Authors note: All characters are at age 18+. Based on true events. This is my first story here so I hope you will like it and thanks for reading.

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It all started when me (Matt m26) and my girlfriend, Gina (f25), met with our friends, another couple. Sarah (f25) is Gina’s best friend, and her boyfriend is Tom (m24). The two girls have known each other for years, and I have been with Gina for 3 years, so I also know Sarah well. We had many parties and adventures together, and we can say that we know nearly everything about each other. Besides, I never think about Sarah as a girlfriend. We are actually just friends. She is really hot, so naturally I fantasized about her, but nothing more. Except one experience, but I will tell that later. Tom is new to the group. He has been with Sarah for 4 months.

So the 4 of us meet at Sarah’s home, and the night starts like all the previous ones. Chatting, drinking, some music, and some party games. After a couple of rounds, we were tipsy, and I had a naughty idea.

You have to know that I am a bit of a cocky and confident guy who is proud of his size. It started in the college years ago, when I won a cock size comparison game once at a wild party. That was the time when I realized that I have a good size, which the girls love, and something started then. I didn’t get anything, but the rumors started, and every girl wanted to know the truth. Good old times…

The second time I won was at a similar party with Gina and Sarah, but the fourth was Mike, Sarah’s ex. I beat him by 2 inches, and as a reward, Sarah and Gina gave me a double blowjob. At this time, between Sarah and Mike, there were problems, so it wasn’t a problem for her to do that. To be honest, it was a bit cruel with Mike, but I didn’t care. Sarah wanted the blowjob, so I agreed, and Gina was OK with that either way. After that, Sarah broke up with Mike.

But back to the third time I played that game, it was when we were together with Tom. Because of my experiences and the effects of the alcohol, I suggested playing that game again. My dominant part wanted to show who was the alpha in the group. At first, Tom was shocked, but finally all of us were in. The only difference was that we agreed that the reward would be a hand job. It was good for all of us. We didn’t want to risk our friendship or Sarah and Tom’s new relationship.

When the time came, I was so excited and, to be honest, confident about my victory. My cock is a bit more than 8 inches long and quite thick, so I didn’t fear anything. The girls took off their tops, and they sat there only in shorts and bra. Before we would drop our pants, each girl touched her partner’s crotch and made us rock hard. It was a good feeling to finally free my shaft, and I was proud to show it to everyone. The girls loved the sight, I saw it in their eyes, and I loved that feeling. When Tom pulled down his pants, I heard a soft gasp from my girlfriend, and when I looked at her, Gina’s eyes were glued on Tom’s crotch. Sarah just smiled, of course she was ready for the result because she had seen both of our cocks before, but the exact difference surprised my girlfriend. I don’t know if the girls discussed our sizes before or not, but if yes, Gina only knew that Tom is also big, and she didn’t know his exact size. He wasn’t so much bigger, around 1 inch, but the difference between my a-bit-over 8-inch cock and his huge 9-inch cock was clearly visible. We didn’t have to use rulers. And he was thicker as well, so he won that game in every way.

To be honest, at first, I was so jealous. It was hard for me because I didn’t expect that result, and I’m a rather dominant type, so losing a contest like that was hard for me. Naturally, my girlfriend and Sarah had to finish the bet, and they jerked his huge member. I won’t lie, I was rock hard at first sight. Gina also saw that, and after she saw that my cock was still hard, she teased me all the time while she jerked his cock. She looked into my eyes, smiling, while her small hands wrapped around his thick member and moved up and down. Both girls could wank his member with both of their hands, there was enough space for four hands. It was a very erotic experience, and after the first embarrassment, I couldn’t hold back and started to jerk my cock as well. It was too hot not to do that. Tome loved to feel the girl’s hands. I am sure about that. Secretly, I was happy that we finally made a bet about the hand job and not the blowjob, but honestly, a blowjob would be hot as fuck as well. His member was close to my sweet girlfriend’s mouth, so I imagined that she accidentally slided it in her mouth. I wouldn’t be mad, but for the first time, losing a hand job was enough. When Tom was close, Gina finished the job by herself while Sarah reassured her. Gina loved to do that, I saw it in her, and in the end, he came on her hands. When he erupted, that surprised Gina, but she didn’t stop for a moment. I have to say he had a lot of cum, enough to cover my girlfriend’s hands. I held back my orgasm with superhuman power and just edged, but it was really hard. Furthermore, I wanted to save it later for Gina.

Gina at the beginning of the night was reluctant, and she didn’t want to do anything too slutty, but she became more and more into it. She has never seen any bigger cock than mine before, so it was a really new experience for her, and she loved to touch his huge, veiny and hard shaft. I know Sarah is more slutty than Gina, so she started to clean her hands and licked Tom’s cum. I didn’t believe my eyes, but it was fucking hot. Gina didn’t join her, she said later she didn’t want to hurt me by eating his cum. After Sarah finished the job, she suddenly kissed Gina, that was the next shock. I have to say the girls were carried away, but it was a very erotic sight. I didn’t see exactly, but I’m sure Sarah gave my girlfriend some cum, and she could taste Tom. Even if she doesn’t admit it later. She probably felt guilty because of the forbidden pleasure. I leave that to her, if it really happened, I would let it remain her secret.

