1 comments/ 35966 views/ 10 favorites The Coming of Doug Priaps 01 By: njaybird A View to a Spill Some years ago I had dropped over to visit my friend Sharon, who worked in the office of a naturst group I belong to. The group runs a private beach on a secluded stretch of the Jersey Shore, generally for couples and the occasional single female. I hadn't been able to visit all last year and wanted to see how business was going this season. Sharon was in a good mood that day, although she noted that things had been slow lately. There had been no new members that year, although current membership was holding steady and things seemed to be lively at the beach club house. She told me that she had only been able to visit perhaps three times so far this year, and we talked about scheduling a possible visit in the near future. The office was dry and spartan, sparsely decorated with a few not-telling artifacts from the lifestyle. Sharon talked freely, flinging her large, sumptuous legs across her desk. I sat on a small file cabinet to her left, kicking my legs and shooting the breeze. During a lull in the conversation, I stared idly out the window for a moment, so I happened to see the stranger before she did. He looked like a villain out of an '80s movie: in his late 20s or early 30s, overly tanned, overly buff, wearing an overly tight grey shirt and jeans and wraparound shades, maybe Mediterranean, with a jheri curl and a slight mullet. Even from two floors up I could tell by the way he crossed the street to the building that he was bound for the office. I reckoned I would finally get to see Sharon's famed temper in action, and prepared myself for a treat. I did get a show, but not at all the one I expected. The stranger introduced himself as Doug something and made himself comfortable in the seat across from Sharon's desk, flashing a half-smile. I made a move to leave, but Sharon raised her eyebrows and I plopped back down. The stranger barely gave a nod in my direction, and focused entirely on Shar. He told her he was interested in joining the club and asked about the rates. Sharon sighed and took off her glasses. A redhead in her mid-40, with only a few extra pounds on her voluptuous frame, I had nearly forgotten what a stunner she could be. She turned a mock-smoldering, pitying glance on the stranger and smiled, her teeth almost the same color as her lily-white skin. "Look," she said. "I appreciate you coming down here, but you could've saved yourself the trouble. How much do you know about our group?" The stranger just shrugged and said he heard it was a private naturist group with a beachfront clubhouse that was open almost year round. Sharon nodded. "But if you would've called I would've gladly informed you that we rarely, if ever, accept single males into the group. The selection process is extremely intensive." She gave me a look and rolled her eyes slightly. I knew what she meant. My wife and I had been admitted only after a rigorous background check many years back. In my time there I had never known them to admit single men. But the stranger seemed determined. He was silent for a moment, then asked who was on the selection committee and what it entailed. Sharon explained that she was the chairwoman and discussed the criteria with him, but again stressed that it was very rare that single men were allowed in on their own accord. The stranger leaned forward, as if to whisper to her. Shar showed a strained smile and bent forward. What if he had something that could change her mind? She laughed, and I wondered if the man's weird charm and good looks were getting to her. "That depends," she said, "On what you're offering." Well, the stranger said, he could certainly satisfy them with regard to all the financial aspects of membership, but in addition he had a very peculiar...bonus that he could provide, perhaps in the realm of aesthetic experience for club members, especially the females. Sharon raised her eyebrows. "And what would that be? You're certainly an attractive man, Doug, but there are a number of those in our club. And if you're talking about...other elements of your anatomy, well there are many there who may beat you in that department, as well." Doug just gave her a smirk. "I don't think so," he said. Sharon giggled. "Fine then," she said. "Let's see it." Doug turned slightly in my direction, but Sharon nodded. "Don't worry about him," she said. "He's a club member in good standing for many years. It's not going to be anything new to him, either." I chuckled. With that, Doug stood up abruptly. He removed his shirt to show off a strong, not-overly-chiseled physique, with a bronzed, barrel chest. Then, in one swift motion, as if he had done it many times before, he pulled down his pants to reveal the most enormous penis I have ever seen. Sharon gave a little sound as if all the air had gone out of her. I could tell by her expression that the huge appendage was indeed the largest she had ever seen, as well. Even I, a seasoned naturist who was not unfamiliar with male nudity, was taken aback. For a second I could feel my own testicles recoil, as if in terror. "Well that...that's..." Sharon sputtered. "Wow." Seated across the desk, she was at eye-level with the thing. She seemed transfixed by it. Doug was obviously not unused to being on display like this. He placed his hands nonchalantly on his hips. The organ itself was obscene yet magnificent. It hung down well past the middle of his thigh. Flaccid, it was as wider around than your average broom handle, and even from where I was sitting i recognized that it was almost a foot long. It was dark, almost purple. The top of the shaft was wholly smooth, but the sides were riddled with a network of veins. It was circumcised, yet a giant knot of what remained of the foreskin almost covered the head, which in itself was the size of an orange. Two mighty testicles hung low behind it, each the size of a softball. Without exaggeration, it didn't look like it belonged on a human being, but rather a horse or donkey. It seemed to nod, as if breathing of its own accord. "Is it real?" Sharon asked, still stunned. She ambled around the desk just to get a closer look. "Touch it," Doug urged, his voice flat and emotionless. Sharon gave