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Lolita Galleries

(2011-11-21 23:52:48)





Related article: Eleven-and-a-half: A Fantasy Of Great Length by Ray WilderChapter 51: ChrisThis 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======================================== She had never been one for shower fantasies, but every time her hands touched any part of her body, it made her wish Arnold was touching her, getting ready to move his massive body against her, thrust his huge, swollen prick into her. She couldn't stop her cunt from flowing. Everything was a sexual turn-on. She very nearly came when she soaped up her breasts. And when it came time to rinse off her vagina, she had to resort to thinking it was the building manager, Mr. Howard, doing the evil deed so she didn't collapse in a puddle of orgasmic bliss. Oddly, though, she had trouble conjuring up the disgust that, until that morning, she had felt for the older man. Suddenly he was a human being with a life and a cock and troubles and joys and a reason for being on earth. She could not find in herself the ability to identify with him, but she seemed less inclined to dismiss him outright. Arnold. If she ended up actually liking Mr. Howard because of Arnold's affect on her, she was going to be awfully mad at him. That made her chuckle. When you had a eleven-and-a-half inch cock and biceps bulging and pecs swelling to satisfy your every sexual need, the whole world took on a different look. That thought was followed by the hope she wasn't so shallow a person that it was only Arnold's eleven-and-a-half cock that was having its affect on her. Her extraordinary experiences of the previous night had proved that something bigger than that was moving inside her. Again she chuckled. She scrubbed extra hard on her hands to remove the last vestiges of chemical odor which always seemed to collect there when working in the lab. She had spent the time since Arnold left developing the shots taken in his weight room the previous afternoon. And if those photos weren't enough to put her down for the count, she also redid a couple of the spy hole series to use as teasers. Nicholas was going to cum in his pants, as she hoped every woman in the country would, when he saw the ad campaign she had in mind. Just as she got out of the shower she heard a knock on her door. Wrapping a heavy terry cloth robe around her and a thick towel about her wet hair she peeked through the spy hole. Should she have been at all surprised to see Mr. Howard standing there? Well, there was no time like the present. She checked to make sure she was very decent and then opened the door. "Good morning, Mr. Howard." "Mornin', Chris. I was sifting cigarette butts out of the sand in front of the building this morning and I found this. It matches the duplicate you gave me for the office." He held up the key she had lost in her collision with the roller bladers. The entire event had completely slipped her mind. "Oh, thank you. That must have been an awful lot of trouble to go through all the keys for the building." "Not much. Besides, I recognized it as being the type of lock we had put in here the when you was broken into. Not a whole lot of them around. Held the two of them up, this one and the one in the lock box, and, sure enough; two peas in a pod." He extended his hand to her. She took the key, but he held on to it for just an instant longer than was necessary. A sly smirk spread across his face. Chris decided that enough was enough. 'Take the bull by the horns,' she thought. "Mr. Howard. I would like to have a little talk with you. Would you mind coming in for a quick cup of coffee?" His jaw dropped to his chest. The sly smirk became one of incredulity. Chris guessed immediately what was going through his mind. 'Fine,' she thought, 'let him think what he wants. It'll put him off his guard.' She stood aside and welcomed Mr. Howard into her kitchen. She Lolita Galleries moved to the sink and began the process of making coffee. She started to ask if he liked decaf but the question seemed pointless. "How's your brother-in-law?" "Huh?" "You told me yesterday you were going out to the valley to your brother-in-law's place." "Oh, yeah. Yeah. He's, ah. . .fine. Fine." "Good. I hope it was a good visit." "It was all right." "How do you take your coffee?" "Uh, black. Black, no sugar." "That's easy enough. It'll be just a minute for the water to heat up. You mind it made drip like this?" "Uh, drip's fine. Just fine." "Great. By the way, I noticed you fixed the light fixtures down in the laundry room. It sure makes a big difference down there with all the lights on. Thanks." "Yeah. We was waitin' for replacements ta come into the hardware store. Took some time for 'em ta git here." "I thought there might be something holding you up. It's always nice when things get done around here as promptly as that." "Just tryin' ta keep you folks happy." "I'm glad you feel that way, Mr. Howard, because I've got a problem I need to discuss with you." The sly smirk reappeared. "Here's your coffee." "Thanks." He took a sip of it. "Nice cuppa coffee." It'd better be, at $9.50 a half pound. Chris sat down in the chair across the table from him. "What seems ta be your problem?" "You may not believe this, Mr. Howard. . ." "Please, call me Ben." "You may not believe this. . .Ben. . .but it has to do with you and me." Ben shifted in his seat, a motion halfway between expectation and discomfort. "I hope there's nothing wrong with your apartment." "Oh, no. Everything's fine. No, Ben. It's actually between you and me." Ben made the same motion, this time swinging more towards the discomfort side. Chris smiled to herself. She had suspected that his bark was worse than his bite; when she actually got around to what she was trying to say, and she admitted to herself she was taking the scenic route, he would be so relieved he would probably melt right where he sat. "You 'n me? I'm not gettin' ya." "Ever since the day I moved into this building you and I have had certain. . . ideas. . . about each other. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure those ideas have made both of us pretty uncomfortable." "Still not quite sure where you're goin' with this." "It's just that it seems every conversation we have has a second layer to it. Kind of like an undertow down on the beach. My discomfort has come, partially, from the way I feel about you after we're done talking. But another part of it, and this is something I only recently discovered, is the way I feel about the way I feel about you. Now I know that's my problem, but I also know there's something you could do to help me get over this discomfort and, in the process, maybe make you a little more comfortable around me." Ben's eyes glazed over. She'd obviously gone a bit too deep into the woods for him. He needed a few bread crumbs to find his way out. Very dry bread crumbs. "Can I ask you a personal question?" "Uh. . .uh. . .sure. . .uh. . .I mean. . .uh. . .it depends." "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I think it'll help here. Yesterday afternoon, after we finished talking downstairs in the