Later that night, Gina sucked me in our room, and the next morning we fucked really wild under the influence of the naughty game. Since then, we haven’t done anything like that, and I don’t know we will ever do something more naughty. All of us were close friends, and it was a really fun experience, but we agreed with Gina that we would be loyal to each other. But one day. Who knows… Of course, we’ve talked about that night a lot since then, and usually we’d rather role-play something like that in bed. I tease her that Sarah is hotter and a better cocksucker, and she teases me that Tom has a bigger and tastier cock. This gives something plus to our sex life. This half cuckold/half swinging experience was a mile in our lives. We spoke about how maybe one day we would swap with them. Seeing Gina with them in a threesome would be fucking hot as well (yeah, that’s my hidden cuck side), and Gina said she would love to watch as we spit roast Sarah, or she would like to have sex with Sarah in a threesome. So we would live each role, I think, and adding some dirty, softly humiliating talk would be such a turn-on for all of us. We don’t know how the other couple would react, but I’m sure Sarah would be into any of the scenarios. Probably the first step will be that Gina will suggest that to Sarah, and we will find out.

The post Cock Size Contest appeared first on sexstories.org.

Heidi started to shed her work clothes as soon as she shut the front door. She stood naked in the bath, in too much of a hurry for a shower and used a wet flannel to remove the sensation of the office clinging to her skin. A walk in the warm sea breeze was just the lift she needed, it was Friday and her weekend started now! Slipping into a bikini and her sarong, she put on sandals, grabbed her pre-packed bag and headed out for the short walk to the beach. This was the life, she thought happily, with a grin on her face and lightness to her step. Single, earning enough to pay her mortgage and other bills and comfortable in her own company! She slowed her pace as she passed the beach huts with the older couples firmly ensconced in their beach chairs, belongings stowed away precisely on the few shelves inside; as if they’d lived in these huts year round.

During days spent on the beach she often put the camouflage of dark sunglasses to good use, observing without being observed. She didn’t usually go this late in the day, it was already early evening, but she’d go to the tea rooms on her way home. They were open till late and there were always plenty of people to watch from the garden tables there if the beach had nothing to offer. The breeze rustled through the lilac bushes, wafting their sweet fragrance to her as she passed and carrying a subtle undertone of the salty and somewhat sweet scent of damp driftwood.

Heidi’s shoes scrunched and slid on the stone shingle. She was being extravagantly noisy with deliberate intent, for she had seen the lovers entwined on their towel. They were too intent upon their increasing gratification to acknowledge her approach with any attempt at modesty. The woman gently stroked her lover’s bare flesh, fingers tracing a path from ribs to hip and then drifting down to his inner thigh, while he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth.

While trying but failing to do the honourable thing and look elsewhere, she became spectacularly aroused. Her eyes were drawn to his erection which was clearly defined as his lover rose up to straddle him. Her full skirt dropped down to cover their flesh but did little to disguise the gentle pelvic thrusting.

She glanced round, partly worried someone might catch her being a voyeur and half hoping there was someone else observing so she could share this erotic moment. As if the choice was magically hers, she spotted what she wanted in her peripheral vision: a man aroused by the scene before her, with his hand busy on his cock. Normally she would consider the sight of a man with his trousers round his ankles somewhat farcical. This time it turned her on.

She felt herself moisten and her clit begin to throb as she watched him standing and working away at his erection.

He smoothed the palm of his other hand across the moist tip while he watched the couple on the towel.

Suddenly he spotted her standing on the other side of the driftwood log, her attention drifting between the couple on the towel and himself. Catching her eye he gave her a languorous, sexy smile, loaded with blatant invitation. Heidi undid her sarong and let it drop, taking a hesitant step towards him. He shook his head and with his shirt already discarded, stepped out of his trousers and moved towards her, his grip firmly around the head of his engorged cock.
He came to her. She felt herself warm as his penis silkily brushed her bare midriff. She stroked it before gripping his firm ass, feeling him quiver in response.
Grasping her upper arms, he lowered her down onto the large flat driftwood beside them. Heidi brushed away her concern about splinters as she felt the roughness of the wood against her buttocks. She abandoned herself to the sensations of their hands on each other.

He kissed her as if he was desperate for the touch of her lips; gasping with each contact.

She slid her tongue across the front of his teeth. He reciprocated by kissing her neck. At the same time he flicked at her clit through the fabric of her bikini. He
did it delicately, just enough pressure to make her want more.

He was so multi-skilled that soon she was unable to maintain a coherent train of thought. She untied her bikini strings and shifted her hips, succeeding in easing her bared clit against his fingers with each twitch.

Opening her eyes, she found his deep green ones looking at her, his lust apparent in the dilation of his pupils. Finding the eye contact slightly off-putting, she shifted on to her side, and ground her ass into him.

He pulled on her hips to increase the pressure of her against his straining cock and ran his hands up to her breasts, gently pinching her nipples, his mouth hot and wet on the back of her neck.

He started fumbling in his discarded trousers. ‘Protection,’ he explained.
He brought out a condom.

Using his hand, he guided himself down to brush against the moistness of her, bringing the viscous fluid back up onto the lubricated condom to further ease his entry. She tensed slightly as he began to penetrate her, afraid of the sensation this new experience brought. Sensing her reticence, he contributed to her comfort by kissing the back of her neck.

