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Related article: Eleven-and-a-half: A Fantasy Of Great Length by Ray WilderChapter 37: SamThis is a work of fiction. All the characters, events and locations portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, events or locations is purely coincidental.Copyright � 1996. All rights, implicit or implied, except for distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual downloading the file, are reserved. Inquiries regarding publishing rights for this book should be directed to: raywildaol.com======================================== What the hell was going on here? All day long she'd been feeling funny. Good funny. But funny. At the oddest times her head would drift and a sudden rush would swoop through her genitals. If she didn't know any better she would have sworn she was horny. Of course she was horny. She was always horny. Especially after working out. Especially while working out. But this was something new. Or something old, actually. An odd tingle which sent her back. . . somewhere. . . deep inside her. She tried pushing herself harder through her workout, adding pounds when she should be decreasing, adding reps when her muscles cried 'no more'. The harder she pushed the more intense it got. Her body buzzed and she just knew everyone else in the gym could feel it. She was glad she wasn't a man. Not that she ever had any desire to change sexes, but had she been one, the front of her gym shorts would be bulging with a huge erection right now. A huge erection. Arnold. Shit. She expended a great deal of effort making gold of her life by not thinking about crocodiles. Everything would be golden if she could just not think about Arnold. Arnold and his eyes. Arnold and his beautiful face. Arnold and his body. Arnold and his gorgeous, hot, thick, long, massive, plunging, soul-splitting cock. Arnold and his soul. Her crotch became moist, just as it always did. Her clit became hard, just as it always did. Her mind's eye filled with images of the beautiful boy with the huge spirit that had filled her once, so many years ago, as she had never been filled before or since. But now. Now this seemed to be different. If she closed her eyes and pressed deep into the weight of her exercise she could feel the heat of that huge cock pressed against her thigh. She could swoon at the touch of his tentative tongue as it first sought out her aching, yearning clit. What the hell was going on here? Still no satisfying answer. She could find no satisfactory solution to her predicament as well, so she finished her sets, took a very quick and invigorating cold shower, fended off advances from several other clients at the gym, all of whom had, at one time or another, given her great pleasure. But not now. Not with her head so full of the past. She would only be using them. Something was up and she had to figure out what. Should she go home? What was there? The answer? Should she get something to eat? Her stomach and head said yes. Her heart said she wanted to be alone. She'd grab something from Norma's and take it home with her. A quick drive to the diner. As she was getting out of her car she looked across the street. An orange rental truck drove by towing a small sports car. She froze in her tracks. Was that Arnold at the wheel? She had to be seeing things. The arm that rested on the open window was huge. The shoulder, gigantic. The face. Hard to tell. So many years. He had been so young then. She, as well. She Top Lolita thought of herself at that time, comparing that person to her present form. She was much bigger. Her whole body bulging with strength. She also thought of what was inside. She had grown. Changed. Expanded. That, of course, had a lot to do with having met a certain unbelievable boy just coming into his own, just discovering the incredible power within himself. She had cried and moped around her friend's house for almost a month after her encounter with Arnold. Then had come the really bad news. Mr. Ridell was dead. Heart attack. She had called Mary to have her relay the message to Arnold, but. . . "Hello?" Oh, my God. It was him. "Hello?" "Arnold?" "Yeah. Sam?" "Hi, Arnold." "My God. Sam. Where are you?" "Still out west." "I miss you so much, Sam." "I'm really missing you, too, Stud." "Sam, I know why we're not supposed to see each other. But. . ." "Arnold." "Yeah, Sam?" "I've got some really bad news to tell you." "Bad?" "Yeah. Oh, God. Oh, God, Arnold. Mr. Ridell. He's dead." "Dead?" "Heart attack. They found him at home yesterday. They think he'd been gone for a day or two already." "Hang on, Sam. Hang on. Think of the good. Think of his love for you. For me." "I know. I know." "And think of my love for you, Sam." Her voice had fogged with tears. She needed him so badly at that moment. She needed to be touched as she knew only he could touch her. She tried to say this but the words couldn't find their way around her sorrow. They both cried on the phone for a few more minutes and they got more desperate and inconsolable until they had to hang up Top Lolita because there was no solution. Sam's eyes misted over again as she remembered that last phone conversation with him. Stud. So new. So fresh. So frighteningly deep and powerful. By the time she got her eyes cleared the truck had vanished down the road. What were the odds? The way she was feeling, the thoughts she was thinking, the memories she was experiencing? Pretty damn good, she'd say. Sam went into the diner and ordered a meal to go at the cash register. The kitchen and the women at booth four seemed all a-buzz about something. Then she heard it. One of the women said the name 'Arnie'. She also very indiscreetly mentioned a very large penis. Insufferable lout. Had she no sense of decency? And besides, how would she know about his beautiful, mind-bending member? She wanted to go over