Author's Note: This is the fourth of seven chapters that will be exploring the sexual escapades of an extremely well-endowed cis bisexual male named Lance. This story is told in first person past tense, and it features semi-ridiculous proportions.
Lance is in his second semester Junior year of college in a very rural area of the United States. He is 6'3" tall (190cm), a toned athletic frame, an 8 pack of washboard abs, light blue eyes, masculine facial features, medium length flowing brown hair, and possibly the largest penis on any human being ever.
"Come on, Lance. Let's go downstairs and play some beer pong. I like when you win for us," Lauren taunted me. We sat next to each other on my bed, and she pressed halfway up my thigh with her hand, fingertips barely missing my shaft. At this point in college, my reputation preceded me. Normal girls didn't come over to the frat as often as she did and not know what I was packing. Lauren, in all her captivating beauty, managed to get to me in a way that I usually tried to avoid. She seemed to genuinely like me, like, like me like me.
Lauren was a medium height, blonde, blue-eyed supermodel in my class year. She was thin with almond skin, and her blonde hair flowed down to her mid-back, shining like the morning sun. Her wide bright smile between full lips could make men buckle under weak knees. Her small upturned nose and pointed ears looked almost like she could wiggle them and summon a broomstick, and the perfect symmetry of her face only heightened her beauty. Genetics was very kind to her.
But what was really so unfair about Lauren's genetic lotto ticket was that all parts of her body below her neck were as innately attractive as above. She was the type of skinny that came organically - not the unattractive boney kind. Her breasts were small, but they aesthetically fit on her body. The womanly hips down below supported a perfect bubble butt; there was no denying her body's ability to make a guy go caveman and want to breed.
Lauren was a huge tease, though. We've made out drunkenly a few times, and she comes over to hang out sober. But every time it gets hot and heavy something seems to interrupt us. She slept over naked one night a while ago, but I was too drunk to try anything and passed out. That started a long string of her being in my presence on several occasions over the passed few weeks, sometimes alone, but in my bed only the once.
Whenever she came over during the day, she always had something fun and engaging to discuss. Even when the topic was nothing, we could go on for hours. She even invited me to her sorority's parties, at which she made me feel really comfortable and welcome. I felt a serious connection was being formed fast.
There was a part of me that thought that we could work out long term - even after college. It goes against my promise to myself to be the most storied sexual partner in American history, but something about Lauren made it seem worthwhile. Maybe I was just under her spell, but I think 'settling' for her even at a young 21 years old is justifiable.
On paper Lauren was just... perfect. A rare combination of Central American, Northern European, Western European, and East Asian Islands, she's a concoction of global beauty features. She's incredibly smart - like top of her class in Biomedical Engineering smart, got recruited to the university for tennis and brought them a championship her freshman year, interned at Boeing her first summer and NASA last summer and winter, and was voted president of her sorority effective this semester. She speaks four languages and has an entrancing, unique accent that amplifies her sexuality.
And that's just what she earned on her own. Lauren's father comes from old money, and her mother's father was a World War II General. To briefly list her familial benefits: her financial stability was established the minute she left the womb, she has a family dietitian, a personal trainer that comes to the university gym, and a high profile therapist that has known her since thirteen years of age. She's one of those people you conjure in your head when you wonder what the rich would do if they could genetically engineer their children.
I learned all this through our numerous heart-to-hearts walking around campus, discovering new corners (and making out in them), hanging out after a party, or just laying in bed - but not fucking. I didn't mind it as much as I normally would, to be honest. I was pretty sure Lauren liked me back. Part of my reasoning had to do with who she was: she was ambitious, gorgeous, genuine, confident, and unusually logical for a girl. She could have had any guy she wanted, so why was she spending so much time with me?
I should have recognized how nuts I sounded. Fuck me if I wasn't falling for her like a modern day Romeo. I didn't think I was ready to settle down, but I considered accelerating my maturation process if it meant she'd have been the mother of my children. I was enchanted by her.
Who wouldn't be?
