tagLoving WivesMan Enough Ch. 02

Man Enough Ch. 02


(As always, bricks and bouquets as desired. Feel free to comment. Good comments inspire me. Bad comments enlighten me of where I should have done better. Keep them coming!)


I walked aimlessly. Just how was I going to measure up to Brian's memories? Everything that I did for her in bed from now on, would be tainted by his measure. Even if Rachael did not, I would now be measuring myself to him every time in the bedroom. The question would always be: 'Did I satisfy her as Brian used to?' And the answer would always come up inferior. Women loved big cocks. And Rachael herself said that he 'made her cum in litres' in a single night. That was something I could never compete with.

Now, I had been walking around for an unspecified period of time. When I looked at my watch, it was four in the morning! I had been walking around, thinking almost the whole night. And I was nowhere near to finding a solution.

This conflict of going back and forth, in my mind's eye, was taking a toll on me. It was making me dizzy and my head felt heavy. So I decided to give this a rest. I knew I was not the right person, nor in the right frame of mind, to really think about it objectively. I had to be guided by someone else. So I decided to do what I usually did when I was in serious trouble.

I took out my cell from my pocket and dialled Marcus.

# # # # #

"Chris. You okay?" was the first thing he says to me.

"Just how do you know I'm in trouble, Marky." I said.

He had knocked a couple of people around hard when they had tried to call him by his short name. You never called him Marky. You always called him Marcus. Marky was something you had to earn.

"Well, for one, you're calling at four in the morning!" he said, his deep voice guffawing.

"I... need to meet you Marcus. Now. At the earliest. Whenever. But now preferably." I said.

I must have sounded serious. His voice lost the lightness of laughter.

"The park. Usual bench." He said.

"At four?" I asked. Bewildered.

"Yup. Climb the fences. We used to do it all the time."

"Okay, I'll be there." I said.

"And don't you go breaking on me till I come. Understand?" he said sombrely.

"Yeah." I whispered.

Then disconnected.

When I looked up, I was standing near an early morning café. Would do me good to eat a hearty breakfast. And perhaps help kill the time till I met Marcus.

# # # # #

I was sitting on the park bench staring forward to nothing in particular. In a kind of zoned out frame of mind. When I felt the slap on my back. And his voice.

"How're you, punter?"

I turned around.

Marcus stood there in all his six four glory. Skin like black ebony. Muscles bulging under that sweats he was wearing. A devilishly handsome face. And that ever-present stud in one ear.

Marcus and I worked for the same construction company long ago. And when we left, Marcus got himself an MBA. And began his own construction transport firm. Today, his firm was among the Top twenty in our state. But he never forgot to connect with me regularly.

"So, what's this problem that you can't solve, eh?" he asked, mirth evident in his voice.

If I didn't know him so closely, I'd be thinking he was not serious. But because I did, I knew the first thing he would do was try to convince me that the problem was not as serious as I thought it to be. Hence the lightness of conversation.

Only thing, he would never be expecting the kind of problem I was facing.

"Something personal, Marcus." I said, my voice choking a bit.

He got the point. And the mirth left his eyes. In its place was ice. His lips thinned.

"Educate me." He said seriously.

I spoke to him at length. About the reunion. About Brian. About Rachael. And her inadvertent blurting out that the time she had spent with Brian in the past before she met me was the most memorable from a physical point of view. And that it made me feel emasculated. Less of a man. Worried whether I'd be able to satisfy her or not in the future.

"So, what do you want, Chris?" he asked me simply.

"Just make that memory go away. I know for sure that I would compare myself to him every time I made love to Rachael now, Marcus. And I have no ideas how to overcome that." I said.

He smiled. He actually smiled!

"Here I was, thinking it was a matter of life and death. And you come up with such a small thing, Chris." He said. The laughter was back in his voice.

"Marcus, that's easy for you to say! You're black. You have an eleven and a half incher. Your make them scream. I know! It's easy for you to say that. It's not easy for me! I have to compete with the knowledge that I can't satisfy her as much as that Brian did years ago."

Now, for those of you wondering about how I know of Marcus and his, ahem, eleven-incher, let me tell you that construction workers, occasionally take baths in rows of showers together. Nothing to it.

"That's simple Chris," he said.