lobby, how did you feel about our conversation? And I mean really feel." Ben thought for a second, started to speak, changed his mind. Finally he said, "Don't recollect feeling anything. Just thought you might be a little nicer, maybe." "Good. And you want to hear something really amazing? That's exactly what I thought, too." Clouds of thought raced across Ben's face. His eyebrows alternately raised as he scrunched down on the meaning of what Chris was saying. After a couple of moments, he shrugged. "Missy, I gotta tell ya, I'm not at all certain of where you're goin' with all this." "That sort of makes both of us. Maybe I'd better just tell you my side of it and how I see the situation. Then you can fill in your own details. When I walked out the door to the lobby yesterday after talking with you I had Lolita Galleries the distinct impression you hadn't talked to me as a human being but as thing. An object. To be blunt, a sex object. Now I know I had on an exceptionally revealing swim suit, and I guess I shouldn't be surprised when I attract the attentions of the opposite sex. You included." "Well, you sure did that." "Thank you for being so honest. But there are different kinds of interest. And there are different kinds of reactions, depending on who's doing the reacting. I'll be perfectly honest with you. Lolita Galleries I Lolita Galleries was definitely trying to elicit a certain kind of reaction from my new neighbor, hoping he would notice me from his balcony. But he's a young man, not much different in age from myself, and single, meaning available. The fact that I attracted your attention as well compliments me on my broad range of appeal. But you, unlike my new neighbor, are twice my age, married, meaning not available, and, in the end, not someone I would Lolita Galleries immediately choose to seduce with my racy swim wear." Ben had become more alert as Chris talked, gaining false hope as to where she was leading. But the last sentence she spoke deflated him as surely as sticking a pin into a balloon. Crestfallen, he slumped back into his chair, almost letting his cup slip from his grasp. "And there, Mr. Howard. . .Ben. . .is our problem. It would be very nice to be able to like you. But everytime I try, you misinterpret my motives, or choose to see them in your own light. And so we end up feeling very dissatisfied each time we talk." Chris sat back in her own chair and crossed her arms, a motion she hoped would have its desired affect on the man: I'm defensive. Ben studied her for a couple of minutes, set his cup down on the table, turned it around a couple of times, picked it up and sipped, and set it down again. "I don't mean to make you think I don't like you." "Ben, I know that's not the problem. But just because Lolita Galleries you like me doesn't mean you have to want to go to bed with me. This isn't black and white. There can be a million shades of gray. Even an occasional color or two. Do you like your wife?" "What's that got to do with anything?" "I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude. I was only going to make the point that if you did like her, you probably would know the feelings you have for her are different from those you have for me. And for everyone else you know. I appreciate the fact that I'm an attractive woman. Some would say exceedingly so, and I don't feel like I'm bragging when I say that. I also appreciate the fact that you apparently have an eye for beauty that includes me, and I thank you for the compliment. But appreciation is one thing. Respect is another. I respect the fact that you're married. I respect the fact that you're a human being with feelings that can be hurt and emotions that flare and needs and wants and dreams. But it makes it very difficult for me to offer that respect when I get the feeling you're not returning it. The respect, I mean." "You want me to respect you." "That's kind of the idea, yeah." "And if I do, then you'll respect me, too." "If you do, you'll make it easier for me to do the same, yes." Clouds of thought, again. Finally he said, "I don't believe anyone has ever sat down and talked to me the way you have. Not quite sure how to handle it." "Take it at face value, Ben. I'm not hiding anything from you. I'm not trying to kid you or make fun of you or put you down or even push you away. I'm just trying to see if you and I can find some common ground so we can start having a human relationship. Two humans relating to each other, not two people trying very hard to get what the other person is not willing to give. I promise. If you can make me feel like it's worth knowing you, I'll definitely be able to make you feel like it's worth knowing me. But you have to respect my own needs and boundaries. I do not want to have sex with you, Ben. You're just not my type. And there's probably nothing that can be done about that. But I would very much like to be your friend. If you'll let me in that way. You catch my drift?" "You know, for a woman, you sure do have an awful lot to say." Chris considered hurling herself off the balcony. Then she considered hurling Ben off the balcony. "But you sure do make a lot of sense." Then again. . . "Ben, you make me very happy to hear you say that. I'm glad you can see me that way. It's a start. A very good start." Ben studied his empty cup for a moment longer and then got up the nerve to look Chris in the eye. He studied them for just a moment, as if making sure she wasn't about to say "April Fool's" or something. He sighed. She was serious. "You know, when my wife was about your age she used to get out of the tub and Lolita Galleries wrap her head up just like that. Bright, bright red hair. Just like yours." "Used to?" "Don't have to wrap nothin' up no more. The chemotherapy took care of that." "I'm sorry. I didn't know." "Well, we don't like to talk about it much." He paused for a second. "That's why we was up ta her brother's house. He lives near the hospital and she's so tired after her treatments she can hardly stand the drive all the way home." "How long has she had it?" "About six months. They think they've got it under control, but then, I guess that's what they always say." "Lung Cancer?" "Nope. Never smoked a cigarette in her life. Never did much of anything bad. Makes you go and wonder. I run around boozin' and smokin' and cuttin' up and I'm never sick a day in my life. The Missus lives like a saint and they gotta go and cut her chest up and. . .and. . ." Before Chris could realize what she was doing she had jumped to her feet, gone to Ben and Lolita Galleries kneeled at his side, cradling his head on her shoulder. He resisted for a moment, let his head be pulled to her and, within seconds, was crying softly into her neck. She rocked back and forth, stroking his sparse, gray hair, patting him on his back. He was a big man, his body was firm, strong for a man his age. He had born many griefs, many wounds, many faults on that back. And she suspected this was the first time anyone, besides perhaps his own mother, had seen him cry. She said nothing, not wanting to inhibit him. Ben tried to compose himself, tried to deal with the shame of letting someone