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I had no idea there was anything different about me until just after my 15th birthday. That’s when I joined the Junior Varsity Football team and took my first public shower after a particularly strenuous practice. Bobby Larkin, the class clown, took one look at my pecker and let out a whoop.
“Hey everybody! Check out the elephant trunk between Derek’s legs!”
To a shy guy like me, it was an incredibly embarrassing experience. Soon the word got around the school as such things do. What amazed me was that older girls began to talk to me. Now when you’re in your teens, there is a huge gulf between 15-year-olds and 16-year-olds, but girls who are 18 never talk to someone 3 years younger. They’re only interested in college dudes.
Suddenly senior girls were passing me in the hall saying, “Hi, Derek.” I was pretty nerdy and rather gawky so it didn’t go any farther. I often wonder what might have happened if I’d been a little more adept at talking to girls, instead of turning beet red and stammering.
The flip side was the extreme needling I took from all the guys because of my last name: Small. I’ll leave it to you to imagine all the infantile variations on the joke. Usually those things die down after a month or two, but it kept up all through 10th and 11th Grade. If finally stopped in my senior year when I’d finally had enough and knocked a guy down. Having gotten pretty big and proven myself to be pretty mean, I was left alone.
I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 18. It was to one of my mother’s friends. She was looking in on me while my parents were out of town for a long weekend. She surprised me coming out of the shower. One thing led to another, and well, you know how it goes. We only did it that once. Both of us were too embarrassed by what had happened, I think, but she did her best to show me a good time.
After turning 18, though, I began feeling more comfortable with myself and could actually work up the nerve to ask girls out.
The next time I got intimate with a female was the summer after I graduated, and it was not a great experience. I went out with Nancy Groves and knew she had a bit of a reputation. I guess she had heard about me and was curious. Fumbling around in the back seat of my dad’s car, she had my cock out pretty quickly. Not yet fully hard, I think she thought the stories had been exaggerated. As we continued to make out and remove our clothes, she seemed more interested in what I was doing to her and forgot about my cock. It wasn’t until after I’d made her cum with my fingers (Thank you, Mrs. Jensen!), that she realized it wasn’t my arm pressing into her leg, but my cock.
Sitting up, she got a good look at it. “Oh my God, Derek, it’s huge!”
“It’s just a cock.”
“No, it isn’t. That thing wouldn’t look out of place on a horse.”
Having worked in my family’s riding stable since I was old enough to lift a bale of hay, I knew what horses’ cocks looked like, and for some reason I took offense at her words. I was also incredibly excited and didn’t want to not get some action after I’d worked hard to give Nancy a pretty good orgasm.
“So what does that mean?” I asked.
She bent over to take a closer look. Reaching out, she touched the end, pressing down. It sprang up, wobbling for a second. “Wow. That is a big one.”
“Are you just going to leave me hanging?” I tried to make it not sound whiny.
Nancy touched my cheek with her palm. “Derek, honey, I was planning on letting you fuck me tonight. I’d heard that you were big, but this,” she added, pointing down, “is a lot more than I care to try to handle.”
“It’s not THAT big.”
“I’ve seen my share of cocks, and believe me, that thing is B-I-G.” Leaning over the front seat, she began to rummage in her purse. “I have some hand lotion in here. How about if I just jerk you off?”
Well, she did do that and it was very nice, but I also have a big set of balls, and a teenager in such a randy state can produce a lot of semen anyway, and what happened at the end further shocked my date. Cum was everywhere in that back seat, mostly in her hair, and that’s not easy to explain away when you walk into your house at the end of a date.
Suffice it to say, the ride home was pretty frosty. If I’d known then what I do now, I could have shown us both a great time, instead I was pretty freaked out. And the story spread quickly. The rest of that summer, girls would stare at my crotch, but they wouldn’t come near.
Sometime in there, I got out a ruler and a piece of string and measured my tool. Fully erect, it was 10.5 inches long and 7.75 around. Working up the courage, I called my best friend Tom to get some perspective.
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that something happened between you and Nancy,” he told me.
“What did you hear?” I asked, really concerned.
“Well, not to put it delicately, rumor is you have a baseball bat between your legs. All the guys are jealous.”
“And the girls?”