Though the penetration was mildly painful, the sensation soon blossomed into sheer pleasure. She whimpered with disappointment as he suddenly withdrew. Had he finished already?

He turned her over to face him and whispered, ‘I was going to come and wanted a chance to feel you reach ecstasy first’. What should have sounded contrived instead brought her to the brink of orgasm, combined as it was with his eye contact and skilful attention to her clitoris. He slipped off the condom, drawing her hand down to touch his hard cock. Groaning as she tightened her fingers around the head of his dick, he tore open a new condom packet. Heidi took the condom from his fingers with her mouth and used her lips and tongue to roll it onto him. He shuddered as she lowered herself onto him, mimicking the earlier movements of the other woman. His cock throbbed inside her as he held her hips, helping her to raise and lower herself. Reaching up he pushed her bikini top up over her breasts. His hands were rough; deliciously rough.

Leaning down she slid her hands under his ass. She melted on to him gasping as the waves of orgasm washed over her. He pounded himself up and into her in his haste to follow her lead.

Exhausted, she lay with her face pressed into his shoulder. Suddenly she heard the sound of sliding shingle. She looked up. The couple from the dunes had their arms around each other, walking in that perfect synchronicity that only comes with complete togetherness. The woman’s legs showed through her dress as they headed towards the descending sun.

The woman glanced over her shoulder, caught Heidi’s eye and winked; a huge grin blossoming on to her face as she turned away. Heidi realised she was exposed and slid off the man, covering herself with her towel while she wriggled back into her bikini.

As he dressed she began to collect her belongings which had scattered when she’d dropped her beach bag. Feeling peculiarly awkward with someone she had only minutes before been totally intimate with was confusing and she needed the excuse to avoid eye contact and halt the growing silence between them.

What must he think of me, she mused, then wondered why it mattered. She had no intention of seeing him again. For one thing, she couldn’t trust his impulse control. The man leapt into rampant sexual encounters with total strangers and that was no foundation on which to build a trusting relationship, no matter how great the encounter had been. She laughed inwardly, knowing there was more than a little need to insert the words, ‘pot, kettle and black’ into her train of thought. Judging by the tense set of his shoulders she sensed the urge to escape was mutual and that he was mulling over various exit lines.

She decided to put him out of his misery.
‘Once was perfect, let’s not ruin the memory by trying to improve on it,’ she said.

She threw him a cheeky grin, said ‘thank you and goodbye,’ then turned and walked away.

A glass of cold wine would taste marvellous while having a hot bath, she decided. She stopped for supper at the tea rooms and then languidly made her way home for her second favourite indulgence. The scents of the lilac blossoms were even lovelier then when she’d passed them earlier, the fragrance must become more potent as the night drew in. Or perhaps she was fully receptive now that she had completely recovered from her earlier strenuous activity. It was lovely being single, she thought happily as she slipped into the water, her favourite fragrance rising to meet her from the bath oil. The wine was cool, a delightful counterbalance to the heat of the water on her skin. Putting the empty glass down she slid deeper, resting her head on the back of the bath and letting her legs go akimbo. She opened and closed her knees enjoying the sensation of the waves of heat washing between her legs. Becoming aroused, she thought back over the experience on the beach, stroking herself slowly to a limb-melting orgasm. Even though she had no desire to repeat the beach experience in reality; it was obviously going to be used as fantasy fodder for the indefinite future.

The post Driftwood appeared first on sexstories.org.

He was gorgeous. I first noticed him with wealthy widow number one at the buffet breakfast. His hand was resting on her ring-encrusted fingers. The same evening he was in the cocktail bar with bejewelled matron number two, sipping champagne cocktails. I was surprised when he targeted me in the ship’s casino the following evening, since I’m hardly of the blue-rinse generation, but it soon became clear that it wasn’t my jewellery he was interested in.

I’d just let a hundred bucks ride on red. ‘Risky.’
I looked up at the curly black hair, bright blue eyes, immaculate tuxedo and red bow tie.
‘What?’
‘Letting it ride. Too risky.’ The croupier’s voice rang out. ‘Twenty-three, red!’
‘I like risks.’
I let the bet ride again.
‘So I see. My name’s Peter.’ ‘Five, red!’

‘Lucky girl, er…’ ‘Suzanne.’ I stood up.
‘This is a lucky seat. Want it?’ ‘No thanks, I’m not a gambler.’ ‘Prefer a sure thing, do you?’

He stayed by my side as I moved away from the table. ‘What’s a sure thing, Suzanne?’

I decided to have some fun with him.

I’d been without for too long. There’d been no time since the last job. In any case, I wanted to be sure my instincts about him were right. And he was gorgeous.
‘How about we have dinner? You might find out. The bar at eight?’

Two hours later, we were sitting in a quiet corner of the dining room. The food and wine were exquisite.

Peter was an extremely entertaining companion. He regaled me with risqué stories of his experiences in the Far East.

He claimed to be a jeweller, travelling in search of gemstones for his London business.

The ship was docking in Singapore next morning and he asked me if I was going ashore.

‘No, Peter, I’m having a day in the beauty parlour.’ Was there a flicker of relief on his face?
‘The beauty parlour? You’re beautiful already.’
‘Very gallant. Do you think flattery might get you somewhere?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Fancy a stroll on deck?’

I steered us to a dark area by the lifeboats, looped my arms around his neck, and kissed him.

