(All characters are 18 or over)
It came up almost over night, and when the construction noises faded I thought I'd have peace. No such luck. The sounds of jackhammers and cement mixers were replaced with the endless endless clattering roll of skateboards. The skate park was an atrocity that could not stand, and I was determined to see its eyesore slopes and rails and endless graffiti tags bulldozed to the ground and repaved over.
What I hated most of all, was this one little punk who would come out late at night and skate alone. It's strange, I never saw him in the park during the day, but while I may not know skateboarding, I could tell he was better than all the rest. His moves were almost a pleasure to watch. His jumps were higher, his spins were, well, spinnier, and his better tricks sometimes involved full flips and handstands. I hoped he wouldn't be out this night, as I was roaming the park with a clipboard and a manual, meticulously combing the grounds for a violation in construction or legal codes. As a longtime lawyer, I just knew I'd be able to find SOMETHING that could shut this place down. I had been at it a couple of hours and found lots to work with. This place was rife with safety code violations and shoddy workmanship. I was just adding a dangerous exposed pipe to the list when I heard the sound I dreaded, the soft roll of four little wheels that haunted my nights. He was tall, over 6 feet easily, 18, though his baby face was smooth and pale and perfect . If he wasn’t done growing, he was going to be a giant when he was. On the warm night, he had opted to go in just shorts, shirtless, and my eyes could not help wander over his sculptured form. Abs that rippled like masculine waves, Pecs that begged for attention, arms that could have belonged to a heavyweight boxer with years more experience and training. His body seemed hairless, but I couldn't tell if that was a product of shaving, or simply the fineness of his longish blonde hair that framed his boyish face. He fixed his ice-blue eyes on me, meeting my green ones, and then flicking lower to my tits. The warm night had me dressed down as well, a blouse unbuttoned over a tank-top that did little to restrain my ponderous H-cup breasts, each orb free and bra-less, wobbling a little from my slightest movement. He continued to stare down my legs, and then back up, lingering on my breasts, then up to my bun-tied red hair, then back down to my tits again, then my face. Men. "What’s with the clipboard, lady?" He asked. "The name's Katrina. I'm going to get your little playground here shut down." I explained. "What!? You fucking bitch! Why?" "Because the last thing I need is loud, sweaty boys clattering around practically in my front yard all day and night. And YOU are the worst offender." "I bet you like us sweaty, you old bag." I blushed. I'm not sure why. "You wouldn’t stand a chance in court, boy. There’s really nothing you can do." I taunted him, even letting my torso jiggle a little to really rub it in. He looked me up and down again and smiled. "I'll make you a deal." "What sort of deal?" "If I can make it from that corner," he pointed, "to your house in ten seconds or less, you'll drop the suit." It would have been impossible for a car to make it that distance in so short a time. There was no harm in giving the pest a reason to leave me alone. Besides, if he succeeded, I'd just file the suit anyway. He couldn't stop me. "Sure. Let's see it, boy." "The name's Oliver. Now time me." And I did, waiting till he reached the corner to start watching my cell-phone clock. IT didn't look good for the first few seconds, but as he kicked the board into gear, he took off insanely, those muscular legs propelling his light frame uncannily fast. He must have been wearing a weighted cup or something, because his khaki shorts bulged with an object unnaturally large that almost seemed to help preserve his momentum as he went forward. He finished the run and skated over, body glistening in a light sheen of sweat from his incredible effort. "Seven seconds. I'm impressed." "You think that's impressive, you should see me take a kick-flip fakey 360 into a manual primo ollie." "That means absolutely nothing to me." "Okay, then how about this? A bet for double or nothing." "I'm calling off the case. How exactly could I 'double' that?" "With those double-D's of yours. Show 'em to me if I win. If I lose, the case is off." I scowled, "They're H cups you little prick, not that its any business of yours. Fine, if I win, the case is back on, and YOU have to skateboard home naked. Now what's the bet?" "I will start from only six feet from you, and then jump over you on my board. Do you accept?" Even with his speed it could never happen. He was probably just trying to draw things out by losing...suckering me into something bigger with an easier task. "Deal. Do it, brat." He started his run, reaching his blazing speed fast and leaping, snatching his board out from under his feet and trying to clear me with his legs spread to either side of my head. Then something strange happened. He cleared me. His package did not. It was heavy, like getting slapping in the face with a basketball made of ground beef, and the weight of it knocked me on my ass. He landed awkwardly behind me. I was blinking in astonishment as to what that weight could possibly be, because what my senses told me contradicted my brain fiercely. It must have showed on my countenance as I turned to face him. "Didn't think I could do it, huh?" "You didn't do it." "Uh huh." "Nuh-Uh." I blinked. Was I arguing with this guy like I was a kid? I was a fucking lawyer for god's sakes. "You knocked me over. Ergo, you did not clear me." "I'm on the other side of you. So that means I did." I tried to think of more to back up my side. I couldn't. "Okay, so it's a tie. We cancel out and we're back to square one." "Wrong." He shot back. "Skate park betting rules say that we each have to take our penalty. I wanted to say no. but...that bulge...I had to know. "Okay, fine. But come inside. I'm showing YOU my boobs, not the whole neighborhood. He shrugged with that arrogant smile of his. "Whatever." And we went inside. