A Dickens of a Tale

"When she died, I regretted not being a better person in any number of ways, since she really was, despite our differences, a wonderful woman. And I do miss her, but I'll always, I think, regret that we never got to that real level of intimacy I'd hoped for. Oh well...

"So, spectre or angel or ghost that you may be - and there's no other reason I can come up with for your wonderful presence here right now - I've bared that to you, and if you want to return any favors, I'd love to just once have a woman share that sort of thing. I guess if it's a dumb, stupid thing to do or even to ask, I'll find that out. And if it's not, I never would have found out without taking the risk."

"Well thought," she replied, quietly.

"So, you with the great breasts and delicious hips, what now?"

"Now it's your turn. C'mere," she said, and I complied, reaching for her, reengaging with a deep kiss, our tongues dancing with each other, my prick engorging, my hands stroking her smooth shoulders, breasts, hips.

"Lie back," she said, and I did. She pulled off the sweats unceremoniously - no surprises awaiting her now. I'd softened, self-confessional not being something I'm comfortable with or particularly aroused by. She seemed interested that I was softened and certainly didn't exhibit any distaste for me in that state. She knelt over me, between my legs, and took my cock in one hand, my balls in the other, and hefted them, inspecting, evaluating. It felt great, and she looked great, totally absorbed in her examination. After her first touch, I felt myself hardening and growing in her hand until I was fully hard in only a moment, almost too soon, considering how much I enjoyed the process.

Bending down, she licked my cock, from balls to tip, in one swipe, then settled in for some serious fellatio. Still kneading my balls gently, she sucked in the head, and I could feel her tongue circle it slowly. It was as if she wanted me to feel every different thing she was doing, and every different thing was ok with me.

After a moment of basking, I felt her lift off. Clutching my cock in her hand, she asked, "OK, now, what is it you want to hear?"

"Just tell me about what's going on in that head of yours - share with me," I said.

"Mmm. Well, I like your cock. It tastes clean and it's hard, and I like hard."

"And its size?"

"Oh, you're plenty big for me, and no, it's not as big as I've had."

"Bigger than some others?"

"Oh yeah, definitely bigger than some others. You men, always on the big thing," she smiled.

"So, how big, and how small, and how now?"

"Well, I've had as small as less than 4 inches, I'm sure, and they were most appreciative and were fine lovers. And, I've had as big as an honest 8 inches, and that's huge, if you measure accurately, which I've learned to do, and which I suspect you know how to do as well."

"And me?"

"You, I'd say you're a shade under 6 inches, if measured accurately, and that's plenty, as I said."

"Hmm. Well, yes, I've measured, along the top, ruler pressed gently at the pubic bone, from there to the tip, I get from 5 to 5 and three quarters inches, depending on just how excited I am, so you're right on. And thanks - that's just the sort of honesty I wished Mary had shared, whatever her experience."

"Mmm... Yep, that's the way to measure. And, I'll bet her experience was pretty much the same as mine if she were as experienced, which I'll have to admit, from what almost everyone knows about her, is doubtful. Odds are much greater that all her lovers, how many ever there might have been, were within a half inch or so of you one way or the other - and that's barely enough to feel a difference."

"So, tell me about your first lover and your first time."

"Ah, he was a dear boy. I was 16, he was almost 18. He came through the village where I grew up, not a hobo, but from what he said just traveling on his own, with money he'd earned from summer jobs. He was cheeky enough to come up to me on the street and ask me something inane about where he and his friends could find a good supper. I told him about a local inn, then I managed to ever so coincidentally go there with a girlfriend that evening - he and his friends arrived, and we all ate together then left him and his group there. We girls giggled all the way home, feeling ever so adventurous for going out with older men, and cute ones at that. He appeared the next day and we made arrangements to meet that night. I met him near my home, and we were barely out sight of my parents' house before he pulled me to him and kissed me. I swear, I really did feel that one right down to my toes. He seemed so mature to me, but he was also a bit shy - not a handsome devil playboy sort, but more the class science club president who was scared of girls a bit and couldn't believe he'd had the courage to flirt with me on the street in the first place.

"By the end of the evening - and I don't remember what we did, but we must have had dinner or something - I was navigating us back to my house but went via a local deserted road. We stopped and made out, standing by the lane. I told him I was a virgin and wanted to stay that way, and he said he was too. I - remember, I was the aggressor - told him that I wanted to find out about him and have him find out about me, meaning physically, but that we couldn't really screw. And when I said that, I reached down and could feel his hard thing through his clothes. I don't know if I even knew the word erection, but to me that first touch was just a hard thing, and I knew it thrilled me that I had caused it. He said something to indicate he thought that sounded fine to him, and we quickly had our hands all over each other. I had to undo my top for him, but he was mesmerized by my small breasts (yes, they've grown a bit since then), and his hands and mouth felt great on them. I pulled off my underthings but kept my open blouse and skirt on, and guided his hand, lifting my skirt so he could find my pussy. I told him I was a virgin and that we couldn't 'do it.' He said ok to that and promised we'd just play with each other.

