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This fictional story is the artistic expression of the author who wrote it. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this story, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
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‘And another thing! You have a tiny, weeny dick!’ Rebecca Armitage’s voice cut through the hubbub of conversation like a paring knife though the soft, wrinkled flesh of a scrotum.
An instant hush settled over the room and I gaped at her, completely lost for words.
Bec looked around the bar and smiled. It was not a nice smile, by any means: rather, it was a malicious, mean-spirited, below-the-belt smirk that never touched her eyes.
‘It’s like a fucking little worm,’ she explained to the listening crowd. Her voice was getting louder, reaching through the open doors into the street.
‘Small and useless,’ she shrilled, ‘and….’ she drew in a breath and I could see her mind racing to capture the right adjective. I braced myself.
‘…minuscule!’ she said triumphantly.
Now, there was a time not long ago when I would seriously have doubted that Bec would even know a word like ‘minuscule’. There’s no doubt about the quality of her physical attributes, but it’s fair to say her intellect isn’t up to the same standard. It isn’t just my assessment either – the general feeling amongst everyone who has fucked her, and there are many, is that the mass of each of her tits is at least twice that of her brain – and she is only a 34 C cup on a good day. But hey, she was clearly on a roll and you could have heard a pin drop in the room – I could see everyone feasting their eyes on this feisty little blond who was happy to share her view on my noodle.
‘It’s a pathetic, shrivelled, microscopic ugly little worm!’ she screeched, ‘…and I never want to pick my teeth with it again!’ And with that she turned on one shapely heel and stormed out of the room.
You know the old adage – if you throw enough shit some of it will stick? Well, she’d just flung a complete fucking sewage works at me and I was covered in piles of ordure. Jesus! I looked around the room and was met with a sea of gleeful faces, and my heart sank. I knew that tomorrow some smartarse would christen me Tiny Tony or Wormy Wilson and the name would stick, and the story of Bec trumpeting my tiny, weeny little tool to the world would grace dinner tables and be the butt of jokes at my expense for years to come.
The bar was silent and I saw they were all looking at me. God, if only I was clever with words. I needed someone to defuse the situation, to turn the tables on pox-arse Bec – but I just didn’t have that gift and so I waited for some knight in shining armour to defend me.
The silence stretched out. I could hear the grandfather clock in the hall ticking.
‘I say,’ said Phil, who was standing next to me. He was my best mate and I knew I could count on him. ‘That was a bit unkind…’
A sense of overwhelming gratitude surged though me. ‘Thanks Phil,’ I murmured.
‘…to worms,’ he finished.
The room erupted in laughter and I shrank back from him. Fuck! Tiny Tony it would be then, and I wouldn’t have minded if not for one stark fact.
My cock really was tiny.
As I stood there I reflected on the short story of my member. It was small – three inches or so, and that was when it was really angry. And there was nothing I could do about it. The bottom drawer in my cupboard was full of stuff that absolutely, positively guaranteed a longer dick: creams and lotions, pumps and weights and suction gizmos and stretchy bands. Over the years I’d tried everything but all it had done was empty my bank balance and give me a sore – and still small – prick.
I’d sought advice, too, and they’d all said the same thing: not to worry about it. In different ways, of course, like my G.P. ‘It’s still functional, Tiny… er, Tony,’ he’d said.
I’d stolen a surreptitious look at his crutch as he sat there and seen the outline of an elephant’s trunk in his pants. Condescending bastard. Or my shrink: he’d steepled his fingers and stared at the ceiling. ‘It’s not the size of your pecker, but how you use it’ he’d said, with all the sincerity of an undertaker explaining he could bring a body back to life (I’d reflected later on the irony of seeing a shrink about a small appendage).
And then the young female doctor in the sexual health clinic with the sexy overbite and big nipples: ‘It’s not the meat, it’s the motion,’ she’d breathed in a little-girl voice. I’d hoped she’d show me how, but apparently she was too busy for a short interlude.
The worst was from my sister, though a spontaneous comment as she saw me coming out of the bathroom one day when I thought the house was empty. ‘Oh, Tony,’ she’d shrilled. ‘What a beautiful little willy!’
I’d scurried to my room, red-faced and humiliated, thinking that although my member might be compact, her twat was probably the size of the channel tunnel.
There was nothing to be gained by staying in the bar so I slunk out and started walking home, hoping that Bec was under a car somewhere and wondering where my sex might come from, now that she was gone. She might have been a first class bitch but her pussy was exceptional, and it wasn’t like I had a lot of other options. Perhaps I could find a midget somewhere who would be happy with the size of my equipment.
There’s an old junk shop in Morris Street not far from where I live and I often stop and look in the window. Passers by might think I’m interested in the bric-a-brac that fills its window: old books and pots and vases and bits of allegedly antique brass that probably come from Taiwan – but frankly, that shit leaves me cold.
No. The reason I stop to peer in through the grimy window is because there’s a little brunette who works there. She’s lovely: a shade over five six, I reckon, with a face as sweet as a baby rabbit, tits like honeydew melons and a shapely little arse that is just begging to be licked all over, preferably drizzled in golden syrup. She can be seen in the shop window from time to time – apparently rearranging the crap there – and she invariably wears a pussy-pelmet skirt…you know, one of those micro things made out of half a handkerchief that barely covers the hairs on her minge.
And the thing is, she doesn’t seem to mind that most of the male neighbourhood stand with their dribbling lips stuck to the glass, ogling her spectacular derriere and the pubes peeping from the elastic of her little white panties. I don’t know what she gets paid, but it isn’t enough – half the sales must be to guys buying shit they don’t want, just to get a closer look at her.
The window-dressing thing doesn’t happen often, though, so I wasn’t expecting too much as I rounded the corner just down from the shop but – fuck me! – there she was, bending down setting up a box of crappy old vases in the corner of the window…and the street was empty. She was mine to ogle, all by myself. And so I hurried over and pretended to study a pile of old books in the window with my eyes swivelled sideways so I could see up her skirt. It was even shorter than the others and her panties had been pulled up so tight I could see the complete outline of her pussy: the dark lips pressing against the fabric and the material folded in between, jammed in her crack and translucent with her juice.
She hadn’t shaved recently, and little wisps of silky hair curled around the elastic in contrast to the white creamy flesh of the top of her tights. Fuck! And her legs were perfect, too: slim and shapely with the glossy flesh as firm as a ripe peach, leading up to that arresting little crack and the spectacular globes of her tight little butt either side of it. Holy shit!
The pretence of studying the books was forgotten. I mean, if you had the choice to examine a tattered copy of Ripley’s Believe it or Not or a delicious little snatch not two feet away in a pair of microscopic knickers clearly not up to the job, which would you choose? No contest! And so I stood there with my tongue hanging out and my dick like a paddle pop stick in my pants, gazing at syrup-arse’s delicious little cheeks with lust on my mind. I could almost smell her: the lovely, warm, ripe odour of a woman aroused, and my mouth watered at the thought of how she might taste.
Christ knows how long I stood there with my tongue pressed against the window, but all too soon she stood up and the object of my desire disappeared under the hem of her little black skirt. She turned and saw me with my nose pressed to the saliva-stained glass and her face lit up in a smile you could have powered a thousand homes with. I mean, I’m not much to look at but that smile was just as if George Clooney was standing there with his dick out: a genuine, thousand-watt welcome that I just couldn’t resist.
So I found my feet taking me into the shop…into that den of dust and debris and musty old books, not to buy anything but because I just had to see her close up. To gaze into those clear blue eyes and look upon face – or, better still, to peer down the top of her blouse at her magnificent melons. Who knows, I thought, as I stumbled in over the step, I might even get a head job. There was more chance of Pluto colliding with the Earth, but hey, I’m an optimist.
And fifteen minutes later I lurched out into the street twenty quid poorer and in love. Fuck! Amanda Pudney (as I discovered her name to be) was really something! She’d treated me like I was the only guy in the world. She’d ignored my stuttering and my stumbling and the drool on my chin. She’d touched my arm (which I now wasn’t going to wash for a week), and smiled into my face and asked who I was and what I liked, and then sold me some piece of junk that I didn’t need and didn’t want other than she’d been the last one to touch it. It was worth twenty quid just for that.
I watched as she wrapped my purchase in tissue paper, her fingers dexterous and slim and her alluring breasts moving up and down with every breath into her lovely body. ‘You come back soon, Tony,’ she’d breathed in her soft west country lilt that made my little member crank up another millimetre. ‘And tell me all about it.’
‘About what?’ I’d asked, perplexed.