see him in this condition. Chris felt she should say something to ease his embarrassment. She put her hands on either side of his face and gently forced him to look at her. She Lolita Galleries smiled, hoping he would, too. It took a couple of seconds, but a warm glow slowly rose up across his face and one corner of his mouth raised in a sheepish grin. "I know it's not easy for you to open up like that. I take it as the ultimate compliment that you did it here. This has been a very good visit. For both of us." "I'm sorry." "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's perfectly all right for men to show their emotions. You have to let it out or it just sits in you and makes you sick." "I mean I'm sorry about how I've treated you. It's kind of hard to go around treating other people good when you can't even treat yourself right." "Like I said. There's nothing to be sorry about. We just needed to talk, that's all." Chris looked at the wall clock. She had an hour to make it to her appointment with Nicholas and his yapping mutts. "I don't want to give you the bum's rush, Ben, but I have to be across town for an appointment. You okay?" "I'll be fine. Fine. Sorry to hold you up. I guess you got better things to do than sit here baby-sitting an ol' coot like me." "Ben." "Huh?" "Cut the crap, okay?" Ben chuckled. "Yeah. I guess I gotta stop doin' that, huh." "Yup. Thanks for stopping by. And for finding my key." "You're welcome. Oh, that reminds me. I was just wondering how you got into your place without it." Chris smiled slyly. Her eyes flashed to the balcony door. Ben followed her glance, turned back and shrugged. He thought for a second and then: "Ah! I get it." "Yeah. Connecting balconies." "Long way down. I hope you weren't too scared." "Only for a little while. I got over it real quick, though." Ben studied her face for a second to see if there was any more information forthcoming. He chuckled and headed for the door. As he opened it he turned back to Chris with the most honest and open face she had ever seen on the man, and said, "Thank you very, very much for the coffee. It was the best I've ever had." "You're quite welcome. I'm certainly glad we had the chance to do it." Ben started out the door. "Oh, Ben?" "Yes, Miss Chris." "You were right, by the way. Those were mighty tight britches." She could still hear him laughing as he turned the corner into the stairwell. It didn't occur to her until she reached Nicholas' office in just three-quarters of an hour that there was anything unusual�until she realized she had reached Nicholas' office in just three-quarters of an hour. The elevator had run smoothly, the car had started promptly, there hadn't been a single red light the entire way to the freeway, not a single slowdown once on it, nor another red light from the freeway to his office, the entire distance being over ten miles. And she'd gotten dressed. Nicholas was sitting in his office, a set for some B-rated flick about a designer who thought he knew everything about taste. And didn't. Plaster cupids and vases with plastic flowers stood on plaster columns of various heights in all combinations around the room. Fabric in colors that had no right being seen in the same state with each other draped from ceiling to floor, column to column, vase to cupid to vase. It never ceased to confound Chris how a man with such abhorrent taste could come up with such a hot line of make-up. Pillows of different sizes were placed on the furniture. On each one was a little fluff of hair, the collection of which erupted into obnoxious yappings and howlings the moment she walked into the room. Nicholas had to perform his ritual of going around to each of the nine (!) hairballs and assure them intimately that everything was okay. He spoke so sweetly to each of them Chris was not sure if she was going to keep a straight face or her breakfast. When everyone had settled down Nicholas launched into a replay of their phone conversation of the day before. Chris thought she might want to cut him off, but realized she had missed some of this the last time, being otherwise occupied at the spy hole in her front door. The knowledge of what she carried in her portfolio and the affect it would have on this mad man helped her hold her tongue. She'd let him get it out of his system. Finally, he wound down with a hesitant "So what do you think?" Chris jumped in with both barrels blazing. She laid out her philosophy on sales, on make-up, on the woman he was trying to target, on the pluses of the product, the amazing achievements he had made in the art of changing the modern woman's image of herself through this amazing new line he had created, ending with the point that, with such a stunning array of colors and styles he was ready to present, he certainly should see how his new line needed to have the most spectacular, amazing, provoking, maybe even controversial presentation ever put together in any make-up ad campaign. Nicholas nodded as she stroked his ego, smiled with each compliment, even laughed a bit when she mentioned the word 'controversial.' She felt she was on the right track. She also knew what she had in the black folder leaning against her knees. "Nicholas. What we want to do is get your make-up on the face of every woman in this country, right. If this isn't what you want, then I'm outta here, because the only worthwhile campaign is the one that blows the competition out of the water. I know you have your ideas about presentation. I also know you have a certain budget to work with. But I also know that you're looking for the best campaign around. That's why you hired me. I want you to give me Lolita Galleries just a little leeway here. Indulge me for a moment and let me lay something out for you which I believe will accomplish the very thing we're both after. Blowing the competition away." She reached into the portfolio and, before Nicholas could object, spread several dozen shots of Arnold in all his naked, natural beauty, across his desk. The effect was just as she had predicted. Nicholas was speechless. For several minutes. This was Chris' best indication that she was on the mark. He slid the photos back and forth over each other, not being able to find one to focus on. When he finally realized he was just drifting above the sight of this incredible body he raised his eyes to Chris. "If your intention was to give me an erection, you have succeeded. As much as I would enjoy looking over these photos for as long as you care to allow me, I must ask what this has to do with selling my line?" Chris grinned. "Nicholas. If this man walked into this room right now and told you to put your make-up on your face, would you do it?" "Without hesitation." "So would a very large percentage of the female population of this country. At least that's what I'm willing to bet." "Who is he?" "A friend. A very good friend. Shall I go on?" "Please." "I am also betting that we can make this campaign run so that magazines will pay you to run your ads." Nicholas' eyes shot up from the photos for a second. He smiled in a way which Chris could only define as greedily. "I have this image of women placing