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ We stood in the living room, the skate punk and the lawyer, each daring the other to make the first move. "You have to go first. You said I have to go home, so I can't and still see you." "Fine." I muttered, shedding my blouse and then lifting the tank top, letting him take out the perfect gleaming orbs that are the pride of my tumultuous puberty. My tits are perfect tear-drops, lolling on my chest in resplendent softness, the areolas like the bottoms of a pint-glass, the nipples burnished purple nubs like pinky-tips. He stared. I resolved to let him look until he blinked, but then realized that he had been looking for almost ten minutes with his eyes drying in his head. "Umm...you okay there, brat?" I asked. "They're magnificent!" He said with awe almost cracking his voice. I blushed a little. "Okay. Lose the shorts." And he did. Slowly. My eyes squinched shut, then opened wide. The root of him was as thick as my ankle, soft where it hung as he slowly unveiled inch after uncoiling inch of it. When he'd reached the balls about 8 inches down where they hung super-low, one in each pant-leg apparently, I almost fainted. Each hairless nut was like a mango with rounded points, manly and grotesque and powerfully they hung, mocking all men I'd ever seen naked with their potency. None could call themselves a man after seeing this true masculine paragon...This blond Adonis with the balls of a God. And still that dick kept coming, inches became feet until I saw that he dangled almost ankle-thick nearly to his knees. I fell to mine. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "You can't be serious!" I finally said, a little louder than I intended as I stared at the limp monster. He blinked. "What the hell does that even mean? I'm right here. This is my cock. Those are my balls. What's the matter? Feeling like you've never seen the real thing all of a sudden?" He arrogantly smirked after he said it. I stared a little more. "It's just... I mean...I...So...so bi...so hu....so monstero.... so fucking gargantuan! You have a massive cock, okay? Do you think you could give me a fucking second to adjust my entire reality around the idea that someone as much man as you could even exist?" He seemed to think about it. "Would it help if you had the measure?" He asked. "I...Uh..." I was still flabbergasted, but could admit the appeal to his suggestion. "Okay." He grinned. "Let's start with a conventional measure. Grab something long...a yardstick or a tape measure. I stood, tits swaying heavily as I searched through the house, finally finding a cloth tape measure and returning. "Okay, lay your cock on the table." I said with more eagerness and command in my voice than I'd intended. "You sure? Is that table sturdy enough to handle the weight?" He asked. I shook my head at him and clucked my tongue, tsk tsk. But to my shock, when he slapped his massive prick down with a resounding smack upon the surface, it did creak and shake a little. Even soft this thing really was strong enough to threaten my furniture. My mouth was dry as I unrolled the measure along it. 3 inches. "I've barely started..." 5inches "Jesus christ..." 8 inches "OH MY GOD! Surely it can't grow much, right stud?" I asked, jaw hanging at the 9 inches of soft meat running almost off the edge of my table from where where his tremendous testes splayed to either side. "Well you'd have to get it hard to see, now wouldn't you?" He smirked. Oh who was I kidding? This young skate-stud knew for certain that I was going to be sucking his cock before the night was through... might as well get it over with, I thought. Crawling up on to the table, I splayed my enormous udders on either side of it, teasing his soft cock with soft tit-meat, running my award-winning boobs up and down the length of him, loving how I could feel blood throbbing through those spectacular veins just from the contact of my tits. When I reached the base of him, I slung his prodigious cock over my shoulder, focusing my horny attention on his balls. What I did to that pair of orbs could not be described as praise or even worship... no, I founded a religion on those sweaty, meaty gonads, one whose rituals consisted of licking and sucking and kissing, whose only dogma was salvation through nut-lathing and whose high priestess was a temple whore named Katrina Kildaire. There was no way I could actually fit a ball in my mouth of course, so I did what I could handle instead. I sucked the thick, salty skin of his sack between my lips and filled my maw with it, then sucked harder and filled my throat. His ball-bag alone without his cock or nuts in the equation occupied as much space as the biggest lover I'd ever accommodated, and when I finally let it go the fat orbs surged forward, battering my lips. I looked up him, clearly impressed, but his expression was one of familiar self-satisfaction. Here was a young man who had known his share of worshippers, who knew just how amazing his gift was, and who didn't mind rubbing my face in it. Which he literally did when he seized my hair and crammed me forward, turning my worldview into nothing but the sight, smell, taste, and touch of his enormous seed-makers. I tongue-lashed the maybe a fourth of one huge balls that would fit in my oral cavity, using my mouth-muscles to massage him, slap him, taste him and tease him, hoping to please this tiny portion of pendulous prick-paste-pod, He was clearly practiced, and tangled another fist in my red hair, forcing me to move in such a way as to give equal treatment to each portion of his left nut that I could, then directed me to the other one. I licked and slurped and sucked, gasping and moaning between mouthfuls of man-meat, finally gasping when I pulled back to see three things. The clock on the wall said I'd been merely sucking this stud's balls for 45 minutes. It took that long just to get to all of them. They were now coated in sheen of my slobber. It looked like someone had dumped a drum of saliva on his balls, and it puddled upon the table. His cock was now harder than before....it still clearly had some give as the end of it drooped over the side of the table, but it had grown almost twice the size. I don't know how to explain it scientifically, but I had an honest to god orgasm right there, my whole body going rigid, my nipples stiffening even tighter, my pussy belting out a nasty squirt of juice that audibly went "splat" upon the floor. I was in trouble. He knew it too, leering at me, devouring me with his pretty blue eyes, shamelessly inspecting my body for how he would take pleasure from my lush curves and pouting lips and all the rest. I wasted now time in walking around the table to inspect his head, lifting the seemingly grapefruit sized knob in a palm and leaning low to slap my tongue over his bursting helmet, tasting his glans like a cone of cock-flavored ice cream. My wet pink mouth-muscle wandered all around and then stabbed into the cum-slit, the thing almost cavernous compared to any I'd ever seen. But then, from the look of those balls, it would simply have to be. They wouldn't have a prayer of unloading through a normal man's cock; it would be like trying to empty a water-tower through a drinking straw.