textfiles/sex/EROTICA/W/whatever.txt

WARNING! The following work of fiction contains sexually explicit
material that cannot be shared with anyone under the age of 18 in
the United States. If material depicting sexual acts offends you,
do not continue to read this work.

Do not remove this warning from any copy of this work, physical or
electronic.  The author has inserted this warning for his and your
protection.
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Whatever Comes Up
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                                                   By Torrid Affair
                                                             Member
                                                  NixPix Windy City
                                                       708 564-1069



        Chapter 1: There's A First Time For Everything


Hi. You've probably heard about me, even if you haven't read about 
me in Time, Newsweek, People or the National Enquirer. You may have 
even seen me on 60 Minutes, 20/20, Hard Copy or Oprah.

Yep, that's me. The guy with the 17-inch cock.

The way I figure it, it's time you heard my side of the story 
without all the studio props or out-of-context quotes. I've been 
answering questions all my life, but none of the interviewers has 
ever seemed interested in anything more than what's hanging between 
my legs down to my knees.

Let's start with the numbers so I can get them out of the way. The 
17-inch measurement that's generally tossed around is when I'm not 
aroused--and believe me, when you've got a bunch of doctors poking 
and prodding and scratching down notes, you're not exactly in the 
mood for arousal. The more practical numbers are 21 inches from the 
top of the base of my cock to the tip, a diameter of 2-1/2 to 3 
inches, and a circumference of 8 or 9 inches. Those numbers are in 
effect most of the time, because I am a major fan of women.

During my life, I've been called everything from "Holy Shit!" to the 
life-support system for one of the world's largest dicks. People 
stop me in malls to call me a prick, then laugh like they're the 
first ones to ever think of such a witty line. You can call me Matt, 
though, because that's what my parents named me some 35 years ago.

Back in those days, ultrasound scannings before birth were something 
out of science fiction, so everybody stood around waiting to see 
what gender the baby would be. In my case, they had a clue during 
the delivery because I was born with a hard-on and they nearly had 
to cut my mother open to get me out. Mom says that right after the 
doctor smacked me on the back, one of the nurses tried to use my 
adult-sized shaft for a pacifier.

See, that's another one of the problems I've lived with. It's not 
just the size of the bulge in my pants that sets off women, it's 
some kind of animal attraction. I can be wearing baggy pants, be 
facing the other way and still have feminists clawing at me like it 
was mating season at the mink farm. Maybe it's pheromones--you know, 
like they use in some of the newer colognes and perfumes--or perhaps 
it creates some sort of biological magnetic field. I don't know, and 
neither do a couple of people who have pulled down PhD's with their 
research on it. Whatever it is, though, it works--and it works in 
spades.

As you can imagine, that's come in handy any number of times over 
the years. What you may not be able to imagine is how difficult it 
can make ordinary day-to-day life. For example, I wanted to be a 
gymnast, and I got pretty good at it--during practice, that is. The 
coach eventually asked me to drop off the team because there were 
too many disruptions in the stands every time I walked out onto the 
floor in my skin-tight outfit during meets. Then, too, there was 
always the near-fatal danger of any miscalculation while working on 
the horizontal bar or pommel horse.

The same thing happened to my swimming career. I wanted to be a 
diver because I could use my gymnastic skills, but Speedos don't 
even begin to provide cover. It's kind of like asking Dolly Parton 
to use a hanky for a bra. Jams weren't available in the early '70s, 
and boxer trunks gave too many opportunities for my cock to thrill 
the crowd as it snuck out a leg. We even tried some of the 
wrestler's outfits, but gave up in the battle of the bulge.

Baseball was much the same. I got on base a lot because opposing 
pitchers would get distracted--or pissed--and throw the ball at my 
crotch. I've got some permanent dents in my left side from twisting 
away from a fastball, but the experience gave me great reflexes--and 
a terrific batting average.

Football? Ha! Try finding a cup that big, and then try fitting it 
under a pair of football pants. And then try keeping opposing 
linemen from trying to bury the top of their helmets below your 
navel.

But you aren't here to listen my list of problems, and I'd rather 
not dwell too much on them. There are advantages to cocks the size 
of mine, though, and I'll get to some of those in a minute.

