DITW 15-23: Malebolges & Male Bulges

The dildo was cold and inhuman under his touch. Toys were nothing like the real thing. But when choosing such an item for her own pleasure, Kimmy Chang had bought the biggest dick in the sex store. Kimmy liked size. Not just as a vague rhetoric on aesthetics, but for the physical response, the tactile interference into her interior; getting stretched, getting stuffed, getting reamed out, having her organs displaced. All the rude offerings spewed in men’s spaces were true with the woman Josh Waters had married. She might be tall and thin, and her pussy might be tight, but her affinity and keenness for a certain trait in male sex organs.

The thing was heavy. It wobbled when he shook it. Did Devlin’s do that? And if it did, Did Kimmy like shaking it and watching it wobble?

Shame bloomed, but he found he could push it back with sound reasoning. Like, try as he might to pretend the past was the past, the truth was much of what happened between them last summer was unresolved. Time had passed, but no patches or mending had truly begun. Maybe he could find peace in reuniting with the hot and flammable moments that he'd shared with Kimmy. The times when they'd explored this dark engine that wanted to open up on the highway and see how fast they could go. He'd been unsure and ashamed but Kimmy showed him support and played with him. All of that was real. Those things happened. And though the fantasies they'd spun together were realer than he wanted, those times with Kimmy had been electrified with strange passion and vulnerability and delightful perversion.

With his back to Kimmy—waiting for him in bed, knowing what he was doing but unable to see—he tested the dildo’s girth, circling his thumb and middle finger. They met with moderate effort, but the thickness astounded him. How could his wife accommodate such a thing?

He turned to regard her now, found her ready and waiting, on her back, legs slinking, resting on her elbows, all long limbs and sexy stare and tawny skin that looked dark-tanned against the light color of their bedding. Her beauty ached in his heart.

He smiled and showed the weapon to her. It wobbled, and he dropped it down to his thigh, stepping back to the bed and crawling on it to meet her in the pillows. Her hand went right to the thing she craved: the replica of Devlin’s penis. Her fingertips toyed with the shape of the cock head, her eyes darting from there to his eyes. “What do you want to do with this?”

He remained silent, looking down between them where he held the replica and where his wife’s fingers smoothed sexual shapes, reminiscing about the man who did things to her that her husband never could. He said, “Did you ever measure him?”

Kimmy shook her head, soft silky hair on the pillow. Then she whispered, “No. Why do you need a number? We know how yours looked up against his.” She circled one hand at the dildo’s base, her pinky curled on the molded scrotum.

“We did,” he said, stomach turning, cock aching, thinking of that awful afternoon in Yorkville, watching Kimmy move her other hand to grip above the first, then swapping out, laddering up the enormous dildo, three hand lengths, then one half as she gripped the cock head, a massive rubber plum in her elegant grip. She swirled the hand on the cock head the way he imagined she liked to do with Devlin. 

Both of them watched her stroke the massive toy held between their bodies, their heads drawing closer on the pillows until their foreheads almost touched.

She said, “Devlin’s curved, and I liked the shape of his cock head better than this one. His was larger.”

“It was?”

“Yeah,” she said, squeezing and caressing the fake glans, about twice the size or more than his own.

He offered a complaint out of instinct, a point against Devlin’s magnificent cock, saying, “His dick was two-toned.”

“Yeah,” Kimmy agreed. “I wonder how it would look if no one circumcised him.”

“You’d prefer that?”

Kimmy’s eyes drifted up to meet his, and she smiled, letting go of the toy, then rolling away, reclining and opening her torso, her arms coming up above her head. “I asked you what you were going to do with that.”

“Do we need lube?”

“I don’t think so,” she said and chuckled, helping him guide the end of the dildo between her thighs.

“You really want it,” he said, an unfortunate petulance in his tone. Like a disgusted condemnation—his former modus operandi, the one that heaped the lion’s share of blame onto Kimmy. There was no blame to share anymore—the slate was clear, and each knew the enjoyment of the other.

