The Biggest Dick

The rules said Paul couldn't go in there, but nothing prevented him from having some fun on the outside. He began rubbing around the rim of Brenda's anus, slowly and seductively. It twitched at the first touch, and then clenched instinctively. Paul just stroked for a while, letting her know he was... there... and reminding her just how bared she was to the cameras. Catching a change in Brenda's expression, Dave realized that she must have a line-of-sight to one of the monitors too. Her face turned bright red at the image of her own crotch, flung wide open, in high definition, while Paul's thick index finger traced a gentle circle around the lip of her asshole. She gritted her eyes shut.

Paul seemed to think Brenda still needed a formal introduction to his cock. Leaving her in the same pose, he walked around to her head. Although this blocked Dave's view of his wife, he had dozens of monitors to keep him abreast. Here, too, Paul was barred from entering, but allowed to touch. He pressed the tip of his glans lightly to the center of Brenda's lips, like a delicate, one-sided kiss. She flinched slightly, but he moved his dick to keep it in contact with her mouth. No doubt she could have twisted her head away to make it hard for him to maintain this intimate connection, but maybe she felt too trapped to even think of it, or maybe she didn't see the point. At any rate, she just screwed her mouth shut, as if to prevent him from forcing his way in. Slowly, he rubbed the tip up along Brenda's face, just to the right side of her nose, until his shaft lay flat against her face, obscuring one eye, and his large, hairy balls cradled up against her lips. Over and over his rubbed his dick down and then up again, his pubic hair gently tickling Brenda's chin, lips, and cheek each time. Finally, he pulled back the head of his cock, and let it fall with a light thwap against her face, before stepping away. Brenda's expression remained red and tensed, eyes clenched.

One last maneuver: Paul shifted Brenda's body into a graceful arc, her torso upright, while her lower back, legs, and arms curved down and back. In this position, her tits were thrust forward and accessible. He bent over and cradled first one breast and then the other in both hands. With each breast, he squeezed slightly on both sides to extend it outward, and then pulled all three inches of succulent areola gently into his mouth. He massaged the yielding flesh with tongue and lips, unhurriedly, even lingeringly, before letting it loose again. The attention rendered her puffy nipples hard—still large, but flat now and a slightly darker hue of pink, with rounded pencil-eraser knobs set slightly below the center-point. Then Paul straightened up, pressed both tits together, and began fucking them, rubbing his cock up and down along their cleavage. He soon realized that his penis was too long to be handled properly by the channel of even Brenda's ample bosom, so he focused the friction on the top half of his shaft. This adjustment made, he seemed to find the maneuver plenty arousing: one of the close-up angles revealed a slight sheen of pre-cum adorning his tip. A part of the excitement, presumably, was that this was another thing he had never been able to do with the flat-chested Kim.

Taking a quick peek at the timers, Dave noted that ten minutes had already passed. This freak would only possess his wife for another twenty minutes. But Paul was keeping track of the time too. With a certain reluctance, he let her breasts fall and stepped back, giving her left nipple a parting squeeze as he did so. It seemed that he was done getting to know Brenda's body now, and was about ready to acquaint her cunt with the size of his cock.

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Paul shifted Brenda to a more-or-less standard doggy-style position (assuming one ignored the fact that she was suspended three feet off the ground) and prepared to enter her. Paul and Kim were, presumably, realists enough to understand that whatever woman Paul ended up fucking on this gameshow, it was unlikely she would share their perspective on the experience. Under the right circumstances, with the right woman, that colossal penis of his would doubtless have been a turn-on. But in a public setting, without choice or consent, no woman chosen at random was going to be happy to have that monstrosity stuffed inside her. And perhaps that was sort of the point: it would have been much more difficult for Kim to share her man with someone who actually wanted him—the emotional entanglements would have been too great. So, although they may have preferred not to dwell on the fact, coercion was always going to be a part of this process.

