GJackN

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Okay, folks, here's my contribution to the ever-growing world of big dick lit. It's a bit of a slow burner, so bear with me, and inspired by...well, a whole bunch of stories across a bunch of different sites. I'm a stickler for details, but I figure I might as well post what I've got, even if it isn't perfect, otherwise I'll never get around to it. Thoughts and comments welcomed!

Chapter 1


“Fuck me.”

Sighing mightily, my shoulders sinking in defeat, I searched and struggled to find a silver lining to my current situation. As if the mere fact that it was a Monday wasn’t grueling enough, I now found myself standing before the closed door of an apartment unit. The wrong side of a locked apartment door, the key for which lay conveniently on the other side. Dropping my forehead against the wood with a heavy thump, I cursed beneath my breath again. Almost as if in response, my stomach rumbled with a hungry growl.

This particular Monday had been one for the record books. Beginning with disconcerting comfort of waking at my own pace and not to the typical jarring jangle of my cell phone alarm, I lay in my bed, momentarily enjoying the rare night of a full eight hours of sleep, before suddenly realizing with a lightning flash of dread that I’d overslept. Snatching my phone from my nightstand, I traced the power cord back to its source and found it lying limply on the floor, having come loose from the electrical outlet sometime in the night. Disheveled and panting, I sprinted into work twenty minutes later—and an hour late. Under my manager’s stern gaze, I sank into my desk chair and quickly took refuge within my inbox full of emails. By noon I’d managed to compliment this feat of incompetence by spilling coffee on my shirt, discovered I’d left my wallet at home come lunchtime, and been reminded by same said manager that my project deadline had come and gone and that I’d need work late to make up for it.

By the time 9:00pm rolled around, hungry, tired, and ready to throw in the towel. I stumbled up the steps of my apartment building, trudged inside, and collapsed on my couch. I was in the middle of debating between ordering a pepperoni pizza or meatball sub when I recalled that Tuesday was trash day. Groaning, I hefted my slouching form off the couch and headed for the dumpsters behind my building. The first cold rain of the ensuing autumn began to fall on my walk back and, hurrying back inside, I took the steps two at a time, reached for the doorknob of apartment 2A—and found the door resolutely locked.

Way to go, Mark, you really know how to put icing on a shit cake of a day, I thought grimly. Back against the door, I sank to my haunches and buried my head in my hands. What else could this day possibly throw at me? Suddenly, from the lobby below, I heard the front door open and one of my neighbors enter and begin to climb the stairs. I quickly stood, trying to at least appear to have some shred of dignity left, and pretended to be fishing my keys from the depths of my pockets as a familiar face appeared on the stairs, rounding the landing below.

“Evening,” the man said, nodding. I nodded back, offering a weak smile. I recognized him vaguely as the guy who lived somewhere on the floors above. In the two and half years since I’d moved into my apartment, I’d seen him a sum total of maybe three times and always in passing. He’d told me his name once (Roger?) when I’d first moved in, but evidently our schedules had differed wildly ever since, as I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen him.

“Evening,” I echoed back, praying he’d move on quickly. It turns out that you can only fish around in your pockets for an imaginary set of keys for maybe five seconds before it starts to look odd. With my back to him, I listened as he rounded the landing and was halfway up the next flight of steps.

“Everything okay?” he said, footsteps drawing short.

“What? Oh, yeah I just, uh…” I searched for a believable excuse, came up short. “I sort of locked myself out of my apartment.”

“Oh that sucks. Is someone on the way with a spare?” I did my best to not look completely helpless as I sheepishly admitted I’d also locked my phone inside. “No worries, man. You can use mine. Come on up.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s fine. I’ll just—”

“Wait until the door magically unlocks itself? Don’t be ridiculous,” he chuckled. He raised a plastic bag overladen with takeout containers that I had noticed before. “You can help me eat all this Chinese while we wait. They always give me way more lo mein than I can handle.”