kisses with all your different colors, on various parts of his body. We run a series of ads featuring different body parts and therefore different colors. Perhaps have a special color Lolita Galleries which we place in a special spot that one of the more liberal-minded magazines carries. Maybe even a contest to guess which color it will be. How many women do you think would want to help place that special color?" "All of them." "Any questions?" "How much?" "He has an agent. He also Lolita Galleries knows about this idea and has warned them. You'll pay dearly. You'll get your money's worth." "Is he gay?" "No." A little lie, but not completely. "I guess he'd have to be around alot, though." "No doubt. In fact I was planning on it. Nicholas. Picture your hottest color hanging from the end of that amazing cock. It's eleven-and-a-half inches long, Nicholas. Lolita Galleries Eleven-and-a-half." Nicholas stared at the photos and shook his head. He leaned in very close to the several taken through the spy hole. "What's going on here?" "I thought he didn't know I was shooting him. I was wrong. He's quite a showman." "Perhaps the tearose pink should go here, on his left bicep. It's quite large." "You could be right. Maybe we should leave those details until after we're sure the deal is set." Chris began gathering up the photos. "Don't you think you should leave those with me?" "No, Nicholas. These are the property of the subject. Besides, I would think the image of his body is etched firmly in you mind. It certainly is mine." "Very well. What do we need to do?" "I'll have his agency draw up the contract. I'll submit it to you next week with my own. I assume you've hired the proper press people." "Oh, yes. Sure. Here's their number." He slid her a business card which listed the name of one of the most prestigious firms on the coast. Chris' eyebrows shot up. "As you can see, I've hired the best. You. Them. Him." "Yes. Especially him. Now I just want to make sure we're on the same track here. About your doggies and the ladies at tea. . .?" "Just a passing fancy. I believe I can persuade my backers that you have presented the superior concept. Far superior. Mother will be disappointed." "Your Mother?" "Yes. She was going to be the focus of the campaign. She was so excited about the tearose pink. �'est la vie. I'm sure she'll get over it when she sees your friend." "Your Mother?" "Oh, yes. She's quite the swinger. Seventy-eight years old and still goes to see the Chippendales every chance she gets." "I guess you're never too old." "Dear God, I hope not. By the way, just how good is 'very good friends?'" "He'll do anything for me. Anything." "I was hoping you'd say that." "For me, Nicholas. Not you." "Well, maybe I can watch." "It depends. Voyeurism is not in either of our contracts." "I don't know. From the looks of those photos there, he might have different thoughts on the matter." Chris considered for a second. What were Arnold's limits? Where did he draw the line? Was there a line? She'd have to investigate that with him. In the mean time: "You'll have to take that up with Arnold, himself. I can't answer for him." She was sure that's what Arnold would want her to say. "I look forward to that very opportunity. Very well. I think we have a good start here. When can I expect a proposal?" "I'll work on it this week and present it on Friday, if that's good for you." "That'll be fine. I trust you'll bring Arnold, himself, along for the meeting." "If he's available." "If he's not, we'll reschedule the meeting." "You are incorrigible, Nicholas." "No, my dear woman. You are. Do you think for a moment that waving nude photos of a man with a body like that, a face like that and a cock like that would be in the least bit fair?" "Of course not. This is advertising, for God's sake." "Very well. At least we both know what kind of people we're dealing with." "Yes. People with similar taste in men." "I look forward to seeing you both on Friday. Thank you for this most pleasant meeting. I trust you'll excuse me if I don't stand up right now. I seem to be caught in a rather uncomfortable position." Chris laughed and shook her head. That seemed to be a common problem with Arnold. Was there a person on the planet the man wouldn't turn on? Rhetorical question. At least she was betting on it with this campaign. "I'll show myself out. Just remember, Nicholas. You won't be able to spend all your time behind that desk. We'll have to see what you're made of eventually." "Get Arnold in here and make it worth my while. Have a good day." "You too, Nicholas. See you Friday." As she got up to leave the hairballs rose in song and Nicholas had to go through his ritual all over again, this time from the relative discomfort of his office chair. She said a silent thank you to Arnold for having made that so easy. She then realized two difficult men had been handled with ease thanks to him. Was the traffic his doing, as well? As if to prove Lolita Galleries that nothing was so predictable, it took her over an hour to get home. She didn't know what Arnold's schedule was, didn't know what Patty's was either, and so let herself into her own apartment. There were several messages on the machine, including one from Nicholas who was already spewing ideas. She would have to set him straight as quickly as possible as to who was running this show. Lolita Galleries If he wanted to run his campaign, then he could do it himself. She called the press firm Nicholas had hired and found several friendly and familiar voices to talk with. Lolita Galleries They were all very pleased she was on the account and seemed genuinely excited as she ran down her ideas for the campaign. She left certain details out, giving only a concept description. As she had figured, her name and reputation got around a lot of the crap that usually came with working with a firm. They may have had their ideas, but they shut up and listened. Maybe Nicholas had gotten to them first and told them to go along. He really wanted to meet Arnold. The rest of the afternoon was spent working with some of the photos from the previous days shoot and an hour or two on the beach trying to get over the slight feeling of dread she harbored over seeing someone, anyone, other than Arnold that evening. There was also the smallest twinge of jealousy when thoughts of Patty came into her head. The thing that saved her was Arnold's comments on the matter. He was looking forward to their next meeting, when they would. . .how did he put it?. . .compare notes; bring the different experiences back and make a book report or something. She conjured up the image of Chuck's cock bulging deliciously in the front of his swimsuit the previous day and sensed the tingling begin deep within her. She knew she had gone through great changes since meeting Chuck on the beach the previous day. She had, in fact, been going through them at that time, though she hadn't been aware of them, their extent or source. The thought of doing to Chuck what she had done with Arnold the previous night began to excite her. If everything went as Arnold predicted, Chuck was in for one hell of a ride. Should she