Legend of the Magic Cock Ch. 02

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Pete's first time with Pam, and the odd path getting there.
13.1k words
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Part 2 of the 5 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 12/13/2017
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Pam and I had been dating for about three months when it all began. But, let me step back a bit to provide some background.

My name is Peter McPherson. I am currently married to Pam, so the story obviously has a happy ending. We have two wonderful kids. Katie, our oldest, is a twenty-year-old knockout university student who rivals her mom in beauty and all-around sexiness. Sandy-blond haired like her dad, with toned, lithe curves on a five-foot-six frame and the brightest mind you could hope to find, Katie is forthright, honest, extremely loyal and a joy to be around. Then there is Jake, our eighteen-year-old athlete and scholar with a head screwed on so straight he often seems much older and wiser than one would expect of someone of his years. He typically hangs out at home in just shorts, and while I have tried hard to stay in shape there is no hope for a forty something like me to compare to his six-foot tall muscled body, sleek limbs and rippling, flat stomach. A finer daughter and son we couldn't even imagine.

My wife Pam was, is and always shall be the love of my life for so many reasons. To me she looks exactly as she did when we met in high school. She dresses very simply being fond of jeans, cotton tops, comfy sweaters and the like. If given the chance she will don a pair of sweatpants, even in the height of summer. Thick, wavy auburn hair worn to the shoulder frames her oval face featuring crystalline, soul-mirror emerald eyes. Her body is lush and alluring, even now after two kids. She has large, soft breasts the cup size of which I don't know because I've never cared nor asked. Her five-foot-six, classic hour-glass shaped figure has left me drooling for over two decades.

For myself, I am a fairly successful small business owner. What I do is unimportant for the story, other than it has allowed my family to live in relative comfort. I stand a bit over six-foot-two, and there is no way I am going to state my weight, but my stomach has remained mostly flat. I fight the daily battle against middle age spread, thus far avoiding the spare-tire around my mid-section. My work is mostly office and computer based, so I have to exercise a ton to keep ahead of the aging process. I am in the lead, so far.

Our family has been fortunate enough to have spent a very happy life together. Sure, we've had problems and troubles, but we've always worked through them together, coming out the other side stronger and closer.

The past few days have seen a pretty significant change in our family dynamic. On Friday afternoon, while Jake and I were hanging out by the pool, he asked me how I lost my virginity. Instead of the actual story, I told him about my first time with his mom. Both stories are arguably just as potentially weird and shocking, but I chose the story of how I first has sex with Pam. Why I chose that day and time to tell the salacious tale I can't say for certain. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the Magic Cock, as Pam's dad had labeled it. While I have never truly believed in the legend that my dick has magical properties, Pam, and her dad, swear by it. I must admit that I had noticed Jake sneaking peeks at the bulge in my swim trunks on more than one occasion that day. I really don't know. But, tell him I did. Events began happening quickly in our family after that. But, that was the first story. This story is the one I told my son about how I lost my virginity, even though I wasn't a virgin when it happened. This story gave Jake a such an aching hard-on that steamy summer day, that I had to suck his hard cock until he emptied a huge load of teenaged semen in my mouth. Twice.

So, let's get started.

I pulled up to Pam's house at around six o'clock the evening of the Homecoming football game and dance. I was lucky I wasn't walking. The previous Spring, I was fortunate in landing a job at a local-owned car repair shop. I was always good at tearing things apart and putting them back together; partly because I liked it and partly because my Uncle Dave was the same way and he taught me a bunch of stuff. I loved learning how things worked, so that drive of mine and my learned skills helped impress the man who owned the place. Working at the car repair business opened the opportunity for me to save some money so I could later buy an old, dysfunctional and, most importantly, cheap car to fix up. The Homecoming date was the first one that I felt my car was worthy of Pam. Everything worked; it was painted and clean. It even smelled nice. Not new-car-smell nice, I would have had to replace all the carpeting, linings and upholstery to come even close to that wonderful fragrance, but it smelled nice just the same. Very piney, I would say.

I walked up to Pam's unassuming two-story home and tapped on the door. We'd been dating for a few months so I wasn't really nervous, but it was a bit different being in one of my dad's old suits since this was our first formal dance. I had the corsage cupped protectively in my hands, that actually were, come to remember it, a bit moist.

Mr. Tarrant answered the door with his typical even keeled attitude. All eighteen-year-old boys are nervous meeting their girlfriend's dad, which was true for me when I first met Mr. Tarrant. Typically, however, the unease would diminish over time, but with Pam's dad, it was different. He showed little to no emotion. He wasn't robotic, just very subdued, very business-like. I had never been able to get a handle on him. Did he like me. Was he going to murder me for molesting his daughter. I never could tell.

