I knew I had to stop. I’d been going at it for two hours now, slowly stroking. My laptop had gone to sleep, the stimulation of hundreds of Photoshopped monster cocks no longer needed.
I was my own morph now.
Slowly I stroked. Up, up and up. Then slowly down to the very base, its width pushing my hand open. A rhythm slower than my pounding heart as I stared at what I was doing to myself.
Every slow stroke pumped joy into my system. Every pass up and down was a smooth dose of carnal bliss. A toke of addictive, raw pleasure, pure and uncomplicated, suffused through my body.
I was starting to think I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Was it growing faster? The head was in up to my chest now — was it that far up a minute ago? I realized I wasn’t sure about how fast time was passing.
I was flushed. It felt good. If anything it was feeling better and better, the more huge my cock got.
I glanced at the tub of internet-bought no-name lube. It came in a small blue tub like Noxzema, but felt more like cocoa butter. I removed my hand for the time it took to scoop up a daub of the stuff, but no sooner had I done so than my hand had clamped around my cock again. I felt a surge of energy as the fresh dosage started to sink into my skin, leaving it almost perfectly frictionless — just enough to create a pleasant drag. My dick jumped a little, hardening painfully. My fingers no longer met my thumb for most of its length, even though my hands had grown some from the lube (it seemed to work ten times as well on phallic tissue, though). I short-stroked the middle a while, enjoying the thickness, then jumped up to the super-sensitive head for some spine-melting short strokes there. Then back to the slow, long strokes.
The tub was still a third full.
It was up to my chin now, and so so wide. I brushed the head lightly against the bristle of my unshaven stubble and shuddered pleasantly.
The part of me that cared, the part of me that wanted me to stop before I had a cock too unwieldy to manage, decided that things were getting desperate. My left fist was a piston, unstoppable. Pretty soon, I wouldn’t have a free right hand either. Already it was twitching, wanting to help.
I bit the bullet and grabbed my phone before I could stop myself and pressed the first speed dial.
I put the phone on speaker, set it down, and, as I listened to the rings (one two ), I slowly wrapped my right hand around my gigantic, irresistibly growing cock.
(three ) My heart was hammering, not knowing what to hope for. (four )
“Hey, handsome, what’s up?” Brian’s voice said cheerily. “You at the gym?”
I started to speak but hesitated.
“Brian — ” I panted.
“Are you okay?” Brian suddenly sounded worried.
“Yes — no — Brian I need your help,” I blurted out.
“Where are you?” he asked urgently.
The head of my cock was near my mouth. Too near. I could feel my own hot breath on the head as I panted. I reached out my tongue to touch it and tasted the lube. It was like unflavored yogurt.
I opened my mouth to receive it. But at the last minute I said toward the phone, “Home.” One final word. Then, from that moment, my mouth, like my hands, was a captive of unending pleasure.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Brian said briskly and hung up. Too long, I thought, with a rueful smile around my delicious monster. Much too long.
As fifteen minutes became twenty and twenty-five I felt the intense and constant please of my cock growing into my hot, luscious mouth. It became longer and wider as I licked and sucked and slowly stroked with both hands. In my mouth alone, in fact, was enough cock to keep anyone happy. And the lube had been working on my tongue as well, lengthening and strengthening it. By the time Brian arrived I felt as though I had acquired a whole new tongue, one whose only purpose was that for which it had been designed, licking and caressing impossibly hard cock.
I heard Brian’s key in the lock, heard him walk through the living room looking for me, calling my name. I glanced up and saw him standing, amazed, in the doorway, and the sight of his perfect dancer’s body, glistening with sweat and almost completely exposed (he was wearing only shorts — I had caught him coming home from his run), caused a pint of precum to be jettisoned down my throat. I gave him a plaintive look. I was starting to think I might choke.
Brian drank in the situation. He crossed over to my desk and picked up the tub of lube. “What’s in this stuff?” he mused to himself.
He crouched on his haunches to look me in the eye. His eyes were bright and shining and full of wonder. “You can’t stop, right?”
I shook my head slightly, still sucking, still stroking.
“You called me over here to help you stop, right?” I nodded.
A huge grin broke over his face. “Dude, I am so not going to do that.”
I stared at him, half scared, half relieved. My triple-wide cock seemed to thrust an inch further into my mouth.
“Tell you what I will do, though,” he said, standing up and grabbing a pair of shears off my desk. “I’ll help you use it up.” With a few short cuts my thin tee shirt was gone, exposing my nearly hairless torso, then disappeared to the kitchen and came back with disposable plastic gloves on. Then, as I blissfully and endlessly stroked and sucked an enormous boner creeping toward the back of my throat, Brian began to run half of what was left of the lube into my chest and shoulders.
It was the most amazing backrub ever — my strokes quickened as my muscles burned with excitement. He spread more lotion over my lats, then slathered the rest on my pecs and rubbed all the muscles hard, exciting and stimulating me in a way that was bring me close to the edge to extent I hadn’t reached in three steady hours of self-pleasuring.
My cock was pushing down my throat! At first I was alarmed but I realized my throat had been subjected to the lube and could now accommodate even my palm-wide girth. Before long my cock was shoved most of the way down my own throat. I looked up to see Brian licking the tub clean, his eyes dancing with excitement, as he continued to rub my pecs and shoulders. The thought of Brian with a longer tongue drove me unexpectedly to the edge, and before I realized it I was hurtling over the edge, exploding, filling myself with gallons of cum, shooting again and again, each time my cock shuddering and growing, thrusting deeper and deeper down my own throat, painfully bent as I hunched to swallow it. Brian had his 10-inch cock out too and was cumming on my chest like he was manufacturing the special lube out of his balls.
Brian pulled me up — I was woozy and semi-conscious — and guided me toward the bed, my cock softening enough to glide easily out of my mouth and flop down to and drop painfully to hang quivering between my legs. It was still really thick and so long, only partially hard, that the head was kissing my ankles and drooling on them. We flopped onto the bed and I started to kiss him exhaustedly, both of us enjoying each other’s very long, very playful tongues. As we started to fall asleep, his head resting gently on my dramatically thickened pecs, my last fuzzy thought as I drifted off was whether I would be strong enough to give Brian the other tub.
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