You all are just swell with how you received my first story, so I’ll x-post another.
Same disclaimer from my other post: I’m 47, cancer, widower, but recalling my tales is a lot of fun. I slept with 100-ish women and I’m well endowed, so lots of stories in there. Check my post history for more. And I threw an r/NSFWIAMA out there just for shits and grins. And I’ll take requests if you got something that vaguely lines up with something I’ve done.
Sorry, it’s super long. I’m a writer by trade, hence I’m a wordy mofo. Too long for the shitter, friends. And very very cock-centric since I originally wrote it for that crowd, picking out stories that focused on that. Sorry if it sounds hokey.
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This is a story about the most cock-obsessed woman I’ve ever known. It was a girl in college named Lindsey and, sweet baby Jesus, she was something else.
It was in my third year in school. I went to a little state school in the midwest. Let’s just call it Southern Western Northwest State. It was a small school (maybe 5,000 enrollment tops) and I was in the Humanities School, studying media and English.
I worked as a writing tutor for my work study job. It was my job to look over papers written by freshmen and sophomores and high school students, helping edit them for content, style, format, etc. (I want no backtalk about my poor grammar and sentence construction from any of you grammar nazis. I write how I write. I’ll hunt your ass down, you self-important pricks).
Like any other workplace, there was a workplace culture, the in-crowd and the out-crowd, and I was probably in the “in crowd.” We were new wave and/or punk rock intellectuals that talked a lot about politics (for example, I remember both myself and my friend Randy regularly wore shirts that said “Ronald Reagan: End of an Error”), literature (the debate about whether Stephen King was considered literary or not) and pop music (You were either all about Metallica and Motley Crue, as I was, or sang the virtues of The Cure and the Violent Femmes).
At the time, I had long, feathered blonde hair down to the middle of my back, sometimes wore cut off shirts that showed off my stomach and chest, and I had a denim jacket covered with patches of my favorite metal bands. I was a total 80s metal douchebag. And, as you can imagine, I loved tight pants, as showing off cock prints were all the rage back then – and I could obviously rock the cock print.
Having that look while also being able to hold my own in the intellectual realm made me a popular guy among that circle, especially with the women. I was able to screw two of the girls that worked in the Tutor Center, one a mousy math tutor with sneaky big tits like you wouldn’t believe (see r/biggerthanyouthought for approximate reference), and a drugged out English tutor who smelled of patchouli and dressed like a 60s hippy, but was a dark-skinned Hispanic girl with bright green eyes. Jesus Christ, was she gorgeous.
But the main girl in this story was Lindsey, who became an English tutor at the Tutor Center. She was a sophomore who, at 19, was already married, strangely. She was youthful, looking like she was 16 tops, and dressed similar to me. She had pale white skin with cute freckles, dark hair and baby blue eyes. She didn’t have much in the boobs department – maybe a small B cup tops. But she’d wear usually white semi-see-through band t-shirts (Poison, Bon Jovi, Warrant, all that shit girls liked), tying the shirt off at the bottom to expose her midriff. And her stomach was flat and cute (not toned like these kinds of girls are now). Being a shorty at about 5’2” or so, she was a cute, intoxicating petite girl that definitely got my attention.
At this time, being 20 or so, in good shape, a nice swinging cock and the whole bit, I was confident. I pretty much picked my girl, flirted, and if she was open to casual sex, got with her. It was the time of AIDS, so casual sex was a hard thing to get, especially in college with a lot of feminists, which pretty much made them public enemy #1 in my book.
But the way Lindsey dressed definitely suggested she would be open – if it weren’t for that marriage thing. She said she married her husband a few days after she turned 18. But I had theories he didn’t exist. I never ever met the guy. Anyway…
So for three months, we worked together “innocently.” Lindsey and I flirted pretty much from day one, coming up with any excuse to make physical contact with each other. We’d sit next to each other during staff meetings, hug each other hello and goodbye, and we’d come up with any excuse to touch each other’s legs and back. Looking back, it probably looked like we were 14 year olds courting each other.
It was obvious that she wasn’t the college intellectual type. She was a party girl, choosing to talk about drinking and drugs as opposed to literary theory and pop music. She was definitely NOT in the in crowd at the Tutor Center, and she would just try to be funny and cute when everybody had their deep conversations. There were other non-intellectual types in the Tutor Center, so she gravitated toward them. I was able to float back and forth pretty seamlessly.
One day, when talking to her and the topic of sex came up (how many people have you slept with, etc.), things changed. Our flirting went through the stratosphere.
After that, we began “tickling each other hello,” where the game was to sneak up on the other one and tickle them before we realized they were there. We kept trying to one up each other, and it would become more and more daring. After a while, poking somebody in the ribs got old and tired, so I tried ass pinches and titty twisters, which would be sexual harassment now, but she liked it – and so did I.
It was on one of those titty twisters that I finally felt the indentation of her nipple, and I could tell that the damn thing was huge. I kind of spotted the imprint before but I never imagined they were like this. I love huge nipples, almost like a girl would love a package, and it really piqued my interest even more than it was.
