We sat in the lounges by the pool, drinking. The pool lights were on, illuminating the water to a tempting aquamarine color. I gazed at the water, unsure of how I wanted to continue my first night with Eric.

He was no newcomer to alcohol consumption, that much was clear. I wouldn’t consider myself a lush, but I was versed on all matters pertaining to margaritas. I was no match for him, though. As I finished my second tequila-laced cocktail, he placed his fifth empty beer bottle on the table between us.

“Damn, those taste good after that flight. Never been much for getting on planes, especially at night. Did you fly in or drive?”

With my eyes fixed on the pool, I responded. “I flew.”

He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his knees, and gazed into the water. “Is something in there?”

I turned to face him. “In where?”

He tilted his head toward the pool. “The pool.”

“What do you mean?”

“You been staring at it for fifteen minutes. Didn’t know if maybe you were looking at something, or if you were just spacing out.”

I let out a laugh. “Spacing out. I was about half drunk when you showed up, and now I’m closer to being full-on drunk.”

He relaxed against the back of his chair. “That sucks.”

I scrunched my nose. “Why?”

“Won’t be much fun if you’re drunk and I’m not.”

I nodded toward the lone beer bottle that remained of the six-pack. “You’ve almost guzzled a sixer.”

“Shit.” He reached for the bottle. “I can drink fifteen or so before I get buzzed.”

It didn’t surprise me, considering his size. I wasn’t as fortunate. I was already at the point where I typically did something I regretted the next day. I needed to either go to the bar and see Franky, go to sleep, or go for a swim. It was late, and I was drunk. They were all possibilities.

I looked at the pool and let out a sigh. “You didn’t bring anything you can swim in?”

“I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking,” he said. “No, I sure didn’t. I can grab some up tomorrow, though.”

My eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. “I need to either go to bed or go for a swim.”

“That pool looks fun. Easy choice, if it was me.” He motioned toward Bobby, who was on the other side of the pool. “Does he ever stop?”

“Nope. Pretty much follows me around all day, every day.”

“I was gonna say I’d just swim in my boxers, but that probably ain’t a good idea if he’s gonna keep staring at us with that camera.”

I had an idea why he would say such a thing, but doubted he knew that I knew he had a massive cock.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Boxers are all floppy and stuff.” He winced. “Not much support.”

On the outside, he looked like a handsome weightlifter. His closely-cropped blonde hair, chiseled facial features, and mountains of muscles made him an attractive package for almost any woman he’d meet.

His bronze tan would fool most into thinking he was a local, at least until he spoke. The twang in his voice was a dead giveaway that he was a Midwesterner. I would have guessed Oklahoma more than Nebraska, though.

I really needed to go to bed. If I didn’t, there was no doubt I would get myself into trouble. I didn’t want to fuck Eric, but I did want to see his dick. I wanted him to flop it out, show it to me, and explain what percentage of women allowed him to assault them with it. I wondered things about it. If it was big since he was a child, or if he grew into it as he got older. If it made him dizzy when it got hard. If he ever damaged anyone physically with it. What it weighed.

I wanted to compare it to something so I would have a clear mental picture of how big it actually was. My wrist or a dill pickle. I had no idea which was more accurate. Hell, for all I knew, it was the size of a cucumber. A big cucumber. The curious side of my brain was fighting with the tired side, and the curious side was winning. It came as no surprise considering there was a potential prize-winning cock involved.

I was fascinated by it from the first day I saw the bulge in his bio pics. A little peek wouldn’t hurt anyone. Hell, any girl would do the same. I didn’t want sex; a passing glance would suffice.

I wanted to taste his big dick with my eyes.

It would be enough to lull me into a sexual slumber sufficient to satisfy me for the upcoming weeks. By not touching it, I would be loyal to Franky, which would allow me to preserve our awkward non-relationship.

“Boxers don’t provide support?” I shot him a confused look, and then placed my hand on his thigh. “Support for what?”

“You know.” He took a quick drink of his beer, and then twisted his mouth to the side. His gaze dipped toward his package. “Guy stuff.”

With my eyes fixed on his, I slipped my hand up his thigh a few inches and scooted my chair a little closer to his. I was determined to see his cock, he simply wasn’t aware of it. Not yet, anyway.

“Guy stuff?” I searched blindly with my pinky for the tip of his manhood. “I’m lost.”

He wiggled in his seat and inched away from my encroaching hand. What little ground I had gained in my attempt to finger the tip of his Johnson was now lost.

With the bottle of beer still clenched tight in his fist, he crossed his arms. “They uhhm. They get wet and then it’s like I’m wearing nothing.”