Soon, we got him undressed and I grasped his penis in my hand, the first I'd ever seen that was erect, and soon then the first I'd ever touched. It seemed a lot bigger than I'd expected (and in retrospect it was very much like yours in size and configuration, if you're wondering), and I wondered where in the world it could go - there was no way I had that much spare room inside me, I was sure. It also felt hot, surprisingly so to me. And so hard inside it yet covered with that thin soft skin, and so springy soft at the tip - he was circumcised - as you'd expect. I was fascinated, discovering all for myself at last and feeling very womanly about it. Then I felt the first finger not my own discover my clit and dive into my vagina. I was surprised at how wet I was, and then surprised how large his finger felt compared to mine, and that it felt better at that.

Then I felt him move over on top of me - we'd laid down somewhere in the undressing process. I opened my legs to him as he moved between them, and I clearly recall knowing we were going to fuck, and casting off all my reluctance since I was so on edge by then, being driven by this animal need and not caring to be rational about it anymore. Somewhere in me, there were a hundred reasons not to do this, and there was fear, since we'd all heard about how the first time hurt. But that was all thrust back into shadows, overwhelmed by the instant moment of it all.

He supported himself on his elbows, and pushed at me, clumsily. I reached down between us, wrapped my hand around his shaft again, and placed the head between my lips. He pushed, and entered a bit. Just when I thought there was no way and was ready to quit, despite his persistent pushing, something gave, and I felt this stab of pain and cried out. He froze, but froze well inside me. He asked if I was ok and if I wanted to stop, but by then the pain seemed to subside, and I figured since I was no longer a virgin, I'd stick with it. I told him it was ok, and he started to fuck, and soon whatever pain was left was overcome by the wonderful friction his cock was making along all sides of me inside. He pulled back a bit, then pushed deeper, several times, until he was all the way in me, and then we just stopped and looked at each other for a moment again. And then I started thrusting harder with my hips, and we started to fuck for real. It only lasted a couple of minutes, and then he cried out and really thrust hard, and I knew he was coming, and he went on that way for a little, then collapsed, gasping for breath. I didn't come - that would wait for another day to discover with a man - but I sure knew that it was a need not to be denied, and that there would be no turning back for me. Afterwards, we were both a little freaked out. He apologized, and I dressed and ran back home, afraid of what, I don't know."

"That sounds like a pretty good first time, considering," I told her.

"Yes, although when he left, I was heartbroken, and thought for a while that I might be pregnant, which thankfully I wasn't. I doubt that there are many fairy tale first times, but I soon came to be thankful to him for the experience."

"Did you do more with him than that first time?"

"Yes, it lasted several more weeks, and during that time we explored all sorts of things together. I'd sneak out at night and meet him in a nearby wooded area. He'd bring a blanket, and since it was summer, it was easy not to need anything else. He ate me on our second time, not as well as I've since had, but in such a way that we both came in that act to believe that nothing we did with each other could be dirty or forbidden. In fact, he loved that so and brought me to orgasm that way, long before I was able to come by intercourse. I was quick to take him in my mouth as well, and when he came I instinctively swallowed, not minding the taste or the sensation at all. Thanks to him, I came to love sucking men, discovering them, trying to figure them out, being generally fascinated by how they work. I think women are no more and no less complex, just different, and that difference really does make it a great mystery if we let it.

"Oh, and since you may want to know, I never measured him, but did the next guy I fucked, who was 6 ½ inches, and I knew that Sam, my first, was slightly shorter and slimmer - a great introductory test kit, as it were.

"So did that trend to larger continue?"

"Only sporadically. By a couple of years, and a couple of guys later, I knew what seemed to be average, and so I knew when I encountered a big one along the way."

"OK, I'm really liking this - so, much bigger?"

"OK, so there was this one other guy, who was bigger, too big - 8 plus maybe, and damned thick. It took just as much care as the smaller guys to get through to him that it wasn't something cosmic - it was just him. Once he accepted that it wasn't a defining characteristic, he was ok. He'd known some women who were freaked out and ran from it and others who freaked out and ran to it. Finally, he could get on with being who he was, not what his dick was. I felt pretty good about how it all went..." she drifted off a bit in reflection.

"So, under 6 inches is ok after all?"

