His Big Dick is the Office Party

I introduced Antonio in my story, "A Blow Job from A Nice Girl Can Cost." I said, there, that "I have a fair number of pals around town, boyfriends sans sex. It always begins the same way. A guy hits on me, very politely, and I accept the initial proposition, which is never sex. So, we go to dinner, Bay Street Theater, the beach, Sunday afternoon cruise in his boat. When he puts the moves on, I put on the brakes, but in the friendliest way.

"Most stay around, so I keep getting invitations that get me out of the house and away from the laptop. That's the imperative. Else my mind senesces in my skull."

Antonio is early 40's, divorced, an options trader in New York, mostly weekender in the Hamptons. His roots are French and Italian, a few generations back, now, in Corsica. Masculine looks out of a hot French sex movie: tall with broad shoulders, dark, curly hair so black it shines, lean, buff. And I am not interested? Sure, sometimes I was wetting my panties and scraping my stiff nips against my bra. But so far, I've described only a couple dates.

In a small town, like this, I cannot get to know all the guys that intrigue me if I am getting laid by them all. That's great fun until it isn't fun, and that happens fast.

This time, we were drinking at Rowdy Hall, a favorite hang-out. I like bars. Actual bars, with high stools where my long pale legs are at their best, on display up to mid-thigh in my short skirts.

"What's the most embarrassing sex thing that happened to you?" I asked. This was not out of nowhere, some lame-dame line to start conversation. Antonio had said, "Other guys? I'm lucky I didn't become a Trappist monk after what happened to me with other guys."

"Oh, I'm already sympathetic," I said. I grinned under my pixie black bangs and dropped a shoe to lift one bare foot to run up and down his smooth woolen pant leg.

"I'll tell you," he said, with a shrug. "You have a reputation as a safe deposit box of all secrets."

I drew back, clunking my drink onto the bar with a laugh. "That sounds as musty as a 95-year-old virgin!"

Antonio's smile never could be rushed. When completed, it was brilliant with white teeth in a generously wide mouth, dark eyes sparking. "The great secrets of the world are known to the ancient and silent."

Enough of that!

"So what happened to you, Antonio. And why?"

"The 'why' is easy. His dark eyes, now sad, fixed on me, though he still held onto a slight smile. "Ellen, I simply have a a freakishly long, thick penis and for that I have been victimized all my life."

"Oh..."

"Yes, yes," said Antonio, nodding impatiently. "Of course. Once it became a matter of women, yes, it was nice."

"Nice?"

"Let me tell you what happened."

I did a quick inventory of the Chardonnay. He followed my glance. He gestured to the bartender for another bottle-the most cultured gesture I ever had imagined. He grinned at me. Yeah, everyone knows that when Ellen has her bottle, she is content.

"Let me start the story where it started for me. Then, I can fill in."

My intent gaze over the glass of golden wine said it all.

"I walk into my boss's hotel suite. We are on a company 'retreat.' Back then, when I was mid-20's, I worked for a boutique financial firm. Maybe 15 employees in all? Looking back, I should have been out of there much sooner.

"Eight of us, I think, were along on this retreat to Vegas, but Vegas has nothing to do with the story. We had had meetings all day to discuss 'strategy,' 'economic prospects,' and 'customer profile.'

"The boss, Bob, had told me to show up at his suite at 6.15 for 'drinks and more informal discussion.'

"But when I walked in, right on time, my colleagues were there, in a circle, in the suite's ample sitting area. Luxurious carpet, perfect subdued lighting, sparking view of the strip, even tasteful art on the walls.

"But, I had been told 6:15, so why were they already here, grinning like loons as I walked in, staring at me? I stopped in the middle of the room, looking around, uneasy to say the least.

"You must understand one thing. Back then, I was criminally naïve. I was one of the first to be hired by Bob at a time he was desperate for a well-educated MBA to join this no-reputation firm. He offered a great salary, a great title, for my first job. So far, so good.

"But when things picked up and we were comfortably making profits, he started hiring, again. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was only gays and lesbians. How the hell would I have known?

"All gay and lesbian colleagues-and you had no clue?"

"Not really. Not my upbringing, Ellen. Besides, Bob wasn't out the closet-so none of the others were. He set that tone. As a firm, we roared ahead. I had been the catalyst, but now we were on a great roll. Bob wanted to have some fun."

"I can't imagine how this morphs into a sex catastrophe."

"Okay. I am standing there. I have said my hellos, given my smiles. Then, Bob, my boss, speaks up. 'Antonio! Welcome! We have been talking about the evening's entertainment and come to a decision.'

