I decided to spend the day at the library – studying and getting some distance on the events of the previous night. After kissing Lisa and making plans to meet in the afternoon, I walked to campus and along the elm-lined Mall. The day was already quite warm, and students were lounging on the ground or crowding the steps of the buildings that lined the walkway. I walked passed Bro Cope, the wan religious fanatic at his usual place near the old auditorium. He held out his sign that read ‘Fornicators! You will BURN in HELL!’ and shook his bony fist at me. I just grinned at him, and continued to the library at the head of the Mall. After some circling in the stacks, I found a cubicle in the back overlooking the rapidly greening walkways behind the library.

I opened my text, but it seemed even more impenetrable than usual. Trying to work, I went over my notes, and attempted one of the assigned proofs. Yet, my mind kept returning to Itza and how she was drawn to my huge cock. She was not the first woman to react that way. Her intensity was very different however and incredibly exciting. I certainly felt guilty about fucking my girlfriend’s roommate, but I also suspected it would happen again. Itza had opened a door – I finally realized the full power of my prick over women, and the thought was intoxicating. If I could simply take a woman like Itza in the middle of the night, I could fuck any woman, or ask anything of them. Where would that end?

My thoughts wandered to earlier experiences, other girls and their reactions to my big cock. I grew to over six feet by eighth grade, and towered over most of my classmates. My body had also changed – a few corded muscles, a light beard, sparse hair on my chest, and voice that was noticeably lower than most of the male teachers. On the edge of manhood, I stood out from my other classmates. I was somewhat bookish and as awkward as any teen, but my body quickly propelled me into new experiences.

Amy sat behind me in eight grade homeroom. I had always liked her, and we would often get in trouble for talking or passing notes. She was an ordinary girl with messy, dark hair and perhaps a little overweight. However, during a six-month family trip to Tahiti, she had somehow transformed into a sexy young woman – hair in tresses cascading onto her tanned shoulders and jutting breasts squeezed into tight polo shirts. Her weight loss and new wardrobe were the talk of the boy’s locker room. Amy asked me out first, and we were soon making out in her basement or in hiding places she knew in the women’s college next door to her house. I was eager to fuck, and remember how horny and desperate those make out sessions were for me. Yet, Amy knew what she was willing to do and when, so we progressed slowly from kissing to groping.

One day, we found our way into a music practice room, and dropped into a corner of the soundproof room. After a hot session of kissing, Amy finally reached for the fly on my straining Levis. After some giggling and pulling, she finally managed to get my hard prick. My cock stood out from my jeans, jerking slightly as it grew to its full length of over 9 inches.

“Oh my God, Brett, I don’t believe it,” she gasped. Amy’s eyes never left my cock as she reached out for my thick shaft.

“I thought you were big … that some guys were bigger, … “ she continued, staring and leaning in closer to my prick.

Amy started to stroke my cock, running her hand up and down the turgid shaft. I just leaned my head back, breathing raggedly, drunk with the experience of my first handjob. I don’t know if this was her first experience, but she seemed mesmerized – pumping my cock in long strokes and pausing to squeeze my thick meat behind the flared head. Amy added a second hand so that both were know attached to my fuck stick, as her arms worked up and down. Her face was now inches away from the piss slit, as it started to run with precum. We were both transfixed, silent, with our breathing the only sound in the booth. Finally, I was going to cum, and knew enough to warn Amy.

“Oh fuck, Amy, I am going to shoot!”

“Mmm please, Brett, I want to see that, please do it,” she rasped as her hands pumped faster, sliding up and down my taut shaft.

She moved her head back, as my balls started to contract. All my pent-up teenage desire was released, as rope after rope of cum shot from my prick and landed on the opposite wall. I heard Amy moan lasciviously as she watched the ribbons of spunk shoot from my cock to produce an obscene trail on the wall and floor between my legs. She never moved, never stopped pumping my cock through the long shower of cum. Amy finally looked up and me, an unfamiliar and hungry look in her beautiful green eyes.

“Brett, can we do that again?” she asked with a mischievous smile.

Something had just changed with Amy. Touching my cock and making it shoot had somehow shifted our relationship. Amy was not the gatekeeper to our sexual relationship any longer, and my enormous cock had become the object. Even a 14-year-old girl, just on the cusp of maturing, was drawn inexorably to it. I had not expected this change, but realized how it gave me an advantage.