We attended a school with a relatively smaller class size, about 500 per year. It was just the right population to where almost everyone knew almost everyone, but there were always people still to meet. I became a campus rumor very quickly, and I took advantage of it whenever I could. And I did - often. It seemed to me that my social status had risen to the point of garnering the affection of a woman like Lauren.
I looked into her oceanic blue eyes and asked, "Is that what I need to do to prove my masculinity to you: win at drinking games?" I asked facetiously. We were hanging out on my bed in the back corner of my room. I mvoed into the frat Junior year, and my room was the largest. By extension, it was the designated pregame room where anyone looking to party started their night. A whole crowd had gathered in my room, the couch had no vacancy, the floor was occupied, the smell of weed pungent, empty beer bottles stacked on the coffee table, and the latest hits songs played at high volume.
Jordan, one of the brothers standing nearby, overhead our conversation. "Hey, Lauren. If I beat Holmes over here, will you hang out in my bed instead?" Holmes was my pledge name, and it was one of the few that caught on and stuck passed pledging. It's a reference to John Holmes, a porn star from the 70's best known for his legendary endowment.
"You'd need a partner, Jordan. We're playing together," she declared, putting her arm around me. My heart fluttered. Her breast squeezed into my arm a bit through her tight navy crop top. Her jean shorts hugged halfway down her thighs. I wore slim fit blue jeans that night and a plain salmon tee shirt. Jordan donned the classic frat bro outfit of the new decade: Sperry's, cargo shorts, and a polo.
By this point in college, I was done hiding my cock in purely social settings, especially at the frat house. Everyone who would show up there had at least some peripheral knowledge of my confidence crusher. Some had even seen it in the flesh from the numerous requests I got on particularly rowdy nights while partying in the basement.
"So then if we win, me and my partner get to both hang with you in bed?" Jordan was the guy at the frat that talked about sex so much we gave him shit for it, an impressive feat for a fraternity setting. He was a pretty average guy, with an average body, and buzzed black hair. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him back then, though. He was a great friend.. when he wasn't trying to get some ass.
"Is that right?" I asked sarcastically, expecting a no.
Jordan, not one to waste an opportunity, took a moment to scan the room for a potential teammate and spotted one. "Hey, Beach!" Beach was another pledge name that stuck. I don't even remember his actual name. He's another amazing person, though. He's about 6'1" tall with a lanky yet toned body and buzzed blond hair. Beach is a Civil Engineering major in Air Force ROTC, but somehow he found the time and physical fortitude to get absolutely annihilated at the frat house so frequently it would have even been impressive partying for an Arts major.
Beach did a line off the coffee table, lifted his head up like he'd just woken from a nightmare, inhaled sharply through his nose a couple times, then answered, "Yo!" He wore the same outfit as Jordan, though he chose a different color palette.
"Lauren said she'd let us run train on her if we beat Holmes in pong." Most of the guys in the room immediately turned their attention to this announcement.
Beach's eyes went wide. "Stop. That's not real," Beach replied in disbelief.
I tried to read Lauren for a sign of denial, but all I could see was that she was enjoying the banter. "You really think you can beat me, Jord?" I questioned, trying to be confident. I didn't want to show that I was put off by any of this talk, but Lauren wasn't denying it at all. It got me worried.
"Dude, is that for real?" Beach asked again.
"Lauren?" Jordan looked at her.
"I don't make the rules," she shrugged.
"Holmes get your ass to the basement!!" Beach screamed.
Jordan and Beach skipped out of the room and down the stairs. Lauren and I hopped off the bed and made our way through the small crowd and out to the hallway. The fraternity house was placed in a location conveniently just off the campus property line, but it was still close to both the freshman dorms and the
very few bars in the area. This was doubly excellent, as both freshman and senior girls were close by on any given night.
As we started down the staircase, I assured her, "You know you don't have to go along with Jordan's bullshit, he's just always trying to weasel his way into getting laid."
"That's not a fair question. Are you really gonna fuck them if they win?"
"Aww, Lance. Are you jealous?" she teased.
"Yes," I admitted seriously.
"Better not lose, then," she winked at me.
"I don't plan to," I countered strongly.