"Persistent, aren't you. Oh yeah, and it's usually that way, if you really want to know. Most of you guys who think you're 'modestly endowed' are just as fucked up, but you generally overcompensate to the woman's advantage. You learn how to use it; you learn how to make love other ways, like with your mouth and hands; the only problem is that you're so busy overcompensating that you tend to short-change yourselves on the real, just get to it, pleasure of the whole thing. You're a great lover, Ben, and it's not due to anything physical - just to you. So there."

"Yeah, I hear you," I couldn't help continuing, "but everything being equal, wouldn't you prefer bigger to smaller?"

"All things are never equal, but ok, since you asked. The latest I've read puts the mean at about 5 ½ " with a standard deviation of about 1/2". So, along with most women, I would prefer normal, or average, I should think, with that being the mean plus or minus one standard deviation. That is, up to about 7, maybe 7½, compared to 9 or more. Nine's just too big - to suck, to fuck - too big for anything much except visual appreciation. If you're making porn, then fine, go with 9. But 7", on the other hand, is a nice big, not too big, and certainly normal. On the smaller end, yes, I'd prefer 5 ½ to 3 ½, and 3 ½ to something smaller. However, I have had 3 ½, and found it quite satisfactory, since it was associated with someone who knew how to use it and the other alternatives that the human anatomy facilitates. What you're really asking, I think, is whether I'd prefer 7 to 5 or so, and more to the point, if I'd prefer you with 7 to you with the 5-plus you have. I must say that 5-plus is a lot easier to please orally, while 7 makes a more immediate impact upon penetration vaginally. But once in, there's remarkably little difference once the female stretches, which she does whether intended or not, quite quickly. So, once at it, so to speak, the size dimension diminishes to being a small factor among others more substantial."

"And your favorite of all time lover - tell me about him."

"Who says it was a him," she smiled, her eyes twinkling.

"Ah, point."

"My favorite lover is very likely my next, and next to it being my current, that's a pretty good alternative."

"Got it."

"And so now, you're my favorite, and I want to please you, just you, right now." And with that, she took my hand and led me back again to the bedroom, and pushed me gently onto the bed, on my back, my head propped up by the pillows. Pulling off my sweats, she knelt over me and, her hair cascading over my groin, sucked my half mast cock into her mouth, bringing it back to life yet again. After a few moments of that, she lay herself between my legs, swept the hair out of her face, and watched me as she rose and fell, revealing then concealing my cock in her mouth. The feeling was fabulous, as it always is. She did it so slowly, circling the head with her tongue, licking some then sucking again, dipping to pull each of my balls tenderly into her mouth, then letting them back out, her tongue down to my perineum, then back up the length of my shaft.

"It's time," she said, pulling off for a moment. I felt her hand worm its way between us to grasp my balls, rolling them easily and not hurting at all with the gentle squeezing. Then she eyed me as she started with just her closed lips at the tip of me, then lowering, letting the head push her lips apart, and continuing, almost excruciatingly slowly, down and down until she had taken it all. I had no idea how she could do that, but I could feel the back of her throat against my cock head, the lapping of her tongue along the bottom of my shaft, he lips constricted around the base - the realization that I could feel all those sensations simultaneously and so clearly pushed me over, and I finally, finally came, the seed feeling as if it had come from deep, deep within me, forcing its way out so hard it stung deep in my gut, but stung so wonderfully. I humped helplessly with the spurting, and she took it eagerly. I don't know how long I came, but felt I'd never come harder. She stayed on me as I finished, and kept sucking and licking lightly with my cock in her mouth as it relaxed and shrunk.

Finally done, she crawled up into my arms, "And now, sleep, Ben," she said, and I did.

When I awoke, she was gone. It was early on a bright morning, and it had snowed overnight, so the scene was blindingly bright. I felt light as air, and went outside and across to her door. Ringing the bell, I got no answer. Knocking, again no answer. Curious, thinking maybe the bell was out of order and she was still asleep, I peered into a front window. The house was empty. No boxes, no wrapping, nothing but totally vacant. For a moment I couldn't figure it out, and went back to my place confused. Nothing was out of place there - no wine glasses, no plates, no sign of any of the previous day's occurrences. I was starting to think I was going nuts, when I went back into the bedroom and there, lying on the floor next to the bed, was the peach colored bra. That's the last and only sign I've had of her. As I stood there, I heard voices from down the street saying something about Merry Christmas. Christmas! I'd forgotten all about it!

I went back inside my place to think about things, and figured, maybe she'll come back someday, as she did seem a bit mercurial, and then we'll finish the love making we'd started. But until then I thought, the message of the evening to me was to celebrate every day, to celebrate every woman I meet and help her enjoy life, and sex if it comes to it, as much as I do. That seemed quite appropriate to the Christmas season, and I pledged to keep that spirit, and to keep Christmas in my heart all the year long! It's just as I think Mary would want.