Steve Grogan is an ongoing contributor to Writer to Writers. He has published several short stories on the site, which can be found on the main page under the heading “Steve Grogan’s Fiction.” He has had several poems and short stories published over the years, some of which are available on Amazon. (See the announcement at the end of this post.)
He is the writer and creator of the ongoing, zombie, post-apocalyptic, Romero-meets-Dungeons-and-Dragons webcomic REDemption. Alternatively, Steve describes the comic by saying, “It is to zombie fiction what KILL BILL was to kung fu movies: everything I love about the genre housed under one roof and mixed with my voice.”
When we got upstairs, Cindy made herself at home, kicking off her shoes and flopping on the couch. She flipped on the television while I went to the bathroom. I examined my penis to make sure it was still the same size it had been this morning (slightly over six inches, for the record). A decent size. One that shouldn’t get laughed at, anyway. Then again, this whore had probably seen all shapes and sizes. To her there was no cock that would be anything new under the sun. Not only that but even if the dick was small, the money was still green.
I went back out to the living room and sat on the couch next to her. Before long, Cindy started to massage the back of my neck. She had very delicate fingers. Looking at her in much better lighting gave me the chance to realize that, despite her age, she was still very beautiful. Awesome! My first lay was going to be a hottie!
“Ready when you are, killer,” Cindy purred.
I nodded my approval. Cindy’s other hand reached over to me and rubbed my chest. Then she leaned forward, giving her mouth access to my neck. A tingling, almost tickling sensation radiated from where her lips touched my skin. It wasn’t long before the hand on my chest wandered down to my pants. She felt the boner through the fabric, complimenting my size while she popped open the button and started to work on the zipper. I knew everything she said was just a bullshit parade meant to boost my ego, but I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, Cindy could lie about whatever she wanted. If she gave me that sweet pussy, she could burn the apartment down for all I cared.
Cindy lowered her head and started to work her oral magic. Over the years I’d heard my friends and coworkers talk about the sensations they felt during blowjobs, so I knew they were supposed to feel good, but no amount of round-the-campfire-or-water-cooler talk could let me know it would feel like this! In fact, it felt so good that I had to tell her to slow down or else I’d come too soon.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”
“It’s all right. Let’s go to my bedroom,” I said.
She followed my lead. Once we were in the room, my priority was to get a condom out of the top dresser drawer. Hers was to strip. I was delighted to see that my cellulite prediction had been way off base. In fact, aside from actresses who had money for plastic surgery, I don’t think I have ever seen an older woman with such a fine body, and the real icing on the cake was that she had the landing strip pubic hair style. That was excellent because I’d heard too much hair can make you gag while trying to give a woman oral. On the other hand, if it had been completely bald, I would have felt like I was with a little girl. No thank you to either of those scenarios.
Cindy stretched out on my bed and gave me a seductive grin. I stood there with all my clothes still on and my zipper down. My erection poked out of my pants, pointing at the naked woman on my bed as if it thought I needed to be guided to her.
This was it. Finally, after twenty-six years, I was going to lose my virginity. Even though it was to a hooker, I wasn’t going to split hairs. In the past I would have. My mentality used to be: losing your virginity to a prostitute is like cheating on a test. It’s the equivalent of getting a grade you didn’t earn.
However, I’d like to point out that was before the size curse came along. These days I don’t have time to buy a woman flowers or take her out on a few dates before she decided to let me get lucky. Best to just skip ahead to the act.
“You gonna get naked, sport?” Cindy asked.
“Yes…yes, of course,” I said. “Sorry about that. I was just enjoying the view.”
With a laugh, she said, “Thanks, sweetheart, but let’s move it along now. She’s feeling a little lonely down there.”
I was so out of it that I didn’t realize who Cindy meant by “she” at first, but her message became clear when she started masturbating. With that vision on display, I felt the inspiration to get naked quickly. Then I attempted to rip the condom open, but my trembling fingers turned the simple job into an impossible feat.
“Let me help you,” Cindy said.
She sat on the edge of the bed and opened it for me. Then she rolled it over my cock so slowly and seductively that I nearly came in it. Her next move was to grab me by the hips and pull me on to the bed.
I collapsed on top of her, but she did nothing to indicate discomfort. Then she reached down and guided the tip of my cock to her opening. With one thrust I plunged into her right up to the hilt. The condom muffled some of the sensation, but not all of it. Now I knew why some guys said they came the second they slipped inside a woman. All the masturbation lubricants in the world couldn’t hope to mimic the warmth in which I found myself embedded. If I had plunged unsheathed into her sweet center, our erotic tryst would have been over the second my groin was pressed flush up against hers.