I considered him and his offer again. He vaguely resembled an actor I’d seen on TV once, though I couldn’t quite place who, and was distinctly handsome in a bookish way. With his clean-pressed khakis, starched button up, and brightly patterned tie, I pegged him as an accountant or academic or some sort. His dark hair was smartly coiffed and even at my distance I could smell the menthol aroma of his clean-shaven face. And despite being deep wells of dark blue, his eyes radiated an inviting warmth not dissimilar to his bright, captivating smile. The sort of grin, it turns out, I’d fall for instantly.

“I do have a soft spot for lo mein,” I admitted.

“I’m Owen,” he said, extending his free hand. I closed the distance between us, returning the gesture. “It’s Mark, right? I think we met a couple years back when you moved in.”

I caught the slightest trace of a lilt in his voice, suggesting an accent from a place I couldn’t quite pinpoint but which was decidedly not Midwestern. Without waiting for my reply, he jerked his head as if to say “Follow me!” and continued up the stairs. I followed in step behind him, both impressed and a surprised that he’d remembered who I was—and slightly guilty that I’d forgotten his name. As it turned out, he lived in the apartment directly above mine. It was very nearly a mirror image of my own apartment, albeit more expensively decorated. The couch was even positioned the same as mine. Owen led me into the kitchen, deposited the takeout on the counter, and handed me his phone.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, peeling off his jacket. As I waited for the building super to answer my call, he pulled a couple of plates from the cabinet and and began dishing out Kung Pow chicken, egg rolls, and heaping piles of lo mein. My stomach growled again at the sight of it. “So what’s the verdict?” he asked as I handed his phone back to him.

“He’s out of town until tomorrow. He’ll be by first thing in the morning.”

“Oh no. Do you have some place to stay tonight? You can totally crash on my sofa.”

I shrugged. “I’ll probably just sleep in my car.”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “That won’t do.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Ain’t happening,” he said simply, a shadow of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “You’re stomach has been growling loud enough for me to hear ever since you walked in and you look like you’ve been through the ringer today. So you’re going to grab us a couple of beers from the fridge, help me eat all this Chinese food before it goes cold, and then I’m going to make up the sofa and you’re going to stay here tonight.”

Without another word, Owen picked up both plates of food and disappeared into the living room, his words hanging in the air with a ringing finality. Still relatively speechless, I nevertheless grabbed two bottles of Budweiser from his refrigerator and stalked into the living room, finding him settled on the sofa and kicking off his shoes. He gestured to the empty spot beside him and I settled onto it somewhat apprehensively. He was the most confident, the most gregarious, or the most presumptuous person I’d met in a long time, or perhaps all of the above in equal measure. And yet I found something intrinsically trustworthy about him. The phrase “the kindness of strangers” surfaced somewhere in the back of my mind, but I pushed it away. As we ate, Owen peppered me with questions and offered up answers of his own whenever I directed them back to him. In just twenty minutes, I’d learned he was thirty-nine to my twenty-nine, worked in insurance, had never been married, and was the only son of a Welsh father and Canadian mother. He preferred running to weightlifting, was allergic to cats, and had broken his arm in three places when he was in the fourth grade.

“So why’d you move to Cincinnati if all of your family lives in Cleveland?” he asked as we approached midnight. Between the two of us, there were already several empty beer bottles on the coffee table and as I took the last swig of my second beer, considering my answer, he yawned and readjusted himself, absentmindedly reaching for his crotch. Instinctively, my gaze followed his hand…

I nearly choked at what I saw.