And savvy Kimmy rode right over his speed bump like she drove on Air-Ride suspension, saying, “You really want to give it to me too,” which was correct. Maybe he didn’t have to explain anymore how his kink’s straps got cinched tighter by his indignation. Her agency heightened the thrill—the more control she held, the more lust, and the better he cherished the disgust because it honed her libertine blade. It put all of this on her like he was an innocent man forced to endure a bloody Moral Spectacle in the public square. The umbrage put his chin higher, braced him for greater impact.

Slipping into a new role was easy; he assumed the demeanor of a reluctant husband, enduring a dark and reluctant navigation of his wife’s shameful and humiliating need. Kimmy needed a big one, and her husband didn’t have a big one. This brave husband sidled next to his wife, watching the Devlin replica as he moved it between her thighs. Kimmy’s hands swept her flat tummy in eager anticipation. Devlin’s erect cock was similar in length to her forearm and thicker than her wrist. Kimmy’s rump raised from the bed to meet the first pressure he applied with the replica (though she liked the size and shape of Devlin’s cock head more). The movement was eased by Kimmy’s gushing excitement, slick crackling, now followed by Kimmy’s heavy breathing. Her breathing hitched as he penetrated her, then a quick gasp as the toy’s (smaller) head breached her. As soon as she sensed the deeper situation, her hips roiled and humped, and he swore, through peristaltic action, Kimmy compelled the Devlin replica deeper, the rubber passing along his grip. He drew it back and watched his wife’s back bow. The toy inched deeper, reclaiming its prior entry. Her thighs went in and out, and she uttered a pleading whimper in her throat.

Odd thoughts coalesced; pulp-fiction science explaining in his head that Kimmy could only squeeze that way on thick ones; that her pussy loved to milk Devlin, but hubby Josh’s pecker proved too skinny to get a grip on. A wash of erotic shame flooded him and left an eerie glee when it receded. He scooted downward, kisses working along Kimmy’s breast, her ribs, tummy, and hip. Kimmy’s legs parted to accommodate him, and he took the space, getting a Devlin’s-eye view of how beautiful Kimmy Chang looked when she was in heat and getting the kind of dick she needed.

So he used it on her. Used it and studied her response. Used it and watched it go in and out of her. Watched that tenderest of places pummeled by Devlin’s rubber facsimile. Kimmy humped it. Kimmy worked with him, reacting to his own thrusts and teasing. 

His wife looked different this way. He was used to her reaction with him. Used to her responses to his actions separated from this implement and using his own equipment. Kimmy’s hips rolled and her back arched and after a while her hands went to her chest and squeezed her own breasts in a manner he considered too harsh. This big dick drove her wild. In fact, after some time, her skin shone with the sweat of excitement. It was a beautiful sight to behold and yet it screwed up his stomach and tightened his chest.

Imagine what Devlin did to her. How could she ever hate their time together when he must have driven her out of her mind? This was how she was when she was with Devlin. And he knew that already, had seen it with his own eyes. And yet, somehow, it hurt better knowing he could replicate it in some small measure. 

When she urged him to put it deeper, he asked her if she was sure. It didn’t seem proper. It didn’t seem enjoyable. 

“Deeper,” she urged him again.

And now, he took better command, getting over top of her, Devlin’s big fake cock in his right hand, his left planting over her shoulder. He was looking down at her now, his face over hers. She bit her lips. He pushed the huge toy deeper and watched her face contort into a horrifying mask of dolorous ecstasy.

The face she made in the Yorkville hotel room.

Kimmy naked but for Devlin’s tie wrapped around her eyes as a blindfold. Devlin with his cock in her, no condom, and Josh watching it all. “Kimmy likes it deep,” Devlin had said. “Loves it.”

He withdrew and plunged, again and again, doing it slowly and meant for Kimmy’s maximum pleasure.