By the time I was a teenager, teams of doctors had built their 
reputations with the help of my penis. The medical libraries of the 
country have had to add extra shelving just to accommodate the reams 
of dissertations and books that have been written about my genitalia.
I remember doctors showing me pornography as they tried to measure 
how long it would take me to become fully erect, but I didn't really 
relate well to that as a child. They evidently had other plans in 
mind, too, but my parents wouldn't let them fuck around with me 
until I was old enough to understand what they were doing.

To give you a perspective, I was born with 4 inches. By the time I 
got my first bike at 5, I had 10 inches--and had to get a girl's 
model because my dad was afraid of what might happen otherwise. By 
the time I entered junior high and started growing pubic hair, I was 
carrying 14 inches of meat between my thighs. I topped out at 17 
inches about the time I got my driver's license.

My sister had noticed these changes, and had been working on any 
number of plans that would let her satiate the desires that had been 
building as she matured from a girl to a woman. Vicci was and is one of 
the most beautiful women I've ever known; she's three years older 
than me and strongly resembles Raquel Welch in all aspects.

She was quite frustrated, too, because my dad kept a close watch on 
whom she dated and when she got home and all the other things that 
dads are supposed to do to keep their teenage daughters pure and 
innocent. At some point--and from what she tells me now, that 
happened a lot earlier than I had suspected--Vicci turned her 
attention to me. 

That meant more frustration for her, because we were a tightly-knit 
family that lived in a fairly small home and did everything 
together. She had no opportunity to try any of her plans--until my 
mom won a sweepstakes one spring that awarded an all-expense-paid 
trip for two to New York City. Vicci was 16 then, and old enough to 
watch over me and the house while my folks took advantage of the 
prize during mid-July.

I was just maturing enough to notice girls the way they're meant to 
be noticed, as I discovered the Saturday evening my folks left for 
New York. I was sitting in our living room watching TV when Vicci 
strolled into the doorway wearing a flimsy hip-length peasant 
blouse. That wasn't too unusual, because Vicci ran around the house 
a lot that way. What was unusual, though, is that this time the 
blouse was completely unbuttoned as she stood there with her 
waist-length brown hair casually draped over her left shoulder and 
her right hand resting lightly on the doorframe. The light from the 
setting sun was to her back, and transformed the peasant blouse into 
gossamer, haloing her figure and outlining in deep pastels every 
inch of her woman's body.

"What're you watching, Matt?" she asked, in a voice far more husky 
than I had ever heard before. "Up to a second ago," I said, "I was 
looking at TV. All of a sudden, though, the sunset has my undivided 
attention." (I was a precocious little bastard, and it got me into a 
lot of trouble with teachers.)

I don't remember much more of our conversation, but I remember in 
vivid detail every moment for the next hour or so. I remember 
noticing that Vicci was wearing a lacy white bra and bikini panties 
that I had never seen in the laundry. I remember Vicci sitting on 
the couch next to me, and I remember that she smelled good in the 
way she did before she went out on a date. I remember staring a lot 
at her as she talked to me, and letting my eyes drift to her ample 
cleavage.

We looked into each other's eyes, and she gulped, and she opened her 
arms and pulled me to her. I could feel the firmness of her breasts 
on my chest--and I was aware that my cock had become fully erect. 
Vicci obviously noticed it, too, for she pulled back a moment, 
looked at me again, and then closed her eyes and moved in for my 
first full-fledged erotic kiss. As the warmth of the breath from her 
open mouth let me know there was more to a kiss than what an aunt 
produced, her right hand moved to my knee and she began stroking my 
thigh through my levis.

As Vicci's hand moved higher, I became even more aroused and my cock 
pushed through at the waist of my levis under my T-shirt. Her 
fingertips found the base of my cock, and we both gasped as we 
kissed. Vicci's hand closed around my hard-on, and she began to 
slide it up the 18 inches of solid muscle, letting her hand slip 
beneath my T-shirt as she moved upward. As her hand made contact 
with the bare skin of my penis, I could feel her body tense and her 
kissing become deeper and more frenzied, as though she needed all 
the air in my body. I could feel her tongue exploring deep in my 
mouth, and I responded instinctively.

