The Tale of Bigisdickus

A note from the author:

This story is change from my more recent serious submissions. It's a light hearted male fantasy and not to be taken seriously, for it's just a bit of harmless fun. I hope you enjoy it.

Regards

Bazzza

This tale is my fortieth submission to Literotica and I've enjoyed writing every one of them. As time has gone on, I've attempted to develop the people and personalities more to give the stories a better and realistic feel to them. Most of the people I've introduced are those that I've met or seen somewhere, although not necessarily met. I manage this by people watching, sometimes just sitting in a mall or in a restaurant or in the foyer of a movie theatre. There I'll see people who would make good characters in future stories. They may not necessarily be fantastic looking or anything, but they are real people doing real things with friends and partners. I enjoy watching their interactions, the laughter or the smiles of obvious lovers, how they hold hands or touch each other. I then wonder what they would be like when they're in a quiet place, and what sort of things they get up to. Everyone or every couple have their own little vices and secrets.

I meet a lot of customers in my job, ranging from the rich to those who are not. I've also met a lot of very attractive women, some of whom have been almost aggressive in demanding the almost impossible or implausible. One of my techniques I use in those sorts of situations is to imagine what they would look like sprawled out on a bed with their ankles around their ears screaming for mercy while some well-hung guy gives them a royally good seeing to. An unusual technique I agree, but a good one. They've usually been able to manipulate men to doing whatever they want, and I always wonder what attractive women do when their looks fade and they lose that power of persuasion. There's only so much that flashy clothes and makeup can hide, and everybody gets old.

Anyway, this story is about a lady named Irene whom was neither old nor aggressive. I first laid eyes on Irene on a Monday morning when I was partaking in a coffee with a work colleague at a little café not far from our office. There's nothing better to kick start another working week over a coffee and a humorous chat about what you did or didn't get up to over the weekend. We were sitting at a little table next to the windows to capture the warmth of the sun. Even at that time of the morning, the café was reasonably full and noisy with people either sitting or grabbing food or coffee and doing a runner.

I noticed Irene as soon as she walked in the door and to the food counter. She was tall and wide shouldered; a green top hugged her narrow waist and fell to a tight knee length black skirt, her legs below were pale with muscled calves shown off with heeled shoes. Her hair was not quite blonde or dark, but more of a sandy colour cut shortish to just above her collar. Big eyes swivelled briefly around the café and I caught her face, not exactly beautiful, but round and reasonably handsome in a feminine way. I watched her smile pleasantly as she was served and then enter a humorous interaction leaving them both laughing. After being served, she walked over to a table next to ours and began a conversation with two girls, and then pulled up a chair to join them. Irene was now sitting quite close to me and I snuck a couple of eyesfull without getting noticed. The three girls were soon laughing about something and completely oblivious to my and probably other male wanton desires. Irene ordered a coffee and seemed intent to stay around for awhile much to my pleasure.

Looking back at this little meeting, its funny how things worked out. Firstly, my colleague received a cell phone call and wandered outside so that he could hear over the racket inside. He eventually made his way to the company car and made himself comfortable. The second thing happened was that Irene's friends got up and left, which left just her and myself both with half full cups. Irene picked up the morning newspaper and began reading the front page, leaving the back sports page for my perusal close by. After a short time, Irene lowered the paper with the intention of turning the page, and our eyes caught for the first time.

"Sorry." I offered. "Didn't mean to be rude, I was just reading the back page."

Her big eyes bored into me with the obvious question as to whether I was being truthful, or just a pain in the arse male on the make.

"I was just trying to catch the rugby scores." I added.

Irene turned the paper to indeed check whether the rugby scores were actually on the back page, which luckily they were.

She looked over at me and then surprised me by smiling cheekily, "Well, I could still be insulted that you'd rather look at a boring old newspaper than at me. Maybe I'm just getting too old to be noticed."

I smiled back, "Nah, you're still looking okay. I reckon you've got a few good years in you yet."

"Only a few good years, I take it you're an expert on the matter then?"

I laughed, "Hell no, not when it comes to women, I'm just as confused as any other male."

"So when you were looking at me when I came in, it was only about trying to understand women, and not about the normal male cravings?"