He was embarrassed, and it clearly wasn’t an act. I wondered if the bulge in his bio pics was something he simply couldn’t avoid. I tried to imagine having an arm-sized chunk of flesh dangling between my legs, and pondered what I’d do to disguise it. Mentally trying to hide his cock in a pair of skin-tight Levi’s only intrigued me more.

There was no sense in sugar-coating my desire. For Christ’s sake, we were both adults. I wanted to see it, and he was the only one who was going to show it to me.

I held his gaze and widened my drunken eyes. “You’ve got a really big dick, don’t you?”

He looked relieved that I’d asked. He spit out a laugh, and then nodded. “Yes ma’am. I do.”

His calling me ma’am caught me off guard, but I decided it must have been a farm boy thing, and I wasn’t about it to get me off track. I slid my hand up his thigh until it grazed against the leg of his shorts. “I want to see it.”

He flinched, almost knocking the chair over in the process. “Excuse me?” His eyes slowly widened. “You wanna see it?”

“I sure do.”

He tilted his head toward Bobby. “What about him?” he whispered.

“They’ll have to edit it out. It’s not HBO for Christ’s sake.”

His eyes searched the area, as if looking for any other onlookers. After satisfying himself that the three of us were the only people present, he looked right at me. “Are you serious?”

“Uh huh.”

“Out here?”

I knew if he showed it to me in private it could create huge problems. I offered a half-assed shrug. “It’s as good of a place as any.”

He glanced over each shoulder and then let out a sigh. “Man, I don’t know.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” I glanced at his crotch, and despite my best efforts, couldn’t pry my eyes away from the prominent bulge that had developed. “Just pull it out the bottom of your shorts or something.”

He looked at Bobby. “Hard or soft?”

I wanted to see both. No. I wanted to watch it transform from hard to soft. The thought of it made me squirm in anticipation.

I clasped my hands together. “Both.”

He looked defeated. He reached into the leg of his shorts, seemed to wrestle it free, and then flopped it out the opening. With his eyes still fixed on Bobby, he rested his cupped hand against his thigh to shield his massive schlong from the camera’s view.

“Jesus.” I swallowed heavily, but couldn’t tear my eyes from it. “Fuck.”

It was insane.

Not necessarily limp, but nowhere near hard, it was as thick as my upper wrist. The veins in it were bigger than some dicks I’d seen. I gawked. I felt like applauding, but feared it might give hint as to what we were doing.

I glanced at Bobby and then went back to admiring it. I watched in amazement as it grew to one and a half times its size in a matter of seconds.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. “Is it hard now?”

He looked at it, and then at me. “Not really.”

“Fucking hell,” I breathed. My mouth had gone dry, but I didn’t dare turn away. It was like a multi-car collision on the highway, and I was rubbernecking. “That’s. Jesus.”

I looked up. “Stroke it.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, and then shook his head. “Man, he’ll see for sure.”

“I sucked Rhett’s cock in front of him,” I said, hoping to provide him with a little nudge.

“The SEAL guy?”

I nodded. “Yeah. And no, I’m not proud of it. But it was no big deal. C’mon just stroke it until it’s hard.”

He set the beer bottle aside, gripped the massive shaft in his hand, and began to slowly stroke it. Within seconds, his cock was as stiff as a piece of pipe.

My pussy throbbed in response.

I stared in amazement. Abstaining from sex wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought. In my drunken state, seeing him fist his cock was the equivalent of tossing a recovering heroin addict a syringe and a spoon.

“You want me to keep going?” he asked.

His voice was calm and without a hint of concern. It was as if it was something he’d done countless times in the past. I envisioned him being the main attraction at a circus, stroking his cock for anyone who’d paid the $5.00 fee to enter his tent.

The Big-Dicked Giant.

He’s half man, half mule.

My eyes were still glued to the action. I shook my head and swallowed hard. “How uhhm. How long--”

“Thirteen inches. Not from my nuts, either. That’s from the top of it.”

After being all but hypnotized by his thirteen-inch oddity, I shook my drunken head and looked away. Keeping my distance from his foot-long fun stick was going to require a plan, I knew that much for sure.

“You want me to keep going?”

My eyes fell to his crotch for one more look at the biggest dick I would ever see. “No, put it away.”

He released it, but it continued to point toward the starry sky sans assistance. Without his four sausage-sized fingers wrapped around it, however, it seemed twice as big. I watched it twitch a few times and then reluctantly tore my eyes away.

“As soon as the swelling goes down, we’ll leave,” I said.

“Where are we going?”

I grinned. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”