Doug a look, then tentatively reached out an inspected it, first feeling beneath the shaft, then weighing a testicle in each hand. She nodded, exhaling. The prick bobbed lightly as she gave it a parting pinch. "The ladies of the club will certainly get a kick out of this...thing," Sharon said with a grin. "and perhaps even some of the guys." She winked at me, and I winced. Sharon's lips were parted slightly, jaw slack at the monster that hung before her. As the longtime chief of the naturist group, Sharon had seen many penises over the course of her years in the business, certainly even more than I, but this one beat them all. I looked down. Involuntarily, my own meagre erection had sprung up, as if it had a mind of its own, shocked into action by the site of this lovely woman entrance by a gigantic cock. Sharon shook her head in amazement at the gargantuan dick presented to her. She wasn't wearing a bra; he high, tight breasts jiggled slightly beneath her blouse, and I realized that, despite the air conditioning, she was sweating profusely under her arms. Her pink nipples, fully erect, were visible through the blouse. "That is one massive prick," she said, slapping it playfully. "Ms. Porter, this just came--" said Esmerelda, opening the office door. She was the twenty-something Dominican girl who worked in the travel office downstairs, a regular visitor and Sharon's friend. As such, she was no stranger to our enterprise, though she might not be privy to all its little details. Ez stopped short. Her eyes registered shock, first at the situation in the room, then at the size of the grotesque cock jutting out before her. Suddenly, as if possessed by some unseen spirit, it jerked and rose up, veins stretching, throbbing. It was as if someone was blowing up a balloon. The penis lurched to the right then stood up. Doug's face didn't change. He simply turned toward Esmerelda, his hands behind his back, the huge penis swinging before him, bouncing. From several feet away I could feel the heat from the thing. Even I was unprepared for the full erection, its grotesque length and girth. It was almost comical; I wondered whether Doug had ever had a woman who could fit the entire thing inside her. Certainly his stomach muscles must've been extraordinarily strong to bear up such a beast. Esmerelda's face blazed red, and she brought a hand up to her cheek. "I'm...I'm...excuse me," Ez said, backing out and shutting the door. Doug and his vast prick turned back to Sharon, accidentally brushing up against her blouse where she sat on her desk. The protuberance seemed to point up at Sharon menacingly, as if it were waiting. "Ah, just something to tell her friends," Sharon laughed. I looked instinctively to the window, and realized that anyone down on the street across from us could, in theory, stop and look up and witness the carnality unfolding in that small room. As if against my will, I began absently stroking my penis through my pants. A wet spot appeared. Sharon was perched on the front of her desk, and Doug's dick seemed to rest on her leg. She raised a hand to her freckled cheek, and then got up. "I need to know," she said, and began ransacking her drawers. She came up with an old ruler, and laid it atop the penis, starting where the shaft began in a tangle of coarse black hair. She marked where the ruler stopped on the head with her finger, then measured again. "13 1/4 inches," she said breathlessly. "But it's arching, so it's probably even bigger than that. Freakish." She reluctantly removed her hand from Doug's tumescence and put the ruler on her desk. Then she immediately turned back to Doug. She got down on her knees, as if to give his prick a closer inspection. I had seen Sharon in her role as the free-spirited life of the party, ruling over the merriment at the clubhouse, and as a keen businesswoman negotiating the club's interests. And I had often heard takes of her fearsome temper. But this was a side of her I'd never expected. Her stare was unmoving and electric. She gazed at Doug's towering erection with unconcealed animal lust. Anything could have happened. I had the sudden urge to leave, to give them privacy, but couldn't bring myself to look away. "Can I--" Sharon began to ask, then unprompted gave the swollen head a cautious kiss. She nibbled daintily on the pendulous skin hanging from the glans, then nuzzled the shaft like a lover's neck. A tiny bead of come gleamed from the tip. Doug's face was unreadable, like stone. Sharon ran her hands along its underside, then began kneading it. Finally she ran her tongue along the bottom, from its base to the knotted tip. It took a long time. Doug looked down at her, the fixed half-smirk etched on his face. "Good grief," she said, struggling. "I can barely..." She was right--the head wasn't going to fit in her mouth. With an extra effort, she finally slipped it inside. Her jaw was straining to encompass the enormity. Her cheeks briefly blew up like a trumpet player before the head popped out again with a slurp. Again and again she tried to force it into her mouth, but it was simply too large to stay in there for any length of time. Through it all Doug remained impassive, his stone face hardly changing. I realized he hadn't even taken off his ridiculous sunglasses. All the while, Sharon's hands worked up and down the massive shaft frenziedly. After what seemed like an age, the head turned an ominous beet red, then seemed to swell yet again, surging against its very skin. Then it turned the color of a candle apple. "Come on," Sharon cooed to it softly, wrenching Doug's dick with two hands. The first blast made an audible whoosh. It looked as if Sharon had been splashed with fresh cream. Rivulets of semen ran down her shocked features, dripping from her chin onto the floor. Some droplets splattered across the desk. The dick bobbed expectantly. Another blast came, then another; finally I stopped trying to count the number of ejaculations. Doug gave a slight, barely discernible grunt, but his expression didn't change. His hands were clasped behind his buttocks, as if supporting the weight of his giant cock. Sharon was covered in it. A skein of semen hung from the knob to her cheek. Her hair was matted down by jism. I gave a groan. All the