“That’s it, stud,” she moaned. “Now show me how a real man fucks me.”
I started to move slowly, still nervous about coming too quick. Then a piece of ancient advice I’d heard surfaced in my mind: think of baseball. The theory behind this wasn’t necessarily to think of America’s favorite pastime (a good thing too because I don’t know jack shit about that sport), but to focus on something other than what was going on down below. Instead of baseball, my distraction selection was scenes from various horror movies, specifically the murder scenes.
The splinter through the eye in Zombie. The decapitation by glass plate in The Omen. The drowning by gumbo in Angel Heart. The young man pinned to a wall by a butcher knife in Halloween. The castration scene in Cannibal Holocaust. The booby trap suicide in Omen 3: The Final Conflict. The biker gang feeding frenzy in Dawn of the Dead. The multiple slit throats in Friday the 13th.
This tactic worked a little too well. I felt my cock going soft, so I dismissed the gory images from my mind. Stiffness immediately reasserted itself. Once I was firm again, I fell into a nice steady rhythm. Cindy’s head whipped frantically from side to side. I knew the ecstasy she felt was faked, but I didn’t dwell on it. Otherwise I would have lost my hard-on for good.
After a while my legs started to cramp up, so I asked Cindy if we could change positions. She answered with a silent nod.
I stood on the floor and she scooted her pussy to the edge of the bed. Then I hunkered down, slipped back inside her, and resumed my previous rhythm. Cindy draped her legs over my shoulders as I pumped into her. Somewhere along the way, I got the idea to manipulate her clitoris with my thumb. That was the exact moment when her moans of passion became real. The sound of pure, undiluted, honest ecstasy flooded my brain. It was all I could focus on. Nothing else registered until Cindy spoke up.
“Goddamn, boy, did you just get bigger?” she asked.
The question took me so off guard that it brought everything to a grinding halt, even my thrusting.
“Don’t stop!” Cindy protested.
“I’m sorry,” I said, resuming the motion. “I’m not sure I heard you right. Did you just ask me if I got bigger?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just keep rubbing that clit while you fuck me,” she said. “I haven’t been this close to coming in a long time.”
I don’t know about my body, but my ego certainly got bigger when she said that. To most hookers, sex was a business transaction, and they hardly ever got any pleasure out of it. Now the prostitute I’d picked out was about to come. Not only that, but this was my first time! Most virgins are bumbling, fumbling, quick-coming imbeciles. What a wonderful surprise to find out I had my act together!
With each thrust my pride got bigger, but that wasn’t all. Cindy could feel it, and this time I noticed too. My cock was definitely growing inside her.
“Jesus, you sure do swell up when you get turned on, don’t you?” Cindy said.
“I…I gotta stop,” I stammered.
“No!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare!”
She crossed her legs behind my buttocks, trapping me there. Now my only hope was to bust a nut before my penis got too big. To expedite this I started to think of every hot sex scene I’d ever watched. This wasn’t limited to porno; it included footage from movies like Body Heat and Smash Palace, films where the fucking was so good that I’m positive the actors are really doing it. One of my all-time favorite scenes to whack it to had been the so-called “rape” scene in Once Upon a Time in America. (There were a couple hot scenes in that movie, but I thought specifically about the one that happens when De Niro and pals rob some jewelers.) The sense of surprise I felt was rivaled only by my frustration once I realized this trick was doing nothing to help me come.
Cindy’s writhing and groaning reached a fever pitch. It was like her body would fly apart. I knew that if I didn’t hurry up, that might literally happen.
“I’m gonna come,” Cindy moaned.
For some reason those three words coming out of her mouth accomplished what the recollection of countless sex scenes could not. I finally felt the tingling sensation at the base of my cock that initiated the orgasm. Now all I had to do was get it out of my body before it was too late.
My thrusts became faster, harder. With each push my penis increased in size. The growth wasn’t limited to length alone. I could feel it getting wider too. Most women I know have said sex feels better based on a man’s girth, not his length. This must have been Cindy’s stance on the issue too because her mouth opened wide to reveal a prolonged orgasmic howl. Her legs tightened around me to the point of cutting off circulation. She grabbed my forearms and dug her nails in deep enough to draw blood.