I couldn't help but like this woman, she was confident and sassy with a bit of fun thrown in.

"None of those, you're completely on the wrong track?" I replied.

"Oh really, well go on surprise me. What exactly were you thinking about?"

"You don't want to know."

Irene placed her elbows on the table and cradled her head on her hands, "I do, c'mon you've got my interest up now."

Now, at this time I could've made up a little white lie to get me out of my little predicament, but I chose not to. So I took a chance and told her about Literotica and how I write stories for submission, I then elaborated on how I people watch for characters. And Irene sat and just listened to me until I'd finished, and then laughed.

"That's gotta be the best story any guy's tried on me. You want me to believe that you're gonna use me in one of your dirty stories, and thousands of people around the world are gonna read it, then comment and vote on it."

"Yep."

"That's unbelievable, I'm not sure whether to believe you or have you locked up."

By now I wanted to prove it to her, I didn't want her to leave thinking I was just another nutcase. I took her napkin from the table and with my pen, scribbled down Literotica's web site and my user name.

"There you are, have a look next time you get on the net, all those stories are mine."

Irene looked down at the napkin for a few seconds; then she grinned and picked it up and placed it in her handbag.

"Okay, I'll call your bluff." she said getting to her feet. "I'll have a quick look sometime. Anyway, I'd better get back to work. This was kinda interesting, if we ever meet again, maybe we can carry on the conversation."

And a few seconds later, she was gone. To be perfectly honest, for the rest of the day, I was really quite embarrassed about what happened. I didn't know her from a bar of soap, and she could've been a cop or someone important. But if I didn't see her again it wouldn't really matter.

Over the next few weeks, I frequented the same café on the off chance that Irene would be there, but it never happened. It wasn't until I'd returned from a two week holiday that we were destined to cross paths again. By sheer chance, we met in the car park on the way into the café on another Monday morning. She grinned and waited for me to catch up to her.

"Hi." she called out.

"Hi."

"You know, you're one sick puppy writing all those stories. Either you've been a real naughty boy in your time, or you've got a great imagination."

I laughed, "I won't answer that on the grounds that I might incriminate myself."

"Mmmmm, very wise." she answered. "C'mon, you can buy me a coffee, I at least deserve that."

Minutes later, we sat across each other at a table sipping hot strong coffees.

"So, did you like my stories?" I inquired.

"Yeah, most of them. But some weren't exactly my thing, especially where there was a bit of rough stuff. I'm not really into that sort of thing."

We chatted about some of the stories and she asked me about the one true story which was about one of my early experiences. It was only at this time that I learnt that her name was Irene.

"Were you really going to use me in a story?" she asked after awhile.

"Probably."

"And what would I be doing."

"Dunno, I haven't got that far." I lied.

In fact I was in the process of concocting a nice little story in which Irene was going to be a very, very naughty girl in a threesome with two guys, only I didn't think it would be a good idea to elaborate, if you catch my drift.

She looked at me rather nervously, "It'd be a shame to make up a story about me when I could tell you about something I really did when I was young and silly. I reckon it'd make a nice little story if you were interested. And, it'd be something else to see it actually published. So, what do you reckon?"

"Sure." I answered as my interest quickly picked up.

A couple of nights later, I was invited around to Irene's apartment to hear her story. As you can imagine, I was kinda excited by the whole thing, I was going to hear a real story from a woman whom I considered to be extremely erotic. Her apartment was on the ground floor of a three story block in an old established part of town, and I have to admit my heart was beating a little fast when I knocked on her door. Seconds later, I was inside her small modern and tidy abode.

"Would you like a drink before we start?" Irene inquired while moving to the kitchen.

"A beer would be good."

I watched as she removed two beers from the fridge and poured them into tall glasses. It gave me time to discreetly admire her; she was dressed simply in a red tee shirt and very tight jeans. Her buttocks were large and full with wide thighs, but not unattractively so. When she walked towards me, my eyes drifted to the top of her thighs, where a small well formed gap caught my attention. After handing me a full glass, she sat down in a comfortable chair and directed me to a couch opposite.

"I feel kind of embarrassed now it's come to the moment of truth." she commented. "My sins are going to be public knowledge for the entire world to read."