time I had been pinching and tugging my own fully erect member, twisting it through my pants. Glancing down I could see a sudden streak where I had come. "Doug," Sharon gasped, spent, "You're in." She gripped the bulbous head in her hands, dripping and glistening with semen, and rubbed it numbly against her cheek. And that was the first time I met Doug Priaps. The Coming of Doug Priaps 02 A Gushing Report The following summer the spectacle began. My wife and I had rented a house at the naturist club we belonged to down the Shore. I didn't realize Doug had rented the place next to ours until a few weeks into our stay down there. We were staying in a lovely three-floor Victorian with a view of the ocean from the front porch. We'd rented the house on and off for years, and the neighbor next to us had forever been a shrivelled up old gentleman who you rarely saw. His house seemed always dark and quiet. I had set up my study on the second floor, which featured a clear view of the always-dark cupola of the old man's beautiful Queene Anne across the way. I was helping one of my grad students long distance with her treatise on This Side of Paradise, and I needed to get away from the sporadic rowdiness of the beach crowd and clubhouse. I spent weeks up there without seeing or hearing anything, until one evening a light came on in the circular room across the way. In strode a strongly built, overly tanned man wearing only a pair of absurd wraparound sunglasses. I would've recognized him instantly anyway, but his massive dong left no doubt who he was: Doug Priaps, to whose otherwordly endowment I had been exposed some time back when the club chairwoman, Sharon Porter, had taken upon herself to play with Doug only to find herself drenched in a pool of his semen. If Doug saw me, he gave no sign of recognition. He headed into the bathroom beyond the room and came out, his giant member on full display. It hung down so far that it dropped below the window sill, and when Doug sat down in a leather couch facing the window, I could see it spill across his right leg like a length of thick rope carelessy tossed in his lap. After a few moments, a woman entered whom I recognized immediately. It was Susan, a nubile African-American woman and longtime club member who had never once been associated with any of the occasionally salacious dealings you heard about around the club. She took a seat facing away from me, twisting her braided hair in one hand and talking to Doug, who seemed to say very little. I tried to focus on my reading, but it was useless. I put the book down and stared at the two of them in the room across the way. Although I was only maybe 30 feet from them in another house, they could theoretically see my just as easily as I could them, but Doug betrayed no indication that he noticed me. The afternoon sun shone down, and a patch of sunlight fell directly across Doug's crotch. I saw the sleeping behemoth stir and begin to rise; soon it looked as though Doug had a flesh-colored shotgun sprouting from between his legs that was pointed directly at Susan's face. She wasted no time and was soon hard at work, bent over Doug's huge cock and bobbing fiercely, her glorious, dimpled ass cheeks pointed directly at the window and me; underneath I could see her exposed cleft, clearly open and sopping wet. Suddenly Susan reeled back as if she'd been struck. Doug's penis bounced mercilessly as it shot off again and again, firing ropes of come all over the poor woman, who was laughing and holding up her hands in mock fright. A number of droplets splattered on the window, and indeed Doug never bothered to clean any of the semen that accumulated there over the course of the entire summer. When the show was over and Doug's member had dwindled to its still-impressive pre-tumescent state, Susan got up and strode over to the bathroom beyond and began toweling off her face. Doug remained sitting, either musing or catatonic. Ultimately he shut the light off and they both went downstairs. I realized that my hardon was raging from witnessing the scene, and, after it subsided a little, I rushed downstairs. Susan was saying farewell to Doug on the porch, wearing a massive smile, her breasts gleaming as if they'd been recently rubbed down with oil. She'd done a pretty decent job cleaning up Doug's mess, although there remained a few flecks of white residue in her dark, lovely hair. After she departed, Doug stood there on the porch, his face a mask, rubbing off his prick with a towel. I stepped out and said hello, and gave him some friendly advice: his behavior on the porch could be misread by some stodgy folks as masturbation and thereby grounds for dismissal from the club--no public sexual activity was permitted, technically, although there was endless tales of hanky-panky going on on the sly. Doug stared at me for a moment, and I actually almost got afraid, but then he gave his slight smirk and thanked me. He remembered me as the spectator at his earlier encounter with Sharon Porter. I asked him if he wanted to accompany me on a walk around the club and, after tossing his towel aside, he agreed. We toured the entire club that afternoon: the basketball, volleyball, and tennis courts; the pool; the bar and lounge in the club house. Wherever we went we were preceded by Doug's inhumanly large dick swinging away, and needless to say it got him a lot of attention. Even in an environment where people were conditioned to nudity on an everyday basis, Doug's grotesque cock was a source of amazement and wonder. Women craned their necks and nearly bent over backwards to get a look at the immense tool. Often, men who saw it turned their heads away in what seemed like disgust or surprise, pretending as if they hadn't noticed. One young blonde woman who was bussing table in the lounge did such a double take when she saw the monstrosity that she dropped an armful of plates and glasses. Ever the gentleman, Doug stopped to help her pick up, his huge cock drooping lazily on the ground as he kneeled. "Don't get cut on the glass," the girl said, pointing down at his dick and some shards, her face red. From that point on, Doug and I were constant walking companions, taking afternoon strolls around the resort and beach and even exploring