Footlong Pt. 01

Footlong (Part 1)

Kathryn M. Burke

Samantha Jameson was smart, and she knew it. As a junior at one of the more prestigious colleges in the Boston area, she sailed through her classes as a double major in English and philosophy. Now, at the age of twenty-one, she suddenly realized that she had failed to take the two semesters of science classes that she had to pass before she could get her B.A.; so far, she had only taken a one-semester freshman geology class. The idea of taking another introductory class full of callow rubes right out of high school offended her sense of dignity and self-worth, so she signed up for an Intermediate Chemistry class, figuring that the year-long chemistry class she'd taken in high school would help her along.

It didn't. After several weeks, it became painfully obvious to her that she was hopelessly at sea and that the other students—even those who were younger than her—were looking on her with a mixture of scorn and pity. The idea! This was not to be borne; and, decisive as always, Samantha decided to do something about it.

She had noticed an African American in the class who, although seemingly quite shy and retiring for the most part, was a whiz at the complex formulas and experiments that the boring and unhelpful instructor threw out to the class. He was a big, hulking guy named Julius Mathers, and she'd heard he was on the football team. Given her utter lack of interest in sports, this fact didn't impress her one bit; in fact, she was amazed the guy could add 2 + 2, since he presumably spent his time on the gridiron knocking heads with other equally brainless lugs to whom the university in its blindness had extended academic scholarships. But Julius was definitely not brainless; he knew chemistry front and back.

So after class one day in October, she sidled up to him, hooked an arm in his, and said: "Say, Julius, you really know your stuff!"

The guy seemed stunned at Samantha's approach. His eyes got big, and it was almost as if he was going to faint on the spot.

Samantha chuckled inwardly. She knew she was a superior girl both in looks and in brains. At five foot six, she was definitely not petite; and she had plenty of curves at bust and bottom that would make any man—especially, she figured, the football player type—salivate with anticipation. She'd had a fair amount of experience with men and knew how to push their buttons. Some of them responded to the "weak, helpless female" persona—you know, batting of eyelashes and that sort of thing. Others were keen on the tough broad who could take anything a guy dishes out. Samantha had had boyfriends of all different sorts in her college career, but none of them could keep up with either her mind or her body. Men were such babies—putty in the hands of a determined woman.

She didn't exactly know what sort of guy Julius was—or, rather, what kind of girl would appeal to him. She'd never seen him with a girl; in fact, people seemed to hold him in a sort of awe, and very few seemed to have the courage even to speak to him. But she could tell that he was desperately shy and withdrawn, so she thought a mixture of approaches—a frank acknowledgment of her need for help and a clear implication that she would not allow his assistance go unrewarded—would work.

But as he gaped down at her (he was at least six feet tall, with incredibly broad shoulders and a barrel chest, not to mention his stovepipe thighs and sculpted calves) almost in terror, she wondered whether Julius was afflicted social anxiety disorder or something of the sort.

If an African American—even a light-skinned one as Julius was—could blush, he blushed at her flattery. "Thank you, ma'am," he muttered half-inaudibly, unable to look Samantha in the face.

She frowned at him. "Don't call me ma'am. My name is Samantha."

"Sorry," he said, still looking away. "I've been taught to be respectful to women."

"That's all very nice, but please call me by my name. I hope we'll be great friends very soon." After a pause she went on: "How do you know so much about chemistry?"

Julius grinned to himself, and something about that smile touched Samantha's heart. "Gee, Samantha, I did a lot of stuff with a chemistry set as a kid."

"Chemistry set?" she said incredulously. "That couldn't have been very advanced!"

"Maybe not, but it helped me understand how things like this work."

"I'll take your word for it."

She now told him what she was proposing. In essence, she hoped that Julius would agree to be her lab partner—and, even beyond that, that he would give her some help in understanding certain basics in chemistry that she was obviously lacking, and that that boring professor couldn't be bothered to explain, apparently on the assumption that the class knew them already.

Julius's eyes lit up as he peered down at Samantha. "Sure, ma'am—I mean, Samantha. That would be fine."

She knew he had him hooked.