He ushered me in through the entry way to the open family room and kitchen. I said hello to Mrs. Tarrant.

"Oh, don't you look handsome Peter!" she gushed. Mrs. Tarrant is an exuberant, shapely soccer-mom type. "We'll have to take so many pictures! I'll go check on Pam." She added scurrying upstairs.

She was probably an inch shorter than Pam with around ten pounds more weight. She carried the extra bulk age had gifted her well, though. Her figure was full, just the right amount of full. There was a great deal of jiggle with Mrs. Tarrant especially at that moment as I pretended not to watch her ass undulating nicely as she ascended the stairs. It might have moved south over the years, but it was still very inviting.

I steeled myself for the inevitable awkwardness of waiting alone with Mr. Tarrant when he shocked me with: "Peter, can I have a word with you in my office?"

Electric, confused fear flowed down my spine. Was he going to kill me. Was he going to give me life advice. Who knew.

"Uh, sure," I said almost like a question.

"Come along, then," he said.

I followed Mr. Tarrant out through a sliding glass door onto a raised deck leading down to their pool. We crossed the pool deck out to the back lawn where a shed-sized cottage, for the lack of a better word, stood. Mr. Tarrant held the door for me as I stepped into what really was an office. The majority of the space was taken up by a large desk with a chair and credenza behind it. In front of the desk were two padded chairs. Along one side of the one-room little house was a counter with a sink, a small dish-washer and a mini-fridge. Along the other was a soft-worn sofa of rich leather. The office was cozy, a word I'd heretofore not associated with Pam's dad.

Mr. Tarrant indicated one of the chairs as he moved behind the desk and sat.

I was a little over six-foot tall at the time. Mr. Tarrant couldn't have been any taller, in fact he might have been a bit shorter, but he was an intimidating man. He was broad shouldered, muscled and firm. Pam had told me he worked in construction as a project manager, not a tradesman, but apparently there was enough physical labor in the work that left him quite bulked-up. While I might be a bit taller, he had probably twenty pounds of hard muscle on me. I meekly sat trying not to visibly sweat.

"So, Pete, I can tell you like my daughter quite a bit," he said.

Again, with Mr. Tarrant it was difficult to tell emotions or what he wanted. Was that a question or just a statement.

"Uh, yes," I said to simply fill the silence he left by not say anything further. "Very much," I added.

"Yes," he said.

The silence descended again. I just let it lay there since I had nothing to go on.

"Yes, I thought so."

Mr. Tarrant then launched into the longest string of words I had ever heard from him: "You seem a good lad, Peter. Pamela has nothing but good things to say about you; even the secrets she tells her mother that she thinks I don't hear. She is quite taken with you. For your part, you seem to have been a gentleman with her for the most part."

Yeah, yeah, we've kissed a lot, with a lot of tongue. There had been petting that had driven me crazy, but the petting did progress to the first fumbling hand-jobs and furtive pussy fingering. I had the wonderful experience of feeling Pam's firm, warm, soft breast in my hand while her supple nipple hardened in my palm. Sadly, I'd never actually seen her tits or pussy clearly. All these sweaty, teenaged shenanigans happened in the darkened backseat of my mom's car. I was honestly hoping that tonight would maybe move things along. I also came to the realization that Mr. Tarrant used long pauses like punctuation.

"I can only assume, given your age, that you are mostly likely at the point where you want to advance the relationship" Mr. Tarrant comma "physically."

I tried not to, but I'm pretty sure my eyes widened. Did he just read my mind!

"There's no need to protest. I was eighteen once. My daughter is also eighteen with the same hormonal excitement. I understand. However, she is still a virgin, and I don't think she is emotionally ready for a sexual relationship. So, I would like your word that you will not pursue any sexual activities with my daughter at this time," he stated as if I was his employee or we were signing a contract. His countenance exuded righteousness without a thought there would be disagreement.

Apologies for the abrupt narrative shift, but my back-story is not wonderful. It's not super tragic, but it's not great. My dad died when I was nine. My mom had to be both parents for me which took a toll on her. By the time I was thirteen, we were taking care of each other. My mom never dealt with her grief sufficiently, and I feel somewhat responsible for that. I know rationally that's not right, but it didn't change the pain in my heart.

In any case, my life has taught me to believe in myself, help those I love and do the best I can. I believe in honesty and integrity as values, not words. So, I wasn't going to lie to Mr. Tarrant. He was straight with me. I owed him the same.

