldn’t process it right away. I just stared in disbelief before slowly turning my head up to him, saying,

“Eighteen and a half inches. Soft.”

His face beamed, obviously proud of his endowment. I mean, who the fuck wouldn’t be? Who the fuck wouldn’t be proud of hauling around 18 and a half inches of cock around with them. Sure it’s probably a pain in the ass, and there’s no way you’re going to hide a dick that massive, no matter what you wear, but still, just thinking about having that meat hanging off me, big and heavy, swinging around like a soft club and slapping my knees, it gets me so goddamned hard I want to spray another load. Fuck. Eighteen and a half inches. Eighteen and a half inches SOFT. That was his fucking cock, and he knew it. He knew he had the biggest dick on the planet and he was sitting in front of me, cocky, grinning that grin, enjoying me in my complete stupor, eating up every moment knowing that I would never again see a dick so massive and hung so long as I lived.

And then, as if he sensed he hadn’t blown my mind quite enough times this evening, the incredibly massive stud said the most shocking five words I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

“Little small, don’t you think?”

Description Kyle is pretty sure people don’t understand the magnitude of what he means when he says he’s “a grower”.

Votes(11)
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AddedApril 2013
Updated12 Apr 2013
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