some of the small wildland areas around the club's perimeter. He seemed to forgive me my singular affectation, an ever present safari hat, so I in turn forgave him his ludicrous, ever-present sunglasses. He was always quiet and hard to read, but amiable enough. He rarely volunteered information about himself, and never once boasted of his sexual exploits. On more than one occasion he was stopped by female hikers or joggers from the club, who made it plain that they were more interested in staring in awe at his gargantuan prick than in actually talking to him. Usually these meetings would result in Doug giving me a curt nod and disappearing for a few minutes with his admirer (or admirers) behind a copse of trees or rocky outcropping. When they would emerge some time later, the woman--or on one occasion, women--would usually be grinning and lathered in come, trying desperately to wipe the stuff off. Doug would come back with that unchanging, enigmatic smirk on his face, his dong usually dripping semen along the ground with each step. The rest of that summer there was an endless parade of female visitors to Doug's house. Sharon Porter was a regular, and on many occasions my wife and I could hear her cries emanating from Doug's cupola, a unnerving mixture of pain and joy. It was on one such occasion, one evening after seeing a bow-legged and clearly shaken and red-in-the-face Sharon waddle down the path from Doug's house, that I realized my wife had never even met Doug. Rose, ten years my junior, was an easy laugh and would scold me if I told you she looked a bit like Marilyn Monroe, had the movie star lived into her 50s. She had an extraordinarily curvaceous figure and thin, blonde hair than almost look white and which she usually wore in a bob. Though she lacked the beauty mark, she shared the same cherubic features, the same pouty lips, the same exceptional curves. Despite her age she was still getting ogled by guys at the club, young and old. I broached the subject of Doug with her and she seemed interested in meeting my walking companion. We decided that we'd drop by on him the next day after lunch. I called Doug and we agreed to meet at his place around one the following day. At the appointed time, Rose and I wandered over, heading over to the side door and bearing a gift of wine. The door was slightly ajar. I knocked once, then again, then rang the bell. No answer. From inside I could make out faint noises. Although the club had always been a peaceful place and I never recalled a crime taking place there, I began to feel somewhat concerned. Most people locked their doors, and Doug knew we were coming. I cautiously opened the door and went in. Rose followed. The sounds were getting louder as we approached the front of the house. It was a loud squeaking noise, like a mop being yanked across a floor or a rubber ball being rolled vigorously in somebody's hands. I rounded the corner to a wondrous sight. Doug was standing implacably in front of the bay windows in the living room, staring down. The young lady who bussed tables at the clubhouse was sitting on the floor with her back against the sofa, elbows propped up against it. She was wearing her clunhouse apron, but nothing else. She had succeeded where dear Sharon had failed: she had taken the entirety of Doug's ponderous dick head into her delicate mouth and was chugging away pleasantly, emitting small whimpers of pleasure that were almost drowned out by the wet squeaking of Doug's prick. When she saw me appear she pulled off it abruptly, smiling naughtily and wiping some drool from her chin. I grinned back at her and shook my head in disbelief. The pair had been performing in full view of the home's huge bay windows. Anyone on the beach or passing by the front of the house would easily have seen Doug's colossal rigidity and the ensuing suckfest. Then Rose rounded the corner. She gasped and flushed hotly. If she was unable to figure out what had been going on by the sight of Doug's huge boner mere inches from the young woman's face, she couldn't miss the sheen of saliva still on his pulsating knob. Doug turned towards us, and his enormous prick swung around like a baseball bat. I couldn't help but be shocked anew by the sight of the thing up close. Fully erect, it seemed even bigger than last time I had seen it. It was almost the deep purple of an eggplant. Its cut hood, soaked with the woman's spittle, was rolled back like a cobra. The huge, hideous head seemed to glower at us like some fat, throbbing eye. The entire shaft trembled as blood raced through it. Doug's two gigantic testicles bounced ever so slightly against his hairy, muscular thighs. Doug looked at us with his awkward smile, which I returned. Rose mouth wad agape. "We didn't mean to intrude--" she began, but Doug waved her concerns aside. I introduced Rose and Doug in turn introduced Elaine, the woman from the clubhouse. Even as we made our courtesies I was aware that Rose's eyes were still glued to Doug's stiff one. Elaine went to the kitchen to make coffee. Doug sat down, his erection subsiding. His prick was draped over one knee like some strange bald pet. Rose sat on the sofa across from him, while I sat to her left in a wicker chair. "I'd heard the rumors," she told Doug, "but Harry here didn't inform me that it was his waking partner whose giant schlong has all the ladies of the club in an uproar." It occurred to me that I had left out that one salient detail when I talked to Rose about my trips with Doug. Elaine brought the coffee in on a tray and placed in on the low table in the middle of the room. She had doffed her work apron and I couldn't have been happier about it. She had a perfect golden tan with no tan lines. She was small boned, although she had a slim waist and wide hips. I noted with delight her perky breasts and neatly trimmed pubic hair. We made some trivial chit chat, with Rose blatantly staring Doug's resting penis all the while. Elaine gave me a sideward glance and smiled. It wasn't long before Rose returned the topic of conversation to Doug's dick. "It must be tiring, walking around with Harry all day long and carrying all that extra weight between your legs," Rose said, arching her eyebrows. Doug shrugged, then stood up, his prick