The kiss was long, slow and deep. Our tongues played together and there was a familiar tingling between my thighs.

I felt his hand on the front of my dress, and my nipples hardened as he fondled my breasts through the silk.

I dropped my hand down between his legs and heard him gasp as I ran my fingers up and down his erection.

I broke the kiss and whispered in his ear. ‘Nice cock, Peter.’

He started to speak, but I closed his mouth with mine, while I unbuttoned his black, formal trousers, pushed them down and wriggled my fingers under the waistband of his underpants.

His cock was rock hard and he groaned as I wrapped my fingers around it and eased it free.

‘Your place, Peter?’ ‘Yes!’
‘Okay, tell me the way and I’ll lead you there.’

I started to move, pulling gently on the hot pole of flesh. ‘What, like this?’

‘Yes, Peter.’
‘I…we…can’t!’
‘Don’t you want to make love to me, Peter?’
‘Of course I do, but…ahhh…’ His voice faltered as I ran my hand up and down the length of his cock.
‘Come along then, there’s a good boy. Pull your trousers up.’

We saw no one until we reached the elevator, where we found one of his companions of the previous day. Peter edged into a corner and pulled me in front of him.

‘Peter,’ the elderly lady said, reproachfully. ‘After this afternoon I was hoping you’d come back to my cabin, but I see you have a new friend.’

I squeezed hard and he groaned, deep in his throat.

She peered closely at us and I stepped to one side. Her eyes widened as she saw what I held in my hand.

‘Disgusting!’ she hissed, and pushed past as the doors opened.
‘Whatever were you doing in her cabin, Peter?’ ‘Oh, just evaluating some jewellery for her.’

I stepped out of the elevator and tugged his rigid cock. ‘Funny, I thought she recognized this guy. Right, which is your cabin?’

Once we were inside the cabin I released him and stood back. His face was flushed, and tiny beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He let his trousers fall to his ankles and grinned.

‘You’re a wicked bitch.’ His voice was hoarse.
‘That’s probably a good description. Stand still.’

He stood while I stripped him of his jacket, unclipped the red bow tie and placed it, with his gold cuff links, on a table by the bed. I unbuttoned his dress shirt and pulled it away. His upper body was hard and muscular and I ran my hand down his flat stomach and tickled the red, swollen head of his cock, which was poking out above the elastic band of his pants.

‘He looks uncomfortable.’

I hooked my thumbs in his pants and pushed them down to join his trousers. He kicked the garments away, lifted each leg in turn and pulled off his shoes and socks.

I stepped back and looked him up and down. ‘Very nice, Peter. Just one thing.’

I retrieved the bow tie and fastened it back around his neck.

‘Perfect.’

I turned my back.

‘Unhook my dress, and unzip me.’

I let the dress fall to the floor and turned back to him. You like?’

He nodded, wordlessly.

I unhooked my bra and let it fall away and watched his eyes lock on to my breasts.
‘Come on.’

I took his cock back in my hand and led him to the bed. ‘Lie back.’

I stretched myself alongside him and played with the swollen head of his cock, slippery with pre-come.

‘Suck my nipples, Peter.’

He lowered his head to my breasts. He sucked first one nipple and then the other until they were hard and swollen.
His hand moved down and stroked the front of my panties. He was gentle as he shifted the silk aside and played with my pussy. I groaned as he slipped first one, then two fingers inside me.

‘Take my panties off, sweetheart.’

He knelt between my legs and peeled the wet silk away, placed his palms on the inside of my thighs and eased them apart.

His head came down and I squirmed as the tip of his tongue parted my pussy lips. His fingers found the hood of flesh guarding my clit and rolled it back.

My breasts were tingling and I could feel the throbbing between my legs.
His tongue slipped in and out of my vagina and a fingertip traced a circle around my clit, never quite touching it. His tongue began a leisurely journey upwards, and I arched upwards off the sheets when the tip touched the swollen button. He sucked it between his lips, rolling his tongue around it until my whole body was quivering.

I could feel my orgasm beginning. As it built he began flicking his tongue across my clit, faster and faster.

I felt like a tensed-up spring. He slid his fingers inside me again and began thrusting them in and out until I came suddenly, in wave after wave of pleasure. I heard myself scream as I clamped my thighs on his head, and collapsed back on the sheets. I felt him moving over me, and his tongue probed at my lips. It was slick with my juice and I sucked it into my mouth. The head of his cock touched the entrance to my vagina and I thrust up to meet it and groaned again as he slid it in with one hard thrust. I lifted my legs, wrapped them around his waist and tightened my arms around him.

‘That was gorgeous. Do it to me again with your cock.’

He started with long, slow strokes, filling me and withdrawing almost completely, trying to tease me. I let him play for a while, then waited until he was fully immersed and gripped him with my internal muscles. He groaned and I laughed softly.

‘Faster now, sweetheart, or I’ll snap it off.’

He began to fuck me hard, moving faster and faster until once again the hot tingling began and the muscles around my vagina bunched tight.

I was gasping and I could feel Peter’s hot breath on my face as we bucked frantically together on the squealing bedsprings.

His voice rasped in my ear. ‘Oh Christ baby, I’m going to come, oh yeah, yeah…fuck!’