to the booth and. . . and. . . do what? Certainly Arnold had enjoyed sex with many people since their one encounter. Did she expect him to remain celibate for the rest of his life? The whole reason for their forced separation was to encourage him to get out and grow, expand, develop his innate abilities, give them to the world. But could this uncouth, penis-hungry slut have been favored with his gifts? If so, it had been charity, she was sure. She was also quite sure something was extremely wrong with her. She would never, ever have thought that about anyone under normal circumstances. How could she still be driven by the memory of one sexual encounter of so many years before? She, too, had learned and grown so much from that afternoon in the school gym. She had taken that knowledge and applied it to her life, spreading the love and spirit she had gotten from him to everyone else she had come in contact with. This was a fellow human being who had every right, in fact, to experience all the best of the world. And if she had been fortunate enough to encounter Arnold, then she was doubly lucky. She was very attractive. Her body was hard and firm, her eyes clear and bright, her hair long and fine and golden and probably a bit golden-er than God intended but then wasn't Sam's own body a product of her own intervention? And wouldn't someone as sexually charged and attractive as this woman garner the attention of someone as sexually charged and attractive as Arnold? Unfortunately, yes. So Arnold was in town. Or just leaving it. What? Would these women know? How could she ask without sounding. . . what. . . possessive? What the hell did it matter? "Excuse me. I couldn't help overhearing you mention someone named 'Arnie'. I don't suppose he was just in here, was he?" "You a friend of his?" "Long time ago." "Yeah. There was a new guy. Just left. Caused quite a commotion, too." That would be the guy. Her heart began fluttering. "Did he mention where he was living?" "Nope. In fact he wasn't very open about anything. Except. . ." "Except what?" "Well, Brenda, here, got a first hand look at his anatomy and. . . well, if he's a friend of yours, you probably know what I'm talking about." "What'd he do? Whip it out on the counter for you?" "Whoa, sister. Take it easy. I mean, it's not like he kept it a big secret. I mean, like, you can see pretty plain, I mean. So she asked." "And?" "And what?" "And that's when he whipped it out on the counter?" "Wishful thinking. No. What are you? His wife or something?" "No. I'm sorry. We were both very young and he was very special. I haven't seen him for many years. Did he say where he was going?" "Nope. Wait a minute. He said he was going to check out The Pump House. Not sure if he was headed there right now, but I guess he'll end up there eventually. Unless he listens to Norma." Norma's quarrel with one of the owners of The Pump House was known in most body building circles, as was her predisposition for hunks of muscle, in or out of wedlock. If there was a single fate that Sam would not wish on Arnold, it would be getting netted Top Lolita by Norma. But if Arnold was anything like what she remembered, he would have better sense (and taste) than that. She thanked the women at booth number four for the information, paid for her order and drove it back to her place. All the time she kept thinking about Arnold. About Mr. Ridell. About her friends Mary and David. And Ed. She had half hoped she would have returned east in time to see Arnold ten years ago. The end of the summer had not seen the end of her grief over the death of her dear friend. There was only one person she could have shared that with, but Arnold had not waited for her. She had been devastated upon her return to learn that Arnold had gone off just days before. They had no idea what had happened to him. Nothing had seemed strange before his departure, he seemed to be in no trouble. In fact, the two boys were having a great time living downstairs and came up frequently for dinner or to spend the night. And then he had just disappeared. The two boys were lovers. Both Mary and David spent time with the two of them. Under Arnold's influence Ed become an outrageous lover. He started out as a minor player in any couplings with a third person but by the end of the summer was as potent a force as Arnold. And the two of them together. . . Sometimes her friends would just sit back and watch. The beauty, the grandeur, the absolute unrestrained sex. They had made quite a team. Had they been in love? Arnold loved everyone he had sex with. Unencumbered, unrestricted, unreserved. And Ed? It was hard to tell. He certainly had come a long way with Arnold. In his own way, yes. But in his own way. Well, it wasn't like she owned him or anything. And they had agreed it was best to not see each other again. God forbid he should become attached to her, dependent on her, in love with her. It was like going through the death of Mr. Ridell all over again. For a second time in less than a season she was devastated. It took all the love and understanding of her incredibly strong, wonderful friends to get her head turned back around. They had spent the summer getting to know Arnold and understood him better than she could have expected to from only one afternoon of mad, intense fornication. He had come to see the extent of his gifts during that summer and needed to develop them just as he did his body. And what a body. Her friends reported that in the course of his several months with them he had practically doubled his muscle bulk. He worked out at the gym with a maniacal intent; sometimes six or eight hours a day. He would then come home and use the equipment there, focusing in on one particular muscle group, driving and driving it into absolute failure. They had photos taken of him at the house, some in the nude, that showed the staggering