"I understand what you're saying, Mr. Tarrant," I said looking him straight in the eye. "But, I can't promise that. As you say, I'm eighteen. I don't want to become a liar because my hormones overpower a promise. So, it's best not to promise."

Mr. Tarrant stared at me. Again, not maliciously or benignly. He just stared at me. I thought I detected a slight nod of approval. No, that wasn't possible. Was it.

"I would never do anything to hurt Pam, though," I added because, well, he wasn't talking goddammit! "I can promise that. And, I will only treat her with respect. And, I would never make her do something she didn't want to do. And (why was I starting all my sentences with 'And'!), I'll always use protection. (What was I saying! Just stop!) And, I'll never..."

Mr. Tarrant held up a hand. I finally stopped babbling.

"Thank you for being honest with me Peter," he sighed. "I still ask that you use as much restraint as possible. She is young, with her whole life in front of her, and I worry about... I worry about her passions. Pam is, well, she is her mother's daughter. There are passions there..."

He trailed off wistfully as if remembering the passions of Mrs. Tarrant, that jubilant, full-figured earth-goddess.

Then a horrifying thing happened: I started to get hard. I swear to God! The vision of the cute Mrs. Tarrant who was always so bubbly, not to mention her nice big tits and luscious ass, afire with passions. In my mind, poof! She was naked while crooking a finger at me to proverbially come hither! Then right next to her was Pam, with all that same assets except a little taller, younger and tighter! All this talk about eighteen-year-old hormones, passions and a mom-daughter double-team in my head had me sporting an impressive boner in no time. At eighteen I had achieved my full cock. It was formidable at about eight inches.

Ahem, ok, it was eight and a quarter inches long fully hard, like when I was really stroking it and about to cum. Yeah, I measured it; quite often. It was also thick. It never occurred to me measure it around because I didn't know girth was a thing back then.

Mr. Tarrant stood up extending his hand, presumably for me to shake. I was terrified; what was I going to do! I just sat there pitifully staring at his hand. I reached up and shook hands from my seated position.

Mr. Tarrant stared quizzically down at me. I offered the briefest watery smile. I felt like such a fool. I disengaged the handshake letting my hand fall into my lap to further conceal my erection as it increased in intensity. It was throbbing at this point. I couldn't control it.

A surprised look of realization crawled across Mr. Tarrant's face. It was the most emotion... check that, it was the only emotion I had seen him portray. However, it all changed in that instant with Mr. Tarrant abandoning his stoic façade. He chuckled.

"You have a hard-on right now, don't you?"

I nodded disgustedly.

"Well, you can't sit there forever," he chided. "Go on, stand up. Walk it off before we go back inside."

I sighed and stood up. My cock was clearly outlined in my light-colored suit pants. The bulge was prominent, and as I said, I have a big, fat dick.

"Oh. Oh, my," Mr. Tarrant said when he saw the outline of my erection.

"Sorry," I offered.

Mr. Tarrant couldn't take his eyes of the bulge in my pants.

"No need to apologize. Like I said, I was eighteen once," he said still eyeing my engorged cock.

I think he liked what he was seeing which made me get harder. Was I turning Mr. Tarrant on.

"I don't think we can go back in the house with you like that," he remarked with an insufferable smirk.

Not sure I liked the new, emoting Mr. Tarrant, I thought sardonically, so I just shrugged. I had never been so embarrassed.

"Do you think it will go down? Or do you need to, you know, take care of it?" he asked. He still hadn't torn his eyes away from my crotch.

"What?" I asked incredulously. "Like, here? Now?"

"Well, I'm certainly not letting you go out with my daughter with your dick like that." He thought for a second, seemed to shake his head a bit and said, "Tell you what: new deal. I'll help you take care of that, and then you won't have all that pent up sexual energy when you're out with Pam."

My brain was swirling. "What? What do you mean, help me?" I asked.

"Oh, Peter, stop being obtuse. I will relieve you... of your, you know, your over excitement. And, then you will not take advantage of my daughter," he stated as a matter of fact which really sounded like he had just convinced himself of something, not me.

"But," I said confused, "I'm not gay."

"Neither am I," Mr. Tarrant replied. "But, I'm willing help my daughter." After a pause, he added: "And you."

He sounded so sincere; he really did want to help me. The situation was so abrupt, weird and, God help me, my cock was so hard. I gave a weak shrug and mumbled, "Ok." because, I honestly didn't know what else to say.

Mr. Tarrant walked over putting his left hand on my shoulder with a little squeeze.

"Peter, relax," he said smiling at me as his right hand gripped my aching cock.