Still, they weren't sadists, and Paul seemed to be trying to do what he could to ameliorate the situation. He leaned down alongside Brenda's back, and ran his left hand under her chest to milk her dangling breasts and massage her nipples (alternating between them periodically) in a slow, firm, circular motion. Meanwhile, his right hand snaked around her ass, pushed in between her labia, and lightly stroked her clit with the same rhythm. Very slowly he accelerated and intensified the motions, and began darting his fingers, every so often, along the fleshy insides of Brenda's pussy to tickle the sensitive entrance to her vagina. The monitors suggested it had some effect. Her nipples stayed hard, her face, lips, and upper chest blushed slightly, her labia began parting wider, of their own accord, and a slight sheen of moisture appeared around her cunt. It would not be accurate to say she was enjoying it, but perhaps fair to say that her body was willing to acknowledge the stimulation.

Paul lubed his fingers and inserted his middle digit into Brenda's hole. It disappeared inside her, moving in a slow, steady motion, without a great deal of difficulty. As he tried to introduce his index finger as well, however, the resistance from her unwilling canal stiffened. He didn't want to bruise the woman, but he knew that these two fingers still represented just a fraction of his cock's girth, so he pressed on anyway. Brenda winced. Once both fingers were jammed all the way in, Paul began probing her vagina rhythmically, in and out, separating the fingers to try to stretch her even wider. Finally, he introduced a third finger, which allowed him to deploy them in a triangular formation, the better to try to wedge her open. At last he judged that she was as ready to be fucked as she was likely to get.

Paul set himself behind her ass and rubbed the head of his cock up and down her exposed pussy a few times, before positioning it carefully at the entrance to Brenda's cunt. He first tried pressing smoothly into the opening, but was unable to move for more than an inch or two before meeting serious resistance. Paul's next tactic was to try to pound his way in by brute-force, with his dick as the battering-ram. His thrusts came slowly, because they required enormous effort. Each time, Paul's body would coil with a tensing of muscles—arms, shoulders, back, thighs—his lungs would fill, and then all that stored energy would be transformed into an explosive grunt-and-heave into Brenda. Paul's hands gripped big handfuls of her fleshy hips, his beefy forearms bulged, his teeth were gritted, and his brow furrowed with the strain. With each blow, an anguished exhalation hissed between Brenda's teeth; the rest of the time, she whimpered. Her face was red, mouth grim, muscles tense. Tears beaded at the corners of her closed eyelids, and periodically rolled down the sides of her face.

The force Paul expended was incredible, but his progress was excruciatingly slow. Despite all his effort, despite all the lube, there was just too much friction, too much resistance. This was by no means conscious on Brenda's part—she would have been just as happy to get this over with. But Paul's cock was so big, and the situation so disturbing, that her vagina was unable to relax its guard enough to admit the monster. Inch by painful inch, the thrusts did force his prick deeper into Brenda's cunt, and yet it never got easier. On the contrary, the deeper Paul got, the more friction there was, and the slower his headway. Finally he ground to a halt: no matter much Paul grunted and huffed, he remained stuck, with an inch of his shaft still exposed. Perplexed, he shook his head and pulled slowly back out. Dave raised his head and craned his neck, trying for a better view. He felt that, in a small way, Brenda's vagina—whether because it was unwilling or unable to accommodate all of Paul—had denied the man a total victory. Not much more than seven minutes remained on the timer. Maybe Brenda could run out the clock.

Paul just stood there, unsure what to do next. A small frown played across Kim's face, and she bounced and sprinted toward her husband. This wasn't illegal, presumably. Paul bent down and she whispered something in his ear. He nodded and picked up the controller. Once more his fingers tickled the buttons, and Brenda flipped on her back, legs still wide. She watched helplessly, an agitated expression on her face, as her legs rose higher and higher, reached a ninety degree angle, and then descended again toward her torso, until she was nearly bent double. Dave could not think of any time he had seen Brenda that exposed, even in childbirth. He could see, via the close-ups on the monitors, that the opening to her cunt gaped wide now, perhaps an inch and a half.

Paul clicked another control and she dropped close to the ground. Now he loomed over her, legs apart, knees bent slightly, and dipped the head of his cock into the open hole of her cunt. Preparations complete he began bearing almost straight down, using all his weight to force his way in. His brow wrinkled and his eyes stared intensely with the effort of concentrating all his bulk on that single point of impact. For a minute it appeared even this would not be enough. Then, Brenda's vagina gave way at last, and millimeter by millimeter, he descended into her. As the last chink of light between balls and pussy disappeared, Kim's eyes glistened, elated: "Oh honey, I'm so proud of you!" Dave slumped down again and looked away. A few more tears, whether of pain, strain, or sorrow, squeezed from between Brenda's clenched eyelids.

