True Sex Stories: My First Monster Cock

"Slowly he continued to slide into my tightness; he was slow and deliberate, filling me up, even before he was anywhere near being all the way inside of me."

I don't even want to tell this story, because it makes me feel like an asshole. But…I was an asshole.

His name was Mark, he was such a super geek, a Dr. Who fan, he even wore the scarf. He had this complete fascination with John Lennon; he was looking for his Yoko. At this point, I'd only had sex once before, the mandatory get it over with pop-my-cherry sex.

He was sweet, he really liked me and I didn't know how to take that. I was hung up on his complete un-coolness. What asshole I am.

We actually went to Jr. High and High school together, we were always friends, I was not cool, so I am not sure, why his not being cool was a problem for me. We were in many art classes together; he was good artist, the kind of kid who always wins first place in those Jr. High art shows, getting his artistic achievements displayed behind glass in front of the art room.

It was not until after High School when we ran into each other again, he ended up being a roommate of a mutual friend; I found this out one night after a Wendy O. Williams (post Plasmatics) concert, when we were dropping our friend off. We went in to smoke some weed, relish in the half a guitar my friend caught at the show, after Wendy O. chain sawed it in half, and there he was sitting in the apartment drawing listing to the Beatles, like he was still stuck in Jr. High. Stuck into a further time warp than before. I was stunned. We clicked instantly although it could have been all the booze and weed, but that night we shared a kiss and I gave him my phone number.

He was hooked, he came around my house all the time, impressed my parents with his ultra geek-ness, it was strange for me, I think he was actually the first guy who liked me. We went out a few times, we laid around his room and smoked weed and, yes you guessed it listened to the Beatles, I drew the line at watching Dr. Who. We fucked around, awkwardly kissing, rubbing and rolling around, not sure of anything about anything. Our mutual friend told me I should fuck him–pop-his-cherry. We were all so eager to get it over with.

Eventually one night it was to happen. After what seemed like hours of rolling all over the place, dry humping, feeling our parts beneath our clothing, loosing bit by bit. The scarf was the first item to go. The well worn John Lennon look-a-like army jacket was the second. I watched him, I was so eager. It was not at all like when I lost my virginity. I was interested; I wanted to watch the reveal. We took turns, I removed my jeans, he removed his. My t-shirt-then his. There I was–for the first time, standing in my bra and long underwear (Colorado winters). He stood there in jeans no shirt, skinny, concave. Our hands found each other, kisses, lips on my shoulders, the back of my neck, hands fumbling with my clasp. The bra was gone. Standing there, oh my god–so self-conscious, exposed, his jeans dropped. We just stood there looking at one another, fear, anticipation, and perhaps a touch of young love.

We were so interested in our bodies, in the others body. Searching each other. We moved to the bed, he took off my long underwear and I was finally fully exposed, then he dropped his loose fitting boxers. My eyes must have bulged out of my skull, his cock was so huge! Who knew what this boy was packing. I was shocked, I was scared to death. My mind whirled, how the hell is he going to fit in me.

Laying on top of me, kissing, he was tender, sweet, he moved down my body, my young breast filled his mouth, his fingers fumbled into my pussy, he was soft and gentle, his lips moved down my belly, his lips began to brush into my mound. He kissed my pussy the same way he kissed my mouth. I loved it, I opened up to him, to his mouth on my lips, his tongue sliding-spreading and parting me in the softest kindest way. He made me very wet. Against my thigh, I could feel his huge cock grow in even greater significance. He slid up and we kissed, his lips tasting of me, we kissed and kissed, our bodies in procession. We kissed. His monster–instinctive, impelling into the heat and wetness of my pussy. His eyes never leaving mine he raised up on his arms, balancing on his hands, both of us lost in our deep panting of want, cunt to cock, and then he slid into me.

I felt myself split, I let a moan of pain and pure bliss break free, a moan I had never heard come from me before. Slowly he continued to slide into my tightness; he was slow and deliberate, filling me up, even before he was anywhere near being all the way inside of me. Little startled whines and groans escaped between my lips with each leaden thrust into me. I raised my legs, lifting my hips up, surrounding his torso, he gained poise as he lifted to his knee, pulling my ass toward him. We were there. Finally he was pulling in and out, crushing me with the lingering fuck of sweet friction, my pussy stretched more than ever before to accommodate him. Not once did he take his eyes off mine. It did not last long, when he came, he tried to pull out, but did not quite make it all the way; I could feel the heat inside my body, on the outside of cunt, and on my thigh. The monster cock was filled with a monster amount of cum. And then I was empty, he landed on top of me, his cock remaining heavy and we slept.

We remained together for a little while, he was always a giving tender lover, but like I said I was an asshole. I was shallow. I was young. I broke up with him, because of the scarf, the obsession with John Lennon, the overly friendliness with my parents, his horrendously loud laugh. I was embarrassed of him. I was an asshole; I gave up monster cock because I was embarrassed. I am embarrassed of myself.

Mark-my deepest apologies and thank you for giving me my first deepest sweetest monster fuck.

Republished with permission from Library Vixen. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.