“From what I’ve heard, curious, but for all their big words about their love lives, canlı bahis let’s just say they’re intimidated.” There was silence for a moment. “Just how big is it? Have you measured it?”
“Seven and three-quarters inches.”
“That’s not all THAT big.”
“Um, that’s how big it is around. It’s ten-and-a-half inches long.”
Again silence on the line. “That’s, ah, pretty big all right.”
“Well, Nancy had me pretty turned on. It was probably bigger than usual.”
“You’re a hero, man,” was all Tom said.
After that, things were a little strained between us. I found out years later from his ex-wife — as she was happily riding my cock — that Tom had the opposite problem from me.
I kept to myself the rest of the summer, thoroughly spooked. Some mothers must have overheard their daughters and sons talking and they came sniffing around, but doing it with my friends’ moms just felt too weird to me. I know what you’re thinking, but I just didn’t get it at that point, and maybe that was a good thing. You’re going to laugh, but I began to think that the size of my cock was a handicap.
That fall, in college and far away from my hometown, I took the responsibility of my parents’ investment in my education very seriously. I’m smart and I was motivated, but there was a real problem living in a dorm. Freshman, once away from their families, tend to go a little nuts. My floor seemed to be party central seven nights a week and it was tremendously difficult to study. To top it off, my roommate was one of the most notorious culprits. He was going to be booted out for sure when grades came out, but I didn’t think I could hold out until first term ended. The university library was nearly a twenty-minute walk from my dorm, but I made the trek every evening — which got old very quickly. I was getting pretty frustrated.
The only recreation I allowed myself was a weekend touch football league. Our team was good and since I’m fairly big and fast, I was the star halfback. In late fall, after an intense game on an unusually warm Saturday afternoon, I decided to forego the long walk back to the dorm to take my shower because I was just dripping with sweat. So I showered with the team in the field house. Not wanting to be hassled about the size of my dick, I’d never done this before.
Waiting until everyone was finished, I headed for the shower with a towel around my waist. Unfortunately, someone had forgotten something and came back in as I was lathering my hair. When I heard him, I looked up and he was just staring between my legs. Without saying anything, he turned and left. I breathed a big sigh of relief. However, when I walked back into the locker room, Mike was dressed and sitting there with a thoughtful expression.
Turning to my locker, I took the towel off and quickly slipped on my boxers. God,I thought, he’s going to hit on me. I mentally kicked myself for not trotting back to the dorm.
The rest of the team had left for a nearby pub and it was just Mike and me. Funny thing was, Mike had a girlfriend, or at least someone very pretty I’d seen him with a few times.
“Were you planning on coming out with the team for a beer? I want to talk to you about something.”
“Um, I guess I could,” I answered, relieved that he didn’t want to go someplace else. If he wanted to make a pass at me, it wouldn’t be when he was out with the team.
“Great. Let’s get going.”
I had my fresh clothes on quickly and in 15 minutes we were with a noisy bunch of guys, most bent on getting plastered as quickly as possible.
Sitting down at the far end of the long table, Mike wasted no time in opening the conversation. None of the team paid us any attention, as they whooped it up over a football game on the TV.
“I overheard you saying to Davy last week that you were getting tired of living in a dorm.”
“I may have a solution for you.”
Here it comes, I thought. He’s going to suggest I move in with him. Just roommates and then he’ll hit on me.
“I’m planning on transferring to another university so I can live with Shelley. We’re taking December to get it all together. Anyway, I was thinking you could take over the room I’ll be leaving. I think you’d find it’s just what you’re looking for: quiet, nice and it’s pretty reasonable, too.”
“That’s up to the landlady. She’s a prof here at the university. Teaches something medieval, art, I think. She’s not all that into taking in cash. It’s more she likes having someone around.”
He proceeded to tell me that the room was in a house not far from campus in a neighborhood where a lot of the faculty lived. The prof was a widow and the house was a big one. She loved it and didn’t want to move and had the space, so she rented one room. Part of the deal was that the roomer had to help out around the house.
“What sorts of things?” I asked. “Yard work?”
Mike looked at me sort of strangely. “Some. She has a big garden and is a nut about it. Sometimes she needs help with heavy bahis siteleri lifting and maybe a bit of weeding. It’s not all that much. Occasionally there are some things inside the house, too. Trust me. You won’t mind doing them. Anyway, it all keeps the cost down.”