Paul knew time was short, and he was ready to take full ownership of his prize. Now that the resistance of her cunt was broken—muscles spent, flesh stretched—he switched back to the doggy-style configuration, and plowed his way inside again. Brenda and Dave locked eyes just as Paul's thrust rammed all the way home. Neither of them could really process the fact that there was ten inches of that man stuffed inside her body. Brenda seemed to be trying to say something to Dave—later on, he liked to think it was "I'm sorry," though he couldn't be sure—but her emotions and sensations were so mixed up and intense by this point that it wasn't possible for her to articulate a coherent thought.

Paul's final assault began. Now that he knew she was truly open to him, he penetrated Brenda with a slow, steady gait. She felt her conscious mind being submerged and drowned by the contradictory mass of sensory information flowing from her cunt. Her eyes rolled back, her breathing deepened, and a rasping guttural moan forced its way out from between her lips with each impact: HUNGH... HUNGH... HUNGH... Dave's senses were overloaded too. He heard his wife, and the thwacking of Paul's naked body against her ass. He smelled the sex emanating from between her parted cunt lips. But most of all were the sights: Brenda's stunned eyes, slack mouth, tangle of hair, and hanging, pendulous breasts, all jarred and jostled by each thrust, despite her restraints; Paul's burly frame and big bald head looming above her upturned ass, while down below his hefty ball sack swung in unison with his probing cock; and on the monitors, a clinical view of Paul's mammoth shaft, slowly appearing between her ass-cheeks as he pulled back (looking like a marble flagpole planted in the taut circle of Brenda's vagina), and then pistoning home with its entire length, so very deep inside her body.

Paul angled his torso forward, grabbed her shoulders for leverage, and hammered faster. He was breathing hard now through his mouth, sweat beaded on his bald head, and his sallow complexion reddened slightly. Brenda swayed and gasped. Then, without warning, Paul arched his back, fixed his pelvis tightly against her backside, and began making quick rotating motions with his hips, as he started pumping his cum deep inside Brenda's hole. Dave had no idea how much of Paul was flowing into his wife, but the man's balls were impressive and his muscular haunches just kept on grinding and convulsing, on and on and on, for second after long second. Since each spasm clearly corresponded to another jet of milky-white seed, Dave knew without a doubt that every part of Brenda's tract was bathed in the sticky fluid. As Paul continued his rhythmic, deliberate, seemingly-endless ejaculations, a shudder began to run through Brenda's body too. Her head lifted (though her eyes remained half-closed), her mouth parted halfway, her back tried to arch, her ass cheeks parted wider, her legs tensed, and a throaty, guttural moan emerged from the middle of her chest, starting low and deep, and rising to a hoarse contralto. As the cry echoed across the stage, Brenda's body began a series of uncontrollable spasms, inside and out, jerking in tempo with the crescendoing motion of Paul's dick in her cunt. The hall was momentarily silent as she writhed. The audience was fixated by Brenda's response to Paul's ejaculation. That it was an orgasm was obvious. However it was surely not an orgasm of ecstasy or even pleasure. Instead it seemed an earthy, animal orgasm, borne of overwhelming, almost unbearable, sensation and emotion. The hush lasted for a minute, and then Brenda stopped shuddering, and fell limp.

Paul stopped too. Although he had obviously emptied his balls, he remained surprisingly hard. He didn't pull out, but just stood there—Brenda impaled firmly on his spike—breathing heavily and staring off into space, a calm smile beaming on his face. Kim came over next to him, her flighty air injecting a lighter note to the charged atmosphere created by Brenda's wail. Kim laid her arm up along Paul's hairy back, and peered down with a happy grin toward the spot between Brenda's ass-cheeks where her husband's pole remained wedged inside. Paul put his arm around Kim and looked down at her, and they shared a moment. There was no doubt that Kim saw Brenda's vagina as somehow a surrogate for her own; and therefore, in strange way, felt that it was really she herself, Kim, who had managed to accept everything her husband had to give. Paul's gaze showed that he understood and appreciated the generosity of spirit this reflected. The chime rang, signaling that thirty minutes had elapsed. With a slow, steady motion, Paul pulled his still-firm member from Brenda's hole. It emerged with a little sucking pop. Then Paul and Kim walked away together, hand in hand, his dick bouncing gently with each stride. This would be a happy memory for both of them.