"Really?" I countered.

"Yes, all you have to know is the truth. Look Chris," he began, "have you ever read scientific journals, life magazines and other studies that say it is not the size of the cock, but the way in which you use it that matters?"

I nodded positively.

"What these people are trying to say is, the length of the wand is not important. The amount of magic in it, is. Get it?" he said again, turning more serious all the time.

"Yes." I croaked.

"It means, that a woman's pleasure does not depend on how long your cock is, or how thick it is. But how you use it. That, THAT is what gives pleasure to women. Have you read this? Do you know this?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. I know this. I know that women place the ability of a man to pleasure them above that of a big sized cock." I said.

Marcus turned dead serious.

"Well, the truth is that it's all a bunch of hokum. It's all trash." He said. Then waited for my reaction.

It took me about a minute to get it!

"What...?" I began, bewildered.

"Everything you've ever read about a woman being more satisfied with technique, than a big cock, is, well crap." His eyes were mere slits now.

I was swallowing hard. Was he helping me? Or twisting the knife?

"All magazine and journals, outlining technique over size, are probably written by people with two inch wieners. You feel me?"

I could not move. Could not think. My God, he was making this worse!

"A person with absolutely no technique, someone who does not give women respect, someone who is an insensitive bastard, but has a ten inch cock, will STILL come up trumps over a sensitive man who knows just the points to push to pleasure his woman. Have NO doubts about that, Chris." He stated.

I just sat there dumbfounded. My brain had gone numb. I could not think clearly.

"I..." I began. But what do I say. Marcus had just told me, indirectly, that there was no way in hell I was going to be able to compete with Brian's memories!

"So, first and foremost, get rid of the idea that technique is one-up over size. It never was. It never will be. What you are doing, when listening to this, is falsehood posturing as the truth. It is all crap. That's the absolute, cold, truth. And don't let any glossy tell you otherwise." He said.

But I noticed, the mirth had returned to his eyes.

"So... there is nothing an average sized..." I began in a choked voice, before he interrupted me.

"But there is another truth also. A truth that is better than the technique over size garbage. Something a big dick cannot compete with." He said.

I think since last evening when Rachael commented about Brian, this was the first time a smile crossed my lips.


That there would be one, was making me feel alive again.

Marcus leaned towards me.

"Wanna hear it?" he asked.

My expression must have told him I'd murder him before I let him away with that secret. He leaned back had had a laugh. Then, with deeply understanding eyes, leaned towards me again.

"Alright. Here's the beef. Women place more importance over the total experience, than to a big sized cock."

He paused for a few moments, taking in my expressions.

He must have seen my blank face. He smiled and continued.

"What this means, Chris, that for a man, foreplay and penetration is the complete experience. But, for a woman, her experience starts from the time you start to woo her and prepare her for making love."

"Prepare her?" I asked.

"Yes. You can't just ask a woman to spread her legs for you when you want to. Even though Rachael may do it, it's more because she's trying to keep you happy. Not because she's excited and drooling and waiting to have sex with you."

That was... profound.

"So, Marcus," I asked, "what you are telling me is that I have to woo her for a full day if I want her to have sex with me? Like I mean a really hot session?"

"Not a day. For days, if necessary!" He added.

"I can't..."

"...relate?" he finished my question.

I nodded.

"Alright, here's a question for you. Have you wondered, why, as a girlfriend, your woman is excited to have sex with you, but on her wedding night, she's quivering like jelly?" he asked.

I waited for him to finish.

"It's the same you. The same cock she's going to suck on that she's being sucking on for years. Same cock that's going to go inside her that's been going in for years. So why this sudden passion on her wedding night?" he asked.

"Because she's excited not only by me, but the whole experience of getting married?" I asked.

"Exactly!" he added. "This does not mean that you have to marry her every time you want sex. What it means is that whenever you want mind-blowing, great sex, you have to first bring her in the mood."

"Yes. I can relate to that." I said.

"But what is this 'mood' that we all keep talking about? The mood is nothing but a frame of mind you bring her into, throughout the full day or the evening. The one she will, from a woman's point of view, evaluate as a whole. Which you don't because you are a man. For her, the sex starts from the point you look at her hungrily during the day and continue to tease her till the night. For you, it's when you actually bury your dick in her. Two viewpoints. Get that?" he asked.