“So how much are you paying a month?”
“Three hundred dollars, room and board. And she’s a fantastic cook.”
“Jesus! That’s nothing. What’s the catch?”
I shook my head. There’s always a catch when something is too good to be true.
“You don’t believe me?” Mike asked. “Why don’t you just go meet her? What do you have to lose?”
“I don’t know…”
Mike leaned farther over the table. “Don’t be a fool about this Derek. Trust me. This is a sweet, sweet deal. She’ll even help you with your homework. So shall I set up a meeting with Doreen?”
“That’s her name?”
“Yes. It was also her grandmother’s name. Her middle name is Laurel. She might let you call her that,” he grinned.
“Well…okay. Set it up. It’s only going to cost me a bit of time, and I really would like to get out of the dorm.”
Mike picked up his beer and smiled. “Just trust me.”
He left a message for me the next day at the front desk in the dorm: Be at 992 Forest Avenue this afternoon at 4:00. Call me if you can’t make it. But just be there. She’s not going to wait long to fill the vacancy.
I got there about 5 minutes early and found an older brick home, quite grand-looking and very tidy. It looked as if the shutters and trim had been freshly painted a deep forest green. It wasn’t surprising to see two neat flower beds lining the front walk and lots of pruned shrubs against the house. I found a note on the front door saying that they were in the back yard.
Walking down the driveway and through a gate next to the brick garage, I stopped cold, stifling a gasp.
This curious professor’s backyard looked like one of those flipping gardening magazines, and even though it was mid-November, you could tell it would look fantastic come spring.
I didn’t see anyone around.
“Hello?” I called out.
“Hey Derek!” Mike answered, “we’re down in the back. C’mon along.”
Walking down the center of the yard, there were neat flowerbeds everywhere, some still containing blooming plants. Through the gap in a brick wall bisecting the yard, I could see more plants surrounding a large water garden, and at the far end, I spotted Mike and a woman, her back to me. My first impression was that she was rather tall.
She turned around, taking off her work gloves. I tried not to stare.
I couldn’t tell you precisely what I was expecting but Doreen Laurel Jones-Gonzalez certainly was not it.
Mike was around 5 foot 8 and she was every bit as tall. She had a scarf on her head, but a few unruly dark brown locks had escaped. She had on a raggedy-ass old flannel shirt, out at the waist, and baggy jeans jammed into her rubber boots.
What had me staring, though, was that even with the grubby work clothes, it was obvious that she was a real beauty, and as I got closer, I was further surprised to see that she might have been in her mid-40s.
“Hi, I’m Doreen,” she said, sticking out her hand. “Mike’s told me all about you, Derek. I hear you’re looking for new digs.”
I felt pretty unnerved under her blue-eyed gaze. It was easy to see that she was a woman of many parts.
“Um…yeah,” was all I could manage to get out.
“Great. Let’s take a break, Mike,” she said over her shoulder as she started for the house. “I need something to drink.”
“I’ll stay back here and finish off with the trimming, Doreen. I’ll join you and Derek in a bit.”
The back of the house had an old brick patio between two short wings at either end. Some comfortable wicker furniture was still out, and I sat down while Doreen disappeared into the house.
I looked out at the extensive plantings. I thought that I’d found my hitch in this seemingly great deal. This was a hell of a lot of garden for even 2 people to manage. Doreen’s house was on a lot easily 200 feet long. I also knew the walled garden in the back would be warm enough to start spring off a few weeks early. The roomers were being used as cheap labor.
“You don’t have to do as much work as Mike does for me, you know,” came a voice from behind me.
Doreen appeared carrying a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and three glasses. Putting it down on the nearby table, she poured us each a glass and handed me one with a welcoming smile on her face. Gone was the scarf and her pulled back hair looked as if it would fall to her shoulders if she let it down.
Taking her seat, she asked, “So, Derek, are there any questions I could answer for you? I’ll take you up to see the room as soon as I’ve had my well-deserved drink.”
We talked for ten minutes or so and I found it hard to take my eyes off her. As is the case with young men, it wasn’t just her face I was looking at. Underneath the baggy clothes it was obvious she had a slender bahis şirketleri body. Her breasts didn’t appear to be huge, and while I couldn’t be certain with the baggy shirt, I didn’t think she was wearing a bra.