"Yeah, but no-one will really know who you are. It's just a bit of fun really."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." she replied reaching for a photo album on the floor beside her chair.

She opened the album open and flicked a couple of pages until she found what she was looking for, then turned it around and leaned over so that I could see.

"This story is about me and my friend Shelly, and what we got up to one Friday night when we in our early twenties."

I took the album from her and looked over a page that held six photos; all were of Irene and another girl having obvious fun. Irene's hair was much longer, and in some photos tied back in a pony tail. So similar in looks and the way they dressed, they could've easily have been mistaken for sisters. In a couple of photos, they were in bathing suits at the beach, and while Irene may have been a little smaller in those days, she was still pretty, voluptuously curvy with substantial breasts and matching buttocks and legs. Irene let me look for a few seconds, took a few sips from her glass and then made herself comfortable.

"Before I go into all the gory details, I suppose I should tell you a little about me and Shelly."

"Go for it." I replied. "I'm all ears."

Irene's story:

Shelly and I became friends while working in the office of a local travel agency. I suppose we both had the same quirky sense of humour which drew us together. We were soon hitting the local bars together or catching chick flicks at the movies. Back in those days, we had no worries or commitments and spent every cent we earned on clothes and having fun. Both of us still lived at home as we couldn't afford to get a flat, mind you we were always talking about living together. The only thing I actually owned of any worth was an old Mitsubishi that mostly transported us from bar to bar. We didn't earn much money working for the travel agency, but we didn't have to work hard either, and could have lots of fun in a usually dreary working week. The only perk we really got was discounted travel which we used for our holidays.

So, as you can imagine, life was just one big party and the world was our oyster. We took no one seriously and spent just as much time insulting each other as we did anyone else. We were always planning our social life, bars, parties and weekends away. We had two wardrobes between us, being similar in size; we were able swap clothes at whim. We often joked that we would have to get old and fat together so we could continue to swap clothing. Neither of us would ever be skinny like the catwalk models, and quite frankly we couldn't care less, people just had to take us as they found us.

The opposite sex was also high on our agenda, and while we weren't looking for long term boyfriends, we were still interested in getting laid and often. If we met a guy and liked him, both Shelly and I were more than obliging in opening our legs for a bit of fun. In those days, we weren't interested in the muscled hunks that paraded themselves around the beaches. We went for the skinny scruffy guys that I wouldn't even consider now, but hell; it's hard to put a wise head on young shoulders. Looking back, I reckon that we used those guys just as much as they used us. Shelly and I were quite happy to do it on the beach, in cars, old couches; a bed in those days was a real luxury. I even did it on the steps of a church overlooking a graveyard, but that's another story. One night we did two guys in the same bed, we didn't swap partners but we both thought about it but never said anything at the time. Pity really, because it would've been fun and it was an opportunity lost.

The night that I'm about to tell you about was a Friday night of a long weekend. Our intentions for the night were to hang out at the Orion Bar which boasted a great covers rock band. As the band didn't start until around ten o'clock, we planned to kill time at Gilmore's which had a large seated balcony area overlooking the beach. It was a good place to hang out in the early evening and watch the sun setting over the sea. We arrived around six, and Shelly grabbed a table while I got the first beers, the guy who served me seemed familiar for some reason but I couldn't place him. I walked away from the bar trying to think who he was, but failed.

Over the next half hour or so, Shelly and I chatted away aimlessly as we usually did, but my eyes would occasionally flick back to the bar. Shelly eventually caught me and turned around to see what or who I was looking at.

"He's your type." she commented with a smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with false aggression.

"Well, he's ugly, skinny and can't grow a beard."

"It's not cause I fancy him, I know him from somewhere but can't remember where. It's bugging the shit out me at the moment."

"Not from the local VD clinic?" Shelly asked. "You've been down there a few times."

"Only to keep you company."

We both laughed.

Eventually, the barman in question began to wander the tables and collect empty glasses and bottles. I kept my eye on him hoping to solve the mystery. Shelly was right when she said he was ugly, his long hair was tied back into a pony tail. His face was long and covered with light brown fuzz that was supposed to be some kind of beard, but not a very good one. He was wearing jeans and boots with the standard bar uniform green shirt with logo. I tried to imagine what he would look like without the fuzz and short hair, but to no avail.