After that wave passed, the muscles in her legs and arms relaxed. For a moment, she lay there motionless, almost like she was dead. Then her hands shot up and wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling me downward to participate in a frenzied kiss. (At the time I thought nothing of this. Now I realize it’s probably very rare to get a kiss from a prostitute. No matter what else they may let you do to abuse and degrade their bodies, that is one gesture they usually avoid.)
After a couple seconds, Cindy released me and said, “Your turn, stud.”
I tried. Heaven help me, I tried to come. My cock continued its slow extension. Soon it was so big that the condom snapped. Cindy felt this and immediately knew something was wrong.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “I think the condom just broke.”
I ignored her. Kept on fucking. And growing.
“Hey, asshole, I don’t need to get pregnant,” Cindy complained.
Ignored and grew, ignored and grew.
By now Cindy realized my increase in size wasn’t normal.
“What the hell is going on with you?” she asked. “You gotta stop now. It hurts.”
I paid her no mind and kept on plowing away. Cindy’s moans of pleasure were replaced by yelps of pain. Nothing mattered to me other than the thought of achieving orgasm. I was so close to completing the dismissal of my virginity. There was no way in hell I was going to be denied the satisfaction of coming inside her now.
Then it happened. My size had been slowly increasing with each thrust but, as my orgasm changed from fantasy to reality, the growth rate took an exponential leap. Cindy’s scream rose into the stratosphere, but they didn’t last long. I looked down and watched her skin rip right up the middle, like someone tearing a piece of paper in half. There was a sickening crack as my penis snapped her hip bones, plowed through her rib cage, and crushed her spine. Blood erupted from her ruined torso, gushing out over my testicles and splattering the ceiling and walls. As my cock shot up to her face, it caught her under the chin, driving her skull into the wall. The top of her head caved in from the force. To add insult to injury, the orgasm came rocketing out of my body. Drops of my testicular load sprinkled across Cindy’s blood. (One strange thing I noticed for the first time: no matter how big my penis got, the amount of my ejaculate remained the same.)
I stood there in awe, not moving until my erection had completely wilted away. When it did, I sat on the floor in silence, staring at the corpse on my bed and completely devoid of any clue as to what the fuck I was going to do next.
Cindy. The corpse’s name was Cindy. I’m sure she had a last name too. After all, first and last names usually did come as a pair, but I would never know it now. Or to be more accurate I’d never hear her speak it. There was nothing that could stop me from rooting through her purse to find a driver’s license or some other form of ID that had her last name on it. Nothing could stop me, except maybe a sense of decency.
I eventually found my mind circling back to a question I’d asked myself many times before: how did my life ever get to this point? Some stupid superficial bitch laughed at the size of my penis, and then I stood in that bathroom mirror, staring at myself and wishing to be something I wasn’t: bigger, smaller, anything. Beyond that there was no real explanation. That one memory was all I had.
Maybe this was a form of punishment visited upon me by some ancient deity, and my great sin was committed in that bathroom mirror where I’d let someone else’s standards define the boundaries of my life. Could I blame this being for punishing me? Considering the nature of my sin, I’d have to answer that with a definite “no.”
Cindy may be dead, but not all hope is lost. I still have one course of action available to let me do right by her and redeem myself. The one thing I regret is that she’s unable to know about the honorable thing I’m going to do. Then again, if it weren’t for me she wouldn’t be dead, so I don’t know what that says about my character.
I just called the Troy Police Department and told them I killed someone. They said they’d dispatch a couple units to my place. I can already hear their sirens in the distance. If you’d ask me a week ago what their sad song reminded me of, I would have said “my life.” But not today. Today I would say they remind me of Cindy.
I hear their cars squealing to a stop outside now. Doors slamming. Footsteps on the stairs. Pounding on the door. They’re here.
I can’t wait to show them the murder weapon.
If you like what you have read and would like to purchase this serialized novel as one complete PDF, then please send $3.50 to Steve via PayPal: email@example.com
Also, don’t forget to check out his other writing at the following links below:
Author: Redemption Comics
Steve Grogan was born in the often-filmed city of Troy, NY. He has written in a variety of formats (novels, short stories, poems, screen and stage plays, blogs/articles) and genres (horror, science fiction, fantasy, mystery, drama).
Steve is also a father, a boyfriend, a musician, a fitness fanatic, and a martial artist. He has been studying Wing Chun Kung Fu since 1995, and he maintains a blog/YouTube channel that describe his training habits, epiphanies, and advancement. It also candidly discusses his stumbling blocks, such as his struggle with nutrition and mental health issues.
He is no relation to the New England Patriots quarterback from the 1980’s.