Changing His Diet

Cast of Characters

I (or me): 27 years old, 5'5", 135#, blonde hair, green eyes. I've been told I'm pretty. When people are being kind, they say I look like Jennifer Anniston or Brittany Spears. I workout faithfully to keep in shape but most people don't notice. Usually, all they see are my 38F breasts. That's right, F-cups, and all natural. If you think I'm lying then fuck you.

Hubby (or honey): 34 years old, 6'3", 210#, brown hair and eyes. Rugged looks that can turn those prefer Rob Lowe and Sean Astin types off but make women like me melt. Well built and nicely hung at 7". A tier 2 porno stud if you're thinking of Peter North or Mr. Marcus but most ladies would love to be in bed with him.

"Brad": A small man who taught me a big lesson.

Kingsize: 10 inches, very hard, very thick, very black. Other details are either unknown or irrelevant. His service to Hubby and me was as a cock and producer of sperm.

* * * *

Life it seems has always been about sex to me. What would you expect, I was a C-cup at eleven. I tried to ignore them. Then hide them. Then run away from them. For a long time I was shy and self-conscious but on another level I enjoyed the notoriety -- imagine being in the fifth grade and having bigger tits than the teacher -- and attention the boys paid. Later, I learned to exploit them and finally, with the help of Hubby, I've learned to enjoy them.

Hubby was always more sexually adventurous than I but over time has convinced me to experiment and I'm so happy he did. Certainly sex is one of the most important aspects of our life together and has helped us over some of those rough spots that are part of every marriage.

I suppose some would think of us as swingers. We've had sex with others, both couples and singles, but not that often. We're very selective and we don't hang around those clubs that cater to the "lifestyle."

The beginning of this tale occurred about two years ago when I found out something very important about myself. Hubby and I met a couple in town on a business trip. They were staying at a premium hotel hubby and I frequented for its lively bar and dance area.

They were about our age, fit and very attractive. The guy actually looked like Brad Pitt (hey, I said Hubby didn't look like one of those Hollywood pretty boys, I never said I'd turn one of them down).

We drank and danced with each other's spouses. "Brad" mostly talked to my breasts. I found him very hot and ground my pubis into his during slow dances. We all ended up back in their hotel room -- suite, actually. By that time, I was making out with "Brad" in the elevator and continued when we got into the room.

"Brad" took me into the bedroom and closed the door while Hubby remained in the living room with...well, to tell you the truth, I wasn't paying the wife very much attention.

It didn't take long till I was naked from the waist up. You'd be surprised, big tits, little tits, the bras all come off at pretty much the same speed. I love having mine suckled and soon "Brad" was doing a masterful job of mouthing them.

My pussy had been juicing since we were on the dance floor and now it was on fire. Eventually, "Brad" got around to pulling off my slacks and panties. I lay on the bed gently stroking my labia and trying to keep from jamming my fingers into my cunt as I watched him undress.

What's the word for a really major disappointment? You know the kind, where you come down on Christmas morning and there are no presents, no tree, nothing. Well, whatever it is, that's what I felt. Poor "Brad."

He was bringing a Little League bat to the World Series. I know they say size doesn't matter, but they weren't talking about "Brad" when they said that. The normal range for an erect penis is between 5" and 7". By that definition, "Brad" on his best may have just barely qualified.

As he moved between my open thighs and began rubbing his almost-five thin inches in and out along one side of my vagina, I almost giggled out loud as I contemplated actually saying those four, dreaded words: Is it in yet?

"Brad" was nothing if not sensitive to others, however. "This position isn't doing much for you, is it?" he asked.

Obviously, his question was rhetorical as, without waiting for benefit of reply, he spun around and pulled me on top of him placing us in a sixty-nine position. His lips, tongue, and fingers teased my clit and labia and soon had me racing toward orgasm.

Meanwhile, "Brad's" little boy dick presented a much more tempting objective for my mouth than it had my cunt. I was able to deep throat him easily and delighted in doing so.

Somewhere between my second and third orgasms I felt him tighten. I sank my mouth over his cock till my lips encircled its base. He shot his cum directly into the back of my mouth completely missing my tongue. I never even tasted it.

As I held my mouth over him, enjoying the feel of his shrinking cock, I experienced a lovely, almost mellow orgasm as he softly hummed his appreciation of my oral skills while holding his tongue against my clit.

