From trekat@theriver.com Tue Jan 02 13:29:03 1996 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: The Priapus Problem [m/F, cons, juvenile] From: trekat@theriver.com Date: Tue, 02 Jan 1996 18:29:03 GMT 3650 words / 9 pages / 24-k bytes The Priapus Dilemma by Rick There's this old Greek myth about a guy named Priapus who was born with such a big cock that his mother was horrified and almost disowned him. Later, he got to be the god of lasciviousness and male potency, and they made statues of him, big penis and all, to scare crows away. He was the god of farmers, and gardens too, but nobody remembers that part. All they remember about him is that he had a huge prick. From about the age of fourteen, I realized that I had a problem with my penis. Not only was it way too large, the darn thing had a mind of its own. Never mind what my brain, or my conscience said, my prick was independent, and ornery. It didn't take a lot for it to rear up and take notice and that got to be embarrassing. Once I found out about females, it got even worse. Anything from the fork of a tree to a girl's hair bow would set my penis off and up it would come, creating a noticeable and awkward bulge in whatever lower garment I happened to be wearing. 'Oh yeah,' you say? 'I should have such a problem!' you snicker? Well let me tell you a few things before you start laughing or throwing rocks at me. Maybe I shouldn't complain, and maybe it sounds like I'm bragging in a roundabout way, but that isn't how it is. While it's great to have a larger than average penis - really larger - some of the time, and a guy can win a lot of barroom bets, there are some drawbacks. For example: Most women can accept a pretty hefty cock if they're really ready and they try, but it really ruins things when some normal, ordinary woman, used to a normal sized man, takes a look at your upraised Shaft of Cupid and says, "Oh, my God! No way!" Sex with an inexperienced or virginal girl is usually out of the question as well, not to mention anal intercourse. Then too, there's always those guys who hate your guts and try to wreck your love life, one way or another, because they're envious. Other than my oversized sexual parts, and maybe a very high level of hormones, I was an ordinary kid. I played baseball and soccer, hated school, worried about zits, had a few dates, and was socially tense around girls and all of that. Mentally and emotionally, I was about average in most respects, but that perverse penis of mine just about messed up my life. People wouldn't let well enough alone. The guys called me 'horse' and they weren't referring to the character on the old Bonanza TV show either, so I usually took my PE showers alone if I could manage. Even some girls with advanced awareness of things sexual giggled at me, and God forbid my middle class and prim parents should mention my unusual attribute, let alone offer any helpful advice. Because of my fairly strict, conservative parents, I got very little sex education too, and despite my man sized genital equipment, I remained an unenlightened virgin until I was near my fifteenth birthday. Up to that time, I'd only learned to masturbate, a fun trick I'd learned when I was thirteen, from a kid who was a year older and sexually precocious. He wasn't shy about whipping his cock out and pumping away, and he was proud of the fact that usually a little white froth would appear when he came. He kept razzing me and making cracks until, hot-faced and reluctant, I tried it. That's when I knew I was more than just a little different. For one thing, as big a kid as I was otherwise, my erection filled my fist, and then some, rising more than another hand width, and the end of it was crowned with a wide-rimmed, fiery red corona - a man's cock. I spit on it and started sliding my hand up and down, up and down, and the more I did it, the better it felt. After a minute, I didn't care that Jimmy was watching, I applied more spit, and really got into it, using both hands. It took a little while, but when I came it wasn't just bubbles, it was a gout of genuine, gooey, thick ejaculate, and it fountained up several inches to splatter all over my hand, my crotch and onto the bathroom floor. I nearly passed out with the sheer, physical joy of it. I recovered myself and since it hadn't really gone down, and it still felt good, I began again. "Jesus Christ!" Jimmy blurted. "Man, look at that! You're a fuckin' freak!" And that was when my problems all began. I kept jerking off on a regular basis, but after that day, I did it in private. That's all I did for amatory pleasure until the sexual predators discovered me. Mrs Denton was the first to do more than merely notice my potential. Every summer, I had an unspoken contract to mow her lawn and my going-on-fifteenth summer was no exception. It was hot and sticky and I was wearing only my gym shorts and sneakers as I pushed her cranky old mower across the grass. To ease the boredom, I