plan? Lay out in her mind the way she would screw her neighbor into the next dimension? Or would spontaneity Lolita Galleries be the order of the day? As the buzzing within her grew she realized that she was very close to needing release. She decided to hold off. When she finally popped, she'd unload so powerfully the man wouldn't know what hit him. She needed distraction. Her old stand-by, thinking of Mr. Howard. . .Ben, was no longer an option. The man had cried on her shoulder, for God's sake. How can you hate a man who cries on your shoulder? He certainly had a load to carry. And her lying out on the beach, thinking terrible thoughts about him, was not going to help him get through life. Maybe she should check in with him later and see if there's anything they needed. With his wife in the condition she was in, there was no doubt home cooked meals were few and far between. Unless Ben had taken to cooking. That made her chuckle. But he had surprised her already, no telling what other human qualities lay beneath that rough exterior. The breeze shifted to on shore and carried the sound of the surf across the beach. Surge after surge bubbled in her head and Chris soon found herself fighting off sleep. She knew if she drifted off she might not wake in time to get ready for dinner at Chuck's place. She had, in fact lost track of the time, anyway, and wondered how long she had been lying there. Raising her hand between her eyes and the slowly sinking sun, she saw she had forgotten her wrist watch. The sun was low enough that it caused some concern so she glanced around to see if someone was near enough to ask what time it was. Her eyes lowered to the horizon, towards the ocean, and gathered in a sight which made her heart jump. At first she thought it was Arnie. The huge musculature, the distinctive burgeoning crotch in silhouette against the setting sun. Even something in the way the man stood, turning to look at her at the precise moment she looked at him, as Arnold had anticipated her every move the night before, said it was her massive lover. The beautiful man moved towards her, keeping directly between her and the sun so she was unable to see his features. As he moved closer she noticed subtle differences which said it was not him. But who could remind her so much of her gentle giant? She got the same vibes from him as from Arnold. She also noticed he had a watch on his wrist. He moved purposefully towards her, as if he had been standing there all afternoon waiting for her to notice him. The walk, the swinging of the hips, the sure carriage of the Herculean shoulders all reminded her of Arnold, but. . . "Hi." "Hello. Could you please tell me what time it is?" "Ten minutes to seven." Even the voice. Not the tone so much as. . .what? The pace. The inflection. It felt frighteningly comfortable, as though she had just spent the night listening to it in her ear. Her heart trembled and her cunt hummed. "Thanks." "Did you loose your watch?" "No. Just forgot to wear it down here. No problem." "Okay." The man remained before her, his enormous torso blocking the sun. He seemed to be waiting for something and, although she thought she should be feeling uncomfortable, she was surprised by how unthreatening the situation felt. She could see, now, that it was not Arnold. What facial features she could make out confirmed this. And the bulge in his trunks, while formidable. . .quite formidable. . .still did not measure up to that of Arnold's. She chuckled a bit at the thought of being so adept at discerning the difference. A day ago, something as big as the cock before her would have been classified as magnificent and huge. Now it was big and smaller than Arnold. "You're amused." "Just a little irony, that's all." "I'm a big fan of irony." "It's just that you remind me of a friend." "In what way?" "Little things." She paused and took in the straining fabric of his suit. "Big things." "How little? How big?" "Just the way you walked up the beach. Something in your walk, I guess." "That seems like a little thing." "Yeah. I guess it is." "And the big things?" "He's quite well-developed. Like you." The man turned profile and the sun highlighted the tops of every bulge on his body. And his suit. His cock was held high and tight in his suit. His hard, firm ass pressed achingly against the fabric behind. His pecs swelled perceptively as he pressed his arms against his sides and the nipple furthest from her seemed to catch a ray of light and sparkle like a shot through a diffraction lens. He stood there with the same casual attitude she had seen in Arnold on the walkway the previous day, his huge cock cradled in his hand, his bulging bicep thrusting towards her view through the spy hole. The whole thing felt so unbelievably familiar, she could not help herself. "I know this is going to sound strange, but you don't happen to know a guy by the name of Arnold, do you?" The man's head shot around to her. Suddenly the attitude dropped away. He was instantly on his knees in front of her. "You know Arnold. I knew it. I knew I was right." "Who are you?" "My name's Ed. What's yours?" "Chris. You act like you haven't seen him for a long time." "I haven't. Not for ten years." "Ten. . ." A chill ran up her spine and made her skin crawl perceptively. Something else about ten years. What was it. The image of a tall, hard, muscular blonde flashed in her mind. Sam. "Sam." "Sam? What do you know about Sam?" "He talked about her." "When?" "Last night. I take it you know her." "I guess you could say that. I stay at her place when I'm in town. You were with Arnie last night, huh?" "Yeah. I just met him yesterday. I guess if you know him, you shouldn't be too surprised." "Nope. Not at all. I'm just so happy to find someone who I can talk to about him." "How do you fit into this Sam thing?" "He didn't tell you about me?" The tone in his voice carried such disappointment she could almost see him become physically smaller. "Well, we didn't do much talking, if you know what I mean." A little lie probably wouldn't hurt, at this point. "That's very kind, but you don't have to cover for him. I know him too well. Can't shut the jerk up sometimes. He and I were lovers after he met Sam." "And now you and Sam are?" "Yeah. He left town the day before Sam came back. Kind of like he was running away. I don't know what he was afraid of. But I ended up with Sam." "And that was ten years ago?" "Yeah. Sam and I tracked him down to the gym he's working out at. But we just missed him this morning. I don't suppose he told you where he lives, did he?" Chris had to think fast. What would Arnold want her to do? She knew he was meeting with Patty for dinner and whatever. He had seemed genuinely excited about it. Could he handle meeting up with this old flame in the same evening? Then there was the whole issue of were she fit into this lengthening list of past and present loves. She had even gotten something of a vibe from Arnold that morning. He seemed to be eager to get to the gym in a way far beyond just a normal need to workout. Patty was out of town until that evening. Was there someone else, as well? "I know he's having dinner with a