"Yeah. Well, actually not fully, just... kind of." I said.

Something was making sense at the back of my mind. But not enough sense. This was something I had read and knew. Most men knew this, actually. But still, there was that problem of being satisfied by a big cock...

"So, how does that help me overcome the problem of her satisfaction by a big cock versus my average cock?" I asked.

"It doesn't." He replied. "Because this comparison is wrong. They will evaluate you on the whole experience. You evaluate yourself only subsequent to penetration. They are two different things. You are comparing apples and oranges." He said.

I nodded my head in denial. Admitted, this was making sense at some core level of my brain, but it was not yet connecting with my heart. And my heart is what gave rise to feelings, not my logical brain.

"I am connecting with this logically, Marcus," I said as much, "but truth be told, I still can't feel it. My heart still says that she was better off satisfied more with Brian than me."

"Why do you feel that way?" asked Marcus.

"Because you have to realise Marcus, that logic cannot influence feelings. You cannot apply logic to change someone's feelings. Viewpoints, maybe. Feelings, never. To change feelings, you have to make that person feel the way he should. Not explain. That is why lecturing someone and providing dollops of logic never works when trying to eke out someone from a bad mood. But going out and getting drunk does. Simply because that act itself brings out different feelings." I said.

"And up till now, you have been correct and astute, but still logical. My logical brain can comprehend it, even accept it. My heart will not. Plus, you were mentioning a small while ago that big cocks do make a difference. Then you're contradicting yourself by saying the 'whole experience' matters. I can't understand what to believe." I said.

Marcus leaned back. And looked at me in the eyes.

"Let me explain it to you in a way you can relate, alright?' he said.

I nodded.

"Let me ask you a question, Chris." He began.

"Have you ever fractured any bones during your time at construction sites?"

"Sure, I have Marky." I said.

"Alright then, tell me. Which was the worst fracture incident you've ever faced among all?" he asked.

"Well, it's got to be the time when I fell off the first floor girder with that stupid three diameter metal pipe." I said.


"And, well, I fractured three ribs and my thigh bone" I said.

"That was bad. Right?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure. Pretty bad, actually." I concurred. "I almost pissed myself when the doctors told me I'd be walking around with a limp for the rest of my life. But nothing to it. Now no limp and everything is fine. As if it never happened." I finished.

"So, let me get this straight. The worst fracture you've ever had in your life, was the Grindlays Building site where you fell of the first floor girder and fractured three ribs and your thighbone. Correct? He asked.

"For sure." I affirmed.

His smiled widened and he scooted closer to me.

"So tell me now, in your entire life, what was the worst accident you ever had." He whispered.

"Accident. You know it. No questions. It has to be the Thomas building fall." I said. I shuddered as I said that.

"What happened there?" he asked.

"You know it, Marky. The Thomas building got constructed to the third floor, before the moorings collapsed. The bloody contractor was fucking around with the quality of the materials." I said.

"And you..."

"I was on top when the fucking thing collapsed!" I said.

"Injuries?" he asked.

"Fuck, yeah!" I responded.

"Tell me." He said.

"Fractured my elbow. Twisted joints at three places. Pieces of metal poking through all parts of my body. Trauma to the head and shoulders. Thighs, calves and upper groin ripped up. Had to undergo a lot of treatment and therapy for that." I said.

"That's odd." Marcus commented.

"What is?" I asked.

"I would have assumed that Grindlays building where you fractured your body at four places would be a bigger accident than the Thomas building one." He said quietly.

"Nope. You asked the biggest ACCIDENT in my life. Not the biggest FRACTURE in my life. So I told you..."

And I paused.

And looked at him.

Marcus was smiling.

A light bulb went off inside my head.

"Oh God!" I said. "Oh holy, fucking God!"

My mouth was open. Realisation was hitting in waves from all directions.

"Do you know what I did here" Marcus asked.

"Yes," I whispered, "you just equated a big cock to the fracture experience. And you equated 'whole experience' with my biggest accident." I said. Still in shock. Realisation now flowing in fast!