She’d handed me the change with a knowing little smile, her blue eyes taking apart my soul as if she could see right through me. ‘You’ll see,’ she said, and she laughed a few tinkling notes as sweet honey I lurched from the shop in a daze, clutching my purchase.
I live with my parents and sister in a house in Mort Street, which is well named as it must be the most fucking dead-end place in the entire universe – but it’s free and Mum does my cooking and washing, so I can’t complain. My old folks have one end of the house and I share the other with Cassie, my sister, who is two years older than me. Cassie has a steady boyfriend and she likes to sneak him into her room when she thinks no one else is home.
I’ve set up a webcam in a shoebox on the top of her wardrobe, and I watch as he fucks seven bells of shit out of her on her bed, the floor, the carpet and, on one memorable occasion, balanced on top of the dressing table so he could watch his dick going in an out in the mirror. Despite the fact that Cassie’s getting it regularly she is a complete pain in the left nut so we try not to have much to do with each other.
I hurried home and shut myself in the bathroom, thinking of Amanda Pudney’s fine round tits and tight little snatch, and in no time my little soldier was stood to attention. I dragged him out into the light of day and stroked him, thinking of how good she would feel and which of her delicious little orifices I’d do first. God damn, she was hot! I imagined how tight she would be and how my cock would look as it pumped in and out, and how she would grunt and groan under me as I fucked her. Holy shit, it was good!
In no time at all I felt the familiar urge and I shuffled my feet forward to the edge of the third tile and pointed Percy at the mirror while my orgasm built in my brain, spinning upwards in a tight little spiral of pleasure until, with a groan, I spurted. A jet of jism sizzled upwards and splattered on the mirror about a foot above my head – Bingo! A new record! A few others followed, gradually trailing down the glass until the final dribbles splattered on the floor next to my feet. No doubt about it, Amanda Pudney had won this round – better than Mila Kunis, whom I tossed over a lot, and even Charlize, by a good head’s width.
As I contemplated the milky product of my balls dribbling over the glass there was a furious hammering on the door and a female voice boomed through the keyhole. ‘Tony! Are you in there!? Let me in!’
‘Fuck, Cassie! I’m busy!’
‘I’m busting! Let me in.’
‘Go to the other loo.’
‘It’s busy! Jesus, Tony, I’m going to pee myself. Let me in, please!’ She hammered on the door again, the timber creaking with the force of her blows. She’s a strong girl, my sister.
‘Christ…OK, OK.’ I fumbled Percy back into my pants and unlocked the door.
‘Jesus, Cass- ‘ but she darted past me and was already crouching on the bog with her pants around her ankles, so I shut the door and went back to my room, remembering that my sperm was still splattered over the mirror. Shit, shit. Now she’d have something else to hold over me.
The parcel Amanda had wrapped was on my bed and I picked it up and sniffed it carefully, hoping it would retain a trace of her perfume. Bec used a similar product – two pound fifty from Boots – but somehow it didn’t seem as alluring on her as it did on the devine Ms Pudney. Anyway, there was no trace of it so I tore open the paper to remind myself what she had sold me.
It was an old fashioned oil lamp, I think – you know, one shaped like a gravy boat with the wick poking out of the lid. The metal was dark with age and the spout was blocked by what appeared to be cement. The lid was similarly fastened with some sort of silicon (which inexplicably made me think of Amanda again), and the whole thing was tarnished and dirty.
I remembered her enthusiasm as she pressed it into my hands. ‘Look at this, Tony,’ she’d warbled. ‘A genuine antique!’
‘But I don’t collect antiques.’ I protested.
‘Of course you do, silly! It’s just that you haven’t started yet!’ She regarded me with eyes as big and blue as wedgewood saucers. ‘Don’t you want to start?’ Her smile lit up the room. ‘I’d be here whenever you wanted help! I could come round to your place and help catalogue them.’
She probably said the same thing to every guy who bought something, but it didn’t matter. I was captivated by the vision of her being here, on my bed, observing my meagre collection of antique artefacts and making little grunting noises as I explored the tightness of her tube.
‘Um, how much?’
‘For you, twenty.’
‘You mean twenty pence?’
‘Twenty pounds, silly!’ She glanced at the back of the shop to ensure we were alone and her voice dropped. ‘You won’t regret it, I promise.’
‘But I -‘
Amanda put her hand on my arm. ‘Please, Tony! I haven’t sold a thing all day. Just for me? Please?’
If she’d offered me a plastic statue of Adolf Hitler at that moment I’d have bought it, so I paid my twenty quid – and here it was. A ratty, battered, fugly, expensive jug: my very first antique. I picked it up and turned it over and regarded the bottom. There were words etched there, probably some sort of hallmark, and I rubbed the warm metal lightly to remove the grime and held it up to the light to read the fine print.
Made in China.
And at that moment it happened. The jug shook violently in my hand and became instantly hot to the touch. I dropped it like a hot potato and stared with eyes like Amanda’s tits (round and bulging) as it bounced on the floor and came to rest on its side. The lid was flung off violently to strike the skirting board with a dull clang, and a spume of grey dust shot out from the open top like someone had just stamped on a vacuum cleaner bag. But it wasn’t dust – it was a cloud of…something, whirling and spinning in a little spiral of granular particles that turned blue and then silver and shimmered and teased the eyes, forming one shape and then another before finally coalescing into…the shape of a man.
For a few moments there was silence in the room as we regarded each other, and then I reacted with customary finesse.
‘Fuck!’ I shouted.
‘Is that a command, master?’ His dark eyes regarded me without blinking.
‘What about that?’ He smiled, his teeth a dazzling white in the dark skin of his face. ‘Is that a command? I need a command.’
‘Who – the – fuck -are – you?’
‘Me? Oh, sorry.’ He did one of those ornate bows, you know, where you sort of wave your arm around at the same time as bending forward at the waist and bobbing your head.’ Let me introduce myself,’ he said, ‘Ali Akbar Khan the -‘ he closed his eyes for a moment, as if counting, ‘- twenty third.’
I stood there like a landed fish, my mouth opening and closing with no sounds.
‘And you are?’ he asked quietly.
‘Um – T-T-Tony Wilson.’
He smiled again. I was to grow to hate that smile in time for its utter insincerity, but for the moment at least it reassured me that he wasn’t inclined to violence. ‘T-T-Tony Wilson,’ he repeated. ‘Well, T-T-Tony, you look surprised to see me.’
‘Fuck yes!’ I tried to gather my thoughts. These two word conversations weren’t useful. ‘Where in hell’s name did you come from, and what the fuck are you doing in my room?’ I asked. Better.
‘I was in there,’ he said, and touched the gravy jug with the toe of his shoe, ‘ and I’m here because that’s where the lamp was when I got out.’
I regarded him for a moment. He was a big guy – I mean, probably six-six and broad across the chest. The diameter of the jug’s top was about an inch I guess, so that didn’t compute. Not only that, but if you’ve just been reconstituted from a bunch of dust particles you’d expect to look like a hobo but this guy was smart…I mean, we’re talking a thousand guinea suit here, with a crisp white shirt and an Armani tie, and shoes like polished glass. His face was long and lean and sort of olive in complexion, but it was freshly shaved and I could smell a pint or so of eau-de-cologne even from where I stood. I figured the jug didn’t have a bathroom inside so he was clearly bullshitting.
‘Yeah? I asked. ‘Well, if that’s true then I’m Jessica Alba – ‘how about you piss off out of the house before I call the fuzz?’
‘Is that a command?’
‘Fuck! What is it with this command thing? Well, if it makes you so frickin’ happy then y-‘
‘Stop!’ He held up his hand. ‘I’m sure you know the routine, T-T-Tony. A genie pops out of the bottle and offers three commands to his rescuer. Well, that’s me and you. You’ve got three, my friend, so don’t waste them.’
My lip curled. ‘Why don’t you just get back in the jug, you loony.’
‘No, it’s not a fucking command! It’s a little test to show me that I’m right – that you’re speaking out of your arse…and if you can’t get back into that…’ I gestured at the little jug, ‘…then you’re a certified nut and I need to call the cops.’
The dark figure regarded me for a moment. ‘Very well. I don’t normally do this, but if you don’t believe me then I’ll show you.’ He crossed his arms and closed his eyes and sort of screwed up his face, a bit like I do if I’m trying to squeeze one out to piss off Cassie. But instead of blowing off he sort of collapsed inwards as if he was being sucked off by a Black Hole, and before my very eyes he was reduced to particles of dust again that swirled briefly in a little cloud before rocketing back into the jug.