Later, after we'd recovered sufficiently to start again, "Brad" spoke as he played, fascinated, with my tits.

"Some women are really connoisseurs of the smaller cock," he said with boundless optimism. "Obviously, you're not one of them."

"I really loved deep throating you," I replied, trying to overlook my disappointment in his shortcomings.

"Do you mind if I try something?" he asked excitedly.

"As long as it doesn't hurt," I smiled.

Jumping off the bed, "Brad" reached into his suitcase and pulled out the most realistic fake cock I'd ever seen.

It was beautiful. When he placed it in my hand, it felt solid and heavy. It must have been eight inches long and fatter around than Hubby's.

"Sometimes, the wife likes a little more, too," he smiled. "Can I try it on you?"

Without offering a verbal response, I lay back, closed my eyes, spread my legs, and placed the jellied head at the entrance to my cunt. I was so wet from "Brad's" saliva and my own juices, it slipped in to the hilt with one push. I gasped. I'd never been so full nor felt so good. The head of cock was just touching the pathway to my uterus.

I lay there, overcome by the sensations within my pussy, unable to move. "Brad" began thrusting the plastic phallus with his hand. I spasmed on the third stroke. And the fourth. And the fifth and the sixth.

I settled in for the long run up to a really big one. I was actually a little frightened that I might not be able to handle it. I'd never had my pussy stretched so far or the felt continual grazing of a cock against my cervix before.

Just when I felt like I couldn't move if the National Guard stormed the room, "Brad" moved me. Leaving the dildo inside me, he grabbed my hips and rolled me over onto my stomach, pulling me back so my knees were bent beneath me.

My face lay flat against the mattress, my arms were extended above my head and my fingers clutched the bed sheet. My knees were splayed so wide apart my pubic bone was only inches above the mattress. My ass was thrust skyward.

"Brad" grasped the dildo again and resumed thrusting in long, slow, steady strokes. He moved closer behind me. He's going to ass-fuck me while he shoves that wonderful phony cock in my pussy, I thought happily. Somehow, I went to another level of excitement.

Normally, I'm not a fan of anal sex. It felt good at the time, but left an uncomfortable after-feeling. The best part is the reaction of the guy as he enjoys the still somewhat taboo act. I had, however, long fantasized about being sandwiched between two cocks even though I was too chicken to try it.

This time was different. "Brad's" small dick appealed to me as the perfect weapon for a backdoor invasion. It was not to be. Just as I was about to tell him to fuck my ass, he squeezed his dick between the dildo and my vaginal wall.

I was so stretched I couldn't breathe! Gently, he rocked back and forth allowing me time to become accustomed to the thickness of both cocks, real and fake, crammed into my pussy together.

He grabbed the dildo and began slowly, slowly pulling it and his dick out in unison. Then, even more slowly, he slid them back in. Never had anything felt so impossibly good. I could be silent no longer.

"Oh, godammit, yes! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

After a couple of more thrusts, "Brad" withdrew both his cock and the dildo. Walking over to the suitcase, deliberately allowing me to watch him, he pulled out a heavy-duty rubber band and lashed his cock to the dildo.

Holding a bottle of liquid KY, he looked me in the eyes as he coated the melded phalluses. I couldn't believe that what I was looking at had been inside me and I couldn't wait for it to go back in.

I hadn't moved a muscle since "Brad had positioned me on the bed, and I remained motionless as he walked back to his post behind me. "Brad" buried his enhanced hard-on to the hilt in one thrust. I felt impossibly good once again.

I love it when Hubby takes me from behind like that but with him, I usually let my hand slide back between my legs and stroke my clit while he fucks me. No matter how quick he might be, I never miss an orgasm that way.

Now, there was no need. I was stretched so far that every stroke pulled at my clit in a way no manual stroking could. Every time "Brad" bottomed out it felt like a thousand tiny fingers gently pinching my clitoris.

"Brad's" deep strokes not only stretched and pulled at my clitoris and tapped my uterus, each one also sent a lightening bolt straight to my nipples. I couldn't stop myself. I reached for my tit, pinching the nipple between my forefinger and thumb.

Seeing the force with which I was pinching my nipple. "Brad" suddenly swatted my fleshy ass cheek. Hard! It stung like hell but it just added to the pleasure the sweet stretching was causing in my cunt and the desperately pinched nipple was causing in my tits.