I almost came immediately. His hand felt so good, and oddly calming, but it was his fatherly smile that caused me to let my guard down. After months of stoic Mr. Tarrant, I felt like we were really connecting; in the most unimaginable way possible, but we were still connecting.

He deftly unbuckled my belt, undid my suit pants button and slipped my zipper down. He lowered both my suit pans and boxer shorts at the same time freeing my throbbing cock. I moaned appreciatively. With no ceremony and what felt like urgency, Mr. Tarrant sank to his knees, grabbed my cock smearing the pre-cum oozing from my piss slit over my pulsing dickhead and shaft. I sank down, back into the chair as I didn't trust my legs.

Mr. Tarrant adjusted by scooting up closer to me as he began fisting my thick meat. My pre-cum was quickly spread too thin becoming sticky rather than slick. Mr. Tarrant noticed this too causing him to do the most natural thing: he swallowed my cock. He got about half of the fat pole into his mouth on the first try.

"Holy fuck!" was all I could say.

His mouth felt wonderful, so hot and wet against my hardness. He pressed down harder, deeper on my cock until he choked on it. I was a worried that something bad had happened, but Mr. Tarrant didn't miss a beat. He just slid his salivating mouth back to my throbbing, red crown as saliva flooded down my shaft. He wrapped a hand around the base to pump me again as he sucked on my cockhead and about four inches of the shaft which seem the most comfortable for him.

"Fuck, Mr. Tarrant, you mouth feels amazing!" I moaned out while I involuntarily started to thrust my veiny, enflamed cock into his mouth.

Mr. Tarrant just smiled around my meat redoubling his oral efforts. He took another inch of my spit covered cock deeper in his mouth, and I could feel my pulsing glans push against his throat just as he started to hum. Well, not actually hum; it was more like he was moaning on my dick. It dawned on me: he was enjoying this! He liked stuffing my cock into his mouth!

Emboldened, I grabbed the back of his head and started to face-fuck him. I couldn't help it. I could feel the cum boiling in my balls. I was jabbing my raging prick into his mouth like I was fucking a cock-slut whore. My dick began to swell even more as I assaulted his throat. Mr. Tarrant was gagging on each thrust of my enormous fuck-pole into his throat causing long strands of his saliva to leak from his abused mouth down onto his shirt. I was beyond control fucking this man's mouth until I lost control and my cock-juice started to flow.

"Oh, goddamn! I'm going to cum Mr. Tarrant. Do you have a rag or something to...?" I started.

Mr. Tarrant raised his non-cock pumping hand to my chest pushing me back while he once again gagged himself on my big, fat prick trying to take all of it into his suctioning mouth and clenching throat.

I couldn't take any more. Holding the sides of his head I unleashed a torrent of cum; thick, pearly teen-boy cum.

I probably should have been stronger in my warning given that more than three month ago, Dr. Jenkins had diagnosed me with Hugecumloadiness. Kidding, but I had been complaining of discomfort in my balls. Dr. Jenkins nodded once, and jacked me off. Unusual, but effective. He whistled appreciatively as I pumped out a huge amount of cum, just under two tablespoons, or around thirty-cc of semen. That amount was apparently unusual and well above average. One week later, Dr. Jenkins had me come back for another appointment where he watched his nurse, Karen, suck almost thirty-four-cc, or two full tablespoons, of hot cum from me. I still think that was an inflated amount given her added spit. So, we did it again every week for almost two months, or really until Karen got engaged. In any case, I apparently cum a lot. Like I've said before, I'm a cum-freak of nature. Karen, by the way, never went through with her wedding. Oddly, she called me many times, but I was dating Pam by that time.

Anyway, back to Mr. Tarrant's cum-sucking mouth: my first shot he took in his mouth but it must have startled him by either force, volume or taste because he pulled off but kept jacking me. He swallowed my first offering as the second splashed on his lips dribbling down his chin onto his shirt. He jammed my cock back into his mouth taking the rest of my load like a practiced cocksucker. The next five or six squirts he just drank down as best he could, but as stated above, I come a lot. So, if this was Mr. Tarrant's first cock sucking, he was getting a harsh initiation as my cum was gushing across his tongue filling his already spunk coated mouth. He was drinking most of it, but some was leaking out of his mouth coating his cheeks and chin. Well, I say harsh but Mr. Tarrant was lapping up my sperm like he was addicted to it. I mean, he was really into it. Once I had stopped unloading in his mouth he went on cleaning my cock of any semen remains, licking stray globs off my abdomen and slurping up a bunch that had pooled on my balls.