‘Fuck’ I said again, perhaps with even more conviction.
Looking back at that moment I should have said something clever but I just stood there with my mouth open and stared at the jug. I could hear tinny clanking noises from inside it, and a bright light suddenly speared from the top to illuminate my titty pictures on the wall. And then there was the puff of dust again and the shimmering, dancing cloud of particles that finally re-ordered themselves into Ackbow, or whatever his frigging name was.
‘Well, no,’ he said modestly, and shot the cuffs of his expensive white shirt. ‘Just me.’ He regarded my face with dark eyes. ‘Now do you believe me?’
I backed up until my legs contacted the chair in the corner and sat down, my mind spinning. A fucking Genie! Something that every kid has read stories about, but hardly the stuff of reality. Perhaps Cassie had tried to poison me and this was a side effect. Perhaps my constant wanking had weakened my brain. Perhaps.
‘Well?’ says Ackburg.
I gathered my wits. There was only one way to test this, and that was to play along with his game. I nodded, my eyes on his face. ‘Yes, I do. I don’t get it Ackburg, but I’ll go along with it for a while. Why me, though?’
He laughed, his teeth like small bar fridges against his dark complexion. ‘Ali…just Ali. Ackbar is my family name – well, part of it. You wouldn’t want to know the rest. It sounds like Meercats fuc- um, mating. Do you mind if I sit down?’
‘Er – no. Feel free.’
Ali sat on the edge of my bed with a distasteful glance at the stained grey sheets. ‘Why you?’ he repeated, ‘…because you have the lamp. You rubbed it, and I came out.’
I was very familiar with that concept so it sort of rang my bell, so to speak. His mention of coming also reminded me the jism on the bathroom mirror that Cassie was probably examining right about now. Perhaps he could fix that.
‘So what’s the deal, um, Ali?’ I asked.
‘I’m bound to offer you three wishes.’
‘And when they are done?’
‘I’ll ask you to move my lamp somewhere and I will take my leave.’
‘Right.’ I thought about it. The guy was clearly certifiable but he was clever, I’d give him that. Still, what did I have to lose?
‘I’d like the biggest dick in the world.’ I said firmly.
He regarded me for a moment. ‘Is that your first command?’
‘Let me see it. I need to understand the challenge.’
‘I need to see your current…assets. Just a quick look.’
Well, talking to the guy was one thing but showing him my equipment was another. Perhaps he batted for the other side, or something. On the other hand, I was keen to have it done.
‘You won’t move from the bed?’ I asked cautiously.
‘No.’ A little smile crossed his lips. ‘I promise.’
‘Right.’ I stood up and dropped my pants and watched his eyes widen a little.
‘Ah! Well. You want a bigger one.’
‘The biggest in the world.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want to make a different command? Something easier, perhaps, like – well – like bringing the dinosaurs back from extinction or getting Ms Theron to give you head?’
I covered myself up. ‘Fuck you, Ali.’
‘Sorry.’ He laughed lightly. ‘I haven’t had much opportunity to make jokes with someone in a long time. Really, you’re not that small and I can fix it.’
‘Right.’ My curiosity was piqued. ‘So you’ve seen smaller?’
‘Most assuredly. On many, many occasions. You see many strange things if you wonder through space and time. I have certainly seen diminutive appendages. On small children, pigmies, circus freaks…’ he stopped suddenly as he saw my expression. ‘Never mind, T-T-Tony Wilson. Um… does it work?’
‘It’s just Tony,’ I said wearily. ‘Forget the tutting bit: and yes, it does work.’
He nodded. ‘Very well. There’s really nothing to worry about…we’ll just expand things a bit. How big did you say?’
‘The biggest in the world.’
‘Are you sure?’
I thought about it. All of my life I’d been tiny and now, if this lunatic was capable of doing what he said, I could change that. I’d be the object of desire. I could work in the Porn Industry. Women would flock to me, desperate to try me out, to see if I would fit into their wet, horny little pussies. In a few short years Tony Wilson would be remembered, no, revered for his enormous cock. I stood at the brink of fame and fortune and endless fucking beyond my wildest dreams.
For a moment I hesitated. What if it hurt? What if the guy was a homicidal maniac and I ended up with something even smaller? What if it got big but it wouldn’t work? My mind quavered. I opened my mouth to say no, I wasn’t sure – but then a little saying my Mum kept quoting popped into my head. For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these: ‘It might have been.’
‘Yes,’ I responded.
Ali shrugged. ‘It is done,’ he said quietly.
I pulled aside my pants and peered downwards. Percy was nestled like a little worm.
‘It hasn’t changed! You haven’t done it.’
He shrugged again. ‘It will,’ he said, ‘…when you use it next time. It is like – how you say – Jack’s Beanstalk. It must be watered with the juices of a woman before it can sprout to a giant size stalk.’
I didn’t remember Jack’s beanstalk being doused in pussy juice in any of the stories I’d read as a kid, but anything involving girly cream sounded good to me so I let it pass.
‘Now the others,’ Ali continued. ‘Tell me the other two commands and release me.’
For the first time a little sense crept into my head. Why rush? Tomorrow I’d fuck Rebecca Armitage half to death to teach her a lesson, and then I’d think about the other commands. ‘Later,’ I said. ‘Perhaps tomorrow.’
He turned his eyes on me. ‘That is not the deal, Tony Wilson. I demand you tell me the other two and release me.’
‘Really?! Well, Ali Ackbar the twenty third, go and suck my rosy red cock! And before you ask, no, that’s not a command. You owe me two, buddy, and there wasn’t a time limit on the deal. So I’ll let you know when I’m ready.’
For a moment a blaze of anger flared in the dark eyes but I was already turning away, so I didn’t see it. And because my head was filled with visions of fucking Bec, I didn’t give a moment’s thought to the utter stupidity of pissing off a Genie who can do things to your dick just by looking at it.
She picked it up on the third ring. ‘Jules Pipe and Tool Works, Bec speaking.’ Her voice-at-work voice. I’d laughed when I first heard her say it, thinking that Jules must be quite a guy to have his secretary boast about him like that, but then I figured he was probably a sad old fart who didn’t realise what his company name sounded like.
‘Bec! It’s Tony Wilson. I -‘
Her voice changed, the timbre shifting to become sly. ‘Tiny! Well, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again!’ She laughed, a cruel little sound of derision rather than humour. ‘So do you want me to come to another bar with you?’
My balls contracted slightly at the thought. ‘Well, no, um – actually, Bec, I’m calling you about that. You see, you were right. The fact that I was born like that and have no control over the size of my dick is no excuse. I understand your anger, Bec… someone of your, um… appetite deserve…’
‘Appetite!’ she hissed. The volume of her voice had dropped but the venom count was off the clock. ‘Are you saying I’m a slut?!’
‘No, no, Bec! I promise! No, I didn’t mean that. I meant – er, that someone as beautiful as you deserves the very best! I… um, I failed that test, Bec, and I deserved your scorn. But I’ve fixed it. I think you’ll be impressed – no, astounded at the change, and I’d like to show you…’
‘You’ve fixed your dick?’ she said. The pitch of her voice had returned to normal, so I guess my flattery had worked. I imagined her at her desk, her voice low and her eyes on her bosses door in case he came out and found her talking about cocks in company time. And not stop cocks, either.
‘You’ve fixed your dick?’ she repeated and this time there was incredulity in her tone.
‘That’s right. It’s…um… huge. I know you’ll be impressed.’
There was a long pause on the end of the line and I could hear the hiss of static. And then she laughed – a peal of cruel laughter that was as cutting as a scapel.
‘Well, Tony, that I have to see!’ she chortled. ‘Fixed your dick indeed! That’s a good one! Well, Titanic Tony, bring it around to my place tonight, why don’t you. And bring your balls in a barrow behind you.’ She laughed at her stunning wit. ‘Shall we say, um, seven o’clock. My folks will be out for ten minutes or so, but that will be plenty of time for you,’ and there was a click as the phone was put down.
Bec lives about twenty minutes from my place and as I pedalled there on my push-bike I must admit I was apprehensive. Close inspection of Percy revealed no change, and all I had was the word a guy who lived in a gravy boat. Still, the worst that could happen was she’d get shrill again, but there was an even chance of getting a bit and I figured the odds were good.
I propped my bike up against a tree in the front garden and walked up the pathway. There was no car in the carport, which was a good sign – I knew from experience that parents away invariably meant that Bec was open to suggestions.
Just as I raised my hand to rap on the door there was a low call from the bushes to the right. ‘Pssst! Tony!’