daydreamed as I worked, finally getting around to thinking about a girl at school that I liked a lot. She was really pretty, and smart, and every time I got around her, my darned penis wanted to chew a hole in my pants. At that tender age, I wouldn't have dared to try sticking my manmeat into her - she was a 'nice' girl - but nature has Her ways, and I still got hard just thinking about her. Mrs Denton, checking on me from her living room window, apparently noticed the rise at the front of my shorts and decided to do something about it. She was around thirty-five, a positively ancient age by me, short, plain looking, brown haired, beginning to plump, and frustrated as hell. Her husband liked John Barleycorn more than he liked sex, so Barbara Denton didn't get a lot of male attention. She probably fooled around some, but Mr Denton was evil tempered and likely jealous, so she didn't have much opportunity for outside fun. But seeing a virile but innocent kid, she set her stage and then invited me in for lemonade. Acting unusually friendly, she sat down with me at the kitchen table and as I sipped my lemonade, gradually steered the conversation around to girls. "Oh, I'm sure you have a steady girl," she smiled, touching my hand. "You're a very attractive boy, and a girl would be lucky to date you." The usual, adult bullshit. I noticed that she had her bathrobe on, and when she went to the refrigerator, I also noticed, as she bent over, she wasn't wearing any slip under it. I got a good view of her ripe and fleshy leg, and later another obvious view of the valley between her good sized boobs as she leaned over the table. All that did was embarrass me. I made a tactical error though when I asked to use her bathroom. I was inside, about to take a leak when the door opened and she was there, a roll of toilet paper in one hand. "Oh, my gosh," she exclaimed with insincere apology, "I didn't mean to barge in on you. I just remembered we were out of paper." Okay. I had to pull my shorts down to urinate - no fly - and took a couple of seconds for me to tuck in and pull up, so she got a good look at my untested sexual equipment. I wasn't all that dumb; I pretty much knew what she was about, but I wasn't about to take a hack at some old lady no matter how naturally horny I was. As I tried to go through the bathroom doorway, she wouldn't move aside, going on about how she was oh so sorry she'd burst in on me. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about," she said finally, holding me by the forearms, standing very close. "You're a lovely young man." She meant I had a nice sized cock, but I didn't pick up on that exactly. When I told her that I wasn't so 'lovely' and again, that, no, I didn't have a special girlfriend, she decided to cut to the chase as they say. Still grasping my arms, she smiled and said, "Have you ever kissed a girl?" That was too damned personal and I tried to pull away. But as I pointed out earlier, my pecker had a mind of its own, and no matter how flustered I was just then, it knew what was going on and promptly came to attention. Mrs Denton planted one on me, right on the mouth, using the excuse that all I needed was some friendly instruction, and friendly persuasion. Her robe worked itself open somehow and I was chest to chest and belly to belly with a naked woman. And two sloppy kisses later, we were in her bedroom and the robe was all the way off. She probably wasn't any worse looking bareass than the average housewife, but as far as I was concerned, she was gross. I was paralyzed, numb and dumb though, as she worked the waistband of my gym shorts, easing them down. I glanced down to see that my cock was half way up and swelling. I looked at Mrs Denton as she took my hand and pulled me down onto the bed beside her. Her breasts were big and floppy looking, the areolas large and dark, with tiny hairs in them, her thighs soft and doughy looking above the tan line, and her pubic hair was a thick mat of coarse, black curls. Her belly looked soft, with little rolls of plumpness above her navel and a pinkish band where the elastic of her underpants had constricted the pale flesh. She might have looked good to a grown man, but to me she looked like a beached whale - a very intimidating Moby Dick kind of whale. "Oh, Lord, I get so wet!" she groaned as, led by my tyrannizing bellyroot, I let her pull me over onto her. It was about as romantic as a good bowel movement. She grasped my cock firmly in one hand, the other on my waist, and pressed me down as she opened her legs. I got a quick glimpse of her wide vulva with its damp, red-flushed center just before I plunged in to it. Warm, slippery, and frightening, swallowing me up; yet even through my fear-numbed mind, it felt sort of nice. I smelled her excited sweat under the perfume as her strong thighs enveloped my hips and her arms went around my neck. She sighed, allowing me to lie still on her for a moment. Then she stirred, her pelvis