"What the hell was this about? What was going down?

"Bob says with his characteristic authoritative tone, 'Antonio, take off your clothes. And shut up; that is what you are going to do. We have seen your emails to Margo.' I'm sure you get the picture, now, so just strip.'"

I was ready to giggle, But Antonio looked sick. He said, "Even now, more than 10 years later, it wallops me in the gut. I want to puke, right now. And I still experience the original panic."

I reached out for his hand. And my bare foot got busy up and down his pant leg, now lifting it with my toes to rub his skin. He had a lot of crisp black hair on his body. "It's over, Antonio," I said. I threw him a kiss.

"Yeah," he said heavily. "The trap didn't gradually become clear that evening. Realization exploded in my idiot brain. I had been sending emails to my assistant, Margo, the only straight girl in the place. I was positive they were secret. It was the sweetest game. We never spoke a word about it in the office or met outside the office. I sent her emails and she sent me pictures. Not real nudes. Her incredible face. Her legs. Her belly. Her decolletage. Every possible pose and alluring angle of her body without nakedness. And I promised her things, promotions, raises." He added: "I really wanted her to have them!"

I was withdrawing all consolation. I lowered my voice (I mean, we were at a bar) and said, "I just don't have words for how brain-dead that sounds. In the office!"

Antonio was nodding. He said, "In some ways, I was back in Corsica. A powerful man, a beautiful but insignificant girl."

He held up his palm like a stop sign. "Standing there, I got the whole photo in one blast. What Bob and the other guys were. How all this got planned, their excitement, their plotting. I could feel tears start in my eyes. I looked around. Margo wasn't there.

"Bob, my boss, short, handsome, though given his height his head seemed too large. Steve, about my age, settled and self-conscious gay, and a conscious advocate. Jim, younger, a protégé of Steve, born in Washington, D.C., of two high-level federal employees—a designated prince. Dave, a heavy set, sensitive, righteous guy sometimes getting his butt grabbed in the supply room by Jim. And Cynthia, short, heavy-set girl from Boston with 1960's long blond hair, big hips, big bosom. Smart, smart, smart, and no BS. But totally private about her life. I didn't know the first thing about her.

"My boss said: 'Stow the gab, Antonio. Show us you get it.'"

I shook my head. "It must have been awful, Antonio." I paused for a moment. "Wait, you said this was about the size of your dick?"

"All my life, I had felt like a freak. This huge thing hanging between my legs. My balls, too."

He made a soft, controlled 'slam' on the bar with his fist. "No one would leave it alone! After the guys saw me in the shower, at gym, clustering around to stare and point and tease me, I never had a peaceful day. And every so often, a bunch of guys would gang up to ambush me somewhere, just for laughs, stripping me stark naked and going off with my clothes."

He sighed. He nodded to himself, silent, as though confirming an idea. "Now, you have to understand. Why that night the game went down the way it did. As terrified as I was in school, I realize, now, years later, that I began to get off on it. All that attention. I knew it was envy, jealousy. And the guys told the girls and I got looks all day long at my crotch. And standing there, that evening, I felt the blood flowing down there, swelling me, and my balls pulsing.

"My colleagues had cooked up this bizarre blackmail just to see my body. They were risking everything."

"You didn't have to," I said softly, glancing up briefly into his eyes.

"No," said Antonio. "The other choice was to be charged with sexual harassment. All the evidence right there. Fired. No other jobs open. And my friends hearing. Totally screwing up Margo, too."

I just looked at him.

"I made the decision. My heart pounded, but I told myself I was doing this to survive. But the other element, the subconsious titillation, was there, too.

"I kicked off my shoes. Unbuttoned and shrugged off my shirt. I shoved down my trousers." Then, I stood in a daze-in my underwear. I remember they were light blue Jockey shorts. But Jesus, everyone was staring like hungry animals at this lump in my shorts.

"My boss, Bob, snapped, 'Jimmy, Antonio can't pull the trigger. Do it for him.' And snide, superior little Jimmy, with his heavy black glasses and grinning face, came scuttling over and went to his knees.

"Ellen, this felt like the worst moment of my life. Everyone waiting. The freak about to be exposed. It brought back all the fears.

"Anyway, you know. With a flair for drama, Jimmy takes the sides of my underwear and slowly draws them down. My dick flops out, then my balls. Everyone is gawking.

"Ellen, you can't imagine it."

I nodded, agreeing. I was getting a little horny.