I turned and peered into the darkness to see Bec’s face peering around the side of the house.
‘Over here!’ she smiled as I walked over. ‘My sister’s home,’ she explained. ‘You haven’t met Samantha, have you?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Lucky you.’ She took my hand and literally led me down the garden path, through the side gate to the gazebo in the back garden. ‘She’s a frigging nightmare,’ she whispered, ‘…like, you know, her idea of a good time is to watch The Sound of Music six times in a row, and she thinks her pussy is for pissing through. She’s really fucking cramping my lifestyle.’
I digested this bit of information. Sam Armitage sounded as much fun as a floater in a swimming pool, but at least it meant Bec was pissed off at someone other than me. We reached the gazebo and she sat down in the love seat and looked at me. I could see her eyes shining in the dim garden lights. ‘So, where’s this great big dick?’ she asked.
‘Well…um, before I show you I need to explain.’
She laughed and sat back. ‘So, explain, lover boy.’
Bec might not be the brightest spark on the planet but I knew the Genie bit wouldn’t work, so I launched into my alternative story. ‘I – well, I’ve been undergoing this treatment, right – you know, for people with my…problem. It’s experimental…a medical breakthrough. They’ve just got certification for human trials and I got selected with six others.’
She screwed up her face. ‘Human trials? So what did they test it on before?’
‘And did it work?’
‘Sure. They were rigged like donkeys by the time they finished.’
She nodded sagely, as if rabbits with enormous dongs were an acceptable concept. ‘So let’s see, Tony.’
‘Well, there’s just one problem.’
‘Ah! She leaned forward. ‘So here it comes, right. It didn’t work on you.’
‘Well, no – I mean, I don’t know. It only works when the person has sex.’
‘So you still have a little dick?’
‘For the moment.’
‘And you want sex with me to see if it gets bigger?’
‘Yes. It will, Bec – I’m sure. And we are talking huge.’
There was a long silence. I could see her regarding me, her face expressionless. The silence dragged on and I could see that it hadn’t worked.
‘Tony.’ Her voice was level.
‘That’s the most ridiculous fucking story I’ve ever heard.’
‘It’s true. Those rabbits were really rigged.’
She looked at me like I was an idiot. ‘Do you know what I was doing before you came around?’
‘Er – no.’
‘I was in my room, tying to stay out of sight of Sam. I was watching porn.’
‘I’m very happy for you. That’s my favourite -‘
‘Shut up,’ she said wearily. ‘So I was watching this guy with a dick like a truncheon. There was close ups of it…like, it filled the whole computer screen – a beautiful, thick, meaty cock.’ Her voice was wistful. ‘And there was this chick lowering herself on it and it was sliding ever so slowly into her, stretching it open…it was lovely. And I was on my bed as horny as a nun, thinking of what it would be like to have that jammed up my clout. And then you arrive, with your little dick and some crappy story -‘
‘You could find out, Bec. I will be like that guy.’
‘You’d better be right, Tony. If I find out that you’ve done this to trick me I’ll publish pictures of your little worm all over the internet with your name tattooed on it.’
‘So you’ll do it?’
‘Sure. I need a root, even if it’s a bad one.’ She stood up. ‘We’ll do it here. We can’t go inside in case prissy little Rach dies of a heart attack at the thought anyone fucking in the house.’ She lifted her top and slipped it off in a single fluid movement followed by her skirt, and a moment later she was kneeling on the love seat with her thighs slightly apart. ‘So what’s keeping you?’ she asked.
I have to tell you that Bec Armitage has a great body. She might be generous in handing it around, but it is still fucking gorgeous and as I ripped off my clothes I spent a few moments admiring it. My eyes were accustomed to the light by then and I could see the cheeks of her bum shining in the ambient light. Each one was a study in perfection – perhaps not quite as trim as Amanda Pudney’s, but still awesome. A little dimple marked the point where each buttock swelled out, round and creamy and smooth, curving gracefully round to the little crease at the top of each thigh before dipping to the cleft between them. It was shrouded in shadow but there was enough light to see the lips of her sex peeping out like a little harbour in a sea of perfumed flesh, and the darker puckered opening above it like a one-eyed sentinel guarding her treasure.
Bec shifted a little. ‘Come on, Tony. I need -‘
But I was there. My little guy was up like a trooper and in one slick movement I plunged into her, hearing the soft wet slurp of her twat as she swallowed me. My hands were on her hips, revelling in the firmness of her flesh and the feel of her body around me.
‘Ah…fuck! Ah, that’s nice,’ she murmured.
‘Nice’ is an unkind word when you’re having sex, but I was used to it. I began to pump, slowly. My size means I can’t withdraw much, but the feeling was still intense and her sighs gave me encouragement that even though Percy wasn’t any bigger, she was still enjoying it. ‘How’s that?’ I asked.
‘Ah – ah, that’s good. That’s really nice,’ she said. ‘You feel quite…normal, Tony.’
I glanced down and saw my cock sawing in and out of her pussy. There was no doubt about it, the shaft was bigger. It was gleaming in the light and I could see the lips of her pussy sort of dragging on it each time it moved. Last time I fucked her I had to wave it around to touch the sides, but now it felt snug.
‘It does, doesn’t it.’
‘Ah – fuck, yes! Yes, that’s good, Tony!’ She grunted and thrust her bum out a bit more. ‘Go faster!’
I seized her hips and plunged into her. The porn upstairs must have been good because she was spectacularly wet. It was oozing around the shaft and a sheen of it covered the tops of her thighs. My cock felt tighter still now and I regarded it as I pumped, noting the girth and the thickness of the bulging veins on the shaft. I seemed to be standing a little further back, too, and I could feel the head touching something inside her.
Bec started moaning as I sawed into her. ‘Ah, ah…Jesus, Tony!’ Her voice was breathless. ‘God, what are you doing to me?’
‘It’s getting bigger, Bec. I told you it would.’
‘Fuck…yes. I feel it. Fuck! Ah, easy…go easy!’
But I couldn’t go easy. I’d never had a root like this before and I hammered into her, revelling in the tight grip of her greasy, slippery flesh. And it wasn’t just that it was tight…it was the length of my strokes, too – delicious, incredible, multiple inches of my shaft sliding inexorably in and out of her…the crimp of her vulva clasping me all the way in and all the way out. And my balls felt bigger too: they were swinging wildly with each thrust, bashing against the soft white flesh of her thighs with soft meaty thumps.
‘Jesus!’ she moaned. ‘Ah, fuck, Tony. You’re splitting me open.’
The tightness of her cunt was spectacular. It seized my shaft in an iron grip, rippling and crimping with every thrust. I could see the shaft now, huge and dark and as thick as my forearm, and I saw that only half was inside her now. Her vulva was stretched as tight as a bowstring and beads of white froth glistened around our point of union, little flecks splattering over her buttocks.
She reached back and gripped my thighs, limiting the depth of my strokes, but it didn’t matter. I could feel the head battering something deep in her body, bruising the tender flesh of her insides, and I could feel the beginning of my orgasm rising in my brain. I heard her moaning, begging me to stop, but I couldn’t…it was glorious…so fucking tight! And so I ploughed into her with renewed vigour and her little whimpers and moans spurred me on, and the tempest of my cum churned in my balls until I could deny it no more.
With a final lunge I buried myself as deep as I could. Bec let out a shriek and her hands fluttered over my thighs to try and push me back, but I was skewered inside her and her pussy locked around me like a bitch clasping a dog. My balls contracted in a sudden spasm and a torrent of cum sped down the long, slippery shaft to burst inside her. It was incredible – not so much jets of jism, but spine shattering, mind blowing waves of it, like ocean rollers breaking on the reef of her cunt in a maelstrom of white, churning frothy sperm. She was moaning underneath me, her body still and her legs askew and her twat stretched tight around my great, pulsing shaft that throbbed and bucked and twitched as it unloaded into her. Ah, fuck, it was good!
And at last it was done, and for a moment I was unable to move. I could feel her twitching around me, her grip as tight as a rubber band. Her hands fluttered weakly, gesturing, begging me to withdraw, so I stepped back. For a moment it seemed locked inside her and then the great shaft slithered free and bobbed like a python between my legs, the head huge and red and glistening and long strands of cum drooling from its tip. And as I stood there a geyser of sperm spurted from her twat to splatter over the floor of the gazebo and to drench her thighs and the back of her legs.
‘Wow!’ I said. ‘Shit, Bec! You didn’t by any chance have any of that already inside you when I arrived?’