"That's it, slut!" he told me slapping my ass once for each syllable. "You pinch those nipples while I spank your ass."

Although I'd sometimes think of myself as sluttish, no man had ever called me that, not even jokingly. When "Brad" said it, I felt really naughty. Having a total stranger refer to me that way excited me in ways I'd never experienced before. Suddenly, I liked being his slut.

Every time "Brad" bottomed out, he slapped and I squeezed. I didn't know where I was. My clit was sending nerve shock waves to my nipple and my nipple was sending them back. It had begun. One like I'd never had before.

"Like it, slut?" he asked, seemingly happy to delay my orgasm.

"Damn you," I yelled at "Brad" when I could take it no longer. "You know what you're doing to me. Now finish it. Fuck me with that monster double dick of yours! Take my orgasm from me! Take it, damn you, take it!"

Spasm. Stroke. Spasm. Stroke. Spasm. Stroke. Stroke. Explosion!!

I don't know if I actually passed out but I'm sure I wasn't totally conscious for a period of time. "Brad" stayed inside me for a few minutes as my pussy shuddered in post-orgasmic spasms. I came little cums as he slowly withdrew.

I watched as he disentangled the real and the fake dicks. "Do you do that for all your women?" I asked.

"Only the special ones," he replied. Then he called me a name I'd never heard before. "You're a 'size queen.'" I needed neither definition nor explanation. I knew he was right and that I'd changed forever.

"Can I ask a favor?" he wondered.

"Almost anything," I replied realizing how much I owed him.

"I'd love to cum on those tits."

It seems strange now, but I'd never had anyone cum anywhere but my cunt, my ass, my mouth, or my hand before. I lit up my best smile. Scooting over to the side of the bed, I grabbed my tits and offered them up to him.

His fist covered his entire erection except for the tip of the head poking out. I watched with interest as he jerked himself off. He may have been small in some ways, but when it came to cumming, he could shoot with the best.

He took a step backward and I watched as the first jet arced high in the air and landed on my far orb. The second went farther still hitting the sheet. There were eight high volume, high-arcing jets before he had to step closer and drizzle his remaining load onto my chest. He shuddered.

"Damn that was good!" he shouted. Then, being ever courteous said, "I'll get something to clean you up."

As he ran the water to warm it for the washcloth, I dipped my fingers into his goo and brought some to my mouth. I hadn't really tasted it when I deep throated him and I wanted to now. Very nice, I thought, a shame he wasted all of it.

* * * *

It was the last full day of our week in Jamaica. Tomorrow Hubby and I would be flying home.

In the twenty-two months since my "cumming out" party as a "size queen," Hubby and I delighted in seeing how big an object we could shove into my cunt. I got off on more bottles and vegetables and fruit and fake dicks than you can imagine.

Hubby and I continued to fuck, of course, and I continued to enjoy it, but I began to fantasize about a dick. A special dick. A dick the combined size of "Brad" and his dildo.

I was fantasizing about such a cock as I sat on the beach in front of our hotel. Hubby had gone for a long walk and was completely out of sight when I saw it. He walked past, bold as brass, about fifty feet away.

In silhouette, it appeared that there was a grapefruit stuffed into the front of the tiny white Speedo he wore. I watched his back as he disappeared down the beach. What an ass! I could just see the top of his crack above thin line of material. My cunt was experiencing a meltdown. Most intriguing of all, he was black as coal. I gave him a name: Kingsize.

Many women on the beach were topless but I was wearing the hot pink thong bikini Hubby had surprised me with when we first arrived. In addition to my unusual cup size, my nipples are more than four inches in diameter. When I tried on the top, the little triangles of pink were so small that no matter how I positioned them, a half-inch or so of pale brown areola was visible. I felt there was no need to go topless. I looked more erotic bursting out of that skimpy top than I would with no top at all.

The bottom covered so little I told Hubby nobody could wear it unless she was completely shaved. He grinned until I turned the tables. I went into the bathroom -- to shave, he thought -- but I returned nude from the waist down with a razor, hot water, and shaving cream.

"You bought it, honey, you shave it."

I put a towel on the room chair, sat down, and spread my legs over the arms of the chair. Hubby was shocked, but he carried on like a trooper, kneeling on the floor and shaving me clean. Including around the asshole. It was so nice, I asked him to rim me. I made him shave me -- and rim me -- everyday thereafter.

