Super Cock

He was super in almost every way. As Clark Kent, his alter ego, he actually could do absolutely just about anything, anything that is, except keep it up for more than twenty very frustrating seconds. Yes, it is true, Superman needed Viagra. He could bend steel with his bare hands, leap buildings in a single bound, fly faster than a speeding bullet, but he couldn't keep a hard on for more than a few brief seconds and could not please a woman with his wet-washcloth penis that simply hung limp between his massively built thighs that could lift tons but could not push that limp piece of flesh into a vagina of the most willing woman on earth.

He had secretly gone to sex therapists, had done exercises found in books, followed advice given by experts he'd watched on television, read magazine articles giving sex tips and information, but nothing seemed to help much. Finally, he was in a library, looking through self-help books when he got into a conversation with a fellow reading books on dieting and eating disorders. The man worked at the library and smiled at Clark.

"You looking for something specific?" asked the fellow who worked there part time. Clark just shrugged, not wanting to tell anyone he was looking for books on impotency, but it was too late. The fellow had notice the book in Clark's hand on male impotency. "Having trouble keeping it up?" the guy asked directly.

"Yeah," Clark confessed without thinking.

"Ever tried this?" the guy asked, holding up a bottle. It was a holistic cure for male "problems" and Clark had to admit he hadn't. "Here, try this. I have more," the librarian said. Clark had never heard of Blue Wort, and he took the bottle and looked at the label.

"Does it work?" Clark asked.

"Does for me," the guy said with a grin. "Used to have a problem getting it hard and keeping it, you know what I mean?" he said. He flexed his right arm, showing his muscles in a manner men used to show strength. Clark nodded, looking at the label of the bottle he held in his hand, studying it, trying to recognize the ingredients. He didn't see anything he knew about, that he recognized. Magnus root? He had never heard of it. Colin's Leaf Mold? Nothing.

When he got back to his apartment Clark quickly opened the bottle and dry swallowed one capsule. He stood in front of the mirror and waited. Ten minutes went by. Nothing. Twenty minutes. Again nothing.

That night he went to bed depressed. Nothing had happened after he took one capsule of Blue Wort. That night he could hardly sleep. He ignored one disaster at the Boulder Dam, a train wreck in Seattle, and a bank holdup in Denver. He had never before ignored a call for help from people in trouble, but he just was too depressed to fly around solving other people's problems.

The next morning he woke with a start. It seemed he finally dropped off to sleep about three and he sat up quickly n bed. He saw the blankets tented at his waist and he lifted them up and gazed at a nine inch boner sticking straight up from his shorts, poking out of the slit in his boxers. There in front of him was a massive cock, stiff and hard and long and standing high above his shorts, protruding from the open gap in the fly of the underwear. A thick, long cock that he had dreamed of, sticking high out of his shorts put a broad smile on his face. He jumped out of bed and went to the mirror to admire the manly dong that stood out from his body like a spear.

He quickly put his suit on, which he had learned to put on quickly in emergencies, but he had difficulty putting it on with a massive hard on standing straight out in front of him. After a long fight to get it inside of the suit, the tightness of the outfit held the boner against his leg, but it left the outline of his cock against his leg under the outfit.

How can I fly with this? he thought to himself since there was no one else around. When he finally got it somewhat tucked tight against his leg, he went to the veranda, held up his arms and jumped. Nothing. He did not fly away. He tried again. Nothing. No flight. He went back inside to the gym he had set up in the second bedroom.

He went to the bar with a thousand pounds of weights on the barbell and put one hand on the bar and lifted, which was usually no trouble at all. Nothing. He simply could not even budge it, could not even roll it a few inches.

The Blue Wort that had given him the boner of his dreams seems to have sapped his super powers completely.

Then he heard a knock on the door, although it was a weak sound, not at all like the super hearing he was used to. He went to the door and peeked through the peephole in the door. Lois Lane. How could he see her now. He was in his super suit and had a massive boner.

Finally, he opened the door and tried to stand back so she couldn't't see the suit. "What's the matter, Clark?" she asked, trying to look passed the door. "Oh, hi, Superman, where's Clark?"

"Oh, he's not here," he said, remembering he was wearing the suit and no glasses, in his Superman persona. It always amazed him that people didn't recognize him as Clark without his glasses. How could they be so blind? She kept trying to see him behind the door and she finally was able to.

"Oh, Superman, you're... a... you are.. a... hard. You have an erection," she said gazing at the bulge running along the top of his leg. "I have never seen you hard before," she said, trying to see it completely, gazing at the place at the top of his thigh where his gigantic hard on was trapped under the tight suit. They chatted for a while uncomfortably as he tried to hide himself behind the door, then she nervously told him she had to go and left.