She turned her head and regarded me weakly. ‘Fuck you, you bastard! You split me open, and then drowned me!’ Her eyes fell on my cock, and her voice rose an octave. ‘Holy crap, Tony! Jesus…look at that!’
My cock was still growing – not up, as in stiff, but out, like a great spare leg sprouting from between the two I already had. I could feel the penile flesh sort of popping and creaking, a bit like when you pull your knuckles to crack them, and it twitched and trembled as it grew. The shaft was thicker than my arm now, and the head was almost touching the ground. I stepped back in alarm but of course it was attached to me. The movement caused it to stir briefly, and the tip grazed the rough concrete floor.
Bec stood up on shaky legs and backed away until she was the other side of the Gazebo.
‘Holy craaaap!’ she said again. ‘No wonder I’m split! Look! Look at the size of the fucking thing! Look at your nuts!’
But I didn’t need to look, because I could already see my cock resting on the cold concrete floor and I could feel my nut sack pressing against the inside of my knees. The weight was becoming oppressive too, and I found myself leaning back to balance myself. For a moment I thought how lucky it was that I hadn’t been in Bec when I reached this size – it really would have split her open, but then a wave of self-pity flooded through me. Christ! Fucking Ali Ackbar had screwed me! I’d never be able to have sex again, unless it was with an elephant, and that didn’t turn me on at all.
From across the side of the Gazebo Bec began to laugh. ‘Jesus, Tony! Look at you! It’s like a tripod…the three legged man! Fuck me, you’re a freak!’
The words cut even deeper than the pub thing. Some of the guys in that bar might have had little dicks too – there would have been camaraderie amongst us. But as I looked down at the monstrous growth between my legs I knew that nobody, not a single soul in the world, would have anything like this. I really was, as Bec had so eloquently put it – a freak.
Have you ever tried to ride a bike with a four foot dick? Probably not – but I can tell you it’s fucking difficult. My shorts couldn’t constrain it, of course, and it hung down to my ankle, flailing around and bumping against the pedal every time my foot went around. I was terrified it would get caught up in the chain or in the spokes of the wheels and so I tried to balance it on the handlebars but that didn’t work, as it kept sliding off the slippery chrome. In the end I threaded it up my shirt and rested it on my shoulder, and I put one of my balls either side of the saddle and pedaled slowly home. By the time I got there my scrotum was rubbed and battered and I was feeling pretty angry.
I stormed upstairs toward my room. ‘Ali!’
Suddenly Cassie appeared in the corridor in front of me. ‘I need to speak to you, you little pervert!’
‘Ah, not now, Cass.’ I tried to dodge around her but she was having none of that.
‘What was that on the bathroom mirror, you dirty little bugger!’ she hissed.
‘Uh – hair gel, Cassie. I put too much on and it flicked off. Sorry – should have wiped it off.’ I did a quick David Beckham side-step and squeezed past her.
‘No it wasn’t. It was spunk, you disgusting oaf!’ she spat after me. Her voice changed. ‘And what’s that on your shoulder?’
‘Uh – nothing, Cass. Just a traffic cone I knocked off.’
I left her hissing in the corridor and shut the door of my room behind me. The light was out and Ali’s little jug was still on the floor on its side. I picked it up and put it on the dresser.
‘Ali! Come out here you little worm!’
There was a scuffling noise from the bottom of the jug.
‘Come out here, you fuck! Come and see what you’ve done!’ Was that my voice? It was shrill with anger and fear. He heard me, though, for the gush of dust suddenly sprouted from the lid and a moment later he was there, grinning like an idiot.
‘Fuck that, you bastard! Look what you’ve done!’
‘I can’t see. Put on the light.’
I switched on the light and lifted my cock out. The top few inches were still glistening with Bec’s juice, but the rest was dry and cracked, the skin deeply wrinkled and fissured. The head lay on the carpet like a sleeping serpent, and my balls swelled obscenely from between my legs so I was forced to stand like a drunken rodeo rider.
‘Ah!’ he exclaimed. ‘It worked, master.’
‘Fuck the master bit, you shit! Look…look what you’ve done! You’ve ruined my cock!’
His dark eyes roamed over it, taking in the wrinkled skin and the dark patches of wet and dry. ‘But I did exactly what you asked,’ he said quietly. ‘In fact, I was kinder.’
‘Kinder! Kinder! So how do you figure that?!’
He steepled his fingers and regarded me. ‘You asked for the biggest penis in the world. That would be Balaenoptera musculus,’ he murmured, ‘- the Blue Whale. It’s about ten feet long. I thought that might be too much to manage but I was bound to give you what you commanded, so I furnished the penis of the genus Loxodonta … and small one, I might add.’ He glanced at my organ. ‘Probably only four foot six, I would say. A big one can run to six.’
‘Fuck! Fuck!’ I found myself hopping up and down in agitation. ‘Fuck, Ali! I meant the biggest human penis in the world, not a fucking loxodontia’s, whatever the fuck that is!’
‘An African elephant,’ he informed me, ‘and you should have been more careful in what you asked for. It is your fault, not mine.’
‘Crap! You would have known!’ I could hear my voice cracking, close to tears. ‘Nobody wants a dick like this, not even a frigging elephant!’
Ali spread his hands in supplication. ‘You got what you asked for, my friend, so there is nothing I can do. Now, if you’ve finished I have work to do.’ He went to turn away.
I did my foot hopping a bit more. ‘No! No! Do not go! I command you not to go -‘
He stopped and his face went pale. ‘Is that really a command? If it is you will have me by your side for ever.’
‘No! Fuck – no! I want you to fix this. Fix it! That’s a frigging command!’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Fix it? What do you mean?’
‘I mean I want a twelve-inch human penis instead of this…this fucker!’ I tried to wave the monstrous organ at him but it didn’t even twitch.
Ali folded his arms and regarded me. ‘Be very careful, master. Be very specific. What is it that you command?’
For the first time since leaving Bec’s a glimmer of hope flared in my brain, and so I struggled to think clearly. ‘I want a twelve inch human penis to replace the one I’ve got – and a pair of balls to match. The whole package must be proportional, of the right colour and dimensions, and in good working order. And I want it now.’
A sulky expression crossed his face. ‘That is two commands.’
‘No, no. It is one. I can’t have the…pussy juice thing again, Ali. No woman would let me near her with this.’ A pleading tone entered my voice. ‘Please, Ali, for pity’s sake. And then after the third wish I’ll release you and take your lamp wherever you want.’
There was a long silence. ‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘I will do it. But you must tell me the third wish now, and then we are done.’
I racked my brains for a moment, and then a vision of Amanda Pudney popped into my mind. Amanda…the beautiful, graceful, kind Amanda, of the glorious arse and rosy round tits. I realised that she was out of my class, but I wanted to fuck her.
‘I want Amanda Pudney to desire me.’
‘Amanda Pudney…she works at the antique shop in Morris Street.’
‘I see.’ He regarded me. ‘You know I cannot just command that.’
‘Because there may be many women called Amanda Pudney, and you may get the wrong one – or all of them.’
‘If they all look like her I don’t care.’
Ali shook his head. ‘You are a very shallow person, Tony Wilson.’ He rested his piercing black eyes on mine. ‘Some of them may be old and very ugly. Is that what you want?’
He had a point. ‘So what do you suggest?’
‘I will give you the power. The first person you look at will become infatuated by you.’
‘Not person, Ali – woman. I’m a heterosexual, remember, not some shirt lifter. I don’t want some random guy chasing me round a supermarket trying to show me his loin of pork.’
He laughed. ‘Well spotted, Tony. Very well – the first woman you look at will be infatuated by you.’
‘But I might just see one crossing the street. Some old hag, and if I look at her she’ll want sex.’
‘Right.’ He thought about it for a moment. ‘The first woman who looks into your eyes, and you look into hers, will be yours.’
‘Just the one woman?’
‘And it will be forever?’
I thought for a moment. I wasn’t a one-woman guy and the thought of a lifetime commitment, even to someone as beautiful as Amanda, was about as welcome as a dose of pox. Suddenly a much better idea popped into my head. ‘Could you give me the power for a year, but short duration, Ali? Like, for a whole year any chick I make eye contact with gets hooked, but it only lasts a day and then she forgets she wants me?’
‘If you wish.’
I laughed. ‘Then that is the third command. For the next year any woman I make eye contact with will be infatuated by me, for a day.’
Ali nodded in acquiescence. ‘She will love you for a little while, then. It is done.’
‘And the 12-inch cock?’
‘Yes. It is happening as we speak.’