tucking up still tighter to me. "Uhhh," she purred. "You feel so good in me. Doesn't it feel good to you?" Honestly, it did. Once the shock diminished, I discovered that her hot, snug vagina ensconcing my cock wasn't so bad after all. She had both hands on my waist once I was in her and she started a push-pull action, urging me to move on her. I got the idea and, leaning on my elbows, my chest brushing those corpulent, sweaty tits, I tried pumping on her. After a few awkward strokes, I was tightening my butt and properly thrusting at her, pulling back and shoving in pretty good. Her warm, onion breath fanned my ear as I poked away at her and she was whispering all sorts of crazy stuff. "Oh, yes! That's it. Oh, good, good, good! Oh, Lord, you're so nice and big." It began to feel very good to me and my nervousness fled. I pushed up and took longer strokes, pausing to look at her. Her eyes were tightly closed, her face pink with passion, and her wide mouth twisted in blatant, female lust. For a moment, I felt powerful and commanding and she looked almost good to me. I didn't even mind the heady aroma that wafted up from her sweltering crotch. I kept humping on her, lost to bliss, and her mouth opened to gulp more air as she became even more excited. Her lubricious hips butted upward to meet my downstrokes, her thighs flexing as her head rocked from side to side and her heavy breathing went into harsh gasps. My orgasm almost caught me by surprise. The tingling coil began in my groin, spreading upward into my guts, then washing over me in lavender hot waves and my hips jerked of their own accord, furiously slamming to her. I rocketed away, spinning and tingling in a spasm of release that was way beyond anything I felt under my own hand. I barely heard the sodden slap of our genitals coming together and her moans of sexual rapture. I knew I was shooting in her, and I worried about her getting knocked up, but I couldn't stop. She dug her nails into my ass and heaved up, reaching her peak with a long, rasping exhale. Her vagina suddenly went more snug around me and I felt the slickness of heavier perspiration lather her chest. I spiraled back down to earth, wrapped up in her, still inside of her, her hands stroking my back and shoulders. "Ahh," she sighed, opening her eyes to look at me. She kissed my cheek tenderly. "Wasn't that wonderful?" Numbed with it all, awed and scared at what had happened, it wasn't exactly wonderful just then. I was worried about her big, mean, drunken husband. But when I didn't go soft immediately, she gave me a grin and held me from climbing off of her. "Want to go again, huh?" she smiled, licking her lips. It felt squashy and slightly uncomfortable down below and there and I was aware of a spreading damp spot under her butt, but when she began to move her pelvis slightly, rocking up to me, my ever-eager cock responded, starting to engorge once more. I lay, letting her do the work, slipping my half-erection around in her humid cunny-burrow until I grew thick in her again. She held my upper arms, gazing up at me as I screwed her again. I pumped wetly on her, thrusting harder and deeper for what seemed a long time, until I climaxed again. Just as I felt the now familiar heated swoop of orgasm beginning, she arched up under me, her head back. "Yah, do it, do it!" she hissed. "Fuck me!" I'd never heard a female use that word and for an instant I was shocked. But climax took over and I was lost in the pulsing convulsions as I came into her again. I must have passed out or gone out of my head, because the next I knew, she was pulling on my ankle and saying, "Come on, get up. I've got to get these in the wash before he gets home." She was pulling at the corner of the sheet, almost rolling me into it. I saw the now wide wet place as she bundled the bedclothes in her arms, and still naked, headed for the laundry room. I watched her broad, dimpled buttocks jiggling as she trotted down the hallway and I was grossed out again. I found my shorts and got into them as fast as I could, and feeling sticky and used, I stuffed my bare feet into my sneakers and looked for a way out. I wondered if I was going to throw up as I ducked out the screen door off the bedroom and ran. But as I mounted my bicycle and pedaled home, the horror of it faded a bit and I mentally reviewed what had happened. My penis remembered more than my brain did because half way home, it twitched then began to swell. If it could have, it would have been smiling smugly. That was a lousy beginning any way you look at it. I never went back to the Denton house again, even to collect my wages for lawn mowing - not that she would've given any, considering services rendered - and I was wise enough not to brag about it, so nothing else ever came of the incident. And it was a long time before I even let myself daydream about sex. But, after a while, I recovered and a few months later, I got another chance at sexual union. In all fairness, I