What greeted me was a bulge the likes of which I’d never seen. As Owen turned to face me more directly, the material of his pants was pulled tightly across his package, instantly accentuating its size and heft. The first thing I noticed was the sheer length of it. His dick easily stretched to the halfway point of his thigh and looked to be as long, if not longer, than my own cock was hard. Hell, longer than any hard cock at least in regards to every dick I had ever seen in person. Owen’s hand rested idly on the inside of his thigh beside it and in a flash I realized that his dick was in fact longer than his own hand even. And the thickness! Had there ever been so heavy and meaty a bulge witnessed before? Not by me, that was for sure. As if the fact that his slab of man-meat was longer than his hand wasn’t breathtaking enough, it was readily evident that the donkey dick between his legs was as thick as his wrist too. Genuinely beer bottle thick, I thought, as he rested the amber bottle between his thighs, drawing my eyes in further. It was the kind of bulge that would stop you dread in your tracks had you seen it as a passerby, protruding so discernibly it advertised only one unmistakable truth: Owen was hung like a goddamn stallion. And maybe it was just a trick of the light in the dimness of apartment, but I swear I could almost see the whole thing twitch and swell some.

“S-School,” I stammered, dragging myself back to the present. What had been his question? Did it even matter? The answer, any answer, all answers could be summed up by that huge bulge mere feet from me. That thick slab of dick was the answer, was the only thing that mattered. The sight of it had obliterated all other thoughts from my mind. For the first time in my life, I was literally dumbstruck by the sight of a penis—and I hadn’t even technically seen it. Only the suggestion of it.

Owen shifted again, propping one elbow up on the back of the couch, and resting his head in his hand. It was an infinitely endearing look, suggesting I had his full attention. As he did, he folded one leg into the couch, his crotch opening wider still and drawing the material of his khakis across that incredible bulge tighter still. If my own cock hadn’t already been rock solid, it would have been then. As it was, my dick was straining painfully within my underwear, having rocketed to a full-blown erection in under ten seconds. Another influx of blood pushed into my prick, making it harder still, as a new protrusion joined his bulge: the rounded edge of one very large testicle, rolling forward and pressing against his khakis.

“What was your major?” Owen asked.

“English,” I said breathlessly.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is everything okay?”

In the last minute, my world had been turned topsy-turvy by the sight of Owen’s engorged endowment. So no, nothing would ever have a chance of even half resembling okay again unless that huge, meaty prick was in my life. These are the things I wanted to say, that I was screaming internally. But instead, when I finally opened my mouth to speak, all that tumbled out was: “I’m sorry, you’ve been really cool and all sharing your dinner with me and letting me crash here, and I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, but what the fuck is that?

For a moment Owen looked genuinely perplexed. Then he followed my gaze, looking down at his own crotch, his mouth dropping open and uttering a simple, surprised, and innocent, “Oh”. The color rose in his cheeks as it drained from the rest of his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said. He began fumbling with his khakis, trying in vain to readjust his pants leg to conceal the heaving bulge that would not, could not, be concealed. “This happens sometimes when I—if I’m not paying attention.”

He looked like someone who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, or more aptly, someone with their hand down their pants. Guilt suddenly washed over me as I watched the kindness of my benefactor for the evening melt away and sheepishly do his best to hide his prodigious bulge.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I said quickly. “It just caught me off guard is all. I’ve just never seen one so big before. But you don’t have anything to be sorry about. Hell, if anything you should be proud of that thing! Most guys would kill to sport even something half that size. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. That was rude of me.”

He was staring straight ahead now, avoiding my gaze. We lapsed into silence. Great job, you dumb fuck, now you’ve really done it, the voice in the back of my head said. Leave it to you to stumble across the biggest dick in the tri-state and fuck it up. He’s probably not even gay. Just some nice, straight loner who was trying to do his good deed for the day. I had just begun hatching a plan of collecting my shoes from beneath the coffee table and starting for the door to let myself out, when I heard the soft timbre of his voice beside me.

“Do you want to see it?”
 
The question rang in my ear, spoken so softly that I was unsure I had heard him correctly over the sound of my pulse thundering my ears. But when I turned and looked at Owen, I found those dark blue eyes boring into me. He still wore a look of apprehension, his eyebrows furrowed with unease as he waited for my reply, as if it would somehow dictate whether he should be mortified by this turn of events or not. I struggled to find the right words and put them in an order that made sense. Yes, please, holy fuck yes whip that huge fucker out!