And it was. A rustling sibilance filled the room, rather like the noise of a sheet of cellophane being screwed up, and as I watched the monstrous organ shrivelled and drew back towards my body, the skin becoming smoother and lighter. I could feel my balls lifting too, drawing tighter. After a moment it was done.
‘And now I will take my leave,’ said Ali. Take me back to the shop – Amanda’s shop, tomorrow, Tony.’
‘I will.’ I watched him discombobulate and vanish into the jug, and I laughed. The movement caused my new cock to shake and I regarded it, noting its thickness and length and the way the head hung like a ripe apple on a tree.
And at that moment the door burst open and Cassie appeared, her face crimson with anger. ‘Listen, Tony! I’ve just found that…that camera in my room! You dirty little -‘ her eyes fell on my cock and her mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘Christ! What’s that?’
I hurriedly averted my gaze so as not to make eye contact. ‘That’s me, Cass. That’s the new me.’
And for once in my life I had the pleasure of seeing her struck speechless.
For longer than I can ever remember I have been barely in control of my life. I would lie in my bed each morning and think about the day ahead and a feeling of helplessness would fill my head, because I knew that nothing I did would actually change whatever it was that was going to happen. My life was ordained to be one of disorganisation and chaos.
But the next morning was different. I opened my eyes and the very first thing I did was draw the sheet aside and look at my cock. It was my new constant – a rock (or perhaps a log) on which I could depend. It lay supine between my thighs, its length and thickness in perfect proportion, and the head that crowned it was like the head of a sleeping snake. I observed its colour and texture, and I stroked it gently until it reared up cobra-headed and as stiff as a stick. I stroked it harder, my fist flying up and down the full length and my brain suffused with waves of pleasure at the sensation. The foreskin had rolled back and the head was swollen, the skin suffused to a dark purple, and the eye gaped at me like the hole in a barrel of a .375 magnum.
And as I stroked I imagined some of the girls I would fuck in the next few months: Amanda Pudney naked, her breasts swaying as she bobbed up and down on the length of me. Jessie Phillips, with her generous mouth and small, firm tits. Susan Crawford, the tight arsed bitch in my final year of school who had nothing good to say but who had the most perfect rack I’d ever seen. Kelly Mason, the cheer leader with the mons enormous…Judith Collins of the amazing green eyes…Rube Connelly, of the…well, hell, I couldn’t remember, other than she was soooo fuckable. Ah, so much pussy! I’d been a helpless window shopper in those days – a fly on the wall, watching them all with dreams so much bigger than the sad reality of my sex life. And now I was on the brink of something new – something so amazing that I could hardly dare to dream.
My hand moved swiftly up and down and my mind flitted from one girl to another. I could see Amanda’s body swallowing me, the shaft sliding up to disappear somewhere behind her belly. I could hear the little gasps of surprise and pleasure that Kelly would make as I stretched her. I knew, somehow, that Jude Collins would want it doggie, her shimmering green eyes fixed on a nearby mirror to watch the length of my cock as it disappeared into her snatch. I guess the knowledge that I really would fuck them soon made the visions real – I could almost smell the oily fragrance of their cunts and hear the sucking noises they made as I rummaged inside them, and I could almost hear the soft words of love and encouragement each would whisper as they begged me to service then, to do whatever I wanted to their soft, perfumed bodies.
All too soon there was the familiar growling in my balls and the specks of light filled my vision like white noise as the intensity of my orgasm built in my brain. Ah, Amanda, Amanda my love! Fuck, fuck, you are as tight as a mouse’s twat! My fingers grasped the end of my knob and I squeezed rhythmically, imagining it was her pelvic muscles milking me that it was her face staring down at me with desperate longing as her body waited for the storm of my cum to fill her.
When the moment came it was like my brain had just exploded in my head from sheer fucking ecstasy…God, it was good! I writhed in pleasure: waves of it surging through me as my organ twitched and jolted in my hand, squirting jet after jet of burning hot jism high into the air. They flew like migrating swallows high above my head to strike the wall, higher and faster than I had ever cum before, and I felt a fine rain of spunk fall upon me as they splatted against the paintwork to rebound in millions of tiny droplets.
And in my mind’s eye Julie my high school teacher was there, her face painted with the product of my balls – laughing as my sperm dribbled and drooled over her cheeks and into the sockets of her eyes and the cavity of her mouth. Her white teeth were dulled by a clinging layer of it, and her tongue was coated with creamy rivulets that dripped to the back of her throat. There were ribbons of my jism in the glossy black strands of her hair too, and across the creamy white skin of her neck, and she laughed as she realised how much there was. Ah! Julie Smith! The subject of so many of my wet dreams but so far beyond my reach. Not any more. Perhaps I’d call around when her hubby was out and make eye contact with her, and she’d beg me to fuck her till her eyes popped out.
And then it was done. The final few dribbles oozed from the head like gleaming strips of pearl on the shiny purple skin. I released my cock and I watched as it settled on my belly like a sleeping snake, and for a moment I wondered in whose snatch it would be when it next spurted.
The answer came to me as I drifted off to sleep. Anyone’s I wanted.
The bell on the shop door tinkled lightly as I entered, and I looked quickly around to see if Amanda was there, but there was no sign of her. I set Ali’s lamp down on a table strewn with other brass ornaments and I patted it once briefly with a silent whisper of thanks before moving away.
‘Hello?’ A female voice floated from somewhere at the back of the shop. ‘Sorry – won’t be a moment.’
‘Right. Take your time.’
There was a clattering and banging from the storeroom for a few moments and then silence. The light in shop was subdued but it was enough to see the tables with piles of books and the shelves piled with odd bits crockery and other trash. It was dirty, too: the walls were stained and musty and there were cobwebs in the high rafters above my head. I wondered how Amanda could spend each day cooped up in such a depressing place.
And then all that changed when she stepped into the room. It was as if a brilliant luminescence had entered that dark and gloomy place, illuminating not just the dusty shelves and shabby walls but everything else around it. She walked across the floor in a little red dress and matching shoes and a crisp white blouse, and it was as if someone had turned on a spotlight powered by her beauty and the strength of her personality.
It wasn’t Amanda, either. It was a tall girl who moved with the lithe grace of a panther – a sort of slinky, sinuous glide across the floor that made you look to see how the hell she did it. A girl with her hair tied back with a red ribbon, and hair that shone like polished gold in the dusty sunlight that streamed from the grimy skylight above her. Her face was oval and perfectly symmetrical with a straight nose and soft, sensuous lips that seemed set in a smile, and her eyes were like pools of green emerald in her face. She held an old vase in one hand and her other was raised towards me in greeting.
My mouth dropped open and I watched with a racing heart as she moved towards me. ‘Can I help you?’ she said.
‘Er, um…Amanda,’ I croaked.
She smiled, and the sun seemed to fade in comparison. ‘It’s Amanda’s day off. I’m her sister Rachel.’ She looked at my face but couldn’t see through my shades. ‘Can I help you at all?’
I glanced quickly at her hands. You can tell a lot about someone by looking at their hands, like if they work too hard, or are dirty, or if they smoke or if they are married. Rachel’s fingers were were slim and graceful and there was a thin gold band on the third finger of her left hand. My eyes flicked back to her face. Amanda’s older sister, probably. There were little lines around her eyes and around the soft pink lips, but overall the package was astonishingly beautiful. I wondered what their mother looked like to produce two such extraordinary daughters. Would Ali’s gift only work with one woman at a time, I wondered, or could I have the two sisters and the mother together? I could feel King Kong stirring a little in my pants at the thought.
‘Ah, well – yes,’ I said, at last. ‘I’m a friend of Amanda’s and -‘ I reached up and took off my sunnies ‘- I just dropped by to say hi.’
Rachel smiled, her eyes crinkling. ‘Well, I’ll be sure to tell her you called. She’ll be back tomorrow.’ She lifted her hand to shake mine. ‘Can I tell her who you are?’
‘Tony,’ I said, and I looked her in the face.
Did I say that she had green eyes? Well, they were astonishing…and as they looked into mine a shadow seemed to flutter over them like a cloud passing briefly over the sun: a moment where the brilliant reflectiveness of those clear emeralds was turned off to let me see behind them, to look into her soul. And in that instant I was filled with a sudden wave of absolute, unbridled, unparalleled love that possessed me, sweeping aside the petty little worries of my life, filling me with an emotion of such power that I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that she was the only reason for my existence and I would do anything that she asked.