"Exactly. Just as the four body-parts fracture was a big thing, but still small compared to your other accident because of its enormity, for a woman it is the same. Ask her about a cock, and cock-size only, and she will say the one with the biggest size satisfies her. That's what I meant first. Ask her about SEX, and she will say the one with the best 'whole experience' satisfied her best. That's what I mentioned later." Marcus said.

"I'm... fuck! I'm actually getting it Marky!" I was raising my voice now. Along with my spirits. A smile crossing my lips.

"Let me ask you another question." He asked. The twinkle in his eyes was brighter now.

"Did Rachael say that Brian was the only one who satisfied her fully?"

I nodded in agreement.

"And when you went to reclaim your car from the parking lot, she also said that Brian did not compare to anything that you had in bed?"

I nodded again.

"Isn't it odd? Rachael telling you that Brian was the best and then you are the best? Clearly only one can be the best. What was Rachael ACTUALLY trying to imply, Chris? Sure, she was trying to appease you, to calm you down. But there was something else there wasn't it, Chris? What was it?" Marcus asked.

It was clear to me now. Very clear.

"I think she was telling me that Brian had the biggest cock, and cock-wise only he was the best. But SEX EXPERIENCE wise, sex as a whole package, in which this cock size was also included, I was the best. Better than Brian. Better than any fucking boyfriend of hers. And that sex with me was the BEST." I said.

"So..." he began.

"For a woman, for Rachael, she evaluates me on the sum of the parts. But I evaluate myself, a man that is, only on the basis of a few parts from those." I said.

"And as a woman, what would she rather have? A big cock or a..."

"...super fantastic 'whole experience'." I finished.

"Getting it?" he asked.

"Bang on!" I said.

"Yeah, I could make out. You're no longer slouching. And your voice is not cracking." He said.

I looked at him. He winked back. Then he put his head back and looked at the sky. He was giving me a chance to be alone with my feelings. Giving me time to assimilate all that I had heard.

It was a new feeling. It was as if what Rachael had told me, never just mattered. Because now I knew. While Brian's cock went deeper, the total SEX EXPERIENCE she got with me was far, far superior. It may seem odd to me, a man, to realise that because I could not relate with it back then. Brian was good in a part. I was great in the sum of parts. No way could she compare Brian with me in the whole experience thing. I would come up trumps. Every time. Guaranteed!

"So, just one more doubt, Marky." I said, voice chirpy.


"What happens when a guy with a big cock, ALSO woos her, excites her and gives her the whole package. Then what?" I asked.

"Well, he's better in that case. Depending on who it is." He said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, there is a scientific answer to this and an emotional one. I'll tell you both. But remember, the emotional answer MAY raise your hackles a bit." He said.

"No, no... nothing of that sort. Go ahead." I said.

"Alright, let me start off with the emotional answer to this." He said. Taking a deep breath.

I waited.

"The truth, the emotional truth that is, Chris, is that if you go up against a guy with a big cock, you'll come up trumps in the 'whole experience' thing around ninety-eight percent of the time. Ninety-eight percent of the time, you'll win." He said.

I sat wide-eyed.

"You see," he continued, "most men with large cocks, the kind that makes women scream, have never brought it upon themselves to get educated about the 'whole experience'. A large cock, a screaming woman, some Vaseline or jelly and that's all to sex there is for them. Therefore, you will always be ahead of them."

"But, assuming by chance, we get the remaining two percent?" I asked.

"First you are out of luck then." He said.

Surprisingly, both of us guffawed.

"But really, it will not matter that much, because now the scientific reason comes to play." He said.

"Which is?" I asked.

"Every race has a size fitment." He said.


"Well, have you shown your six and a half incher to a Japanese teenager? She'll think it's a monster. Why? Because by definition, they are made much smaller. Their holes are tinier and their men's penis' are a perfect fit for them." He said.

"So, black men and women are generally larger. A black woman's vagina is larger and more stretchable than her white counterpart. All the more easily taking in a larger black man's cock. Make no mistakes, a woman's vagina, any woman, is stretchable enough to get a baby's head out, nothing will compare to that, but that's an exceptional event. Whereas sex is usual." He said.

I was pondering what he said.

"So when cross race sex happens, quite often, the larger race, say a man in this case feels that the woman is tighter. And the woman feels that the man is bigger. A classic example of what happens when a black man has sex with a white woman." He said.

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