Instead, I simply said: “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

A sort of shadow of relief seemed to pass over his face, his features relaxing.

“I don’t mind showing it off,” he said, “for the right person.”

My cock was desperately, aching hard in my jeans, impelled by my adrenaline-laced pulse. I wanted more than anything in the world to reach down, unzip, and kick my pants off so that my dick could spring mercifully free. Wrap my hand around my rock solid shaft and stroke until I was cumming hard and heavy, jizz flying through the air. My balls practically throbbed in anticipation of the load building in them. It was a delightful agony spurred on by the sight of the enormous bulge at the other end of the couch from me. All pretense of not staring at that glorious, prodigious bulge was gone now. I openly stared at it, marveling at his size, and watched as Owen began to unveil it. His fingers moved nimbly, unfastening his belt buckle and the fly of his jeans, his eyes remained trained on me all the while, seemingly gauging my reaction. Then one hand disappeared into the cramped confines of his khakis, while the other hooked the lip of his pants. In one fluid motion he pulled his pants down further and scooped out his oversized manhood, letting it flop heavily into his lap.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “That’s amazing. It’s—you’re—so big.”

I unconsciously inched closer for a better, closer view of his huge endowment.

“You think so?” he said, glancing down at his dick, as if considering the notion for the first time.

“I know so. It doesn’t even look hard yet. Does it get even bigger?”

“Some,” he said. Now that his enormous prick was out in the open, I could gawk at it, and what a beautiful dick it was. Damn near the perfect penis if I’d ever seen one. His plum-sized cockhead looked to be a full two inches across, capping a circumcised shaft that looked satiny smooth, were it not for the veins snaking across it. He was most definitely still soft, I realized, for as he gripped it in his hand and wiggled it around, the thick pliable shaft flopped backward over his hand, his enormous cockhead brushing his stomach. Even soft, his hand only just encircled his wrist-thick girth. I inched closer still, practically leaning in, as he released it and it plopped heavily back into his lap. To call it a trouser snake didn’t do that dick justice; this was a goddamn trouser python.

“Can I touch it?” I said, my trembling hand already reaching out.

Owen nodded resolutely. Even before I had made contact, I could feel the heat radiating off his overdeveloped donkey cock. He shivered as my hand brushed his shaft, mumbling something about cold hands, then immediately settled as my fingers began to wrap around it. The softest sigh escaped his lips and his head lulled backward as my hand struggled to find a grip on it. Even flaccid, it was difficult to get a good grasp on, between the incredible girth and malleable length that flopped around. It was like trying to handle a water balloon. Within seconds, though, I could feel his horse-cock responding to my ministrations, the blood surging through the veins that snaked across it. Through a series of determined throbs, his burgeoning schlong began adding even more size and girth along its ever-increasing length. I had awakened a sleeping monster and now I would have to watch it rise up in all its natural glory. I half-expected to find that it could not due to the amount of bulk it seemed to be putting on so rapidly. But rise it did, lifting a few inches from his inner thigh before dropping heavily again. Growing bigger, heavier, and longer all the while. Finally, after what seemed ages, Owen raised his head from the back of the couch, looked down at his crotch, and decided to lend his expanding cock some much-needed assistance, intentionally flexing it so the beast of a prick suddenly reared up violently and fell backwards against his stomach. His hand traveled down to the bulky base of it, pushing it vertical, so that it pointed up at the ceiling like some monument to its own virility.

“What do you think?” he said, offering me that same unsure, apprehensive stare as before.

Since I’d come out of the closest my freshman year of college, I had encountered my fair share of cocks. Truth be told, probably more than my fair share, considering my particularly “active” years between twenty-two and twenty-five. I’d seen dicks of all shapes and size, even what you’d call big ones: a few genuine eight inchers and an elusive nine-inch prick once. But what was standing before me now was in a league of it’s own. It easily put all others to shame and was unmatched in both length and girth. And to think there was even more to it. He hadn’t even pulled his pants off completely. Somewhere within the confines of those khakis still lay a pair of balls the likes of which I could imagine.