And I could see she felt the same about me. It was as if someone had suddenly stamped the words ‘I love Tony Wilson’ on her forehead, and she stood there with her lips slightly apart and we gazed at each other as if struck dumb, and nothing, nothing else in the world seemed to matter any more.
I reached up and cupped her face in my hand and she closed her eyes. The warmth of her skin was like a furnace, radiating through my skin to enter my veins and arteries, surging like neat adrenalin to reach my racing heart. And as we stood there it was as if time slowed to a crawl, and the colour and shape and form of things around me took on a crystal clarity, and I could see things that I had never seen before.
She dropped the vase with a crash and it shattered the hard wooden floor. I could see the motes of dust flung upward from the impact and the pieces of china flying across the room in slow motion, jagged shards of blue and white and red, spinning like my racing heart. I could see her eyes gazing into mine, filled with the same compelling emotion as me – to be united as one, to copulate as quickly as she could. Her hands fluttered to my face and she leaned forward and kissed me, her lips soft on mine and her breath as sweet as honey.
‘Ah, Tony,’ she whispered. ‘God, I need you.’
I took her hand and she led me to the back room, and as we walked I realised that Ali had somehow doubled up on the deal…she was supposed to become infatuated with me, not both of us with each other. I wondered idly what other little tricks he had pulled, or whether the second effect would work on both of us too, so tomorrow we would be destined to completely forget one another. The thought brought a sharp stab of pain before I realised that what we felt was far beyond that: nothing could ever draw us apart, not even the dodgy magic of some fucked-up conjurer living in a pot.
In the little back room she stripped naked before me just as if we had been lovers for ever and I saw that she had been fashioned by an artist. Every part of her body was exquisite: the shape of her head, small and neat and balanced on a neck as long and graceful as a gazelle; the bone structure of her shoulders; the swell of her breasts, each one a perfect sphere capped by nipples as thick and ripe as raspberries; the smooth plain of her belly and the long sweep of her thighs and the little triangle between them crowned by hair as fine as spun flax. She stood with one leg slightly bent and she watched while I tore off my clothes, and I went to her.
She sank back onto the sofa and held me with her hands, the fingers small and white on the dark engorged flesh of my rod. It was harder than I had ever seen it, a great pulsing rod with a bead of silver oozing from the tip and she dabbed at it with the tip of her little pink tongue, lapping like a kitten at a bowl of cream. The juice smeared over her lips and she smiled up at me – a single heart-wrenching moment before bending forward and taking me into her mouth.
I watched as I entered her for the first time: the soft pink lips parting, her mouth opening in a wide ‘O’ to stretch around me…the feeling of tightness as she struggled to take me in and the movement of her fingers on the shaft like fluttering birds. And then the head crowned into her and I felt the wet warmth of her mouth, and she looked up at me with those great green eyes crinkling into a smile as I slid into her face. Little strokes at first, the head of my cock rubbing against her tongue and the soft inside of her cheeks: little strokes, with her hair swinging loosely about her face. And all the time her eyes on mine, watching the play of expressions on my face, and she tightened her lips about me and her hand crept up to cup my swinging balls. It was fucking divine.
‘Bec, Bec,’ I whispered, and my voice was husky with a depth of passion I’d never felt before. ‘Where the fuck have you been all my life?’
She pulled back and my cockhead popped free, stringing long strands of silver juice between us. ‘Here,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve been here, Tony…waiting for you.’ She bent forward and took me in her mouth again.
I don’t know where that girl learned to give head, but she was a fucking expert. She held me with her perfect little hands and she lapped at me like it was an ice cream cone, her tongue as soft as velvet one moment and then as rough as a cat’s, rubbing against the underside, drawing my gobs of lubricant into her mouth. And then she’d pop it back into her mouth and I would be bathed in her heat, groaning as she loosened and tightened her lips. Fuck! Fuck! She was a goddess! Twice I felt the boiling tide of my cum seethe in my balls and twice she held me tight, her fingers gripping the stem of my cock, and she waited for the urge to go away before she started again.
But it wasn’t just what she was doing to me: it was her. It was having the mouth of the most beautiful, talented, wonderful girl on my cock – and she was mine. In one glorious nanosecond I’d changed from a slob to a guy in love, and I realised what I’d been missing all this time… and the best part was that I knew that the best part was still to come.
At last she released me, and my cock bobbed free. ‘Do me,’ she whispered, and she leaned back and lifted her beautiful legs off the floor so her sex was thrust upwards towards me.
I fell to my knees and pressed my mouth to her, my lips sliding over the slick wet flesh. God, she was dripping! Her juice filled my mouth, clean and fresh and fragrant, slightly salty and with the consistency of warm oil, and my tongue dipped into her. She was writhing, her fingers in my hair to guide me and her voice filled the little room with savage intensity.
‘Ah, fuck, Tony! Fuck, that’s good. Ah – just there…just there. Use your tongue – there! Lap at me! Suck my juices!’
Her cunt pulsed under my mouth as I licked, and her cream oozed over my chin to drip like confetti onto the dusty floor. I needed to immerse myself in her…to fill my belly with the delicious taste of her sex. My tongue lapped at her, scooping her juices into my mouth as fast as I could. I grasped her buttocks, delighting in firm warmth of her flesh, and I drew the perfect globes apart so I could reach further into her.
And then she was tugging at me, trying to lift me up and her words were urgent. ‘Stop, Tony stop,’ she begged. ‘I want you inside me. Cum into me, Tony.’
In all my life I don’t think I’d ever had a girl say that – it was usually me doing the pleading. I lifted my face from her pussy and I shuffled forward, my dong waving like a magic wand, and I placed he head at the entrance to her body and I pushed.
We watched together as I penetrated her. We saw the swollen wet labia ease aside, little bubbles of juice oozing from between them, and we saw how my cock head pressed against them. She was tighter than any girl I had fucked before and for a moment I thought she could not take me – but then the resistance melted and my knob slid between the fat wet lips and disappeared into her glorious body. Christ, she was tight! I could feel her sheath pulsing around me, as if the tremulous flesh was adjusting to the size of my cock, and a dribble of silver cream was displaced from her tunnel to ooze around my shaft.
She laughed a little self consciously. ‘I’ve always been wet,’ she said. ‘You don’t mind do you?’
‘I love it. I love the feel of you.’
Her eyes were on my face. ‘Then fuck me,’ she whispered. ‘Come into me, Tony. Fill me up.’
I pressed again, watching as my rod slid deeper. The lips of her pussy were dragged forward with the movement, clinging to my turgid meat as it drilled inexorably towards her belly. Her eyes were on it too, bright with desire as she regarded herself being skewered, and I heard the low growl of pleasure in her throat as she felt herself being stretched. She reached forward and seized my hips, gripping me to control the speed of penetration, and I felt the hot sucking grip of her cunt as I burrowed ever deeper. On and on, inch by inch like a great gleaming piston sliding into the cylinder of some well oiled machine. If I live until I’m a hundred I’ll never forget those moments: her green eyes on my face, their liquid depths suffused by a desperate need to be filled – to feel the full length of my inside her, to be fucked half to death. Her fingers holding me, guiding me as I slid ever deeper; the warm animal odour of our fucking in my nostrils and the sound of her little sighs and whimpers in my ears. And then at last I bottomed out with the head of my cock butting something deep inside her, and I stopped.
A third of my cock was still visible and she reached forward and gripped it, her fingers wrapped around the rigid flesh. Gently, gently, she pulled me forward, and I watched the expression play across her face as she took me further into her body. Shit, it was so fucking erotic! This girl I hardly knew, this exquisite creature lying sprawled on the sofa with my shaft buried inside her, struggling to take me in further, willing me deeper. I imagined my cockhead pressed against her cervix, nudging the entrance. It couldn’t enter of course, but I imagined it pressed hard against that little opening and I visualised my seed spraying deep into her uterus when I came.
For a few moments we were still. Her cunt was pulsing around me, gripping it with muscular contractions and I saw beads of cream oozing from the tight ring of her vulva. She scooped some on her fingertips and raised them to my lips and I sucked the drops into my mouth to savour the warm oiliness of her juice.
‘Fuck me, Tony,’ she whispered again. ‘Do anything you want to me.’
I drew back slowly, watching my cock appear from within her: the shaft shiny with her juice and the lips of her pussy clinging, clinging. Sliding out until only the very tip was engaged: feeling how it twitched as I dribbled lubricant into her – and then the delicious sensation of filling her again – the cloying grip of her flesh as I pressed forward. Her legs were up now, clasped around me, and her breasts wobbled as I started to move quicker. Long, long strokes, sliding back and forth into her body whilst she grunted and moaned under me. On and on, her flesh warm and pliable and her body responsive to mine. Hearing the clock behind me chiming the hour and then the half – and all the while fucking this amazing creature: my shaft sawing into her and the cream at her cunt frothing, a rim of white around the plunging shaft, and my cock tingling with the hot sucking grip of her body.