friend from the gym tonight. I'm not sure what time he will be home, but I could give him a message if I speak with him." "Great. Could you tell him Sam and I will see him at the gym tomorrow?" "Tomorrow. Sure. I'll tell him if I see him. So Sam's here, too?" "Yeah. She caught a glimpse of him down at Norma's and the girls at the front booth told her he had mentioned The Pump House." "Well, I'll give him the message if I talk to him." "Great. Thanks." Ed stood up, his huge shoulders again eclipsing the rapidly setting sun. He gazed down at Chris and she could feel his eyes physically sweep over her body. The power and sureness of the man again reminded her of the incredible experiences of the previous evening. Her eyes dropped to the full load of cock meat that stretched Ed's suit. Mouth watering. Ed stretched and flexed just a bit and then looked back down at her. "You're very beautiful." "Thank you. So are you." "Thanks." "By the way, Ed." "Yeah." "You knew before I even spoke to you that I knew Arnold, didn't you." "Kind of had a good idea, yeah." "How did you know?" "Have you ever met anyone else who has been with him?" "Only you." "And didn't you know." "Thinking back on it, yeah. I guess I did." "Same here. You just. . .know." "Our friend leaves big footprints, doesn't he." Ed chuckled. "Yeah. Footprints." He paused for a second, as if thinking. "I don't suppose you're busy tonight, are you?" Now it was Chris' turn to chuckle. Here she was, talking to a past lover, a man at that, and the thought of running off and sharing memories and whatever with him seemed almost natural. Again her eyes dropped to the bulge in his suit. "You know what I'm thinking, don't you." "Yeah. You're thinking how weird it is that it seems so natural to have me asking you." "Arnold, right?" "Right." "I've got a date." "And then?" "I don't know." "Well, I guess we'll have other chances." "I hope so. You are, indeed, very beautiful. In a guy kind of way." "Thanks. A lot of that has to do with our friend. I was just a ninety-eight pound weakling before I met him." "Yeah. I bet. And I suppose you only had three-and-a-half inches, too." "Still do. I just carry my sock collection around with me. Never know when a extra pair of socks will come in handy." "Well, Ed. If you're half as talented with your socks as Arnold is, then I've got something incredible to look forward to." "He's still good, huh?" "The best. Nothing. . .nothing. . ." Chris drifted off. "I understand. I'll be seeing you, Chris. It's been a pleasure meeting you. Give our man my love and tell him I've been saving myself for him." "I have my doubts about that, but I'll relay the message. See you." Chris stood and gathered her beach towel and stuffed it in her bag. The straw stretched and creaked around the strain of its burden and she again thought of the tightly stretched material of Ed's suit. Chuck had better be in very good shape, because she was going to want more than just dessert after dinner. Ed headed off down the beach at a half trot, his tight buns and huge muscles bouncing. She wished Lolita Galleries he were running towards her so she could see the load in the front of his suit. Just at that moment he turned around and began running backwards, waving good-bye, his huge cock jumping back and forth from thigh to thigh. She was only mildly surprised that he would know to do that. Had she ever, in her entire life, turned down a hunk that gorgeous? Had there ever been a time when she passed over a cock that big, just because she had made another date? But then, she knew that, sooner or later, that delicious piece of cock meat would be hers for the taking. He was of Arnold. Just as she was. And Patty would be. And Sam. Sam. What would happen to all this when Sam came back into the picture? Would Arnold head for the hills with his first love, forsaking the crowds who hungered for his incredible body, his incredible cock, his incredible self? And what about herself? Now that she knew Sam was around, would she be able to handle it? She was very comfortable with the knowledge that Arnold and Patty were going to be pounding pelvises tonight. In fact, she looked forward to her next meeting with Arnold so they could each bring back the experiences of their other lovers. But Sam seemed different. She was already there. You could mention Patty's name and Arnold got excited. She hoped the same was true for her own name. But mention Sam and it seemed Arnold's world turned upside down. And hers, as well. She had seen Sam, for God's sake. In her head. This woman had a power over her powerful lover. Tides and moons and stars and planets and gravity stood aside when Sam was in the picture. Would Chris have to stand aside as well? She was of Arnold. So was Sam. There was no problem. Arnold had talked of the effect Chris had on him. If he was hooked on Sam then he was hooked on Chris as well. No problem. Ed had dwindled to a very well-proportioned speck at the other end of the visible beach. One final flash of the beautiful bulges that covered the man's body swam before her eyes. She picked up her beach basket, checked to make sure she had her key and headed for her apartment to get ready for her dinner date. For the second time, the image of Chuck's nicely shaped body and cock floated to the surface of her memory; the feeling of his hands lovingly massaging the oil into her skin on the beach. Strong hands. Smooth hands. Caressing hands. She would ask him to do that again for her. Only this time without any clothing to impede his progress. Was that just a tiny sense of a tingle there? Did her nipples press ever so slightly against the fabric of her suit as she rode up the elevator? A hint of her scent? Maybe even a little pressure as her clit began to extend itself towards the outside world, seeking the attentions of whoever might be available? She mounted a supreme effort of will to keep from joying herself as she quickly jumped into the shower, rinsing off the slight sense of salt that one always gathered when spending time in the sea breeze. The air felt especially fresh, the scent of ocean filled her nostrils as her entire body shifted to a state of heightened awareness. She pulled an especially sexy pair of panties and a hardly effective bra out of her dresser, thought about it for a second and then realized they were going to be a waste of time. What she really wanted, when the door to Chuck's apartment opened to her knock, was to peel the clothes off the man and suck his cock deep into her throat and then offer her swelling clit to him in exchange. There would be no time for clothes. She wanted to share herself. A barely opaque dress and a pair of her sexiest high heels were all that she allowed on her body. She pulled her fiery red hair back into a thick pony tail and wrapped it with a large, cloth-covered elastic. Four things on, four things off. A quick visit to the bathroom and a little make-up. Not too much, for she was never one for excessive war paint. Then a healthy serving of the most expensive, seductive perfume on the shelf. At the front door she grabbed her key. The view in the full length mirror by the door made her