"Why don't you ask him?" Shelly asked.

"Nah."

With that, Shelly raised her glass and gulped down the remains of her beer and then held her glass out towards him.

"Hey, you can take this one too." she offered.

He smiled, walked over to their table and took the glass, "Thanks."

"Hey, my friend Irene thinks she knows you from somewhere. What's your name?"

He turned and looked over inquisitively at Irene, "Wayne McKenzie."

"Don't know the name." I replied. "But you're kind of familiar. You live around here?"

Family lives in Franklin, about half and hour from here."

"I live close to Franklin; did you go to Franklin High?" I asked.

"Yeah, but only for the last two years, we used to live on the other coast."

And it was then that a flash went off in my head, I knew exactly who he was.

"You're Bigisdickus." I blurted out without thinking.

His face instantly transformed from one of polite interest to one of disinterested embarrassment.

"Bigisdickus?" Shelly exclaimed. "What the hell kind of name is that?"

He turned to me, "You tell her."

And then he walked away while Shelly turned to me waiting for an explanation.

"Buy another round and I'll tell you."

Shelly walked over to the bar and ordered more beers; our friend was nowhere to be seen. She was soon back at the table and looking at me expectantly.

"Well."

"This is all hearsay of course. He joined the swim team when he arrived at Franklin High, and in the showers it was soon noticed that he was hung like a horse. Some bright spark called him Bigisdickus and it kinda stuck. It eventually got shortened to Bigus and even some of the teachers called him that. The whole school knew why he was called Bigisdickus and it was kind of a standing joke. He didn't like it at first, but he had no choice to accept it as his nick name. To be honest, I didn't even know that his name was Wayne."

"I bet he hated that." Shelly commented.

"Dunno really. Thing was he was the best swimmer in the school and used to win every competition he entered. It gave him a little celebrity status I suppose."

"I thought being hung like a horse would be reason enough."

"I don't know how much he got to use it in those days. There were lots of rumours about him shagging half the girls in the school, but no one I know ever confessed to having the pleasure."

"Not even you?" Shelly asked after taking a pull on her glass. "I thought you would've been first in line for a quick shag with a big dick. Right up your alley I would've thought."

I grinned, "Nah, I was still a virgin at school. The thought of some guy sticking his dick between my legs was kinda deplorable in those days."

"Shit, you've sure made up for it since then."

I poked my tongue out at her, "Cheeky bitch, you can talk. You've spread your fat legs for more dicks than me."

It was true, I knew that Shelly had screwed four more guys than me, and I could name them if I had to. She grinned knowingly, for we had no secrets.

"So, how big was his dick?" Shelly asked.

"Dunno; never saw any photos, but the rumour was that it was long and fat even on a cold day after swimming practice. You could always ask him." I suggested. "You've always wanted to try a big one."

Shelly looked out at the ocean while taking another pull on her glass, "Nah, he's too ugly."

"Well just close your eyes and think of king and country. Anyway, it'd be a change for you, mostly it's the guys that fuck you that have to close their eyes. You're not exactly Miss World you know."

"Shelly chuckled loudly, "Fuck you too."

"No seriously, you should give old Bigus a roll. You'll have no trouble accommodating him with a pussy the size of yours."

"Well, of course he'd be no good to you, yours is big enough to accommodate a bus."

"Probably two." I agreed sympathetically.

For the next half hour or so, we traded insults each trying to better the other. The conversation revolved around Bigus and what a big dick would be like inside us. To be honest, it was something that we'd discussed many times. While we'd both had a fair amount of partners, neither of us had encountered a real biggy like in porno videos. Shelly and I bought our first vibrators together after plucking up enough courage to enter an adult store, but we had a great old time once we were inside. The guy behind the counter was a real comedian and he gave us good rundown on what was hot and what wasn't. Needless to say, we've frequented his premises a few times since to boost our small collection of toys, but living at home has its downsides like where to hide your toys away from a prying mother's eyes. Anyway, the point I'm coming to is that a while ago we purchased a big black nine inch dildo which has been lucky enough to sample both of our personal places. We both agree that it's got some merit, but it's not quite like the real thing of course.