progress he had made. They also showed his phenomenal beauty and stature. He had gained composure, confidence, a greater sense of his humanity. All these things were readily apparent from the pictures which were laid out before her on the low table in the tatami room. Mary, David, and Ed recounted their extraordinary sexual encounters with him, their accounts containing details which frightened and stimulated at the same time. It was, in fact, the relating of those episodes to her which so aroused each of them that they were soon entwined in a menage, the energy of which generated one of the hottest, steamiest, most mind boggling sexual experiences any of them had ever been involved Top Lolita with, aside from their individual and collective couplings with Arnold. The most haunting aspect was that, all through Top Lolita the evening, one or the other made the comment they felt Arnold was there with them. So now she sat out in her garden, the fragrant wisteria and bougainvillea hanging over her head from the old wooden arbor. She tried to enjoy their delicate scents, the wonderful mixture of lavender and red blossoms as they entwined. The strong, thick vine of the wisteria, the fragile but overpowering bougainvillea. The thoughts of her soul wound 'round the strength of her Arnold. Her Arnold. For he had been hers before anyone else's. What ever he was today had started with her. She would bet there had been no other person who had come to him with so much; who had accepted his power without fear. In the end all would carry from him a stronger spirit, an enriched appreciation of what it was like to really come in contact with another human. But all would, at first, be afraid. All but her. The first. Her memories of that afternoon with Arnold flowed through her. The tinglings, the knowings. The rekindled yearnings. If she knew he was here, wouldn't he know she was as well? And if he did? What then? Should she wait for him to contact her? Should she force the issue? What if. . .? That was foolish. There was no reason to think his reaction to seeing her again would be anything but unbounded joy. She knew what they had shared. It meant so much to her. It had meant so much to him. And they would meet again. They would. She did know, after all, that he was interested in The Pump House. It would be a simple matter of going over there and seeing if he had shown up already. But was that where she wanted them to meet? She hoped it would be more private than that. For she knew what her reaction would be. She wanted to rip her clothes off and ram herself hard against his glorious member, wherever it was they met. She would have to pick her trips to the supermarket with care. And what would he be like now. Certainly his body would have continued to develop. She wondered why she hadn't seen him on the contest circuit. Even if he weren't into the competition of it, and she doubted he was, he certainly would have been talked about. A body like that. A face like that. A cock like that. There had been no one who would ever fill her the way he filled her. His big, gorgeous cock. So hard. So full. So hot. So thick. So long. So. . . Her crotch was damp. She leaned back in her chair and dreamed of his eleven-and-a-half inch penis pressing into her hot, aching cunt. This was not the first time these thoughts had crossed her mind since they had parted. As a matter of fact, she gave it at least a passing thought each time any man poised to enter her. She could not help holding each male lover up to comparison. Sex was still a joy, but there was always just a tinge of disappointment when her lover's organ would slide into her anxious cunt and the pressure wouldn't be right, the depth would be just short of spectacular, the speed with which he would drive himself against her would be just a bit slow, and hardly ever would she feel as loved, as cherished, her every sexual need attended to. How could it not be this way? And there was the awful, sinking feeling she would get whenever she would reach her peak, straining and pushing to drive herself over the top and she would cry out. Cry out what? Whose name spilled from her lips in her moment of passion? There was only one lover with whom she could be completely free and open, not fearing that the wrong name across the lips would offended them. And that is because she had heard that Top Lolita same name escape for his lips in the heat of passion. Ed. It was even more certain than inevitable that the two young body builders would have soothed the emptiness of Arnold's absence in each other those ten years ago. And Ed had become an amazing lover. Although not as big as Arnold, Ed's physique had actually grown more since his arrival at David and Mary's house. They had spent the evening swapping Arnold stories, ending with the intense union which left them all a bit stunned and just a bit spooked. Twice during the evening she had been filled with both David's and Ed's phenomenal organs, and yet she could have sworn she had felt another lengthy cock heating the inside of her thigh or resting in the small of her back. Mary had related the same experience. And Ed had been sure that David had entered him, even though, at the time, David had been quite occupied with his wife's efforts to suck his cock inside out. As the year had progressed, Ed had introduced Sam to Ivan and the crew. Though both of them were considerably less prone to performing for the public than their well-hung compatriot had been, Ivan had accepted her into the fold and given her every opportunity to find a comfortable way to involve herself with the activities which Ivan sponsored. Sam appreciated the money, appreciated the friendship, and, eventually, appreciated Ed's companionship. They made love in memory of Arnold. Then they made love because of the memory of Arnold. Then they made love in memory of their