unwinding and sailing free. He pranced about the room a few times, skipping and jumping. All eyes were on his huge, swaying dong, which ticked back and forth like a hideous pendulum. The women were spellbound by it. To punctuate the show, Doug lazily jerked his hips twice, twirling his enormous member like a propeller. We all laughed, and he sat back down. "It's not so bad," he said. "I'll say," said Rose. She excused herself and went to the bathroom. I turned to Elaine and grinned. "You know," I said, "It's no big deal about what we saw happening in here earlier." I recounted to her the first time I met Doug in Sharon Porter's office, and talked about Sharon's irresistible but finally futile urge to try and fit Doug's giant fist-like cock head into her mouth. Elaine listened, all smiles. I neglected to tell her of the numerous attempts I'd seen in Doug's upstairs room, all of which invariably ended in a plume of jism. Rose joined us again. Soon both women's nipples--with Elaine's breasts the size of apples, Rose's the size of melons--were hard. Their eyes were wide with wonder. I followed their gaze. Doug's erection had returned with a vengeance. The pole was throbbing without restraint. It was so large he could have easily reached his solar plexus with the tip. The prick jutted out over the coffee table. It seemed to be pointing at Rose, an unasked question. "Sharon's a good woman," Doug mused, caressing the length of his impossibly long shaft. The fleshy flap of skin beneath his dick head wobbled. Already pale, Rose blanched. She stop staring for a moment at Doug's penis and slowly looked at me, then turned back to that quivering organ. Rarely had I seen her so inflamed with lust. Her lower lip trembled. She crossed and uncrossed her arms. I knew what she wanted. I patted her knee. "It's okay," I told her. "This is something you just have to do. Go ahead." Rose studied Doug and his erection. "May I..." She could hardly get the words out. Doug answered by kicking the floor and turning his chair so he was in profile, to give us--and, of course, anyone who happened to look through those large windows--a better view of the proceedings. His fully engorged dick dipped up and down like it had a life of its own. Elaine took Rose by the hand and led her over to the prick. Rose got down on her knees before it. Elaine brushed back her hair from her face tenderly. The next part would be more difficult. Elaine used two hands to raise the dick up so it pointed right at Rose's chin. Rose gingerly pushed back the wattles of skin to reveal Doug's tremendous exposed glans. The swollen head was the size of a beer can. She opened her mouth and guided it inside. To my surprise, almost the entire head fit. Rose began to gobble away at the cock. The warm slapping sound we'd first heard when we arrived filled the room. She paused only for a moment to disengage and remark, "This is amazing," only to turn back immediately and redouble her labors. Elaine stood behind Rose, kneading her shoulders for a time. The lovely young woman then walked over and sprawled spread eagle on the couch. She reached down and deftly inserted two fingers into her pussy while working her clit with her other hand. Her mouth formed a perfect "O." I watched Rose slurping away, helpless to control my own erection. My paltry 6-inch cock, less than half the size of Doug's monster appendage, rose up, red and aching. Elaine saw this and gave me a pitying glance. I shrugged and put down my mug as Rose whimpered, greedily gulping on Doug's huge dik. Doug, as usual, looked on without expression, as if this was the natural state of things: women saw his dick, and fell down and worshipped it. Elaine got up and sauntered over, her lovely small breasts jiggling with each step, and sat at my feet. Unbidden, she grabbed my dick and began stroking it in time with Rose's rhythmic sucking. I put my hands behind my head and exhaled--I knew I wouldn't last long, and soon I had shot my load all over Elaine's dainty fingers and onto the floor. Rose lapped the prick ferociously. Doug's expression never changed. He arched his back and turned his face up to the ceiling, raising his arms languidly over his head. Then Doug's gigantic balls contracted up to the base of his dick. "Mrs. Black," Doug said, tapping Rose on the shoulder. "I'm gonna blow." Rose slowly eased Doug's massive head from her mouth with a pop, but it was too late. The dick's eye opened and covered Rose's awestruck face thoroughly with semen. Doug stood up. Taking matters into his own hands, he turned the jerking, firing cock away from Rose and aimed it at the table. Ropes of come shot across the sugar bowl and coffee pot. One blast actually knocked a mug clean off the table. A dollop landed on the sofa next to Elaine. With both hands on his cock, Doug wrested it back and forth across the table. Load after load landed on it, coating the settings with semen. The air stank of coffee grinds and spunk. When it was all done, Doug let his limp penis fall from his grasp. It dangled down near his knees. The head shone as globules of cream continued to trickle onto the floor. In his glasses I saw the reflection of my wife, her angelic face slathered with frothy ejaculate. "Welcome to the club, Doug," Rose sighed, wiping a tear of his come from her eye. The Coming of Doug Priaps 03 Chapter 03: A Blast at the Beach Early one morning that strange summer I got a call from Doug. He wanted to take a ride north to Gunnison Beach on Sandy Hook to explore the naturist resort there. Although my wife Rose was going to be around all that day, I agreed to go with him. I agreed partly because I knew going would keep Doug away from Rose, even if only for a short time. It was a difficult period for me, as I was contending with jealousy in the wake of Doug and Rose's encounter a few weeks earlier. Two other times since then I had returned to the house to find Doug there. Both times he was sporting a monstrous erection and seated on the couch in our living room directly across from Rose. I was never able to prove that there'd been any back-door hijinks, however Rose eventually admitted to me that she'd carried on a fling with Doug that lasted for many years. But that's a different story altogether. The issue