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Giant Dick Statue
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Giant Dick Statue  *Sometimes I come across pictures on this site that I feel deserve their own story. "I want a big dick stuffed in from the back.” You said over your shoulder as you turned and disappeared behind the minivan. I stopped in my tracks. What the fuck. Am I about to get some? It can’t be this easy. I always thought this scenario existed strictly in porn, and only because pornsites write their scenes by throwing darts blindfolded at lists of “who” and “where.” A hot lady immediately horny for a big dick (it’s a short list), a passing guy responding to her request for “help,” and a minivan in an empty parking lot—awesome, grab a camera. “I’m sooo happy you passed by. I was hoping for a man with muscles!” Your voice sang from out of sight. No. It’s a trap—it’s a literal booby trap. This is how people get mugged. Why did she have such a giant pink sweathshirt and look so beautiful? Because I’m only a moth to a flame and tucked under all that bagginess is the zapper that’s going to take me out. “I think I know the perfect position where you can just thrust.” A siren’s song…But what if? Fear and excitement took turns chasing the other around my mind. My dick was swelling, hoping for the best. My fists were clenched, prepared for the worst. With a deep breath I strode forth, turned the corner to the back of the car, and…. It’s just you, struggling to lift a giant wooden penis. Words escaped me. Somehow, out of all the possible situations, this was the craziest. “See what I mean?” You groaned with both arms wrapped hopelessly around the 8 foot long erection. Questions flooded my mind: What are you doing with a giant dick statue? Where did you get a giant dick statue? Who carves giant dick statues? You, however, went about as if this was just a regular part of your day. Enchanted by your confidence and nonchalance, I figured I might as well help. Like two virgin teenagers who knew the “what” and the “where” but could only act like they knew the “how,” we tried our best to make the cock fit just right. After a series of “how’s that?” and “let’s try something else” we found a rhythm with you supporting the shaft and guiding the tip as I pushed from the balls. “Oh, slower, slower. It’s tight.” Finally, with the front seats pushed up as far as possible, the giant cock fills the entire back of your van and I slam the door close. Both of us step back, breathing heavily. You pull out a cigarette, light it, and take a drag. You exhale with a sigh. “Thank’s I really needed that. You did good.” You walked to the driver’s seat and squeezed into the cramped space that remained. I began to depart as the bizarreness of the situation came flooding back. “Wait!” I heard you yell and I turned back. You looked so cute, with your petite body snug so tight that your breasts pressed up against the steering wheel. It was really only now that I could tell how large and full they were under that sweatshirt. “I can’t unload it by myself!” You reached over and opened the passenger door. Fuck it, I think, let’s see how bizarre this can get. … Ten minutes later we pulled into your driveway. A neighborhood parked his tricycle and watched us as we pulled the dick out of your car and carried it through your front door. “Where are you going to put this?” I finally asked. “Well,” you said, stopping to get a better grip on the glands, “I think it would be a good conversation piece for the living room.” I just nodded, because at this point why ask why? So we figured out the right angles and maneuvered the dick around your hallway into the living room. I half expected the room to be a phallic temple of sorts. Yet it turned out you have a normal, even plain living room—only a couch, a coffee table, and a television. And now a giant wooden cock. After setting it down, I collapsed on the couch in exhaustion. I could feel the blood pulsing through my swollen muscles. It was a hot day and I had only worn a workout shirt. Now it clung to my body. “Oh my god. It is hot!” You slipped off your sweatshirt. All you’re wearing is a bra. You plopped down on the couch beside me. In shock, I couldn’t help but watch your breasts jiggle. “Hope you don’t mind, but in this house it’s either clothes or air-conditioning.” You unclasp your bra and your breasts bounce out as if they’ve been set free. “And air-conditioning is fucking expensive.” And so it seemed the darts were thrown and the scene written: a woman who is fully liberated in her body and at the same time energy efficient, a guy who is just confused as fuck at this point, and a living room now overshadowed by a literal wooden statue of wood. Action. You crossed your arms and I sat staring as your breasts rested on them like a natural bra. I felt momentarily touched imagining that I was seeing<b> cleavage </font></b>as God intended<b> cleavage </font></b>to be seen. My attention was broken as you unfolded your arms and raised one hand up as a fist with the thumb extended. You closed one eye. The other switched back and forth between your thumb and the statue. “What are you doing?” I was utterly confused. “Measuring” You replied without breaking concentration. “Measuring what?” I asked, still bewildered. “Scale.” Suddenly you plunged your thumb straight down to my lap. I looked down to realize that a full erection was bulging down the side of my pants. You tried to match your thumb with the bulge. Out of surprise I jerked away but you grab me by the bulge. “Stay. Still.” Your voice was calm but the look in your eyes gave each word an authority that I dared not disobey. So I only sat as you tried lining your thumb up with the tip of my cock. “Thank you.” From my perspective, I watched on in confusion as you continued “measuring scale.” But things were different from your perspective. You never were measuring scale. No, you knew exactly what you were doing: you were getting into my pants. You wanted to fuck me. You had been thinking of it ever since I helped load the dick into your minivan. You enjoyed watching me handle the giant package. Sweat had quickly turned my shirt into a display case of all my muscles and you watched as they seemed to perform a coordinated dance just for you. When I groaned you closed your eyes and imagined that it was you I was handling. All that was left to your imagination was what my cock would be like. So, you ended up setting a booby trap after all. You used your air-conditioning all the time. It’s the summer in the fucking Sacramento Valley. You just needed a reason to bring out your tits. Now, with my cock in your grasp, you couldn’t be happier. “Shucks,” you told me, “I don’t think I can get an accurate measure with your pants on. Stand up.” You dropped onto your knees in front of me, unbuckled my belt and grabbed onto my waistband. In one motion you ripped both my pants and briefs down and… Whack. You felt a large heavy object smack your face. You opened your eyes to the thickest cock you’ve come across in your life. No. You think. You thought this type of cock existed almost exclusively in porn, and only because pornsites write their scenes by throwing darts at lists of “who” and “where” but then also “male insecurities”—a guy who is actually kind of dumb, a room that still overshadowed by a statue of a giant dick, and now an actual giant dick... *still need to finish |
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1/31/2018 5:53 pm |
Is that actually a fish in the pic....
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