love. Finally, they had made love for their love. Not only their love for their shared loss, but also for their shared gain. And now, ten years later, that love had proved to be the greatest gift anyone had ever given her. For it Top Lolita was given, not to replace her memory of Arnold, no more than she gave it to Ed for the same reason, but was, instead, given because of Arnold and what he had meant to each of them. So when one or both of them Top Lolita were straining towards some far-flung goal of sexual attainment, the sweat so thick, the smell so thick, their bodies so thick and hard, and Ed so thick, so hard, so deep inside her, and the name "Arnold" escaped their lips, it would be the final push to send them over the top to their attainment. This was something that no one else could share with her. Actually, at the moment, she couldn't even share that because Ed was back east, visiting Mary and David and, she suspected, hanging out at Ivan's. She was a ruined woman. The meal was cold. She had drifted off in sexual reverie and could not think of eating, though she knew that was a mistake. She spent the next several hours trying to occupy herself with anything besides thoughts of Arnold. Books, the radio, eventually even the television. At some point she fell asleep, waking in the early evening with an uncomfortable energy buzzing in her muscles. She needed a distraction. She couldn't face going back to the gym again. Too many near reminders of what she sought most. But she needed something to dissipate the energy she had bottled up inside. A run along the beach seemed like a good idea. She changed into her jogging outfit, grabbed her Walkman, a serious rock 'n roll tape and headed down her street towards the ocean. It was just moving through dusk to twilight; street and car lights swept the air with their beams of light. Shadows danced across the fronts of buildings and she raced her ever lengthening shadow along the sidewalk. As she waited for the signal to change at the main intersection, two women on roller blades swooshed by her so close she felt the breeze of their passing. They were shouting at each other and seemed to be fighting. The older one swerved towards the younger and attempted to knock her into the oncoming traffic. Dangerous game. The signal changed and she ran across the intersection, down a short extension of her street and onto the bike path that ran between the beach and the apartment buildings that lined the main drag. She stopped for a moment to put her headphones on and get the tape started. The music blasted into her head, eradicating all her self-indulgent thoughts. The beat quickly infected her body and she was taken with the need to move. "Oo, babe, you're makin' it hard" Which way? Right or left? "Makin' it hard but I know that it's right." Fine. She started north along the asphalt and quickly fell into a strong, steady rhythm that was supported by the heavy beat of the music. "Know that it's right for me-ee-ee-ee." She ran past walkers and other runners and bikers and skaters and roller bladers and one guy on a motorized skateboard with amazing abdominals and smooth, hard, round pecs. Sam thought about asking for a lift, but the words to the song reminded her of why she was out there to begin with. "Gotta be you 'cuz I feel it so" Very quickly her pulse rate went aerobic and she began to breath deep, sucking gulps of the fresh ocean air. The coolness of early evening and the noise in her ears cleared her thoughts and she slipped into the semi-mindless drone of the jogger. "Feel it so, so I know that it's right" Her thighs and calves began to warm and she delighted in the feeling of strength in her highly developed legs. She tensed and flexed other parts of her body and felt the skin stretch and move over the surface of the tight, firm muscles. "'Cuz I know that it's right for me." Pump. Pump. Pump. Pump. Pump. Pump. "Hey world. Look what I've got and you don't. Nyah nyah-nee nyah nyah." What?. She stopped dead in her tracks and pulled the headphones from her ears. She had listened to this tape at least a dozen times and could not remember ever hearing the lead singer chant "Nyah nyah-nee nyah nyah." It must have come from someone around her. But a quick glance up and down the path showed no one within several dozen yards of her. Certainly not close enough for it to have gotten over the volume of the tape. She was standing in front of an apartment building with floor after floor of balconies. Possibly one of the occupants. But what could possibly have possessed him (for it was definitely a male voice) to have shouted such a thing at the top of his lungs? She scanned the face of the building. Nothing. It had been so big. So full of life. So joyful. So. . . Arnold. Arnold lived here. Oh, my God. She backed away from the building, stepped off the asphalt path and onto the sand, lost her balance and fell back on her ass, jarring her body. She felt light headed. She couldn't get her breath. It came in short, desperate little gasps. What scared her the most was that she knew, without question, that she was right. He was there, in that building. Oh, my God. What should she do? What would he do? What is he doing? What's he got that he has to tell the rest of the world about? What's her name? His name? Their name? She'd meet up with him eventually. I'll find you, you big stud. And when I do. . . She jumped to her feet, brushed the sand off, stuffed the headphones back in her ears, cranked the volume up to the point of distortion and ran the entire length of the beach path, collapsing in her bed two hours later feeling totally drained, totally driven, totally mad and totally determined to let Arnold know that the worst decision he ever made was not sticking around for her all those years ago. He'd regret it. God, she'd missed him.
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