ultimately blew over and Doug, Rose and I are all on good terms today. I rolled out of bed that particular day ready for a change of scenery. After more than a month of being constantly naked, day in day out, I found it a little unsettling to have to don clothes to make the hour or so trip to Sandy Hook. I dug out some khaki shorts and vest and donned my usual safari hat (probably one of the reasons Rose felt free to cheat on me was because, nude or no, I was always wearing that ridiculous thing). Doug said he'd drive, and soon rolled up in his small Italian roadster. While I had gotten dressed for the trip, Doug was wearing barely anything at all. The only thing he had on was a strange, loincloth-like piece that barely covered his enormous penis. One of his female aficionados at our club had devised it for him. It consisted of a snug piece of cloth and several straps that held Doug's humungous member to his left leg, and that was basically it. One tug on the straps and the cloth would instantly detach to reveal Doug's cock in all its gross, resplendent glory. I wondered if police officers would feel it even met the legal criteria for clothing, if it came to that. It was so tight fitting I didn't see how he could possibly get hard and keep it on. We set off on the trip, driving north on Route 9 with the top down, passing through the various Jersey Shore towns. It was a fantastic day outside, cloudless. Since it was the middle of the week there was little traffic, so we made good time to the park gates. As we rolled up, I realized the gate attendant would be staring directly down into Doug's crotch. He seemed unfazed, and pushed his idiotic-looking wraparound sunglasses back on his nose. The attendant was a young woman who resembled Doug's occasional flame from the club, Elaine. She glanced down at Doug's strong physique as he sat impassively, half-nude in the car. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw was between his legs. "Hello," I called across to her. We paid the toll and she raised the gates. She gave us a sly grin. "I know where you guys are heading today. Great day for the beach. The water ought to be fine. It'll be uh, hard...finding parking down by Gunnison. You fellas have fun." Doug gave her his typical unreadable smirk and we took off. "How nice. She thinks we're a gay couple," I said jokingly. "Look Doug, while I appreciate your huge dick, getting hands on with it is another matter entirely." And it was true. I was perpetually aroused by seeing women's passionate reaction to his improbably gigantic schlong and their inevitable, adoring capitulation before it. That summer so far I had personally witnessed more than a dozen women desperately beating him off and sucking at it, including my own Rose, and it was always amusing. It still is. The road to the beach was virtually deserted. Heat steamed off the blacktop of the four lane highway that ran down the peninsula to the beach. On one side was the Atlantic, the other the bay. Sailboats drifted in the distance. The cliffs of the Atlantic Highlands rose off to our left. Before us there was the rough scrubland of Sandy Hook, with its aging war base and--somewhere out on the far side of those wilds--public naturist resort. We hadn't gone further than a half-mile from the gate when Doug single-handedly yanked on the straps attached to his "loincloth." It came off immediately and he tossed it out the window. I watched in the rearview mirror as the tiny cloth fluttered in the wind, quickly lost behind us. His incredible penis unfurled, wobbling and vibrating with the car's motion, its head drooping off the leather seats and down toward the floor. I had known Doug to be an exhibitonist par excellence, but this made me a little anxious. Though we were off the beaten trail, we could still encounter police and uptight drivers who might report us. And there was always the possibity of a crash. I could see the headlines now: Naked Man Arrested Driving; College Professor Rode Shotgun. Any way you sliced it, it didn't look good for my career. But there was nobody in sight on the road ahead. We drove on in silence for awhile. Then out of nowhere I spotted a Jeep coming up quickly from behind. It contained a pair of young women. The Jeep slowed behind us for awhile, then made a move to pass on the left. The vehicle came up alongside us and matched our speed. The woman were laughing and looking down at us. They cheered and waved. It wasn't clear to me that they were reacting to Doug's nakedness specifically, or even if they could see the coiled serpent in his lap. Doug glanced up at them cooly, his expression betraying nothing. Then, as if on cue, his dick sprang to life. It jerked sideways and bounced off the back of the steering wheel until it stood straight up like some massive transmission stick. Without exaggerating, the head rested on the center post of the steering column. Doug could've used it to beep the horn. I could just about see the woman in the passenger's seat. Her face lit up, and she tapped the driver, who turned to look once, twice, three times. Both of their mouths hung open, and then they began cheering and beeping. After a few moments of this they sped off in front of us and disappeared around a curve up ahead. "They seemed to have some effect on you, eh?" I said to Doug. He didn't responded. Eventually his cock settled down and went limp. After a few more minutes of driving through what seemed like a dense jungle brush, we arrived at the parking lot for Gunnison. It was indeed crowded. People were milling about the lot in various states of undress. I wondered if Doug intended to walk fully nude from his car all the way to the beach, a distance of maybe a quarter mile. No sooner did the thought cross my mind than Doug stood up out of the vehicle, his hideous, magnificent prick waving shamelessly in the breeze. He locked the door and trotted off ahead of me, keys jingling in his hand. People immediately took notice of him, though no one made too much of a fuss. An elderly woman being helped out a car by a nurse raised her hand to her mouth and they both broke into a grin. One man nudged a friend who was lounging with him against the side of a car. All eyes were on Doug as he sauntered toward the