I could feel his cock swelling inside me as I ripped my fingernails down his back and came, in a series of long, delicious shudders. He let out a long rasping groan, and his seed spurted as his cock pumped furiously inside me.

We talked for a while afterwards, and drank cold white wine from the refrigerator. He told me some more stories, much more graphic this time, of his experiences with Asian women.

‘But Asian girls are usually servile,’ he said. ‘I really like women who go for what they want. Women like you.’

We drank some more wine and I watched his cock slowly getting hard. I played with him for a long time, using my fingers, teasing and tantalizing him until I was ready. I rode him this time, controlling him, stopping and starting until neither of us could take any more. The tiny alarm in my wristwatch woke me at six in the morning. Peter was lying on his back, his erection pointing to the ceiling.

I slipped off the bed, careful not to wake him, padded over to the refrigerator and poured a glass of orange juice. I took the little bottle from my purse, and added ten drops of its contents to the glass. I hadn’t expected to need it on this trip, but Mickey Finn has helped me out in the past.

I shook Peter and held out the glass. ‘Room service.’

He stared at me groggily for a moment, then sat up and drank it down.

Choral hydrate usually takes about forty minutes to take effect. I needed to keep him busy until then, and I thought he deserved a treat.
‘Lie back.’

I started on his balls, weighing them in my hand, and licking underneath them while I squeezed them gently. Then I went to work on his cock, holding it in the tips of my fingers and licking the full length of the shaft. I tickled the sensitive skin on the back of the head with my fingernails and with my tongue. The red-purple head was swollen and I ran my tongue round and around it, and rubbed the ball of my thumb back and forth across the slit.

He was panting hard by now, and I kissed the tip and breathed hard on it. I raised my head and looked into his eyes, which were beginning to glaze.

‘Yes?’
‘Please!’

The way to a man’s heart may be through his stomach, but the way to his brain is definitely through his cock. If you want him brain dead, that is. I took it between my lips and began to suck. Twenty minutes later, he was breathing raggedly and his eyes were beginning to close. I had used my lips and fingers to bring him to the brink three times. His cock was throbbing and his eyes begged me to make him come.

‘This time, baby.’

After a couple more minutes his hips joined the rhythm of my bobbing head. I waited until the last moment to remove my lips and he moaned helplessly as hot jets of fluid splattered on to his stomach.

He flopped back and his eyes closed. He would be unconscious for about eight hours. I cleaned myself up and got dressed. Now I’d discover whether my instincts had been right. His wallet contained about U$5000 and business cards in various names, one of which was Peter Armstrong, FGA, International Jewels Ltd. The drawer in the bedside table contained three passports in three different names, a first-class air ticket from Singapore to London with today’s date, and another U$10,000 dollars in cash.

I put the cash in my purse It could join the rest of the laundered money I had placed in bank accounts at various ports of call during the voyage. Then I struck pay dirt.

In the wardrobe, I found a small jewel box containing two rings, which looked very like those that had adorned the fingers of the reproachful elderly lady.

I looked down at the naked figure on the bed. ‘Naughty,’ I murmured.

He was still wearing his black socks, and the red bow tie was still around his neck. I transferred it to his flaccid cock.

‘Oh for a camera.’

I picked up cuff links, dropped them in my purse, went out and hung the Do Not Disturb notice on the door.
Back in my stateroom I stripped, showered, put on clean clothes and packed a few essentials into a small bag. The black wig and heavy glasses, my three passports…

The U$15,000 dollars would more than cover the cost of the flight back to the States, and I could pick up a couple of new outfits in Singapore.

Then I had the bank accounts, and those rings. And the cuff links.

The boom of the ship’s siren announced our arrival in port and I laughed out loud at the thought of Peter confronting his lady friend.
He’d survive, after all he was gorgeous. It takes one to spot one…

The post The lucky Girl appeared first on sexstories.org.

Life was always going to be difficult. The fact that I started it by being called Pick did me no favours at all. Faced with the prospect of having to name a sixth son, my parents were at a loss to choose. They took this indecision to the christening. When asked during the ceremony to give my name, they left the choice to the vicar. In unison they said ‘Pick’. Thus I became known. Sadly both parents, as well as all my brothers, succumbed at an early age. As if the disadvantages of being an orphan were not enough, I soon learned that an additional problem presented itself. It might have had something to do with being the last of a long line of sons.

The sad fact was that I was not generously endowed in a place where I could have expected a growing asset in later years. In fact I was hardly endowed at all. It was a matter that did not escape the attention of my school friends. I soon acquired the derogatory title of ‘Pick–Pick the Puny Prick’ amongst the boys. Even the girls giggled, although at that early stage in my life I’d not presented them with anything to giggle about.

That came later.

If my austere life with my elder sister and her husband offered little save bed and board, at least it was untroubled.

We were simple folk. My sister’s husband, Joe Forgery, was a man of rude health and easy nature. Sadly this was not matched by his wife, a
woman of sallow complexion and sour disposition.

Sisterly love came not easily to my nearest relative. Indeed she berated me continually for slovenliness and laziness, and just about every other sin she could lay a sharp tongue to.

With Joe’s connivance I would often escape her critical gaze and lizard tongue. Laden with sufficient food to last me through the day, I would venture off across the marshes to that churchyard where the less troublesome members of my family lay.