We were vacationing in the off-season and my summer tan had been deepened by a week in the Caribbean sun. There were relatively few of us on the beach and the throbbing in my pussy was just beginning to subside when I saw Kingsize returning up the beach.

I watched as several of the topless ladies propped themselves up trying to catch his eye. He looked but kept on walking. I saw the women follow him with their eyes. If they were in groups, they whispered to each other and giggled.

Walking back, his path was taking him much closer to where I lay sunbathing. I knew I was going to do something, I just didn't know exactly what. I got up on my knees where he'd be sure to see me -- what good were F-cups if you never used them?

I brushed pretend sand from my tits to make sure he got a good look. My eyes were glued to that grapefruit as it bobbed toward me. When he was about ten feet away, I looked up from his Speedo and into his eyes.

"Excuse me," I said in my calmest voice possible given the circumstances. "Are you from the hotel?" I knew he wasn't.

He approached closer. "No sweetheart, I'm sure not," he drawled. Expecting singsong Jamaican or perhaps a clipped British accent, I was caught off guard for a moment by his soft Texas drawl. "Y'all needin' some help?"

"It's just that my husband is off walking the beach god-knows-where, and I need to cart all this shit back to the hotel. Probably ogling some hot topless chick in her thong," I bitched.

The sun was behind Kingsize. I found it difficult to look up into his eyes. At least that's what I told myself. I realized for the first time just what all those guys felt about me all those years. I had been speaking to the grapefruit, not the man.

"He's looking for something hot and he's not here?" Kingsize drawled, incredulously. "Here, I'll give you a hand,"

I grabbed his hand and stood up. He was barely taller than I and I saw for the first time he was just a kid. As he reached down to help gather up the towels and beach chairs I blurted out, "You're just a boy. You can't be more than seventeen!"

Standing erect again, Kingsize placed his right hand on his hip. His long, black fingers stretched all the way across the front of his white suit with the tips resting on the enormous bulge that tested the limits of the Speedo's construction.

There was nowhere else for me to look, really. That black hand on that white fabric. The mouth watering swell of that beautiful, tempting, hidden-but-just-barely, woman tamer/pleaser. I stared. He watched me stare.

"Think I'm not man enough for the job?"

"Sorry," I said, flashing a bright smile and trying my best to look into his face. "I'm sure you're more than man enough."

Running my tongue across my lips, I sighed as my gaze returned again to that place where his fingertips touched his bathing suit.

As we gathered up the things, he said, "Don't worry, darlin'. As of last week, I'm eighteen. All nice and legal."

Size Queen, meet Kingsize, I thought.

Our hotel room was one the ground floor and we could walk onto our patio from the beach. From there, French doors led inside.

There was some awkwardness on the patio as I tried to maneuver him into the room without seeming overly eager. I have no idea why I was trying to be coy with this stranger, this kid. I knew he was interested in only one thing.

As it happened, so was I. Why couldn't I admit it? His age most likely, I reasoned. Also his color.

I was shaking all over at the prospect of sex with a black man. It had been a fantasy I dared not mention. Not that either Hubby or I were bigots, it was just too taboo for me. I worried about being disappointed, that I'd discover the myth was just that. No man could possibly be as endowed as the fantasy black stud, but from all outward indications, this one was.

Somehow, we managed to get inside. I was enjoying the thought that I, as the older woman, would be taking the lead. He'd be mine to mold. I'd take my pleasure and he'd get what I was willing to give (which, truth be told, was quite a bit). No sooner had we broken our first kiss, however, than he let me know he was in charge.

I started to pull the drapes closed. "Leave them open," he ordered.

"But people can see in," I protested.

"Let them," he said, then, "Take off your top."

Suddenly, as I reached behind to undo the strings, I was even more turned at the thought of doing this young stud's bidding than being in charge myself. I stood stock-still as I lowered the bikini top and dropped it to the floor.

I'd read some of the "once you go black you never go back" stories but I never thought myself the type. In my mind, I was more the "you bought it, you shave it" sort. Now I wasn't so sure. Suddenly, in the presence of an obviously superior male, I was feeling all warm and submissive. And my desire to surrender was feeding my lust.

I watched as those king sized hands caressed my breasts. Never in my life was I so happy with my over-endowment. I was certain he'd never needed both hands to contain a single mammary before.