"Alright, best of seven!" Jordan stumbled, hanging onto Beach for temporary support. "Beach, you suck!" Music was blaring in the basement, forcing everyone to scream everything they wanted to say. It was a huge basement that we set up strictly for partying. We had a blacklight system in the dropped ceiling, and we had one of those party lights machines running from the DJ table in the corner where the large speakers sat.
"Fuck you, dude! I hit five cups. I did my part!" Beach retorted drunkenly. The both of them clearly pregamed too hard, as they were crashing after only three games.
"This game, but the first two you were awful!"
"I just needed the jitters to wear off; I was overthrowing because I'm too strong."
Jordan shook his head, then turned towards me. "Best of seven!" he roared.
"No, Jord. I'm not getting sucked into that. You lost." I went over to shake their hands, and I told them that I was heading upstairs to check out what was going on in my room. I turned back around to find Lauren patiently waiting for me, twirling her hips and eyeing me suggestively.
When I got close she palmed my abs and looked up at me. "Don't you want your prize?" she asked, just loudly enough for me to hear.
I looked back at her smiling face, and it almost made my knees wobble. "What was I supposed to get if I won? I only have one dick."
"I'm sure it's bigger than both of theirs combined anyway," she cooed. She leaned in closer, and we started to make out. We were locking tongues immediately, and she lifted her arms up around my neck. I lifted her up by her waist, and she wrapped her legs around mine. My hands took firm grip of her ass.
"Holmes is doing another shoot!" I heard Jordan scream. I flipped him off for as long as I could hold Lauren up with the one hand.
The kissing had me turned on immediately. My cock instantly hardened into diamonds, but my brain was trying to figure out how to take this somewhere private. I didn't want to get blue-balled for the umpteenth time, so I reverted to what I knew: at any point, if you're not sure if a girl is on the same page as you, you just throw yourself out there and see what she says. "So," I began, and Lauren switched to kissing my neck, "about going back upstairs."
She lifted her head up to face me. "Aren't there still people in your room?"
"Trust me, I can have that problem solved in no time."
"Well, let's go back up and hang out, but I don't want the night to be over yet. It's still early, and I'm in a social mood."
"I'll show you what mood I'm in."
She rolled her eyes and smiled at me, and I melted, still hard as steel. "Maybe after, big stuff."
"Aww, 'maybe after.' After my spectacular victory?" I gently let her down on her feet.
"You thought I was gonna fuck you over a game of beer pong?" she beamed at me. She looked serious, and I was put on my back foot.
"No, Lauren. I didn't mean it that way at all. I was just..." I was lost for words.
"You seriously thought I'm the type of girl to get double teamed, much less by those two, and just because they won at a drinking game?"
I had no response. There was nothing good to say, but I didn't know where any of this was coming from. "I didn't take any of that seriously either."
Lauren started laughing, trying to cover up her smile with her hand. It was then that I figured out she was messing with me. "Alright. You got me."
"You're lucky I like you, because screwing with you is just too easy. It's almost not enjoyable. I mean you're so gullible you scare me sometimes, especially with that thing." She looked down at my left thigh. My shaft usually makes my left thigh look weirdly bigger than the right one, but now it looked like my left thigh was badly swollen. "Jesus, Lance. What was God thinking when he gave you that?"
We started to walk towards the stairs while talking. "He was gracing me with something that I would put to good use. He was probably thinking the same thing when he made.. well.. all of you."
Lauren's face lit up at that comment. "You're such a cutie. Let's go upstairs; I want to show you something."
She took me by the hand and led me back to the staircase. I stared at her ass the whole way up. She definitely knew.
Miraculously we found my room empty. Hours later, Lauren was leaned into my shoulder as we sat on the couch side by side. She was showing me her family photos from a vacation she took over winter break between her internship and returning to school, a topic we had somehow gotten onto while drinking by ourselves.
"And this was when my grandfather won the wishbone from my grandmother," she said while swiping to the photo. I held the phone for her to swipe through the photos as she told me about the trip. One of the photos showed the view from her own personal room.
"Wow. Incredible," I commented.
"I know, right? I had the room to myself, so I was able to just soak in the view and sit out there whenever I wanted. And at night, I could bask in the light of the stars by myself before bed."