Devlin with Kimmy, Devlin fucking her and taunting Josh at the same time. No woman can take it like your wife, Josh. No woman wants it like she does. Her little pussy was made for my cock.

Devlin folding Kimmy in half, fucking her in the same position Josh was in now, but bringing her chin to her hips, shortening the planes, her tummy scrunching, spacetime folding so the end of Devlin’s cock could touch Kimmy’s deepest trigger.

Kimmy’s got a G-spot up here, Joshy. You ever hit it?

But he couldn’t fold Kimmy in half. Wouldn’t. Fold her in half and ram her over and over with a big fake cock? He didn’t even know what he was doing. He slowed the pace, still pleasuring her but not wanting to ape Devlin’s prowess.

He took her hand, kept stroking the toy, asking her, “You like it deep?”

She nodded and gasped. His cock ached, and he darted a look down to see an unstopping stream of his pre-cum spilling onto her hipbone. The pressure in his belly for release quivered at bloatmax, and pyroclastic surges warned of catastrophic eruption.

He wanted now to feed her more, but it didn’t feel right. It felt too deep, and there was more resistance. But, boy, if he could make her come—if he could make her squirt!—then things would be different. But to try and fail on a night like tonight would bring unhappiness. And though he wasn’t entirely sure, he suspected he was happy.

He let the Devlin replica remain imbedded and allowed Kimmy to fuck it. Her pussy gripping and humping, his wife showing her teeth; a vein rose on her neck as she went wild on the big dick.

“He said you have a G-spot up there. Is that real?”

Kimmy moaned, mouth falling open, eyes squeezed shut. Her hands went to him, her claws on his sides. He pushed a little deeper, worried he’d hurt her, but Kimmy’s head rolled back and she cried out in rapture.

He’d left her huffing, skin shining. She’d come, but he’d produced no watery explosions. But seeing the flush on her chest and the way she smiled now, coming out of her pleasure, had a flood of emotion wash through him, making him shudder. A ton of fear and hurt lifted for a brief moment, and it felt incredible.

Kimmy, though dazed, was still eager, humping the cock again, reclining sleepily on the pillow, eyes narrowed and peaceful, but one brow arched at a sharp, sly angle. “It’s real,” she whispered, grinding her hips. “It’s real, but I think it’s deeper.”

He looked down at the cock, not all the way inside her. “You think?”

She inhaled and sucked on her lips for a second, then said, “Devlin knew where it was. He has nerve endings in the end of his cock and he just knew where to put it.”

The smile eased away from his face, and dull dread lifted in his heart. Remembrances of Kimmy’s keenness on the size and shape of Devlin’s manhood poisoned the good working in his veins. But helped that, too. In fact, there was much pleasure in resisting the awfulness of his wife’s lust and libido.

“He did?”

She said, “I didn’t even know it was there.”

No. Of course she didn’t. How would she? Her husband didn’t have the equipment she needed. That was the terrain for better men. Ones who deserved her.

Kimmy’s hand touched his neck, cupped his cheek. Her eyes were awake now. “Did I go too far?”

He was quick to assure her she hadn’t, shaking out of the reverie, returning to her. A sickness tightened in his belly. The need for release was urgent; its demand loud and sharp and incessant; a thrumming ache in his balls he could get rid of in seconds. He said, “Not too far at all.” Then: “I want to see the rest of the video.”

Kimmy’s expression didn’t change, but he read the twinkle of reticence, a shimmer over her black eyes. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Josh.” Her voice was soft and compelling.

“That’s why I want to see it.” His voice was alluring and solicitous.

Now her expression changed, softening to compassion. “It gets worse, Josh. I mean it.”

“I want to see.”

Kimmy rolled her head back on the pillow and raked a hand through her hair. The act of ecstasy and also one of frustration—she wanted him to see it, but didn’t think he was ready. Her reluctance cranked up his need to eleven. There could be no way tonight he didn’t watch her video with Devlin in her panties.