It was on one such expedition that I experienced a frightening encounter, one which was to change my whole life. Early that morning we heard the warning gun. It’s fired from the old prison hulk anchored out on the river to alert the local populace that a prisoner has escaped. Since we had never encountered an escaping convict, the warning was largely ignored. The path to the churchyard was clothed in a damp mist, as were the surrounding fields. The church spire appeared and disappeared as it cut holes in the enveloping fog.

I pulled open the churchyard gate. There was an eerie silence – no bird calls.

I had barely settled myself when quite suddenly a huge figure rose from behind a gravestone. I froze, rooted to the spot.

‘Come here lad.’ The man said.

His voice carried the sort of hoarse insistence that escaped convicts develop when they sit for hours on damp gravestones, waiting to frighten unsuspecting small boys.

He looked large and menacing against the misty backdrop.

For the time it took him to take a step towards me, it proved sufficient to allow me to collect my scattered wits.

Sod this, I thought, then legged it. In my haste to put distance between myself and the graveyard monster, I dropped my sandwiches.

At the gate I paused long enough to turn and see the convict pick up my sandwiches and begin to eat. I gave myself one quick moment of regret. I wished I’d brought one of my sister’s pork pies. You could fell an ox at twenty paces with one of those.

If I thought I’d seen the last of the convict, I was much mistaken. Not long after our encounter he was captured. He arrived at the forge under escort to have his shackles replaced.

I stood with Joe in his blacksmith’s shop as they brought the prisoner in. He recognised me at once. In the half light, wedged between two guards, he looked less than menacing.

He gazed at me intently for a moment. Then, cocking his head to one side, he closed one eye.

‘Aah, Jim lad,’ he said. I held up my hand.
‘No, No, No,’ I told him. ‘That’s Treasure Island.’

He stood puzzled. A slow look of comprehension flooded his grizzled visage.

After that he spoke like a convict.

Mugwatch, for such was the convict’s name, had escaped because he had been destined to go on safari. Seemingly he preferred to stay on the stinking, rat- infested prison hulk with his mates.

‘What’s to become of him?’ Joe asked.
One guard sucked his teeth. ‘Probably be sent to the colonies.’
‘What colonies?’ I enquired. ‘Australia, like as not.’
Even my sister showed some compassion. ‘Ooh, the heat.’ She said
‘Ooh, the flies,’ put in Joe.
‘And Neighbours,’ The guard offered malevolently.
Mugwatch blanched at the prospect of the latter. Yet with true British phlegm he squared his shoulders. The firm look of resolve did him much credit.

The doomed man once again turned his attention to me. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Pick lad.’ By now he’d
learned my name. ‘One day I’ll make you a gentleman, you wait and see.’ Then they marched him off.
The episode passed from my memory as the years tumbled one upon another.
It seemed that almost without warning I was a young man.

The sap was beginning to rise. I was spreading in all places save one. For as my body grew larger so my appendage seemed to dwindle, almost to obscurity.

School was long finished and I was serving my apprenticeship with Joe. Life carried along at an easy pace. One day a visiting uncle brought a curious invitation.

A certain Miss Faversham had expressed an interest in me. Who was Miss Faversham? I didn’t know her from Adam. Well, perhaps I’d know her from Adam, but why should she want to see me? Clearly the best way to find out was to visit. So I found myself, some days later, standing outside a huge mausoleum of a place. Mrs Faversham was obviously not short of a bob or two.

I rang the bell. That such a dismal place should hide such a ravishing beauty took me completely by surprise. For the young lady that came to answer my call was as sweet and innocent-looking a maid as a young lad had ever the good fortune to set eyes upon.

Sadly her tone did not match her looks.
‘What do you want, boy?’ she asked in a voice that could have cut plate steel.
‘I’ve come to see Miss Faversham.’ ‘Are you the boy Pick?’
‘I am.’
‘Then follow me.’
Follow her. Indeed I would – to the ends of the earth if need be. For inasmuch as I didn’t know a lot about girls, this one was very tasty.
Just looking at her made my pulse race. I felt an unfamiliar stirring in my loins. I suffered a brief moment of apprehension. Had my inner desire transferred itself to a visible swelling in such tight trousers? I glanced down. Nothing showed.

The house of Miss Faversham left me with no lasting good impression. On the contrary it was full of dust and cobwebs. It looked as if it could do with a good hoovering.

As for the good lady herself, she presented as much of a health hazard as anything I’d yet experienced.

For all that, at least this and subsequent visits afforded me the opportunity to spend time with the object of my worship: Stella.

She gave me no encouragement at all, not to start with. She seemed to like to bully me. Not only was this matter brought to a head very swiftly, but it cemented a bond between us that was to remain.

It was this way. She had been tormenting me, when without warning she smacked my face.