And at last I could see the spiral of her pleasure building – her hands fluttering like sparrows on my skin and the glazed look in her eyes, almost of desperation. Her head moved from side to side, the golden cloud of her hair dishevelled, and there was a sheen of sweat on her skin. ‘I feel it, Tony,’ she whispered, and there was wonder in her voice. ‘Ah, Christ…I’m cumming! I’m cumming!
The full force of her orgasm hit and she wailed, a high keening note as her body twitched and jolted. A gush of liquid soaked my balls and upper thighs and the sound of our fucking took on a wet squishy sound. I could feel my own cum churning in my balls and the sight of her shaking and moaning accelerated it: I was seized by a desperate, primeval urge to fill her with my seed, as far into her body as I could possibly manage, and so I held her hips and with a final cry plunged as deeply as I could. God knows where it went, but the final few inches were swallowed by her greedy, grasping cunt and a moment later I came.
Anyone who’s spurted their jism into a quivering wet cunt knows its divine…I guess that’s why fucking is such a popular pastime and that’s why there are seven billion people in the world – but filling Rachel was something else again. It wasn’t just the tightness of her body or the way her pussy was clutching me, nor the improbability of what had suddenly happened between us. It was the sheer fucking intensity of my feelings for her – a desperate need to fill her, to impregnate her as an act of unbridled, unconditional love. I watched her face as my cock exploded: the widening of her eyes as she felt the long, sizzing jets of sperm spraying into her body; the look of absolute adoration over her lovey face; the feel of her hands clasping me, pulling me deeper to take my seed into her very core. My ears were filled with the soft sound of her voice in that dusty, sunlit little room – words of wonder and of contentment and fulfilment as she sucked the content of my balls deep inside her, until at last it was done.
For a long time we were still. I was slumped over her, my face pressed to her breasts and she stroked my hair gently as my cock softened. I could have stayed there all day, but she disengaged gently, pushing me off and rising up, mopping her streaming pussy with a little pair of white panties.
‘I must go back to work,’ she said, smiling up at me.
‘I have to see you again, Rachel.’ The thought of being apart was impossible. ‘Can I see you tonight?’
She shook her head and there were shadows in the green eyes. ‘I have to be home. But tomorrow afternoon is good. We can meet tomorrow. I’ll ask Mandy to mind the shop…we can go somewhere.’ She pulled the dress over her nakedness, and tried to straighten her hair with her fingers. ‘Can you come here again?’
I nodded. Nothing on earth would keep me away. ‘Good,’ she said, and she leaned forward and kissed me, her lips lingering on mine. ‘I’ll count the minutes, Tony, until I see you again. Now go.’
‘I want to stay. I want to be here with you.’
Rachel smiled. ‘You can’t…I’ve work to do and I have to be with my…to be home.’ She pressed a scrap of fabric in my hand and I saw it was her panties. ‘To remind you,’ she said. Softly. ‘Until tomorrow.’
So I kissed her again and I promised to come back the next day, and I left her there with a smile on her lips and love shining in her eyes.
If I had realised that was the last time I’d ever see her I would never have gone.
It was just past lunchtime when I went back to the shop. I’d spent the night dreaming of Rachel – the shape of her face and the way she smiled, and the expression on her face as she’d felt my seed filling her body. I’d clutched her panties to my face and I’d breathed in the scent of her body juxtaposed by the pungent smell of my semen, and I’d imagined what we would do today.
The bell jangled briefly and I closed the door carefully behind me, turning with the bunch of flowers in my hand. Not bought – I didn’t have any money for that, but I thought she wouldn’t mind. Old Ma Broughton might, if she ever found out who had stolen her prize Begonias, but the risk was small.
There was an older man behind the counter and he looked up as I entered.
‘Is Rachel here?’ I asked.
‘No. She’s not in today.’
‘Not at all?’
‘No. She asked me to stand in for her. Can I help?’
I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. ‘Are you sure she isn’t coming in today?’
‘I’m sure. She’s gone to Plymouth.’ He regarded me for a moment, his eyes sliding to the bunch of flowers and back to my face. ‘Can I ask who you are?’
‘A friend. She agreed to meet me here today. Did she say anything to you?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Other than to ask me to mind the shop.’
‘So it was an unplanned trip?’
I could feel disappointment like a gaping void in my chest. ‘Did she seem…OK?’ I asked.
‘Sure.’ He gave me a hard look. ‘You know she’s married, right?’
‘Well, let me tell you that she’s never been happier. They are starting a family and she doesn’t need any – distractions, if you know what I mean.’
I gaped at him. ‘She’s pregnant?’
‘Not yet. That’s why she’s in Plymouth -the IVF clinic. But she’s hoping to get pregnant -‘ He stopped suddenly, aware that he’d said too much.
‘What about Amanda? Is she here?’
‘No she’s not. Look – if you want to buy something, that’s fine…if not -‘ he let the unfinished sentence hang in the air but the implication was clear. Move on, friend.
But there was nothing more really to say, really, and with an aching heart I turned to leave. Perhaps she’d just forgotten about today in the excitement of going to Plymouth, but I didn’t think so. I remembered her words:’ I’ll count the minutes, Tony, until I see you again. ‘ I remembered the look in her eyes too, as she clung to me in desperation in that little room not a dozen steps from where I stood now. No, she’d not forgotten – at least, not because of anything on her part. And then I recalled Ali’s words, oozing from his lips like drops of warm poison ‘She will love you for a little while only…’ The bastard! He hadn’t even given me a day, like I’d asked him. She’d probably forgotten about me as soon as I’d left, and she’d gone home wondering where her knickers were.
Ali’s jug was where I had left it and I picked it up and took it with me, aware of the man’s disapproving eyes, but I didn’t care. Let him do his worst. I carried it back to my room and rested it on the bed. I’d had my three wishes and he owed me nothing, but it was worth a try.
I turned it over and rubbed the base and I called him. ‘Ali! Come out, you little worm!’
There was a faint rustling from within and a dim light shone from the open lid.
‘Come out, you bastard. I need to speak to you! Come out now or I’ll piss in your house and cement the lid back on. ‘
I stood back and watched, and there was the familiar gush of dust and smoke and then he was standing before me.
‘So what do you want, Tony Wilson?’ he asked. The condescending tone was gone and there was a trace of a sneer in his voice.
‘You changed the rules, Ali. You changed the fucking rules.’
‘I did not.’
‘You made it so I would become infatuated with her, too – and you made it so I would remember and she would not. You’ve condemned me to a life of misery.’
He shrugged. ‘All you asked for was that they love you and then forget you. There was nothing about how you should feel.’
‘You knew what I meant.’
His eyes burned into mine, and his voice sharpened. ‘You are a shallow person, Tony. Nothing you wanted was to help others – it was all about you. So I changed things a little…to make you understand how others might feel. The rest you asked for.’
‘But I can’t live without her, Ali…change it back. Change everything back to how it was before I met you.’
Ali shook his head. ‘It is done. I have nothing more to give you, and if I did I would refuse. You must live with what has happened.’
‘So I have lost Rachel?’
He nodded, his eyes hard.
‘And I will always feel for her as I do? There is no chance of forgetting her?’
He laughed, an ugly little sound without humour. ‘Oh yes, my friend, you’ll forget her – just as soon as you meet the next one. But be careful, my friend, for I have programmed a little surprise for you. Do not think that the spell will work the same way every time.’ He turned to go. “And if you ever threaten to piss in my house again I’ll turn your dick into a turnip and send you to work in a piggery.’ And before I could answer he crossed his arms and disappeared.
I’d not expected much from him and I’d not been disappointed. I remember kicking his jug across the room, but it didn’t help me feel any better. How was I ever going to live without Rachel? I remembered the smell of her skin and the clear crystal of her eyes and the taste of her mouth, and the pain was like a sword lancing through my flesh.
I flopped onto the bed just as the door opened and my sister appeared. ‘Hi, scumbag,’ she said. ‘I thought I heard a man’s voice. Have you come out of the closet, or something?’ She looked across the room into my face.
I tried so hard not to do it, but an immense power seized my head and turned it against my will and I, God help me, was forced to look into her face too.
And suddenly Rachel was forgotten, and I realised what a divine creature Cassie was.