“That’s the biggest cock I have ever seen,” I confessed. My mouth dropped open as my hand wrapped around it again. It was hotter than I’d expected, rigid as steel, and throbbed in time with his pulse. I could practically feel his heartbeat. I struggled to completely encircle his engorged prick with one hand, my fingers coming up ever so short. I removed my hand and attempted to enclose it closer to his cockhead, then far down at the base, but no such luck. Every inch of Owen’s magnificent, mind-blowing cock was uniformly bulky along the entire, incredible length.

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re humongous. No way I’m the only person who’s told you that.”

Owen shrugged. “I guess I never really thought about it much. It’s just always been like this.”

“You look like you could fuck through a brick wall with this thing,” I said, tracing my fingertips every so lightly up from the trunk-like base toward the broad flare of his cockhead. A soft groan escaped his lips as I did. I smirked and looked up at him. “That feel good?”

He licked his lips and nodded. “It’s been awhile for me. Since I’ve…you know….”

“Oh, please. You probably have them lined up around the block.”

“Trust me when I say I don’t. You’re the first person in quite some time.” This struck me as equally odd and illogical. Surely a man as supremely endowed as this was getting his cock worshipped as often as possible by as many people as possible. His libido had to be through the roof and most certainly attracted cock hungry partners from far and wide. I said as much and he shook his head. “I’m not on any apps. I don’t do like online dating or anything. I guess I’m old-fashioned that way—ngh!”

I’d wrapped a second hand around his enormous, vein-covered shaft. He seemed to like that, reflexively pushing his cock upwards into my grip and spreading his legs wider, sinking into the couch. There were still several inches left over even with my fists end-to-end.

“Dude, a cock like this deserves all the attention it can get,” I said. Since he seemed to be relenting to my touch, I took the opportunity to slide off the couch and drop to my knees, situating myself between his legs. Jesus, look at the cum tube on this thing, I thought, tracing a finger along the fat pipe on the underside of his throbbing dick. He must shoot like a racehorse. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes and he looked down upon me, his face so far above and partially hidden behind the tree like prick jutting upwards from his groin. A burning, gnawing hunger was buried behind his irises. I would suck this thing dry if you gave me the chance, I thought. All you have to do is say so and I’ll give this big fat dick the loving it deserves. As reading my mind, Owen gave the slightest, nearly imperceptible nod. Permission granted. I didn’t need to be told twice. I reached up, hooking my fingers into his pants, and pulled them down the rest of the way. His own hands drifted to his shirt and began unbuttoning it.

“Look at these balls!” I exclaimed as they were finally exposed. Each mouthwateringly fat testicle was the size of a kiwi and hung heavy and low in his lightly hairy sac, lolling heavily onto the sofa. I reached out, cupping and gently squeezing them in my warm palms. Far above me, their handsome possessor groaned, his massive cock twitched, and he spread his legs wider. Each hefty ball on its own was a handful and together they made holding them in one hand impossible. I elected to tickle the underside of his sac with dancing fingers as my hand encased his cock again. This has got to be the biggest, fattest dick in the city—and its been living right above me for years. I brought his burning, engorged pole to my face and nuzzled it gently against my unshaven cheek. Where have you been?

Our gazes connected again. His eyes were growing increasingly fraught with need.

“Please,” he mumbled. “Put it in your mouth.”

Without a second’s hesitation, I opened wide and extended my tongue, licking him in that particularly sensitive spot on the underside of his cockhead. He bucked, crying out, and shoved a few inches into my mouth. I gagged and opened my jaw wider as the first three or four inches invaded my mouth, his hands curling into fists as I encased those granite-hard inches in the hot, wet entrance of my throat. His head immediately dropped backward against the couch and he stared desperate and dead-eyed at the ceiling. I pushed forward, another couple of inches disappearing past my lips. This huge fucking cock is going to put my deepthroating skills to the test, but goddamn it if it isn’t worth it, I thought. My mouth was overstuffed and straining, his cock swelling and pressing against the walls of my throat. Tears began to well up in the corners of my eyes as I choked on his brawny stallion cock.