‘Why don’t you cry, boy?’ Stella asked. ‘No,’ I told her.
She smacked my face again. ‘Now cry,’ she ordered.
I refused; she smacked me again. This time I smacked her back. We both cried. Then suddenly we were in each others arms. My lips sought hers in a warm passionate embrace.
She devoured my darting tongue. I could feel the need bubbling up inside both of us. My hands covered her pliant body in haste. I could now sense her hunger. I wanted to divest her of those impossible layers of clothes with all speed.
Stella answered each caress with provocative movements of her body. I stroked each breast in turn while I sought desperately to find a way of releasing those magnificent orbs.
Again she arched her body provocatively. Her breasts thrust out further demanding attention. She became aware of my frustration.
‘Do you like my breasts?’ ‘They’re lovely.’
‘Would you like one?’ ‘Where would I put it?’
‘Not to keep, you stupid boy – to play with.’ She could tell that I wasn’t very experienced.
Yet her sharpness melted as she released her trapped bosom. For a short while I teased each nipple until they stood firm and demanding.
Without further invitation I pulled and tugged at the rest of her outer garments. Finally the warm, vibrant Stella was naked and mine for the taking.

My clumsy hands massaged her inner thighs, but the need in us was too great to encourage delay. My beautiful Stella lay before me, a body demanding my all.
With rising excitement I threw off my clothes. I stood between those marble thighs and pushed against her entrance.
Her arms lifted in supplication. Once more her body arched against mine. Breathless with desire, her voice became just snatched words of insistence.
‘OK, big boy,’ she said. ‘You can put it in now.’ ‘It is in,’ I insisted.
‘There was an awkward moment of silence – then Stella’s sun went in. Her beautiful features changed from desire, through bewilderment to derision in quick succession.
‘In that case,’ she said, ‘pass me that copy of Woman and Home and let me know when you have finished.
She can be very cutting when she turns her mind to it.
Our flower of passion wilted thereafter. Yet we remained firm friends, although she displayed no such feelings in front of Miss Faversham.
For myself, I wanted Stella more than ever. Beneath hooded lashes I admired the body that so easily could have been mine, had I come prepared with the right sort of equipment.
Meanwhile the time passed with frequent visits and card games at the behest of the eccentric Miss Faversham. To be fair, even if the good lady did have a tendency to eccentricity she was, nevertheless, of generous disposition.
Back at the blacksmith’s shop, one day we were visited by a gentleman representing a firm of solicitors in London. An anonymous benefactor, it seems, had generously donated sufficient funds to ensure that I lived in a style of ease and comfort in London.

So it was, some little time later, I was settled in lodging rooms in Hammersmith, not far from the flyover. I had cash, bank account, credit card, in fact all the basic accoutrements of a young man about to become a gentleman.

Over the next few years the transformation from poor orphan to gentleman was completed, with the help of my good friend Henry Pocket. I lived well, ate well, dressed fashionably and enjoyed all the benefits of a prosperous life. Well, not all the benefits.

Henry Pocket introduced me to his family. I took an instant liking to his sister Emily. It was only natural now that the distant Stella was becoming even more distant.

Emily and I became close for a while. Alas, she soon discovered those same physical disadvantages that Stella had experienced.
Our relationship cooled. It was just as well.

With only one surname between us I harboured no great desire that, in the event of marriage, we should be known as Emily and Pick Pocket.
Yet my affection for Stella remained constant. I saw her often over the years. At Miss Faversham’s to begin with, then later, when she came to live near Richmond Park to looks after some old dears.

She remained as ever friendly but distant. In the end we drifted apart. Eventually she married a man who used her ill.
In the meantime my mysterious benefactor appeared. For years I had believed it was Miss Faversham. Not so.
One day I received a strange visitor. It turned out to be none other than Mugwatch.

He related that, having escaped once again, when he finally arrived in Australia, he set out to make his fortune. It was then that he decided to honour his vow and keep me in the manner to which I had rapidly become accustomed. It wasn’t a bad return on a few hastily discarded sandwiches.

These revelations put me in a quandary. That I was obligated to my benefactor was beyond question. Yet he was still a convict on the run.

The airports were being watched. It left me little alternative but to row him down the Thames as far as Dover. There he could catch the ferry.

The plan went well at the outset. It wasn’t until we were halfway down the river that we realised that someone had grassed.

The boat pulling out from the shore soon caught up with us. Mugwatch was captured. Not straight away. He had time to drown his hated enemy and catch pneumonia first. When he was dragged from the water he was much the worse for wear.

He was placed in Newgate Infirmary, just off the North Circular. His condition deteriorated rapidly. I visited him regularly of course.
It was towards the end, his breath was shallow.
I could see by the way he fought for each word that there wasn’t much time.
‘I’ve managed to turn you into a gentleman, Pick me lad,’ he paused. ‘It cost me all my money.’ I got up to leave.
He held me back with a restraining hand.
‘I’ve left you one final gift,’ he said. ‘I hope it brings you much joy.’
I left him feeling much puzzled. Later the same day I received a call on my mobile summoning me to Newgate Infirmary. Mugwatch had passed away quietly in his sleep. I was much saddened but had little time to dwell.
I was swiftly ushered into a room where many hands engaged themselves in removing my clothing. Naked and bewildered, I had but a short time to gather my scattered wits before a large needle plunged me into sweet oblivion.

If the lapse from consciousness was sweet, the journey back was even sweeter. My faculties returned with the gentle persuasion of a uniformed maiden.

As I returned to full consciousness I was much aware of this full-breasted beauty pressing against me.
‘Hello, Mr Pick. I’m Nurse Lovitt. I’m going to make you well,’ she licked her lips in a provocative manner. ‘Very well!’

The promise in her voice should have encouraged an eager response. Yet in that region I knew nothing but pain. Indeed the pain was so intense, that I was at a loss to know whether I’d been stitched or stapled.
However, under Nurse Lovitt’s expert ministrations, I soon began to feel more comfortable. The food was perhaps the worst feature of hospital life.