Over the next several weeks, they spent a lot of time together—not just at the lab, but at her rooming house, poring over the textbook. They even took meals together at various eateries around campus—and Samantha couldn't help noticing that lots of people were gawking at them, some of them even pointing to them as they sat at a secluded table to chow down. Surely it couldn't be because they were an interracial couple! People here just didn't care about that, did they? But what else could it be?

There was one time, while they were wrestling with what Samantha and even Julius found to be a particularly difficult problem, when she almost lost her patience—not at him, but at herself. She threw down the book on the floor and flopped onto the bed on her stomach, pounding the mattress with her fists and saying, "God, I'm so stupid!"

Julius, who had been the most incredibly mild-mannered and patient tutor up to this point, came over to her, took her by the arm, and almost violently turned her over so that she was facing up.

"Hey!" he almost shouted. "Don't ever say that about yourself!" Getting a grip on himself, he said more softly, "You're real smart, and you're real pretty. I don't know any girl like you."

He seemed embarrassed at what he'd said, and retreated to the desk chair, sitting down on it and facing away from Samantha.

She got up slowly from the bed and walked over to him. Without hesitation she sat down on his lap, her legs draped on either side of him. (The chair had no arms, otherwise this wouldn't have been possible.)

"You're such a sweetheart, Julius," she whispered, and she held his head to her chest.

She was wearing only a sweater over her bra, and Julius's head rested exactly in the space between her ample breasts. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her back, as if she were a fine piece of china that might break if he held it too tight.

She pulled his head back so she could look him in the face. She had long admired that face, but now she realized how exquisitely modulated the features were. If an ancient Greek sculptor had wanted to fashion an image of Apollo or Hermes, he could easily have used Julius's face as a model. For all his brawn, there was a gentleness and delicacy in his features that wrung her heart.

So what else could she do but kiss him?

The kiss lasted a long, long time, and she could feel Julius's lips actually trying to pull away from hers after a half-minute or so. Okay, she thought, that's a pretty long time to kiss someone, especially for the first time. But she wasn't letting go, and pressed her lips to his quite a bit longer.

At last she pulled her face away, and both of them were gazing at each other, eyes shining. It was with only a slight hesitation that Samantha said:

"Take my sweater off, Julius."

As if in a dream, he pulled the sweater up from her waist and gently tugged it over her head. He gawked at the large, shapely breasts encased in her bra, giving the bare skin at the top of them a tender little kiss.

"Take my bra off now," she said.

Julius did as ordered—and his jaw dropped as her naked breasts were revealed to his gaze. With a kind of awe he extended one of his large hands toward them, uncertain whether he would actually be allowed to touch these holy objects. She took that hand and pressed it against her left breast, and Julius expelled a little moan that signaled both his desire and a more abstract appreciation of the pure aesthetic beauty of that heavenly globe.

Julius brought his face to Samantha's chest and kissed her breasts over and over, then fastened his lips on her nipples in turn and made them even more erect than they had been before. Samantha glanced down at him as if she were a sort of Madonna nurturing her (very large) child.

After some moments of this, Samantha abruptly got off of Julius's lap. Eyes fixed on his, she quickly peeled off her tight-fitting jeans, taking her underwear with them. She thought wryly that Julius might pass out from the sight of her naked body—the swell of her hips, the curve of her bottom (as much as he could see of it from the front), and especially the fine hairs covering her delta.

But she wasn't interested merely in exposing herself. She wanted to get a clear idea of what this rugged athlete had to offer.

He was wearing a T-shirt that clung closely to his torso, and he watched in amazement as she took it off. The hairless chest that was now revealed, with its almost frighteningly well-developed pectoral muscles, caused Samantha to go weak in the knees. She was no innocent virgin, but she'd never seen anything like this.

Now ordering Julius to stand up, she said, "Let's see what you got down here."

She flopped down to her knees in front of him. It took some effort to undo the button above the zipper of his jeans, but she managed it at last. Then, just as she had done with her own jeans, she pulled his down along with his underwear to display his own splendid nudity.

All she could do was gasp and say, "Oh, my goodness."

For you see, Julius's cock—rapidly getting hard but not quite there yet—must have been at least a foot long.