One day, we had no clients so we were just shooting the shit. We came to the inevitable topic of sex, and Lindsey, who normally wasn’t nervous at all as she was the wild, outgoing type, got kind of shy before she asked me a question that changed everything.
“So, like, has it always been that, um, big?” she stammered out, looking straight at my crotch and not even in my eyes. She just kept staring at my cock print, which, considering my style of dress, was almost always there.
At that point in my life, cock worship became a kink. I loved when girls paid attention to my cock and were transfixed by it. Her questioning about it excited me, but also frustrated me, because she was married and this kind of conversation wasn’t cool. But I figured I’d let her make that decision. I was just a young horny asshole, after all.
“Not this big, because I was a kid once,” I told her. “But yeah, I guess so.”
“Do you measure it?”
I got shy and told her that I did. She got the answer she wanted out of me: nine inches.
We were both kind of shy having this conversation, but it turned me the fuck on. I can’t lie. Even though my pants were cramped, I was popping a definite semi at her line of questioning.
Again, Lindsey was a confident girl. She was big on eye contact, almost to the point where she’d stare at you intently while she talked, like she was playing a game of chicken and forcing you to look away. It was part of what made her so smolderingly hot.
But she kept looking down. She was twisting her fingers together nervously. It was so weird… and so fucking cute!
“How old were you when it started growing?” she asked. I had no clue, and I said I was nine inches by the time I was a sophomore in high school. But that wasn’t good enough. It started to get creepy.
She asked when I got my first boner. I told her I was like six. She asked for details about my six-year-old boner. Asking how big it was in my hand. She kept questioning me like she was going to write a book about my yearly progress in cock size.
This line of questioning had never happened before or since. I was getting uncomfortable.
But her fucking nipples… They were getting hard through this entire conversation as there were goosebumps over her entire body. She kept rubbing her thighs together as she sat on our orange and yellow padded benches, and I was simultaneously aroused and uncomfortable – which as you know, makes you even more aroused.
The conversation had to be cut short while she was asking me if my mom ever commented on my size. I mean, weird shit. We had to go to class, but every time we saw each other, she steered the conversation back to sex. She kept asking about my cock. About how she’d never seen a nine incher before (after claiming her husband was 8, which looking back was definitely a case of “girl inches”).
One time, though, she even mentioned out of the blue that she masturbated with a nine inch cucumber she found. She just kept upping the ante. As she stayed on this subject pretty much every day, though, the cutesy flirting practically ended. She was way more serious. Way more direct. I mean, I didn’t know what to make of it.
One day, she comes up to me and hugs me with a big smile when she arrived at work. Giggling, she pulls out tickets to a Guns N’ Roses concert and shows them to me.
“Got a spare ticket. It’s Tuesday. Want to go?”
This was fucking G’N’R, my favorite band at the time. Of course I wanted to go. I said yes and immediately began making plans. It didn’t even occur to me until the night of the concert to even ask about her husband and why he wouldn’t go with her. But I was 20 and didn’t give a shit about that. I didn’t mention it until the car ride to the show. By then, though, shit was already on its way to being out of control.
I dressed in my normal outfit, but jesus christ, you should’ve seen this girl.
She was wearing a black bra covered by a black fishnet top. That’s it. I saw EVERYTHING. I saw her cleavage, every thread of her bra, and her boobs were fuller than I realized. Her hair was teased and hair-sprayed to death, defying gravity. But the sexiest part was her tight, torn stone washed jeans with holes in the knees and the ass, but the hottest thing about it was that there was a sizable hole on front, on her upper crotch very near her pussy. Where her underwear should’ve been, there was just skin. Looking closely, I could even see the goose pimples of a shaved crotch. The hole was that close to her pussy. It was beyond sexy and slutty, and I just loved it.
Then there were her nipples. Even covered by her bra, those fuckers poked through the material very obviously. My eyes were trained on them and I couldn’t tear my eyes away most of the night.
But me being the idiot that I am, upon first laying eyes on her, I asked if her husband knew she was going to the concert looking like that. No “you look great.” None of that. Just immediate “slut shaming” as it is now called.
Luckily, she just said with a smirk “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Her eyes were so unbelievably daring and sexy when she said that, it still gives me chills to think about it.
The car ride to the show was kind of awkward. We didn’t talk much. I just snuck glances of her until we arrived at the show, and we got in, got to our seats, and watched the opening act, which was L.A. Guns or one of those bands. I forget. We were standing the whole time, and since she was short, she asked if I could help her onto some railing in front of us so she could see better. it got her as tall as me, and without thinking of it, I put my arms around her waist and watched the shows. It was wrong, and my heart was beating, but she was totally okay with it so I just ran with it.
We watched the shows, flirting and cuddling with each other, then Guns N’ Roses started. Great show, and it was the original lineup before they broke up. It was fucking badass. But during “My Michelle,” which was like the third song in their set, things got interesting.
She started dancing and grinding into me. She ran her ass intently into my crotch, and it took me no time at all to respond. I remember just staring straight ahead, feeling my cock getting massaged as she looked back at me seductively with a big, wide, intent smile on her face.