Gruel was the staple, monotonous diet. Still, if you were hungry at least you could ask for more.
On the day the bandages were removed, Nurse Lovitt came to both massage as well as test my equipment. When my recycled manhood was revealed I gasped with pleasure.

It was undoubtedly of better design and greater thickness. Built for strength and durability its potential was not lost on Nurse Lovitt.
The bed bath soon became a labour of love. As she gently washed my inner thighs, my legacy rose to the occasion. She took it gently between her tender hands. It still grew.
My excitement knew no bounds. It was huge. Nurse Lovitt was similarly fascinated. She bent to kiss the warm soft head.
It throbbed a welcome as she took it in her mouth, drawing her tongue wickedly along its length. Her grasp upon it was less than therapeutic. This was one hungry lady.

She threw off her clothes with such careless abandon that I feared for my refurbished rod.
‘Couldn’t we just wait?’ I pleaded anxiously. ‘No chance. Gotta test your prick, Pick,’ she said.
Nurse Lovitt didn’t look the type to shirk such a duty.

She threw herself down upon me. Her strong thighs parted as she straddled me. Then lifting above me she took the rampant cock in her hand and guided it towards her entrance.

In a trice she was impaled. Once more part of the late Mugwatch was imprisoned.

For the first time I experienced the sensation of having a length of cock deeply inside the receptive body of a woman. It was a heady experience.
I thrust hard into the plunging body of Nurse Lovitt. She took my all in ecstatic response. She felt my pumping seed without warning, then ground her thighs down to drain my body as her own climax arrived.
The experience was exhausting. Before I realised it Nurse Lovitt was dressed and standing over me.
‘That all works quite satisfactorily, Mr Pick,’ she told me as she marked my chart. ‘You should be able to keep some lucky lady very happy with that.’
With that she playfully flicked very gently at the head.
Then she was gone. I was passed fit.
Two days later I left the Infirmary. Henry Pocket seemed mightily relieved to see me. I related the events of the previous weeks. Yet further good news. He had managed a good return on the money I had lent him. I was once again solvent.
Which left one matter outstanding. Henry read my thoughts.
‘Go and find your Stella, Pick,’ he advised. ‘You have a great deal more to offer her now.’

It was easier said than done, finding Stella. Yet finally after a long, long search I found Stella working as a waitress in a Beefeater near Tunbridge Wells. Her eyes sparkled with recognition.

‘Oh, Pick,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely to see you. The chicken cutlets are on special offer this evening.’
‘Right,’ I answered enthusiastically. ‘I shall devour both those and you with relish before this evening is finished.’
‘No,’ she corrected. ‘Relish is extra.’

The evening had a magic of its own. I was intoxicated by the nearness of my own true love as she poured my wine. A few glasses later I was just intoxicated.

The carriage back along the cobbled streets, in the twilight, to her place was a gentle voyage of anticipation. True, it would have been quicker by taxi.

Once inside I listened in the gloom as Stella fumbled with the matches to light the candles. My impatience bubbled over for the sight of my beloved. So I switched the light on.

My hands could stay idle no longer. Soon I was busily trying to divest Stella of her clothing. What an incredible number of garments the woman wore. By the time I’d managed to get to the real Stella she was half her size.

Each soft, rounded breast teased me. The nipples stood inviting as my lips drew them to firmness. Once more revealed were those marble thighs that my memory had hoarded.

When I disrobed she gasped with both joy and amazement.

‘Pick, oh, Pick,’ she enthused. ‘It used to be so tiny.’ ‘It’s not mine really, it’s a legacy.’
She seemed puzzled. I explained about Mugwatch.
‘I’m not sure I can touch it. After all it did belong to a convict…’

Like Mugwatch she did not complete her sentence. Instead she swooped to take the pulsating head between her lips, applying fervent kisses to its velvet tip.
Gently cupping it between her fingers she was obviously quite overcome by it size.
‘Prick, oh, prick,’ she sighed.
I hastily corrected her. ‘My name is Pick.’ Her ministrations ceased for a moment. ‘I’m not talking to you,’ she declared.
Laying her down upon the bed I parted her thighs. Her warm, soft vagina called welcome as I moved into her. Her body arched in great expectation.
No need this time for Stella to reach for Woman and Home. What I plunged into her took all her attention. She moaned and grasped me tightly pulling me further into her.
‘Fuck me, Pick,’ she insisted. I thrust hard. ‘Harder,’ she demanded.
We became demented slaves to our passion as we were both carried along on an ecstatic magic carpet ride.
Our pulsing, heaving bodies demanded all and were not to be denied.
I buried my massive cock deep inside her as I exploded. She gave a short scream of exultation, wrapping her legs tightly about me.
In the sanctuary of each other’s bodies we found total contentment.
So my story ends. Stella and I are together. It has been a long path to fulfilment for me.
I started life at some disadvantage with my little Dorrit. Then I met Stella in that old bleak house. After we parted I experienced some hard times. Yet in the end my transplant proved to be, both for Stella and myself, our mutual friend.

Yes, this much I can say. When the mood is upon her, which thankfully is often, there’s nothing my Stella enjoys more than a good Dickens.

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