"I hang straight down, Ellen. I am nine inches long. It dangles there like a thick rope from my black public hair. My glans is covered with a foreskin but its huge, too. When I walk nude, my dick swings with each step. The big swinging dick everyone jokes about.

"Jimmy cheers, 'Holy shit!' and there are whistles and catcalls. Laughs. Whoops! These are my colleagues! Now, I am nothing but a big dick and balls for them. And they love it! But even so, I am feeling that slight excitement, being at the center of intense interest and attention. I can feel myself getting hard!

"For my colleagues, I am a thick rope of fascinating flesh, streaked with blue veins, swinging, my big scrotum half-way down my dick.

"What pleasure they took in it! In my humiliation!

"And then, my boss, Bob, says: 'Serve the drinks, Antonio. You're the nude waiter. Over there is the bar.'

"I went. While my back was turned, Steve called, 'Antonio, you have the cutest ass I ever saw!' I felt them all smiling and staring.'

"'I got a tray of wine glasses, walked over to Bob. Lowered the tray so he could take one. He didn't, he grinned up at me. Then he reached out with one hand and lifted my dick and balls, cradling them like a nesting bird. Of course! Did I think they just wanted to look? With his other big hand, he began to stroke me like a pet pigeon.

"My hands were trembling. I barely kept the wine from spilling. I groaned and whined, 'Nooo...!'

"I saw it all, now. All of them in this together. Thinking about my body and this moment and how they excited they would be.

"Bob's hand closed around my dick. He hefted it. Squeezing. Jiggling. All the while looking up at my face, which I know was flaming hot and red. Here was my boss doing whatever the hell he wanted with my stuff. He said: 'May I?' and before I could speak, he was drawing back my foreskin, exposing the big, dark-red berry. He put two fingers against my belly, on either side of the base of my dick, and pushed back the flesh so that I came out even further. My foreskin was dragged back so that the head of my dick butted forward. There is no other word for it, he was playing with me like a toy.

"Ellen, by now I was getting stiff. I couldn't help it! It was horrifying, but, of course, it was pleasurable. So, now I had to walk over to the others with my dick half-erect, bouncing up and down, and even bigger. Bob had of set the tone. As I went to each of the three other three guys, they immediately began to play with me. Tickling under the head of my dick, snapping my nuts so I yelped, looking up at me with huge grins.

"I got to Cynthia, the overweight girl with the round face and long floppy hair. She avoided looking at my crotch, and said, 'Antonio, I had nothing to do with any of this. Nothing.'

"Bob heard. He called out: 'Too bad for her!' And then, 'Cynthia! Your buddy Antonio is lonely. Get it all off and join him, okay? Like, now!'

"I whirled around. It was unthinkable. Cynthia was the most self-contained, intensely private person I ever met. Her life was her own! I said, 'No! You can't involve Cynthia! She didn't do anything!'

"Cynthia had gotten to her feet. Tears were starting down her round face, but at least she had no makeup to run. Never did. 'I knew you were going to pull some shit like this, Bob," she said with a sighed.

"She looked around at her colleagues. She said, 'I had nothing to do with this nut-job attack, Antonio. I wouldn't have even come, here. Shit I guessed it would come to me. So, you want to force a fat lesbian to strip for you all, who never has been nude with a man!'

"Bob simply said, 'Cynthia also has some amazing secrets that we discovered. Don't you, Cynthia, honey?'

"'Sure!' she said, her voice breaking slightly. 'And you never let me forget it. I am with Antonio one-hundred percent, so fuck all of you.' There were roars of laugher, cat calls, then a chant: 'Strip, strip, strip!'

"Cynthia disrobed undramatically. Taking time to fold her clothes onto her chair. I tried not to stare, but I was fascinated. Her short legs and big hips were heavy and pale. She had something of a belly. But her breasts! When they came flopping out as she lifted off her bra, I just stared.

"They were long and wide enough together to cover her whole ample torso, but they were big they did not lie flat. They were swollen wine skins, perfectly symmetrical, freckled, and with outrageously big, soft-looking nipples.

"When she was naked, she just stood there looking around, tears running down her cheeks. Our audience broke into applause, whistled. 'Have a good stare,' she said. 'Men never were interested in me! So I wasn't interested in them! Now, you're getting off on my freaky tits!' She seemed to sag, as though deflated, and said 'But doesn't every woman get violated in the end?'

"Laughter, applause. 'So that's you, Cynthia!' called out Jim. 'Heft'em up for us, Cynthia.'

"Cynthia stared at him. But Bob said, 'Do it, Cynthia. Now!'