have to say the greedy Mrs Denton did me a favor because when an amorous, physically mature girl from school decided to lay down for me, I knew what to do. She'd heard the rumors about me and curious, she decided to see if they were true. After a lot of kissing and petting on her front porch swing, she led me to the barn like rear building, took me to the loft and got serious about fucking. We stripped and lay down on an old tarp atop the moldy hay, and quickly picked up where we'd left off on the swing. This time no clothes were in the way and she confirmed what her hesitant touches had indicated. She admired my hulking sex organ with her hands, then after some hinting, blushing and giggling, with her mouth. This was a new and astonishing revelation to me and I watched dumbfounded as she licked, sucked and nipped at my righteously aroused, upthrust cock. Satisfied that she could handle it, blonde, full-chested Betty stretched out and urged me over onto her. She was experienced but she was no reamed out housewife, so it took some careful pushing, and happy cooperation before I finally got wedged into her. She grunted with effort, holding me off a bit until I finally got all the way into her. As soon as she got used to my bulk stuffed up in her, she turned her little engine on and gave me a wonderful ride. Echoes of Mrs Denton swarmed in my brain as she huffed and bucked beneath me, her face coloring and her legs clamping me tightly. "You . . . can come . . . anytime," she advised after five or six minutes of love's labor. I roared into her without wavering, whipping my hips to her in lusty paroxysm, jerking, gasping and filling her stretched, female sheath with virile slime until my gratified male staff made a sound like boots in the mud, sliding in and out of her. And as it had been with Mrs Denton, when it was over, I lingered, this time kissing and stroking my willing, female companion until I swelled within her again. She looked startled, then pleased as I went into motion once more, and this time she didn't have to fake her orgasm. She writhed and whooshed under me until she went rigid, breathless and then limp. We fooled around some more, tickling and nuzzling one another, enjoying being intimate and slightly naughty, and then I started getting excited again. She was startled, then dubious, then ready again and this time she rode me, coming to her climax spread over me like a sexy little frog, saturating my crotch with her fluid blessing and finally flopping exhausted on top of me. "If I ever really went for any guy," she said when she'd caught her breath, "it'd be you. Boy, can you ever fuck." This time the word didn't bother me. We got together several times during that year, and it just kept getting better, but she ended up married to an older guy her parents liked a lot. Betty must've passed the word on me and I began to get a whole lot of offers from randy females, whether I wanted them or not. Regular girls usually shied away however. By that time though, I had resigned myself to the fact that I was an unusually big guy sexually and that was that. Then after a while, I realized that what had begun as an embarrassing problem might have its advantages. I wanted real love, not just screwing, but in the meantime, I learned to be careful and kept a running battle with my obdurate cock, managing to stay out of really big trouble with hot, young girls, although it wasn't easy. I finally came to the conclusion that it just might pay me to use what nature had so generously given me. In school, I had planned on becoming a teacher or an archeologist, but college costs money, so I kept searching until the opportunity came to make a living doing what I apparently did best. When I was eighteen, another older woman who enjoyed being with me, gave me a discrete recommendation and I got the job. What job? Well, outside of being a male escort from time to time, I work in films. I don't appear at academy awards, and I don't get to work with famous personalities, but I'm well known and respected for what I do - namely making it with beautiful, sexy women. I can walk along a busy street however and hardly be noticed because my face isn't famous. What's famous are the tools of my trade - my ever ready, ever outsized, implements of intercourse. I should mention that, while my loyal and lovely fiancée is not in the trade, fortunately she is understanding and not terribly jealous. She doesn't have any problem with my genital dimensions, nor my sexual appetite either. As soon as I complete my degree, I'll retire from this job and we'll travel the globe together, digging ancient sites and discovering lost cities. By the way, she's the girl I daydreamed about while I was mowing Mrs Denton's front yard, and as I found out, she'd had the same lascivious daydreams about me that I'd had about her, even if she was a regular, nice girl. ******* Trekat@theriver.com Ol' Tomcat up a tree, and out on a limb! Meeowrooowwwr!