beach. I had seen enough of Doug those past few months so that I was usually unfazed by it, but at that moment it struck me once again how singularly huge his penis truly was. It swung down from his crotch like some rude, fleshy belt, slapping up against his thighs with each step. It was dark brown, almost purple, almost a different color entirely from the rest of his tanned body, and his pubis and the huge testicles that descended below it were covered with coarse black hair. It looked almost like some dwarf leg that had been grafted onto him, but I knew from the gallons of semen he'd expended since the time I'd met him that it was all too real. The prick garnered its fair share of gasps and stairs and we moved steadily closer to the ocean and people became less and less clothed. We approached a sign that warned of "nude sunbathers ahead," and I readied myself to remove my outfit. Just then, a chunky, red-faced young woman in a ranger outfit came stalking up behind Doug. "Sir!" She shouted in a strident tone. "Sir! You need to be clothed in this area..." Doug whirled, and his dong followed in a blur, whipping around his hip before settling down directly in front of him again. The ranger stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes bulged as she beheld the monstrous thing. "Oh...okay...I..." the woman stuttered. She was at a loss for words. She took a tentative step forward, and for a moment I actually thought she was going to fling herself down in the sand and begin sucking away at it, as so many others so often did. The ranger regained her composure, and wrenched her eyes away from Doug's huge tumescence and up at his face. He gave her his patented smirk and said nothing. "Sir, the clothing-optional area is over there." She pointed behind Doug, but he didn't turn away from her. She glanced down again involuntarily, then up at Doug's face. "Please...it's fine this time, but please make sure you're covered up when you come back this way to the parking lot." Doug still didn't move, and I could see the poor woman's breathing begin to increase steadily. Other people watched the confrontation, alternately concentrating on the pair and Doug's preposerously massive cock. Finally I stepped up and thanked the woman, and Doug and I turned and marched off past the sign. There were rows upon rows of naked bodies laying the sand and playing about. It was far more crowded and lively that the beach back at the club. We made our way past the lifeguard stand and finally found a small section where we could carve out our own spot to sit down. It was set back away from the more crowded area. Some people had set up windbreaks for privacy. There was a tent nearby that was bouncing suspiciously. Couples of various orientation were scattered about us. Birds hunkered down on the closed off sand dunes to our back. I set my things down, unrolled a blanket, and began to disrobe. Doug, naked now for some time already, tossed his keys to one side and sat directly down in the sand. His giant prick sunk into it like an ostrich burying its head, his huge balls burrowing in beneath it. Nude I resembled most of the men on that beach: somewhat portly, with rounded shoulders and of average endowment. There were several skinny guys, and some with athletic builds. Doug would have fallen into the latter category, but the sheer enormity of his member made him unforgettable. The sun beat down on us. Doug was soon laying down and snoring quietly away. I rubbed sunscreen everywhere, and another slightly obese fellow with a pork pie hat invited me to play volleyball. I trotted off to join the game, leaving Doug and his sausage to roast. I played with a group of guys and gals for almost an hour, then we broke and took a dip in the sea. I returned to my blanket to find Doug had turned over. His bronzed backside was caked in sand, and he was still asleep. "That's a recipe for sun poisoning," I said aloud as I dried myself off and sat down on my blanket next to him. I intended to doze off myself, but suddenly a shape whizzed by my head. I turned to see a frisbee take a bounce off Doug's sandy ass and land a couple feet away. Doug awoke and pushed himself up. A pair of woman strode over. "Oops," said the first one. "Sorry 'bout that." Doug was a little over six foot tall, and this young lady had a couple inches on him. She had a formidable physique and a guitar-shaped figure. Her skin was a light olive color, and black ringlets covered her head. She had a high forehead, a petite, upturned nose, and pencil-thin eyebrows; her eyes were shaded by a pair of large brown sunglasses. Her wide mouth smiled to reveal a set of small, symmetrical teeth. Her tight breasts jutted out fiercely. The only thing she wore was a lime green bikini bottom. Her shadow towered over us both. "Watch where you're throwing," Doug growled, turning over. His immense tool tumbled into view. It was dusted over with sand. "Madre de Dios," the tall woman said. "Delores, take a look at that huge fucking dick!" The second woman she called Delores was much shorter than her friend. She was compactly built with big curves, large breasts and a copious ass. She had nut-brown skin, and her dark brown areolae were the size of small pancakes. She had large, innocent, doe-like eyes and straight, black hair that fell to her shoulders. A pair of blue trunks covered her womanhood. When she beheld Doug's oversized gonads she emitted a high-pitched whistle. "That's the guy we saw in the car back on the highway," Delores said. The tall woman smiled at me and said, "You are one lucky man to wake up to that cock every morning." "Ah," I said, "No, we're straight. Just friends. I'm married actually. Wife is back at home today." They both laughed. "Whatever you say," Delores said. "That true, big boy?" said the tall woman, grinning. "You like ladies?" Doug looked at her, more coldly than usual, I thought. "Some of them," he said. The women laughed uproariously, and Delores pushed her friend. Then the tall woman knelt in the sand to get a closer look at Doug's cock. "So what do you call it?" she asked Doug. "All guys name their dicks, right?" Doug said nothing. He was as annoyed as I'd seen him. He lay on his back looking up at her. The tall woman pushed closer to his