Quickly he went back inside and picked up the bottle and read the directions. "Effects last three days," it read. "Oh shit, Superman said. "Three days?" he said aloud. "How the hell am I going to hide in here for three days with a hefty hard on that won't go down? A truly super dick that will stand at attention on its own for seventy-two hours without anyway to get it back to normal outside of amputation. There is no way I cut it off," he said to himself in the mirror.

After twenty-four hours he sat naked in his bathtub with his hard on sticking straight up in the air out of the water like a flagpole in a harbor at the entrance to the port. He liked having an erection, but what he didn't like was having it control his life and hold him hostage in his own apartment for days. He couldn't even enjoy the existence of it with a female person who could enjoy it doing what cocks were meant to do, sinking between her legs and sliding into their vaginas, making them sigh and gasp at the size of the penis in their sex.

On the third morning he woke with a start and quickly looked under the covers, pleased to see his normally shriveled dick laying flaccid and impotent between his muscular thighs. He quickly dressed and raced down the street to his car and drove to the paper where he worked. He saw Lois at her desk and avoided her question about his whereabouts for three days. He hated having the hard on of a lifetime without having a place to put it. As he passed her he thought of Lois. He had never had sex with Lois and she thought it was because he had no interest. How would she feel if she knew Superman had sexual fantasies about her nearly every night.

Would she think less of him if she knew he yearned to fuck her like a horny ram in a herd of she-goats. Would she think him weak if she knew he couldn't keep it up long enough to even slip it into her mortal pussy?

After work he went to the library where the part time librarian had given him the Blue Wort. The guy was at the librarian's desk. Clark stood at the counter until the guy noticed him. "Hi," he said. "Did those work for you?"

"You didn't tell me it would last for three days," Clark said angrily.

"You complaining about three days of constant fucking?" he asked with a confused expression on his face. "Who wouldn't like that?" he asked with a shrug. Clark thought back to his three days of hiding naked in his apartment, hiding his giant cock from the world. "It just takes planning," the librarian said with a nod of his head.

Over the past three days he had ignored a call to rescue a woman hanging from a cliff in the high Sierras, a man who had been caught in a raging river in Colorado, and a runaway train in South America. He was ashamed he had let his own sexual problems inhibit his heroic feats of helping the distressed citizens of the world. He had failed them because his penis was hard as a steel rod and standing assertively nine inches into the air.

He had been hiding in his apartment ashamed to be seen with his out-of-control cock sticking straight up, hard and beefy like a salami at the butcher's shop. When he got home he picked up the bottle and stared at the label, reading again the instructions and ingredients. "Effects last three days," he read, shaking his head in disbelief.

Should he take another and go to Lois's house, stay until it goes down and he can again be seen in public. Would she have sex with him if he had a boner that would make women swoon. Would women swoon at the sight of such a member standing so confidently in the air? Would Lois go for fucking for three days without stopping? "Would she have sex with me?" he said aloud to himself as he looked at himself in the mirror.

All his life he had been thinking of others and ignoring his own sexuality. As a child it didn't occur to him he was different. As an adolescent he didn't even notice that he couldn't keep it hard. It didn't matter then. When he met Lois, he had stirrings, but he didn't think of sex until recently. Now it was all he could think about. Fucking was on his mind constantly. Although he had never done it. Almost everyone he knew fucked, even Jimmy Olsen had fucked. He now had three kids. That means he has fucked someone, unless it was by artificial insemination. Superman is a virgin people will say.

He sat on the edge of his bed and brooded. He thought about all the women he had known all his life. Martha Kent, his earth mother, wife of Jonathon, his earth father. Had she ever had sex? Had Martha ever scrunched her face in orgasm, pushing her motherly hips up to meet Jonathon's thrusts? He had never thought of her in sexual terms, never thought of her enjoying fucking like a

harbor-side whore, rutting like an animal in heat.

Superman put on his Superman suit and went to the veranda, lifted his arms and jumped into the air. Like he always had, he flew away and soared through the air like a speeding bullet. That night he saved a family stranded on an iceberg in the Arctic, stopped a bank robbery in progress, and stopped a bullet in flight aimed at a citizen in a outdoor market. Just like usual he ignored his sexual inadequacies and flew from one disaster to another.

He through the bottle of Blue Wort away, although he thought he should return it to the librarian who had given it to him. However, he now knew he was condemned to impotency for the rest of his super life. Superman could not get an erection and he wondered if anyone on earth knew of his misery. Probably not, he thought out loud.