Gagging, I released his spectacular manhood from gaping mouth. It recoiled, slapping wetly and against his now exposed stomach. With his shirt unbuttoned and wide, I could see his pale, athletic torso. He was by no means ripped, but the muscular definition was there, accentuated by a smattering of dark hair across his chest that traveled down his navel. As gathered my breath, I noticed how his saliva-covered cock effortlessly extended up past his belly button by more than a couple of inches. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and dove in again, determined to take as much as possibly could. If ever there was a dick that deserved to stretch my throat to the breaking point, it was this one. Again, I swallowed what I estimated to be a good seven or eight inches of his overgrown phallus, but another few inches still remained out in the cold. My fingers continued dancing and pawing at his abundant balls, palpating them as hot tears streamed down my cheeks. You can do this, Mark! Show him who’s boss!

Minutes passed as I continued slurping hungrily on his one-of-a-kind pecker. Dinner had been good, but dessert was delicious. The sweat, salty gush of his precum was splashing across my tongue and glazing the inside of my throat. I choked down another inch, my chin growing close to his balls.

All of the sudden Owen sat upright. “I’m—I’m—” he stammered, mouth quivering.

This was it. As desperately as I wanted to swallow every drop of his undoubtedly delicious cum, I wanted to see just how much he could shoot, just how much cream his mighty, contracting balls could produce. Withdrawing from his dick a second time, I fell back on my haunches panting, but I didn’t release my grip. My hand rocketed up and down his saliva-slicked pecker form top to bottom, as he continued panting and moaning. “Need—to—” All at once a convulsion wracked his body, his abdomen tightening, his legs quaking. Pre-cum was flowing freely from his bloated cockhead now, heavy gobs of it coursing down over my knuckles. Aburptly, I felt what seemed to be a fresh influx of blood blast into his extraordinary schlong and it became rigid as stainless steel, his cockhead darkening to a fearsome red, the swollen slit opening wide—

Holy fuck!” I exclaimed.

A sudden spurt of precum gurgled up from the depths of dick, doubling any that had come before it, but this was just a precursor. It was chased by a thick rope of cum suddenly hurling forth, flying toward the ceiling. It must have traveled a foot into the air. A second equally sizable shot of cream followed before the first could begin its descent, however, and the two colliding midair as the third, fourth, and fifth volleys escaped the depths of his balls. My hand continued racing the length of his thrashing prick, coaxing as much as I could from it.

“THANK YOU!!!!” Owen bellowed, as the heavy gobs of jizz splattered down on his stomach. His face was screwed up tight in agonizing joy. “THANK YOUUUUU!!!”

All in all, I counted eight volleys of jizz, each as large as the first. Most splashed down onto Owen’s legs and stomach, but one errant stream of searing hot goo landed on my forearm. As Owen sank onto the couch, cum continued to flow residually from his rapidly relaxing manhood. Every few seconds his fattened cock would jump, belching out another glob of jizz, further drenching my hands. Finally, at long last, I released that wonderful, powerful dong, watching as it came to a rest against his inner thigh like some belabored serpent. I looked down at my hands in disbelief, gawking at the volume of cum coating them.

Maybe Mondays weren’t so bad after all.
 
Sorry for posting this here but can someone tell me who owns this dick?

No idea, but you might try posting it on a different thread besides this one. I’m sure with all it’s many different dick-related threads, LPSG has one designed for identifying mystery monster cock.
 
Fun story so far but man, porn boards attract weird people who just plop the shit they want to post anywhere.

Thought I was having a stroke when the next story post had no relation to what I just read until I realized it was a different poster. Laughed out loud when I saw the "have you seen this dick" post.

Good luck, OP, hopefully no one else tries to hijack your thread.