"After a moment, she bowed her head, face down, and her small hands came up, each taking one great fleshy breasts, lifting it-the orange nipples distorted as the flesh bulged out, hung over her hands. She even jiggled them. Swayed her hips, so the big boobs banged against each other, back and forth.

"'Just stay there, Cynthia,' commanded Bob.

"Cynthia turned to me as she was lowering her breasts. 'Did you realize I am a lesbian?' she asked. 'I have a spouse, a woman. Sometimes I thought you didn't get it, at all.'

"I shook my head, slowly. I murmured, "No then, no. This is horrible for you.'

"She gave me the faintest grin. She looked down at me, gazing hard for some moments. 'You're as much of a freak as I am, Antonio. You're beautiful.' She said it so softly only I could hear.

"Each time I stopped to deliver a drink, the guys played again with my package. Rubbing, tickling, squeezing, hauling down my nut sack till I cried out. By the end, of course, I was swollen to the skies, standing up like a horn that reached well above my navel. Next, I had to turn around for everyone and hands seized and went wild squeezing my ass.

"'Okay,' said Bob. 'Now, play with Cynthia's boobs, Antonio.'

"I looked in alarm at Cynthia. She stood, obedient, her big, freckled wineskins sedate.

"I whispered, 'Why do you have to do this? What do they have on you...?'

"She shrugged her thick bare shoulders as though the question was irrelevant. 'You,' she said. 'If I do this, you are okay. That's part of the deal.'

"I froze, stunned. Cynthia and I had had the most beautiful working relationship—respectful, correct, warm. But this?

"She looked up and said, calmly, 'Play with them. That's what they want, Antonio.' Then, she lowered her voice to the barest whisper. 'It's okay. Just an oversized set of knockers. Adolescent boys are fascinated with them.'

"She stood there, patient as a horse, no expression on her face, while I toyed with her. Lifting them by the stretched nipples, squeezing them, and, yes, slapping them, harder and harder, as she whispered, 'Hit them. They get off on that.'

"Suddenly, I asked: 'Where is Margo? Did you get all this out of her?'

"Bob didn't answer. He raised his voice and declared, theatrically, as though introducing a stage guest, 'And now, Margo!'

"She walked in. As casually as though arriving at work. The woman for whom I had condemned myself to this well-deserved madness. Sending her emails, demands, making an incriminating record of squalor.

"She seemed proud. Not apologetic. She held her head high, chestnut hair swirling around a lovely face.

"'Welcome, Margo!' hailed Bob. 'Welcome! This is your boss, dear. Have you ever seen what he's got down there?'

"Margo stopped and turned to me. 'I didn't tell them a thing. The IT guys discovered it all.' She made a slow, grining inspection of my rampant prick. Her eyebrows lifted. She smiled. And then, she gazed, now with barely controlled amazement, at Cynthia, beside me, stark naked. No one ever, ever expected to see Cynthia naked. 'They made you, too?' whispered Margo, her tone incredulous.

"Cynthia just said, 'Hi, Margo. Knew you were here, somewhere.'

"Margo turned to Bob. 'Okay. Our private business. None of yours. But you know that already...' The beautiful chin was lifted, jawline exquisite, eyes deep green and alive with scorn.

Bob was not much for argument. He said, 'That's asinine. It was in the office. Take it off, Margo, dear. All of it.'

"She did. Unhurried, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Slipping off her clothes and tossing them aside. Then, she stood up, chin lifted, shoulders back, for inspection. She was tall, pale, contoured all down her torso, her belly flat, and the curly light-brown hair rose in a thick band from down legs. Her breasts were generous, well separated. The nipples thumbed up. Margo had it all.

"Bob said, 'So what do you think of Antonio's cock, Margo? Or maybe you had seen it, already.'

"'As a matter of fact, Bob, no, I never did.'

"'So look, now! What do you think?'

"She had looked already, of course, but I cringed. By now, I was fiercely and embarrassing stiff.

"Margo smiled gently. As she studied me, her eyebrows arched with appreciation. She murmured to me, 'They already instructed me what I have to do.'

Very slowly her slim, long fingers reached down. She murmured, 'I have no idea what his craziness is about, but I love this.' And her gentle fingers took me, running up and down the shaft, hefting it, tickling under the head. By now, I was slick and slippery. She whispered, 'I could play with you, forever.' Only Cynthia and I could hear.

"I turned to Bob. 'What more, Bob? You have the whip hand. Not that there will be much left of this company, after tonight.'