"Sounds really therapeutic."
"It was, but it would've been better if I had someone like you there with me."
I almost couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Oh?" I turned to face her. "Well, I wouldn't want to impose on your family vacations, but I also can't sit here and lie about how incredible an experience like that would be."
"Well, who knows? Maybe one day. But for now I guess we'll settle for a room covered in alcohol and drugs on the third floor of a rural house dedicated to inhabiting secret societies."
I inched my face closer to hers, praying for a sign that she was getting as impatient as I was. "Oh, come now, this is a chamber of romance."
"Oh, romance. Is that what's coming for me?" she asked, opening her mouth just slightly as if expecting a kiss. I crept forward more, and she began to fall backwards onto the couch.
I followed her body movements so that our faces were equidistant as she was descending into an inviting, submissive position. "Among other things," I jested. Then I went in for the kiss, and she pulled my face harder into hers.
We made out, and I tried to reposition myself on top of her, but she wouldn't lift her feet from the ground to the couch. I started to feel up her chest over her shirt to get things moving quicker. I was drunk and impatient, so I didn't hesitate to move my hand down below her top and creep up under her bra. She made no objections to my groping, but her body language still didn't read like she wanted to go any further. I finally had enough, pulled my hand off her chest, and lifted from under her hips. She let her legs be lifted onto the couch, but she wouldn't open them.
I tried to think of every possible reason she might be holding out on sex, most of them involving how frighteningly large I am, but I didn't want to assume anything of her. I was frustrated that I cared so much it made me scared to just straight up ask her, but so many signs were there that she's into it.
Her upper body motions, her enthusiasm in kissing, her openness to getting felt up, her breathing, her heartbeat - everything pointed to 'Please fuck me,' but her lower body was powered off. I pulled away from Lauren's embrace and towered over her. She lifted her knees up and pressed them into my abdomen. "Hey," I whispered, looking down at her stunning face.
"'Hey' yourself," she countered, gazing at me longingly.
"Everything okay?" I inquired.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just.. I don't know if I'm ready."
"That's alright, Lauren. You know.. I actually really like you. You're pretty cool and I like hanging out. So I have to ask: Are you.. a virgin?"
She chuckled. "No. Not even close."
I raised one eyebrow at her. "Then why the apprehension? Is it him?" I look down at my protruding boner and then back up at her.
"Well.. I like you too, Lance. And yeah, your size is a little scary. I just want it to be perfect."
"I've become really good at breaking girls in. Trust me, it will only hurt a little, but you'll learn to like the pain. I promise."
"Oh, I trust you, and I know. I just.. I'm sorry."
I felt her legs applying less resistance against my abs, so I backed off and sat down on the armrest opposite her. "You don't have to apologize. I'm a patient guy."
"You're too sweet, Lance. Really. I should go," she declared, sitting up.
"Wait, what? Why? We don't have to go any further. You can stay the night, and we can just hang out."
"No. I'm sorry. You're great, really." She started to sound as though she might cry. "I just.. I'm really sorry." She abruptly sat up, grabbed her phone off the coffee table and showed herself out. I was stunned and confused, my erection fading fast.
A minute or two after she left, I finally managed to move my hand and grab my own phone. I changed the music to a calming lo-fi playlist, and then I didn't move for what felt like hours. I let the music play as I sat frozen, pondering what the fuck just happened. Eventually, I laid down on the couch. Time just went on until finally I fell asleep.
"So what's up? Is everything alright?" Kat came up to the frat the next day at my behest. We were drinking alone in my room late in the afternoon, pregaming for a pregame. The music was just loud enough so that our conversation was private but no one would think there was a party going on yet.
I adored Kat; she'd been a good friend - possibly my best friend - since grade school. We both developed abnormally large endowments very early in our teens, and we bonded over it. Kat and I became friends with benefits, but we agreed early on that it shouldn't get serious. Firstly because we were too young, secondly because we were just experimenting, and lastly because she just plain didn't want to be in that type of commitment while she was in school. Kat's been steady with some guys, but has left all relationships open. They usually break it off around the time that she reveals I'm her long-time fuck buddy.