-----

The winners walked over to Rocky for their post-game interview and the crowd began shuffling out of the stands. Brenda remained in the contraption. Although her movements had been minutely controlled for the last half hour, Brenda had kept every muscle tensed throughout the ordeal. That fact had only become apparent to the audience once that final paroxysm had run through her body, and she had suddenly let all her muscles go limp. At that moment, she had visibly sagged, exhausted, into the harness. Her head and hair hung down; her eyes were heavy-lidded and unresponsive. The broad outlines of her posture, of course, were dictated by the machine, and remained as before: face-down, ass high, legs spread wide and slightly askew.

Dave walked over, brushed her cheek, and mumbled some indistinct words, but he couldn't seem to get her attention. He went over to pick up her clothes. Then he circled around behind her, and used her panties to dab at her pussy. Her vagina still formed a round O shape—Dave could have stuck in his thumb without touching the tissue of the sides. She glistened slightly with vaginal juices and lube, but it seemed that gravity had kept most of Paul's cum from leaking out. Dave thought maybe he could mop some of it out of her, using her panties, but she flinched when the fabric touched the rim of her opening, and he stopped. The thought of Paul's semen collecting inside Brenda's cunt bothered Dave, but he still wasn't able to get her to respond. He saw Delilah walking by and tried to catch her arm, seeking help at getting his wife released from the machine that held her. The assistant had somewhere to be, however, and simply walked briskly past without acknowledging him—he couldn't muster enough of a shout to arrest her progress. Stymied, Dave sat down on the edge of one of the platforms, slumped over, head bowed. He couldn't seem to think what to do next.

At some point he glanced up and saw a couple of dark-hued locals wandering across the stage—a cleaning crew, apparently. They traced random paths around the stage with their mops for a while. Then one of them—a chunky guy with dreads, in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants—stopped between the angle of Brenda's legs, about four feet away from her pussy. Dave couldn't see Brenda's cunt from where he was, but he was sure it must still be gaping open: an inviting black hole, not a discreet pucker. The janitor leaned wistfully on his mop at a spot where he could stare straight down the pipe. It appeared there was a look-but-don't-touch policy at this workplace. The other guy, a scrawny man with close-cropped hair and a red tee, said something. The first man edged in a little closer between her legs, while the second stood in front of Brenda, took out his phone, and aimed it at the scene. Dreadlocks guy affected a big white grin and made a V with his fingers, while the camera flashed. Then the two conferred for a minute, huddled over the phone, jabbering together in Spanish, before finally wandering off again. Dave couldn't tell whether Brenda had registered any of that or not. After a while, he got up, spotted his clothes, and quickly put them on.

At last some crew members came over to clear away the machine. They unstrapped Brenda and helped her to her feet. Her head and shoulders slumped, her hair hung limply, and her breasts (nipples puffy again) pointed downward. Her legs were set slightly apart, and a gush of fluid poured out from between her pussy lips, which were red and swollen. Most of the semen rolled down her left leg, while a trickle flowed down the right. She didn't seem to notice. Dave thought about trying to wipe it off, but decided not to bother. He draped her tattered blouse over her shoulders like a cape, trying unsuccessfully to cover her nipples, and helped her step into her skirt. He zipped it up. Then he put an arm around her shoulder, and steered her toward the door, and the taxi-ride back to the hotel. Her undies were crammed in his pockets; she walked barefoot while he carried her shoes. The janitors would have to mop up the trail of cum that splattered the stage in her wake.

After shambling through the lobby of the hotel (and attracting more than a few stares and photos), Dave managed to get Brenda safely secured in their room. He tried to get her into the shower, to get more of the sperm washed out of her, but she ignored him, and, stumbling over to the bed, collapsed face-down. All that night and most of the next day Brenda lay there, face turned away from him, asleep or semi-conscious, still wearing her jeans-skirt and ruined blouse. She said nothing. Dave arranged their return flight and crammed their belongings into their suitcases. When he told her that it was time to go to the airport, she allowed him to help her put on some oversized sweats. She remained silent on the plane-ride home, and they never spoke to one-another about this trip (openly at least) ever again.