Eleven-and-a-half: A Fantasy Of Great Length by Ray Wilder Chapter 8: 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 ======================================== Chris was very happy she had taken the call. She spent the next forty-five minutes ironing out details. Nicholas, a salon operator who was trying to launch his own line of women's cosmetics, was very difficult to deal with. He had lots of money to spend (someone else's) and a bunch of really bad ideas (his own). The sad thing was that the make-up was very good. Natural ingredients, no animal testing, it held up under lights (making it ideal for modeling), and the colors were outrageous. If he would just let her do the creative work, she was sure she could make the public sit up and take notice. But he wanted photos of women sitting around a living room holding dogs and drinking tea. She could hear yapping in the background all during the phone call and had a pretty good idea where he was going to get the dogs for the shoot. Long shots did not sell make-up. Neither did animals, unless they were wearing the make-up. Hmmm. Nah. You needed to get right in and show what the stuff looked like when your man held you close. That's why the ladies bought the stuff. She occasionally glanced out the kitchen window to watch the progress of the moving event. Several times she lost track of what Nicholas was saying and had to have him repeat it. Especially when the hunk (she really had to find out his name) removed his shirt and hung it on the back of the truck. She had seen a lot of naked or near naked flesh in her career, but this stuff was primo. His skin was hairless and unblemished; smooth and free from fault - at least what she could make out from six floors up. His skin glistened with sweat and each movement triggered earthquakes of shifting tectonic plates under the surface. She decided to get another up close look and dragged the phone over to the front door. She waited for him to bring a load up in the elevator. While trying to maintain a hold on her conversation with Nicholas she put her eye up to the spy hole. The elevator arrived and he spent the next minute hauling boxes out onto the walkway. Then he picked up two of them and walked towards her, his biceps and pecs at the point of bursting; veins, large and throbbing, ran down the crests of his upper arms. He disappeared from view for a moment as he dropped the stuff off in his apartment and then returned to get the second load. As he walked away she enjoyed the view of his wide, sculpted back, knots of muscles leaping out as his arms swung back and forth at his side. His shoulders were broad enough that he looked like he would have to turn sideways to walk through all but the widest of doors. There was that wonderful indention between the deltoid and bicep, accenting the massiveness of each muscle, where your fingers ultimately ended up when he was on top of you, his huge dick filling your cunt and you tensed for the final explosive orgasm and you just had to hold onto something and his back was too wide to get your arms around so you grabbed the deltoids and your little finger found itself slipping down into it. His torso tapered down from Herculean shoulders to what seemed like an impossibly narrow waist. She knew it was actually not so small, but compared to the width of everything else on him it was perceived as such. The waist sat just atop his glorious ass which stood out and flexed and swayed with each step he took. The lower contour of each cheek peeked seductively out from under his cut-off shorts. The backs of his thighs looked like he was carrying a load of logs inside each one. The massive bundles of muscles bounced and flexed with each movement of his legs. His calves looked like someone had stuck a couple of half melons under the skin, just below the back of the knee. The fish-eye quality of the spy hole gave his body a strange diminished effect which was at total odds with what she knew to be the actual size of his physique. The next trip down the walkway involved a couple of over-stuffed seabags filled with clothing. These he carried, one hanging from each hand, leaving the front of his body exposed to her view. Everything was huge, even in the spy hole. She took in his chest, arms, legs, abdomen, shoulders, neck. As he came closer she could plainly see the outline of his huge cock and balls. And then, as luck would have it, the fabric of his shorts was becoming a bit stretched out from all the exertion and the leg hole above which his cock was held became too loose to hold back his member. Halfway down the walkway his cock fell out and dangled down his leg, way down his leg. He bent over to look at it and, for some reason, decided not to remedy the situation immediately. His dick swung back and forth, wrapping itself around either enormous thigh with each step, before it became too much of a nuisance. He set the seabags down, grabbed his cock and unpretentiously stuffed it back up inside the leg hole of the shorts, as though it happened every day. Chris had completely lost track of what Nicholas was saying and found that she had agreed to the dog and tea idea. Quickly back-tracking, she deftly maneuvered him to a more neutral position on the actual content of the layout. All this while she had her eye plastered to the hole in her door. She hurried the end of the conversation, saying that she would meet with him in the morning at his salon to discuss the final details. He had a thousand other ideas that he wanted to run by her, all of them having something to do with dogs and women drinking tea, but she said it would be easier for them to cover this in person. She didn't like giving clients the bum's rush but, a) she felt that, for this once, the customer was not in the least bit right, and b) she wanted to get her camera before this photo op completely slipped away. She hung up the phone, ran to her darkroom, grabbed her trusty SLR, and ran back to the front door in time to catch him bringing another armload down the walkway. She held the camera up to the spy hole, focused and clicked off several shots. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick. He went into the apartment, reemerged and started back to the elevator. Something seemed to catch his attention and he stopped about four or five steps away from her. He looked out over the railing at the view. Staring intently at something far off in the distance, he leaned forward against the railing to contemplate who-knew-what. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick. He took a deep breath and filled his huge chest with air, causing his back to expand and grow. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick. Then his cock fell out of his cut-offs again. Ca-chick, ca-chick. He turned around, leaned against the railing and took his cock in his hand. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick. But instead of immediately restoring it to its hiding place he held it in his left hand and studied it. She hoped there was enough film, not daring to take her eye away for even a second to see how many shots she had left. After a few moments of examination he re-stashed his massive member, rubbed it a couple of times and turned towards the elevator. Ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick, ca-chick. Several more loads of boxes were brought down the walkway, but his huge tool seemed to behave itself. She continued to shoot away until he headed down the elevator for another load. Whew. That had been too much. She turned around and leaned back against the door, her head swimming, her knees just a bit weak. There was no doubt about it. This stud was hot. She felt a slight tingling of suspicion. It was all just a bit too-good-to-be-truish. But no one would do something like that knowing there was someone watching, would they? She went to the kitchen window and looked down just as he came out of the door below. She heard a door close outside. It was either his apartment door swinging shut or Patty going to work. She wondered if the two of them had met yet. That would be a hot couple. Sure enough, a few moments later Patty emerged and walked over to him at the truck. He set down the box he was just lifting and talked with her. They seemed to be on quite intimate terms by the way they kept referring to each other and their bodies. Possibly she was talking to him about her gym. Then Patty noticed that his car was blocking hers. He walked over to the car, did something inside, grabbed hold of the tow bar which was still attached to the front bumper, and pulled. The effect this had on his muscles was almost enough to make her cum. Then Patty went over and, although it didn't seem he needed help, grabbed hold with one hand and pulled, too. Chris could tell something was up. As if to prove the point immediately, Patty put her other hand squarely on his crotch and, from what she could make out from this distance, gave it a big squeeze. She started to aim her camera but felt the disappointing tightness of the film advance lever as she set herself to take the shot. She thought of running to the dark room for more film but by then the car was moved, the hand was moved, Patty was driving away, grabbing her own breast in a gesture of... (farewell?), and the hunk (name?, what's your name?) was heading back to his truck.