It goes without saying that she'd never seen anything like this. The cock was in fact swelling in front of her eyes, and it was soon standing straight up, extending well above his navel. As she continued to stare at it open-mouthed, a bit of fear came over her.

How the hell am I going to get this in me?

Then she was struck by something Julius said. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

She ignored that "ma'am." What could he be possibly sorry for? For the mere length of his member? Most guys—no, not most guys, every single one of them—would be so proud of such an appendage that they would strut their stuff like a peacock and be intolerably arrogant about it, casting condescending scorn upon the hapless female who would try to endure the entry of this monster into her vitals. But Julius—was sorry!

"Wh-what do you mean, Julius?" she said, looking up at him.

"It's too big, isn't it?" he said mournfully.

She smiled out of the corner of her mouth. "Well, it's not small, that's for sure. But I haven't yet met a cock I couldn't handle."

She had Julius sit in the chair again. Still kneeling, she grabbed the cock with both hands, one on top of the other, from the shaft. She was struck—even alarmed—by how much of it remained exposed. She had rarely had occasion to take a cock with both fists, and when she had she'd seen only an inch or two of it poking up above her hands. But now, more than half of Julius's member was jutting out in front of her nose.

Samantha was curiously tentative putting it into her mouth, but after licking the tip she engulfed about three inches of it. She was not especially keen on deep throat, but the size of this thing impelled her to try to see what her limit was—and she was discouraged that, even when she had slipped at least half of his member into her mouth (at which point her gag reflex started to kick in), she had still not reached the point where her two fists had latched onto the base. Even so, she felt a surge of pride.

Standing up, she straddled Julius as he continued sitting almost motionless in the chair. Rubbing the cock against her pubic hair and abdomen, she noticed something peculiar about the way Julius was looking at her—and at their impending union.

No, she thought, there's no way . . .

"Julius," she said softly, "you've done this before, haven't you?"

He gazed up at her with a melancholy expression and shook his head.

"You're a virgin?" she exploded. "Given that you're an athlete, and with an apparatus like this, I figured you'd bedded down with dozens of girls by now."

The expression of wretchedness only grew more intense on his face.

"I've been scared to," he mumbled. "I'm afraid I'll hurt a girl with this thing."

"You may well be right about that," she said. "Especially a girl who hasn't had much experience. But I'm not one of those."

And with that, she rose up on her tiptoes. Holding the cock again with both hands, she managed to guide the tip toward her cleft. Both of them watched in fascination as it disappeared into her—first an inch, then three inches, then seven inches, then ten inches.

And then it got stuck.

By now Samantha was holding onto Julius's shoulders while she was lowering herself on his organ. But she just couldn't get the last two inches of it into herself. Even as it was, it felt as if that cock was burrowing all the way through her and would come out of her throat. She had definitely not been filled in this manner ever before, since she now perceived that his cock was both long and thick.

She bounced a little to see if she could get that last bit in her, but she winced and gave it up. She just couldn't do it.

"Don't hurt yourself," Julius said in concern.

"I'm all right," Samantha said in a tight voice.

All she could do now was to ride that cock, covering it with her own juices while Julius grabbed her breasts and alternately sucked and licked and nuzzled them. Their creamy whiteness and round, firm texture seemed to fascinate him, and he hardly noticed how his immense member was plowing its course into her vagina. Samantha herself was experiencing quite a bit of discomfort, but she was not going to be defeated: she thought she had gotten another half-inch of it into herself, but that was the best she could do.

It was no surprise that Julius, undergoing his first copulation, wouldn't be able to hold out very long. But when he began shooting his seed into her, it was Samantha who was astounded: he kept coming and coming and coming, seemingly without end—and that titanic discharge, along with the depth of his penetration, brought on an almost cataclysmic orgasm in her, and she was all but screaming as she continued bouncing on that spurting cock as it continued to pour his seed into her.

She usually liked to let a cock linger in for minutes, but she simply couldn't endure having this abnormal organ in her any longer, and she flopped off and slid to the floor. At once, the enormous quantity of Julius's emission began leaking out of her, making a large pool on the carpeted floor. She quickly snatched some Kleenex and mopped it—and her pussy—up.

