I rushed to the bathroom, the skin of my penis burning, reddening and throbbing. The searing pain, my guilt and my lightheadedness combined to inspire religious-minded logic. I decided God was taking revenge upon me, striking me down in retribution for my excessive masturbation. A divine entity had guided me in the darkness of my bedroom, had made me grab the BENGAY off the bedside table instead of the hand lotion, and smirked as I squirted a generous dollop onto my erect staff. Once in the bathroom, I hurriedly rinsed myself under the tub faucet.
After a good hour of cold water and soap, the pain dissipated some. I dried my crotch with a towel, then slathered my privates with baby powder. No longer in pain, but aware of my pulsating member, I lay in bed and vowed never to masturbate again. I thought about going to church Sunday, giving money to the homeless, and volunteering at a food bank. Around 1:00 AM, six hours before I needed to leave for work, I fell asleep.
Upon waking, I decided that what had happened last night was the old me. I’d be different from now on. In the bathroom, I took my dick out to pee. Looking closely, I saw no visual scars or open wounds. Things were intact, though it was red and swollen. I quietly thanked God for not branding me with a permanent injury to forever mark my perversions. I peed. A slight burn, but I could take it. In the shower I rinsed off the baby powder. Born again, pure, clean, I dressed for work.
In my cubicle I pecked away at my keyboard, called the west coast office to coordinate a press release, sent emails and held a teleconference. I became a normal functioning member of society, no longer a masturbating deviant. Things would have continued this way right up until my lunch break, but then Jen came by.
“Oh, hi Jen,” I said, sounding like a squeaky-voiced, fourteen-year-old who masturbates all the time.
“Hey, Sammy,” she said. She had on her sexy sweater. Perfectly fine professional garb, but something about the way it cupped her breasts drove me nuts. It clung to her like a spandex wetsuit, yet had a warm, cozy look that made me want to curl up between her boobs.
“How’s it going?” she asked. She leaned on my cube wall in a way that changed the alignment of her tits.
“Can’t complain,” I said. I turned my swivel chair toward her and smiled. I wanted it to be a gentle smile, one that would hide the fact I’d been thinking about her when I squirted BENGAY on my dick.
“You get lunch yet?” I asked.
“I brought it,” she said, holding up a brown bag that I probably would have noticed earlier if she’d been wearing a different sweater.
I felt my penis grow. It hurt.
“Yeah. Okay. See ya,” I said, and swiveled back around and made an effort to think of company reports and email. My penis calmed.
Since meeting Jen a year ago, I’d come up with several reasons why I’d never asked her out. They were as follows: 1) She probably had a boyfriend better looking than me. 2) Inter-office romances were unprofessional. 3) She’d never date a junior associate because she was a full associate.
I should have been promoted to full associate last quarter. Could be Jenkins forgot, or maybe he didn’t want to promote me. Who knew. But if I did make a fuss and was promoted, then I’d have one less reason for not asking Jen out and I’d feel like even more of a jackass for not doing it.
After work I went to the gym. I thought this type of disciplined activity would help me maintain my wholesome, whack-free lifestyle. The problem was, as I ran on the treadmill, my still-swollen penis bobbed up and down. I tried the elliptical machine. My penis rubbed against my thigh. So, I returned home more aware than ever of my masturbation injury.
I got into the shower. Like every other time I’d gotten in contact with my penis that day, I looked it over to see how it was doing. The redness was almost gone. What wasn’t gone was the swelling. In fact, my penis was bigger than it had been that morning. Unnerving, but not unpleasant. The next day it was bigger still. In fact, my penis grew steadily over several days in both length and girth until it rose from the status of a regular penis to that of a great big, manly cock. No pain, just enormity.
I did some internet research on penis size and found I was far above average. Even the porn stars, those beefy men who had previously made me question my manhood, paled in comparison to what I now housed in my pants. Slowly, over the next couple of weeks, my concern faded while my cock continued to grow. I switched from briefs to roomy boxers. As I walked, I felt my mammoth rod bounce gently against my thigh, a subtle reminder of my masculinity.
