Eleven-and-a-half: A Fantasy Of Great Length by Ray Wilder

Preface and Chapter 1: Chris

This is a work of fiction. All the characters, events and locations
portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons,
events or locations is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 1996. All rights, implicit or implied, except for
distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual downloading
the file, are reserved. Inquiries regarding publishing rights for this book
should be directed to: raywild@aol.com

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PREFACE

	AIDS and pornography.
	I promised myself I wasn't going to justify the writing of this
fantasy, but something does need to be said on these two subjects, if only
so you will know what direction this book is coming from.
	The actions of the characters in this book do not take into account
the realities of life in this day and age. I do not condemn these
characters. However, those who would emulate their sexual lifestyle by
having no consideration for the spread of AIDS or any of the other terrible
communicable diseases which plague us today, not to mention total disregard
for birth control, should be considered foolish, selfish and, most of all,
dangerous.
	It is very possible, probable even, that some will view this book
as pornography. To me, pornography is the degradation of any group of
humans by another group in pursuit of their own sexual gratification. I
have tried, in the course of this fantasy, to portray each character,
regardless of the group to which they belong, as equal participants.  My
intention -- my goal -- was to never, ever hurt anyone.
	There. I've said it.
	The bottom line is fun. This isn't brain surgery or the new Magna
Carta. Should you find this book to your liking please consider making a
donation to a national or local organization which supports AIDS research
or the treatment and care of persons with AIDS. Every one should live long
enough to read a book of this great length.
	Enjoy!
	And don't forget to breathe.

R.W.
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CHAPTER 1: CHRIS

	Big.
	Beautiful.
	Bulging.
	Chris was doing the dishes in her kitchen when he pulled up to the
back of the building in an orange rental truck, got out and started moving
his stuff into the empty apartment next door to hers. She stared out the
window at him, six stories down in the parking lot, for what became an
indeterminate amount of time. He wore a pair of cut-offs and T-shirt, both
of which seemed far too small to contain the various parts of his body they
were enclosing. As he reached into the rear of the truck she could see his
muscles swell under the strain of whatever he was lifting out of the
vehicle. Most of what he moved seemed to be furniture, but there was some
that appeared to be weight-lifting equipment. No surprises there.
	At one point he took a break, resting in the open door of the
truck. As he lay back on the inner deck, his cut-offs rode up and proved
their inability to contain whatever it was he had stuffed in behind that
zipper. She was pretty sure he wasn't wearing underwear because what peeked
out through the leg hole was very flesh colored and very thick. Only the
fact that the shorts were so tight kept his apparently enormous cock from
falling out into full view.
	His legs were thick with muscles that rippled with each step that
he took. His upper arms were like loaves of bread topped off by shoulders
like cantaloupes that tested the strength of his T-shirt. She imagined him
reaching into the truck and pulling out some especially heavy item, a set
of weights perhaps, and lifting it, only to have the muscles of his arms
bulge so much the frequently tested fabric would eventually give way and
those massive deltoids would rip through the fabric.
	After several trips into the building with his belongings he began
to sweat and the T-shirt became translucent. His pecs were outlined in
detail and, on those few occasions when he turned towards the building
before picking up another arm-load, she could make out his abdominals,
plastered against the moist fabric, looking like he had swallowed a
washboard. Each time he carried a load his pecs would expand and rise
proudly on his chest. She reached for her nipples, which were quite erect
and beginning to ache deliciously, and ran her thumb across them. She
delighted in the feeling of the fabric of her shirt rubbing against the
sensitive flesh of her rock hard nipples and the firm, full breasts on
which they perched. The sight of his bulging, swelling muscles and huge
cock outlined against his clothing was making her very horny. It seemed a
shame to waste such a beautiful fantasy, so she ran her hand down over her
crotch and rubbed the mound, not the least bit surprised to feel moisture
already flooding out of her.
	Chris looked back out the window just in time to see him enter the
building with another load . He didn't return immediately so she figured it
would take him a few minutes to make the round trip up the elevator to the
sixth floor, dump the stuff and return. She sat down at the kitchen table,
spread her legs, threw her head back and thrust her finger up into her
vagina, enjoying the warmth that immediately spread out through her body. A
few seconds of this, wishing for something much more substantial to take
her fingers' place, then she went to work on her clitoris. She was very
close already and so took herself by surprise with the rapidity and
intensity of the orgasm. A brief flash of the image of this powerful man
inside her, his huge chest bulging as he thrust into her, his cock
stretching her to limits she could not quite fathom, powerful jets of cum
hurtling from the head of his dark, hard, blood-engorged cock, flinging her
to that almost mythical level of sexual attainment, a full-blown,
earth-shattering, crotch-flooding, vaginal orgasm. She screamed. Not
moaned. Screamed.
	She had put her feet up against the edge of the table and, during
the course of her pleasures, had begun to lean back in the chair. As she
climaxed her legs tensed and inadvertently pushed her over backwards,
hitting her head on the refrigerator as she fell to the floor. She lay
there for a few moments, trying to regain her grasp of reality but not
wanting to let go of the fantasy she had just enjoyed. At first she thought
maybe her head was pounding, but nothing seemed to hurt, so she figured
what was pounding was the door.
	Someone at the door.
	She had a pretty good idea/hope who.