want to fuck herself, she looked so hot. After locking the door behind her she walked up the flight of stairs at the center of the building and down the walk way to Chuck's door, her heels clicking a staccato beat that sent shivers up her legs and made her clit hum delightfully. She thought she would conjure up a vision of Arnold's amazing cock just once more to send her into this tryst properly primed, but, to her surprise, the image that now came to her was of Chuck, his swim suit valiantly containing his very rigid cock. It seemed she was going to be quite happy with the evening's diversion. She knocked. He answered. The look on his face should have told her all she wanted to know about the effect she was having on him. And it should have, except that she was just as affected as he was. He was positively glowing with energy. He seemed to her more. . . more. . . just more. He was barefoot with a pair of tan chinos slung low on his hips. He wore a light blue polo that clung to his body, revealing round, hard pectorals capped by two nipples that pressed against the fabric. There was no doubt that he wore nothing under the pants, and the evidence was becoming more noticeable by the second. She stared as the length of his cock grew before her eyes, pressing harder and harder against the fabric. Her own nipples began to ache as they forced themselves against the light silken dress that she suddenly wished she didn't have on. And her glorious, long clit was pressing itself into the world so hard she thought it might be as visible as Chuck's growing penis. One of them had better say something or the whole universe was going to explode right then and there. "I see we both dressed for dinner. Please, come in." Chris felt herself moving into the apartment as though she were being pulled on a wagon. She had little sense of her feet moving at all. Suddenly, Chuck was two or three inches taller. She realized she had stepped out of her heels and left them just inside the door. She moved to Chuck and ran her hands around his waist and then up inside his shirt, lifting it over his head and tossing to the floor. Her lips dove for the nubs of flesh that adorned his pectorals and hungrily sucked and chewed them, flattening Chuck against the hallway wall. She pressed her body to his and ground her crotch against the bulge that decorated the front of the chinos. She pressed hard, longing to rid herself of all the barriers between herself and this man who she desperately wanted to fuck. Chuck's hands gathered the hem of her dress and slowly drew it upwards until her moist, warm cunt was exposed and she could feel the fabric of his pants stimulating her rock hard clit which was protruding out between her cunt lips. She increased the pressure and felt the nub of flesh sing and hum. Her fingernails raked his skin and her lips sought his. Their mouths hungrily sucked at the soul of the other, their tongues entwined and battled for more and more of their mates'. Chuck's hips began to heave against Chris's attacks and within seconds she felt him tense and a pool of warmth spread across her thigh as he violently came in his chinos. Then he was a mad man. The dress was up over her head and flying away. His mouth devoured her aching nipples as she had his only moments before. His tongue circled one as his hand flicked and tweaked the other, sending sparks down through her abdomen, causing her hips to thrust against his thigh even harder. She desperately needed him to suck on her clit. She ran her hands up to the top of his head, grabbed hold of his hair with both hands and slowly forced him to kneel before her. His tongue continued to lick, his lips continued to suck, his hot breath continued to melt her all the way down her torso until she felt his heavy breathing against the area just above her cunt. She silently begged for him to take her, pressing harder on his head to force him to the point. She felt his tongue flick out and tickle the small trace of red hair that surrounded his target. His hot breath blew on the sensitive point of flesh which she knew was protruding out to greet him. One of his hands roamed up the inside of her thigh and slowly worked its way between her lips, pressing, seeking, spreading the hot lubrication that flowed from within her. She shuddered and rocked from side to side, each time spreading her feet wider so as to gain him freer access. The other hand traveled up her other thigh, lightly dragging fingernails along her flesh. She sensed his destination, knew he was aiming with both his hands to reach and part her aching cunt lips, expecting to hunt for the prize. Slowly the lips were parted and a deep, rumbling sigh flowed from his lips as he came upon her magnificent clit. She felt him spread her lips and dive towards the erect finger of flesh. Now she was the one plastered against the wall. "Oh, God!" Was there ever anyone who had done this to her like this. She could feel herself slowly sinking to the floor as her knees gave up the strength to support her. He sucked. He licked. He teased. He drank. He kissed. He hummed, for God's sake. The vibration set her to shaking, her knees flayed out as wide as she was physically able, and still she could not give him enough. She felt her hips begin to buck and thrust against his efforts and a flood of sensation consumed her, filled her, washed over her. The dam quickly burst and she let loose with a torrent of juices and screams, heaving, swaying, gasping, panting, crying. She was on the floor, he was on his knees, his face buried deeply between her thighs. He would give her no rest and there was none wanted. She would die if he stopped. As her orgasm subsided she rocked forward and moved on top of him. Her hands quickly undid his belt, found the snap and zipper and pulled the pants from off his legs. His cock lay hard and ready on his abdomen and she watched it for a moment as it throbbed and bounced to the beat of his racing heart. Chris dove on top of him, locking her lips with his and backed herself quickly onto his steel-hard member. As it filled her she felt him begin to thrust himself against her involuntarily. She pressed herself up to a kneeling position and placed her hands on his chest, stroking him, calming him. She didn't want him shooting off to the moon without her. She was going to enjoy this ride. A look of intense wonder came over his face. He was suddenly so beautiful she was nearly moved to tears. His cock felt so good. His body felt so good. His hard, firm chest called out to be caressed and rubbed. As she reached for his pecs to massage them he reached for her breasts, standing proud and firm on her chest. His Lolita Galleries hands sent shocks through her as the flesh moved within his grasp. She began to raise and lower herself on his tool and the vibrations spread inside her. With each downward motion she felt him grow perceptively, pressing hard against her vaginal walls, setting her to shaking. One of his hands traveled down her abdomen and sought out the length of clit that still begged attention. As he found it, spreading juices from her hot cunt up onto its length, she felt waves of orgasm flow