Chatting away about my life at the school, I didn’t hear Mike walk up. Grabbing a glass, he filled it up and drained it in one long draft.
“Man! I needed that,” he said and Doreen laughed. “So what do you think, Derek. Interested in the room?”
“He hasn’t even looked at it yet, Michael. Why don’t you take him up to see it, and while you’re at it, take a shower. You’re a sweaty mess.”
“That’s your fault, professor, for working your students too hard,” Mike shot right back.
I was a bit confused by the exchange. To my ear, it sounded almost like the repartee between a married couple. Shows how naive I was back then…
The room was on the second floor, at one end of the hall. It was pretty large and furnished with very nice furniture. Since this was back at the time where computers weren’t as common as they are now, I was surprised by the screen sitting on Mike’s rather large desk. Everything in the room was neat and tidy.
“So what do you think?” Mike asked.
“How much of this furniture is yours?”
“None of it. Even the computer is included.”
He shook his head. “Nope. I told you this was a sweet deal.”
“How come you’re leaving then?”
“One reason only: I fell in love.”
“Shelley is a nice girl.”
“That’s not quite what I meant.”
Mike turned away and left the room before I could gather my wits to ask him any questions. Curiouser and curiouser.
I went downstairs and found the two of them in the kitchen. Doreen was cutting up some vegetables at a counter and Mike was sitting at the table with some papers in his hand. Both looked up as I entered.
“So, Derek,” Doreen asked. “What do you think?”
“I seem to be getting that question a lot today,” I answered, looking hard at Mike who studiously kept his head down. “I guess we need to talk details.”
“I understand. Why don’t we go to my study?”
Her study had a very businesslike look to it, almost masculine. There was none of the froufrou you associate with some women’s workspace. Two walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling book shelves, there was a comfortable-looking padded leather chair with an accompanying small table and reading lamp, and the last wall had a large, ornate desk in front of a window overlooking the backyard. There was one oil painting, a few framed diplomas and on her desk were two photographs of an older gentleman, one a formal portrait, and the other, a vacation shot with a much younger Doreen, looking even more stunning than she did now.
“My late husband,” Doreen said when she saw me looking at it.
She sat at the desk’s swivel chair and I took the leather chair.
“So Derek, you seem like a nice, serious young man. I’d be willing to take you on as my boarder if you’re willing. Mike has spoken very highly of you, as well. Do you have any questions?”
“Mike mentioned that he’s paying $300 a month including room and board. He said the cost is low because he helps you with yard work. Exactly how much would you expect me to do?”
“You don’t like gardening?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never really done much, except for mowing the lawn and shoveling snow. My parents keep a riding stable and I worked out there most of the time, if that’s any help.”
“It certainly is. I have a pair of very fine hunter jumpers at a stable just outside the city. I can always use help with them.” She smiled. “And of course you could mow the lawns and shovel snow, if you insist. Let’s just say, I’ll charge you no more than $400 per month, and depending on how much help you can give me, I’ll deduct that from the price.”
“That sounds pretty good. My parents aren’t rich and they’re probably going to hit the roof when they find out I’m moving out of the dorm. I’ll do as much as I can to help you. Between my savings and what they can afford, I should be able to just squeak through.”
“If they’re worried I could write to them or call.”
“That might help. My mom can be pretty protective.”
“When can you move in?”
“I thought Mike was staying until the end of the month.”
“No. We’ve agreed that he’s going to move out tomorrow.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t have much stuff. We fit everything I brought into my dad’s car. I could see if I could borrow someone’s car or rent a van or something.”
“So you drive?”
“Yes, ma’am. Most farm kids learn to drive when we’re too young to really do it. It’s just a matter of making it legal when the time comes.”
She stood and held out her hand again. “Well, Derek Small, looks like we have a deal. I teach most mornings and some afternoons, so please give me a call to tell me when you’re moving in. I’d like to be here.”
“Oh, I won’t need any help.”
“Nonetheless, I would like to be here.”
She led me to the front door, and the view of her rear end was as enticing as the rest her. I mentally slapped myself for thinking such thoughts. The best way to getting myself turfed from this very nice situation would be to even give her a hint of where my gutter mind was taking me.
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