When my dick grew to its apex, trapped down the leg of my tight pleather pants, she bent her knees into a catcher’s position to where the middle of her back was dug into my cock head, and slowly – very very slowly – ran her entire body over it until she was on her tippy toes, the bottom curve of her ass twinging the root of my cock.
After that shimmy, she put her hand behind her, all pretense gone, and just grabbed it. She looked back at me again, her eyes sparkling, and mouthed the word “oh my fucking god” alongside a huge smile.
Add to this scene that the spotlights were multicolored, shining off her face and contributing to this sensory overload, and yeah. It was unbelievable.
All this went down during that song, and to this very day, whenever I was having a hot fuck or having a hot fantasy, “My Michelle” plays in my head.
This is the case throughout the show, grinding into each other, but Lindsey changed. She reminded me of those movies you see of hippy girls high on acid, their eyes rolling into their head as they just lose their minds. It was like that. It was hot but it was also fucking weird. I assumed she was on something but she had only had one joint on the way to the show, and I shared with her, so it wasn’t laced with anything. That’s it.
<cheesy line upcoming> Lindsey was high on cock love ;-) lolololol *applause
We hotly kissed a few times during the show, and when it got over and we got back to my car, the first thing that happened when we got inside was that she unzipped my pants and tugged it out. No kissing. No nothing. She did it so fast and I was so hard, I scraped my dick on the zipper, and it FUCKING HURT. There was light bleeding. But she didn’t care. She stuffed it in her mouth and began sucking like her life depended on it.
I’ve never had a more excited cocksucker in my life. I’m pretty thick so she had trouble with it, and after like five minutes, that thickness must have flipped a switch on her.
“FUCK!” she practically screamed as we were still parked in the parking lot, me nervously watching people and cars leaving as she blew me. “You’re the first guy I haven’t been able to deep throat.” I think this was the first moment she ever looked at it, because she gave it this cheesy grin like you might do to a cute puppy. In my experience, the cock worship stuff you see in porn doesn’t really happen in real life, but this girl would be the best cock worshipper on any of those sights. She just held it up and admired the damn thing. She didn’t move her hand to jack me off. She just looked at it all adoringly. It was hot, but it was still weird.
She eventually began blowing me again, but got angry when she couldn’t deep throat me. She kept taking her mouth off and yelling at herself. “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!” and “PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS, LINDSEY!”… stuff like that. I was just frozen, watching all of this transpire, kind of shifting my eyes confused. I didn’t believe what I was watching.
Her grazing of her teeth was becoming more and more common as she tried to get more. My cock already burned from the zipper injury, and her teeth were just adding to it. In those days, I was rock hard enough to penetrate concrete, and I also have a big curved cock with a doorknob-sized head. So, needless to say, I’ve only been truly deep throated twice in my life, once by my wife and another by, of all things, a high school girl when I was in my 30s (but that’s another story). I don’t even count Lindsey. She got her nose all the way to my pubic hair, but its only because she kept shoving my cock down her throat to the point where she was choking, her nose was running, she had tears dripping like a sieve, and her fucking teeth drove into me as she got to the widest part of the base of my cock.
IT FUCKING HURT!
Not until I started to go limp because of the pain did she finally do it. She was so proud of herself but I had been trying to call her off for like three minutes because of the teeth. I almost felt like I was raped. She was that far gone. She didn’t even hear me. I didn’t even cum because I hurt so bad.
Anyway, the ride home was awkward. I kept rubbing my dick, not because I was horny, but to ease the pain. It burned so much. She fell asleep like a baby, and we went our separate ways.
What followed was three weeks of hell. She kept calling me like 15 times a day. This was before Caller ID, so I couldn’t avoid her. I had to kept answering and either hanging up or coming up with an excuse. She kept begging me to fuck her while we were working. I began calling off to avoid her. She was getting crazy eyes when I saw her and I wanted to avoid her.
But, then again, I was 20, so I relented and finally fucked her to keep her from begging. I agreed to fuck her in her dorm room (the existence of which made me seriously doubt she was actually married). I was surprised how much of my cock she could take in her pussy. As a point of principle, I didn’t eat her out or do any foreplay to get her lubed up. I kind of wanted to hurt her. I just fucking impaled her when I got the chance, and I felt lots of resistance. In those situations, I usually can’t get all the way in, but even halfway dry, she accommodated all of me on that first thrust. When she actually got soaking wet, it was like a hot knife through butter.
She screamed her pretty little head off, but she did NOTHING. She didn’t move her hips, didn’t kiss me or talk dirty or anything. It was like fucking a dead body that screamed a lot. She just closed her eyes and rambled about how big my cock was. Call me weird, but I need reciprocation and I didn’t feel it from her. I pulled out, came on her stomach and tits, sucked on her giant inch-long nipples one last time (yeah, they were that big, bright pink, and fucking amazing), and got the fuck out of there.
Lindsey was looney tunes, guys. She kept calling me obsessively, begging for another fuck, begging to blow me again (fat chance after she nearly chewed it off). I eventually changed my number, and she finally changed schools or whatever once the semester ended because I never saw her again.
So, my friends, a cock crazy girl isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes, those kinds of girls are just plain insane.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5806so/tale_of_a_batshit_crazy_size_queen_xpost