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!