Samantha was still shuddering from her climax. She looked up at Julius, who was gazing down benevolently at her.

"Was that nice, dear?" she said.

"It was fabulous. You're a treasure," he replied.

"No," she said, taking hold of his semi-hard member, "you're a treasure."

*

Some weeks later, Samantha met up with her friend Scarlet Pearson. They'd known each other since freshman year and had even spent time at each other's houses during vacations. They frequently talked about their frustrations with various boyfriends, or with men in general. Samantha had noticed something strange in Scarlet's behavior lately, and now she was looking at her friend in a most peculiar way.

"Look at you!" Scarlet said as they both sat down at the cafeteria in the student center for some coffee and pastry.

"What about me?" Samantha said.

"You're going with Julius Mathers, aren't you?"

"How do you know that?"

The couple had tried to keep their rendezvouses a secret, although no doubt people had spotted them at various eateries around campus.

"Everyone knows it, Samantha!" Scarlet cried. "You're the talk of the college!"

"Me?" Samantha said, amazed. "Why me?"

"Jesus, Samantha, don't you know? Julius is the star athlete on campus! He's one of the best running backs in the country. He may end up in the NFL!"

Samantha hadn't a clue what her friend was talking about, since she knew not the slightest thing about football. What on earth is a running back? Aren't all the players running around all the time?

"He's that good?" Samantha said.

"You bet he is! And now you're his girl!"

"I suppose I am."

"Of course you are!" She eyed Samantha keenly. "I mean, you do sleep with him, don't you?"

"I sure do!" Samantha said with sudden enthusiasm.

"Ooh!" Scarlet said, hugging her own shoulders. "I'd love to have that big, strong man wrap me in his arms! He's everything a man should be—incredibly good-looking, talented, smart, and also really nice, from what I hear."

"You can say that again."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, he's all the things you've said—and more." There was a twinkle in Samantha's eyes.

"You're not telling me something," Scarlet said suspiciously.

Samantha gave a quick look around the cafeteria. It was well filled with chattering students, and there was little chance that anyone was paying attention to their conversation.

"I'll tell you something about Julius Mathers," Samantha said in a low voice, "as long as you keep mum about it."

"Of course I'll keep mum!" Scarlet said, giving a little shudder of anticipatory excitement.

"I'm serious, Scarlet—you absolutely can't tell anyone!"

"Okay, okay! What do you want to do? Write out a promise in blood?"

Samantha brought her mouth close to her friend's ear. "Julius has a footlong cock," she said.

Scarlet gave a little scream of horror and disbelief.

"No way, Sam! That's just an urban legend. No one has a cock that big! You're just teasing me, right?"

"Nope. I swear to you—"

"It's not possible!"

"It is possible. In fact, I actually measured it once."

"You measured it?"

"Yup. I got out a ruler and measured it. In fact, I think it was maybe a half-inch longer than a foot. Of course, that's when it's hard—although it isn't a whole lot smaller when it's soft."

"Jesus Christ!" Scarlet said, placing her hands on either side of her face. "How—how do you manage?"

"Oh, I manage," Samantha said smugly.

"You don't really get it all the way in, do you?"

"I do. I had trouble at first, but I've had a fair amount of practice since then."

"Holy cow . . . I just can't imagine."

"It's quite a feat, let me tell you. And of course I only manage it the front way, not the back way."

Scarlet went pale. "Wh-what do you mean, the back way?"

"You know exactly what I mean." And she pointed to her bottom.

Scarlet clapped a hand over her mouth. "There's no way I'd ever let a man—"

"You're saying you haven't done it?"

Scarlet was silent for a while. "I did it once—or, I should say, had it done to me. Remember that guy Tony?"

"Yeah. I never liked him much. You're saying he did it to you?"

"Mmm. I won't exactly say he forced me, but he didn't give me a whole lot of choice in the matter. At least he used lube."

"And you didn't like it?"

"It hurt like hell!"

"Well, yes, it does the first time—first couple of times."

"I just don't see how you get that thing in you back there."

"I told you—he doesn't go all the way in. I don't think that's even possible. He'd probably rupture something. But I think he gets about eight inches or so in."