smoothly through her body. They increased as she picked up speed until she was flying up and down the length of his glorious cock, driving herself and him right to the brink. Closer and closer he came to orgasm. His face contorted as he drove himself higher and higher. His body tensed and she thought she had never seen anything so beautiful as this man, heaving, thrusting, flying towards sexual release. She dove down and swallowed his soul through his mouth. They rolled against the wall and she suddenly felt herself flying. Or lifting. He never stopped his attack of her clit. He never stopped his heaving thrusts with his cock. But suddenly she was standing, her back pressed against the wall of the hallway. She wrapped one leg around his waist, grabbed his shoulders and was transported over the chasm of reality as a nonstop flow of orgasms washed over her and drove her up the wall, through the ceiling, out the roof of the building and up to the moon. He was so big inside her mind. He was so complete. His juices flowed in cannon shots from his cock and each volley landed against her mind like an explosion. She grabbed him everywhere she could and pulled him with her, up over the moon. And still he thrust. Still he heaved and plunged. Her cunt continued to cry for more until she felt the last vestiges of orgasm drain from her body. Just before she reached the point where she thought she would have to stop him, he slowed and pressed himself to her one last time. His cock stayed deep within her and he flexed its still rigid shaft, triggering tiny little eddies of pleasure deep inside. They tickled her mind and made her nipples hungry to be licked. "Suck my nipples, please." He obliged, lifting one and then the other luscious breast, taking each nipple into his mouth, worrying it to the point of distraction. She ground her hips against him and felt him flex again. After several moments he raised his eyes to hers and stared deep. She knew he had questions. She knew he had never experienced anything like that. She also knew she hadn't either. At least not until last night. She tried to judge his depth, his size. Tried to compare it to the magnificent lover who was, at that very moment, having similar experiences just one floor below, but somehow it didn't matter. In a certain way, she knew that Arnold couldn't have measured up to what she had right now. Partially because she had it right now. But there was something else. Even without the eleven-and-a-half inch cock, even without the behemoth biceps and deltoids and rock hard abdominals and cantaloupe sized deltoids, Chuck had driven her just has high, filled her just as deep, made her clit sing just as loud as Arnold had the previous night. Her eyes flitted back and forth between his, probing for his thoughts. She felt she could use a little rest, maybe even a little food. His cock softened within her and he lowered her to the floor. She waited for the tiny wave of depression that usually hit when her partner's cock slid from within. She waited and then realized he was already out. She still felt filled. Still could feel him inside. She moved to him and this time their mouths met gently. They explored each other's face and neck, not hungrily, not like the starving maniacs they had been only moments before, but like two lovers who had known each other forever. The plane of the bridge of his nose felt familiar to her tongue. As his lips sought out her chin she felt he knew its every secret and curve. She found that, even with her eyes closed, she could easily see each feature on his face as her mouth sought it out and identified it, explored it, categorized and named it in her memory. Her hands moved up his chest, slowly plowing through the wisps of hair that covered him, and up to the sides of his face. Their mouths kissed again, and then she held his face away from her to study it one more time. How could he be so beautiful? How could she not have noticed it before? How could he fill her body and mind so completely? "So, what's for dessert?" Chuck said as he continued to look into her eyes. "What?" "Nothing. Or everything. I don't suppose you found that the least bit unusual." "Well, it wasn't bad for a start. I think I'll probably feel a little better once I get to know you." "I know this is going to sound crazy, but this doesn't happen to have anything to do with our new neighbor, does it?" "What makes you say that?" "It's kind of hard to say. It's just that I had the weirdest feeling that I was, ah. . ." "Bigger?" "Yeah. I mean, I've got nothing to complain about, but I kept having these flashes like I was somehow hooked in with the new guy. You slept with him last night, didn't you?" The tone of his voice was not accusing, only matter of fact. "Well, we slept a little. He said something like this was going to happen." "What do you mean?" "I told him we had a date tonight and he told me I would take my experiences with him along with me. It's not like I was fantasizing about him or anything. . ." "I know." "It's just that, well, it was as good, if not better, than last night. Certainly as wild." "I got the feeling I was having sex with. . .that there was too much energy for just two people." "That's what he said. And he couldn't wait until he and I had sex again so he could taste the experience I had with you." Chuck leaned back heavily against the wall. Chris pressed herself against him and nestled her face into his neck. She flicked her tongue across the heavy tendon that ran up the side and then nibbled on it. Chuck's hands glided up her back, sending shivers and goose bumps coursing across her skin. His fingers moved into her hair and he slowly massaged her scalp. Chris' hand drifted down his body and found the heavy flesh between his legs. She tickled it lightly, delighted to feel it stir, and then slowly stroked the contents of his scrotum. He did not immediately grow hard so she took that as a sign that he needed a little rest. "I could use a little fuel. I can't wait to see what you were going to seduce me with." "Does mademoiselle wish to dress for dinner?" "I'm as dressed as I want to be. I'd hate for something to happen to that dress. I'd be stuck up here without any clothes and no way to get home." "Very well. I have a feeling everything is a few degrees cooler than it should be, but not unsalvagable. Actually, I fixed stuff that doesn't care too much about when it's eaten, just on the off chance. Come on, let's eat." Chris raised her hands to his face again, drew him to her, kissed him deeply and then pushed his head down slightly. Chuck smiled, knowing what it was she wanted him to have for dinner, and decided to oblige her. She felt his hot breath on her skin as he paused for a moment to burrow into her belly button with his tongue. She squirmed and giggled, marveling at how exquisite it felt. She caught a hint of her own odor floating up from between her legs and she groaned lowly, pressing down on his head. Within seconds dinner was forgotten as the long, hard shaft of her clit disappeared, yet again, between the talented lips of her new lover's mouth.
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