As she reached the head of my cock high on my chest, she shuddered 
and cried out, then pulled away to look at me with a newfound 
understanding and awareness of what her body had been requesting for 
so long. Vicci sat back and shrugged off the blouse, then guided my 
hands to her full breasts, all the while watching my eyes to see how 
I was responding. As I caressed her breasts through the brassiere, I 
could see her nipples hardening through the lace, and I could feel 
them press against my hands.

Vicci moved my hands away for a moment, then reached for the center 
clasp between the cups. With a quick movement, she unsnapped the 
clasp and opened the bra, giving me my first look at live naked 
breasts. My whole body quivered with tension as I responded to the 
sight of her magnificent breasts, outlined with tan lines and 
punctuated with two small hard nipples thrusting out of rosy 
aureoles like beacons.

I started to move my hands toward her again, but she stopped me with 
a shy smile, then stood and rolled her panties down her hips, 
uncovering her thick brown thatch of pubic hair that spread neatly 
up to her belly. I could see that it had been carefully trimmed to 
match the tan lines from her bikini, and I pictured her lying on a 
towel at the beach while guys clustered around, hoping for a better 
view.

I was getting that better view as she let her panties drop down her 
long golden legs. As Vicci stood erect, she looked down at me and 
playfully posed by running her hands through her hair and turning 
from side to side. When she slowly turned to show me her perfect 
ass, I could smell her perfume more strongly as her body heated with 
anticipation, and I could sense another, less familiar musk mingled 
with it.

"Your turn, Matt," she teased as she reached for my T-shirt. Her 
breasts swayed with the movement, and I reacted as though she were 
trying to hypnotize me with them. I let her tug at my shirt for a 
moment before I reached down and pulled it up over my head. As my 
dick came into view, I could see Vicci's face flush and her eyes 
devour every inch of it. One of her hands unconsciously moved to her 
left breast and began to softly caress it; the other dropped to her 
pussy and her fingertips began a slow rhythmic up-and-down movement.

"I want to see it all," she whispered in a husky voice nearly choked 
off with lust. "Take your pants off for me, Matt. Please take your 
pants off." That sounded like a great idea, if for no other reason 
than to relieve the pain from the thrust of my erection. I stood up, 
unclasped my belt, unzipped my pants and let them drop to the floor. 

As I stepped out of them and pulled off my socks, Vicci moved closer 
and hooked her fingers in the waistband of my underwear, pulling 
them down as she sank to her knees in front of me. I stepped free of 
them, and Vicci moved her fingers to cup my balls and cock as though 
she were handling a fragile and priceless artifact. She left her 
right hand clasped around my balls and began a slow stroking 
movement with her left hand up my shaft. The sound of my staccato 
breathing filled the room as she excited me to levels I had never 
even dreamed of before, and Vicci's sharp gasps punctuated the gaps.

I was aware of colors and textures and the almost-overpowering scent 
rising from Vicci's body. As she teased and played and explored, I 
stared at her breasts and their glorious nipples, and at the tangle 
of hair covering her mound. My body was rigid as I reacted to the 
touch of her fingertips, and I began to feel an unfamiliar stirring 
within me.

Vicci slowly stood, keeping her grasp on my groin, and moved against 
me, kissing me deeply and passionately as she picked up where we had 
left off. She pulled her hands away as though she had been forced to 
do it, then put her arms around me and pulled me tight against her 
body. Reaching down with her hands, she cupped both cheeks and 
pulled our hips as tightly together as my erect penis would allow.

In each other's arms, we began a slow circling dance that kept us in 
contact while moving against each other. The pressure finally became 
too much for me to stand, so I stepped back slightly, reached down 
and moved my cock to a horizontal position. Vicci responded 
immediately by opening her legs and straddling my hard-on as though 
she were riding a horse. I could feel the heat pouring from her 
pussy as she straddled me, and the wetness that was building. We 
moved back together and continued our dance of desire as Vicci and I 
kissed in the way that new lovers have defined over the ages.

I could feel Vicci spasm as we danced, and her breathing become more 
irregular. She slowed the dance to a standstill, then began stroking 
her pussy across my cock ever more quickly. The more quickly she 
moved, the harder she buried her face in my shoulder, biting and 
crying out in pleasure. "Matt, I'm coming on you," she gasped, "I'm 
coming all over your cock. Can you feel me?"