prick. The organ seemed to stir slightly. "What's your name, handsome? I'm Erica," she said, speaking directly to the phallus. Doug's dick lurched to life. In seconds he was at full mast. His massive cock head resembled some ancient, horrible leviathan that had landed on the beach. It throbbed with excitement, and sand flaked from the folds of skin under his naked glans. Doug had a strained look. I could tell he was struggling to get the raging boner under control and having no success. "I think he likes me," Erica said, brushing sand off the shaft. "Go Erica!" Delores urged, bending over to pick up the misguided frisbee, her swimsuit perfectly framing her strong, beautiful buttocks. "You ever seen a cock that big?" "I've seen a lot of big dicks," Erica said as her hands continued to caress Doug's trunk, "but this one takes the cake." Doug's erection was thundering. Then Erica did what no other woman I'd seen do up until then: she took Doug's shaft, wider than a beer can at some points, in one hand. Doug laid back in the sand, his chin aimed skyward. His hands sought purchase in the sand. Erica pumped his cock a few times. "Miss," I said feebly, "public sex is expressly forbidden, here as much as anywhere else." I scanned the beach: there was no sign of the ranger, and the lifeguards weren't paying any attention. None of the sunbathers around us seemed to notice what was happening. "Please...we could get kicked off, or even locked up, if the authorities get involved." Erica stared down at Doug's pounding erection, gently picking off bits of sand. "Delores, keep a watch for the cops and them." Delores nodded and smiled. Erica looked closely at Doug's humungous, knotted prick head, running a finger under the many fissures and layers of thick skin. The head wobbled ominously, red as a ripe tomato. It shone in the sun. Without hesitation, Erica took Doug's thick dick head deep into her mouth. I had seen several women gag and fail at that task, yet this giantess had swallowed almost a quarter of Doug's foot-long-plus member with ease. She sucked at it long and slow. Another inch of the shaft disappeared down her gullet. I looked around nervously. Across from us, a cute, zaftig woman on a blanket was watching. The man next to her slept on, heedless. Slowly the woman put a hand on her hairy mound and began to massage it in time to Erica's sucking. Erica's nostrils flared as she dove down on Doug's penis. Her hands squoze his balls and pressed his perineum. I had seen several woman attempting to give Doug adequate head, including my own wife, but this was different--Erica was actually fucking him with her mouth. She looped an arm under each of Doug's legs and lifted them slightly, driving him deeper into her throat. Her suglasses fell from her face and plunked on Doug's belly, then slid off into the sand. "Old man, watch and make sure nobody's coming," Delores commanded me, then grinned. "You know what I mean." She placed the frisbee on my blanket and lay down beside Doug. He was breathing heavily. I stood up and surveyed the beach. The lifeguards were intent on the ocean. A pudgy man occupying a sheet nearby had his puny cock in his hand and was jerking it wildly as he watched Erica devour Doug. In a matter of seconds he had deposited his load in the sand and just sat there, panting and staring. Aside from him, only a few other folk were paying any mind to the scene, and all who did seemed pleased and fascinated. The zaftig woman who'd been stroking herself moaned aloud. "It's okay, baby," Delores whispered to Doug, running her fingers through his greasy hair. "You say you like pussy? Well, how bout some of this?" Delores slid up so her hips were aligned with Doug's face, then slowly pulled down her swimsuit. Her pubis was covered in thick, black hair. She was already moist. Doug gave her a weak nod. She stood, legs spread apart over him, her back to Erica, then lowered her cunt onto Doug's waiting face. He pressed up into her and her lips curled with delight. By now my own cock was rigid and throbbing. I felt as if the slightest wind would have me spurting semen and battled to stay in control. Delores looked over at me. "Grandpa..." she said as she bounced lightly on Doug's face, "viene aqui." She gestured for me to approach. With one eye warily on the other beachgoers, I sidled over to the copulating trio. Delores immediately grabbed my prick and inserted it into her mouth. My balls slapped against her chin. I could do nothing but hold her head to me as she feasted, petting her lustrous hair. We were all working in a rhythm, I realized: Erica deep-throating Doug, who chewed on Delores, who in turn fellated me. It was magnificent, but I knew I wouldn't last. Fortunately Doug was the first to go. Erica's eyes got huge as what I assumed was the first explosion of semen fired into her throat, but she held on. A thin stream of white trickled out of the corner of her mouth. His climax had a sort of domino effect on us. Delores flung her head back from my penis in ecstasy. She grunted heartily and laughed. I couldn't take it anymore. The orgasm was one of the most powerful I've ever had. I expelled a torrent of semen all over Delores's beautiful face and chest. Finally Erica withdrew from Doug's dick, gulping down the last of his come. She kissed each of his balls in turn. Doug rested his head back in the sand, his cheeks wet with Delores's juice. He looked finished. His penis sagged and arched downwards. "Now that's what I call a DICK," Erica said joyously. ** Later on, the ladies walked with us back to the parking lot. Erica, Delores. And I were all fully clothed; Doug much less so. As we passed the ranger station, the woman we'd ran into earlier watched us walk by with a mixture of indignation and awe. Erica Had fashioned a makeshift sling out of her bikini bottom for Doug's huge dick. The small piece of clothing barely concealed his drooping penis. She used the suit's ties to lash the prick tightly, then tied it around his hips right above his asscheeks. Holding the tie wrapped around his dong, she lead him to the car like a perverse circus performer leading an elephant by the trunk. She smiled victoriously. And for the first time since I'd known him, Doug was genuinely smiling, too.