Now, things began to change. For the first time in my life I used the communal showers at the gym. Whereas I once always used a stall, I now unzipped proudly at the urinal. And you can bet I lifted my self-imposed masturbation moratorium. I had to check out my huge cock in action, and once I did, it seemed a waste to keep the magnificent beast chained up. I wouldn’t have admitted it then, but now I’m secure enough to say that the sight of it erect turned me on.
People make jokes about how men are unnecessarily obsessed with penis size. But few men, if any, have had a chance to compare what it is like to go through life with a small dick and then experience having an enormous one. I can tell you, everything is better when you have a big dick.
Monday morning, after having spent a glorious weekend yanking my new appendage, I went to the office. Jen stopped by my cube.
“What is it with you today?”
“What?” I said.
“You just look different. You’re walking different too. You’ve got a bounce.”
“A bounce?” Either my newfound confidence was showing or I’d unknowingly changed my gait in order to accommodate my enlarged penis.
“Jen,” I said, “will you have dinner with me Saturday?”
She smiled. “Sure.”
I saw Jenkins walk by. I followed him into his office. “Mr. Jenkins,” I said, “I’d like a promotion.”
“Jesus, Sammy. You’ve got a pair on you to come in here talking like that,” he said.
I agreed. He grudgingly gave me a new title and salary.
My relationship with Jen progressed quickly. In previous relationships, it’d taken me weeks to move from first date to first fuck. But with Jen, I was so eager to show her my huge penis that I was much bolder than usual. When she unzipped my pants for the first time, she looked at my cock, traced the length of it with her finger and said, “Oh, wow, Sammy.” I gave what I thought looked like a modest smile, but really, I thought she was right to be impressed.
When I entered her she gave a gasp, a short inhalation. “Easy, easy, easy,” she said as I pushed in slowly. She moaned, gaining volume slowly with each thrust. She closed her eyes and for her, I wasn’t even there anymore. She only felt that big cock sliding in and out of her. She made love to that, squeezing it inside her until bringing herself to orgasm. She tilted her head back and screamed, “Oh god!” I was reminded of how I’d originally thought God had made me reach for the BENGAY. Maybe I had been right. Maybe God was responsible, though it hadn’t been a divine act of malice, but rather a glorious, godly intervention that had served to change my life completely.
“Holy smokes, Sammy. I could get used to that,” she said.
“So could I,” I said.
Thirty minutes later, she reached into my pants and said, “Where’s Sammy’s snake?” We were at it again.
At the office she started dropping notes on my desk talking about, “…never done this before, but I was thinking we could…,” and “can’t stop thinking about how….” I’m pretty sure that because of my enormous cock, within three weeks of our first date, we were doing all sorts of ridiculously kinky things in the sack. Both of us admitted to never having had such vivid imaginations with previous partners.
A year later, I’m still with Jen. Our sex life is unbelievable. She recently asked if it would be okay to bring her girlfriends into the bedroom “because they just don’t believe what I’ve been telling them.” I’ve assured her that sharing my penis amongst her friends would be fine.
I’ve found that Jenkins thinks highly of me and I’ve progressed to senior associate. I go to the gym four times a week, mostly so I can walk around the locker room naked. Consequently, I’ve lost ten pounds.
A high school buddy of mine came through town. We had dinner. He’d only known me as a small-dicked man. He kept going on and on about how great I looked, how happy. “Sammy, what’s your secret?” he asked.
“Easy,” I said. “Go home and slather your penis in BENGAY.”
He gave an uneasy laugh, looked down, and sipped his beer. I shrugged and adjusted my crotch. My phone rang. Jen. She and her friend were watching lesbian porn and wanted me to come over.
“Sorry, Leo,” I said to my friend. “Something’s come up,” I said, which was true.
“It’s okay,” he said, smiling at me softly in the way small-dicked men smile at men like me.