I had felt her become wetter, but didn't have any reference point to 
compare it to. As she cried out louder and louder, I could feel her 
pouring wetness down my shaft, and I pulled her tighter to me. I 
could also feel my cock curling around behind her into the crack of 
her ass, and the sensation was almost more than I could stand.

"What do we do now?" I asked as she quivered again and again. "I 
want you inside me. I want you deep inside me," Vicci whispered. 
"Come with me to my bedroom."

I didn't want the sensation to stop while we walked to her bedroom, 
so I told Vicci to wrap her long legs around me and hold onto my 
neck. With my cock as a support, I carried her that way to the 
bedroom and rolled her back as gently as I could onto the bed. Vicci 
moved farther onto the bed and spread her legs, pulling her pussy 
open with her fingers as she did. "Put your cock in here, Matt. 
Slide the tip into me--but do it slowly. Thanks to daddy, I'm still 
a virgin."

What could I do? What could I say? I stared at her pussy spread wide 
before me and felt a responding throbbing in my cock. I bent forward 
and knelt onto the bed, then moved between her legs. As I lowered 
myself to her, I kissed Vicci's breasts and sucked at the nipples. 
She gasped with delight at the sensation, but pulled at me urgently. 
Her hands moved between us, and she took a firm hold on my dick to 
guide it into her.

As the tip of it touched the lips of her pussy, all of the tension 
seemed to rush from her body, and her hips rose to meet me. I slid 
forward to thrust into her, and Vicci recoiled slightly with a 
stifled sob as her hymen ruptured. I pulled back, thinking I had 
hurt her, but she pulled at me hungrily to continue.

I felt her warm wetness envelop me, and the muscles in her vagina 
grasping at the intruder in their midst. She took me in for about 4 
or 5 inches, then released and drew back. We began to develop our 
rhythm from her response, and I was able to reach deeper with each 
thrust until I hit her cervix about half way in. By this point, 
Vicci was crying out and shuddering with orgasms on nearly every 
movement. As I struck her cervix, she gave a great heaving 
convulsion and, through clenched teeth, inhaled an "Oh, Matt......"

I continued to stroke, letting the pleasure build as her pussy 
stimulated the top half of my cock and her hands caressed the lower 
half and my balls. At some point, the head of my cock surged past 
her cervix into what felt like another vagina. The sensation 
overpowered me, and I began to erupt within her. She could feel the 
cum pulsing through my cock on its way to the inside of her body, 
and she could feel me exploding deep within her. I buried my face in 
her hair as I came, and she moved in rhythm with me as I spurted 
again and again and again.

Vicci continued her rhythm as I ran out of air from the violence of 
the experience. As she moved, I first learned of the sensitivity a 
man experiences after orgasm, and I pulled free with a yowl of pain. 
I explained that she hadn't hurt me, that the pain was a good kind 
of pain, but that I needed a minute or two to calm down and catch my 
breath.

As I gasped that out, Vicci watched my cock continue to twitch and 
spurt with the aftershock, then reached over with her fingers to 
touch my cum. Quite tentatively, she touched it to her tongue, then 
exclaimed, "Hey, this is salty--but I like it. And, look down 
here--your cum is leaking out of my pussy." She reached for a 
Kleenex to dry herself with one hand; with the other, she began to 
tease my cock again.

We continued to experiment for the rest of the night. I found I was 
able to recover in about 5 to 10 minutes, and that Vicci was nearly 
insatiable. Near dawn, we fell asleep in each other's arms 
and--appropriately enough--with my cock deep inside her pussy. When 
the phone rang about two hours later, we were able to quite honestly 
tell our parents that everything was going fine and that they could 
stop worrying and enjoy the rest of their week in New York.

As it turned out, they did--and so did we. 
 

             ]  Watch for Chapter 2: Speaking In Tongues  [


====================================================================
Originally uploaded on 8/19/91 to NixPix Windy City 708 564-1069, 
the only place where the rest of it will be uploaded by the author. 
Re-upload elsewhere freely, as long as you got it from a NixPixNet 
BBS and you don't change it. Fair enough? Thanks! 

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For 99 percent of those who can read, this is a needless reminder, 
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If you enjoyed this story and/or appreciate the time and effort 
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On a personal note, I ask you not to remove either this afterward or my 
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Thanks, in advance.
                                                                  TA