Sinful desires{steamiest short stories}

When my wife told me that she wanted a divorce a year ago, it seemed like the end of the world to me. We’d been together since our sophomore year at college and had gone through the ups and downs of a typical marriage in the nine years since we graduated.

I thought we were typical, anyway. What I guess I hadn’t realized was that we’d gotten lazy and taken each other for granted.

Like most people do over time, we’d each gained some weight – I was carrying a bigger beer belly around than I liked – and our passion for each other had mellowed a bit, I suppose.

We worked, we took care of the house, played with our pets and went out on the weekends, like most people. No kids, thank God. I thought (when I bothered to think about it at all) that everything was fine in our marriage until Sharon decided that there should be more to life than this. She asked me to move out and I did.

We’re still friendly towards each other – there wasn’t any cheating or nasty fights, just the decision to not be married any more. Our official separation is almost over now – the divorce becomes final in two months – and we’ve both moved on. I hear she’s got a boyfriend.

When she kicked me out, I was a middling-successful 31-year-old advertising executive with one of the smaller agencies in the city.

Not a terribly fast-rising executive, but a stable and solid performer. My clients liked me and kept sending work our way and occasionally recommended me to other companies, which helped build my portfolio of accounts. I’m 6- 2 and was pushing 260 pounds when I moved into my apartment downtown.

I’m a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired guy of Irish descent and 260 pounds didn’t look terrible on me, but my ideal weight was closer to 215 pounds, if the pounds were re-arranged correctly.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

Not long after I moved into my apartment, I was surfing around the internet one night when I got one of those ubiquitous emails about having a bigger prick.

“Increase your penis size up to two inches” it screamed. I was getting one of those about every other day and most times I would just trash it without reading it. But for some reason I opened this one.

It promised to share the secrets of a bigger prick without dangerous supplements or oils or anything. Just some “exercises” for my love muscle.

This is not to say that I was under-endowed in the penis-size department or anything. My prick was of about average length and maybe a little thicker than most. Nothing exceptional, but nothing to laugh at either. But what guy wouldn’t like a little more, something the ladies would swoon over, even while telling us that size doesn’t matter?

Anyway, for whatever reason, I opened the email and clicked on the link to the web site that promised to show the tricks and techniques for a larger penis size. All they wanted was $50 first.

Now, I know that 99 out of 100 of these emails are scams to get your credit card number, but this one let me use a reliable internet payment broker and promised that I would never hear from them again after I downloaded my information, unless I contacted them first. Knowing that I was probably pissing away my fifty bucks, I clicked the order button and downloaded the 100-page PDF file.

Because the file was so big, I decided to print the whole thing out and then read it offline.

From the first paragraph, I was hooked. This was a clinical report on the anatomy of the penis, how erections work, why I got morning wood, and so much more about my little pal than I ever knew, or even knew to ask.

After describing how it all works, the subsequent chapters detailed the exercises that I should start doing to make my dick longer and thicker and generally more impressively sized.

I started the program that night. It required about an hour a day, every day, of what amounted to stretching and exercises of the various parts of my organ. Since I was newly separated, with no interest (at the moment) in doing any dating, I committed myself to the program.

Every night after work, I worked on “The Program.” One of the little tidbits that I read mentioned that a guy’s prick looks bigger if it’s not hidden by a gigantic beer belly, so I started doing more conventional exercises too.

I did The Program for an hour, then I worked out for an hour doing pushups, sit ups, and walking at first. Over the course of the next three months, I gradually worked up to doing two hundred pushups, two hundred sit ups, fifty pull ups and a five mile run.

After the first month, I had to measure my progress. The instruction materials said not to do this because it takes more than a month to see real results, but I’m sure the authors knew that people like me would check anyway, and they cautioned against disappointment. So, after 30 days of The Program, I checked my new length.

I had started at just under six and a half inches, measured from my stomach along the length of my prick and my new measurement was maybe another quarter inch longer. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. Thirty hours of dedicated exercise, plus occasional bonus exercises during the day, got me a grand total of a quarter inch in length. Whoopee.

Then I thought about it a little more. A quarter inch per month, times twelve months is three additional inches. That’s a nine and a half inch penis by the end of one year. Not John Holmes, but certainly bigger than the average guy. Now I am motivated. I kept doing my exercises, both The Program and my conventional exercises. The excess pounds I was carrying around started to melt off and muscles started to replace them. Maybe it was just my enthusiasm, but my penis was feeling a little bigger every day.

Six months into the program, I was looking better and feeling more confident every day. I could look around a room and figure that I had a bigger dick than every other guy I met. I bought new clothes to fit my new waist line – four inches smaller than it had been – and started getting some appreciative looks from the women in the office who had all but ignored me before.

My boss recognized my new confidence and energy and commented that separation must agree with me. I didn’t tell him (or anyone else) what was really going on, but business was gradually improving for me as my client relationships got closer and better.

After a year on The Program, I was ready to stop. I hadn’t gained any size in the last couple of months, so my prick size topped out at just over nine inches, still a hefty piece of meat to pack around. When it was limp it was almost as big as it used to be when it was erect. It took a while to get used to it laying warmly on my leg all the time, but it was a strangely good feeling.

I was also in the best shape of my life physically. I was down to around 220 pounds, and very little of it was fat. I could run faster, lift more weight and I looked better than I ever had in my life. It was time for stage two of my transformation.

There is a health club in town that has a reputation as being little more than a meat market. Single men and women go there and work out, swim in the pool, and get to know one another at the juice bar that overlooks the pool and jacuzzi.

It was time to show off my new size. After all, what good is having a bigger dick and a better body if you don’t use them to get laid?

So I joined the health club and started lifting weights a little more seriously – toning what I had, not trying to get huge and then checking out the lay of the land at the juice bar after I was done. I kept to myself at first, just trying to figure who was who.

I noticed that there was a group of ladies that congregated at a corner table overlooking the pool area in the hours after work. Some days there were as many as eight of them and some days as few as three, but on average there were five or six of them and they seemed to be keeping up a running commentary on the folks using the pool.

They ignored the rest of the juice bar, including me, and watched the action below. They all wore swimsuits, although I never saw any of them swim, and they were all extremely attractive. They were my first target.

My plan was to go for a swim after working out and then come up to the juice bar and see what happened. Not the most aggressive plan, I know, but I wasn’t very good at this sort of thing anyway.

So I went to a sporting goods store and bought my first ever Speedo. Around half of the guys in the pool wore Speedo suits when swimming laps, so I wasn’t going to stick out just because I wore one, but cramming a nine-inch dick into a Speedo was an exercise in creative engineering, and I was definitely going to stick out in my Speedo for that reason.

I picked out a yellow suit that looked best with my skin color (which was moderately tan from all my weekends at the lake on my boat). I put the suit on in the privacy of my apartment and was pleased with the effect my big dick had on the suit.

The next day, I went back to the health club and did my usual routine of free weights and machines, skipped my usual running time, and then headed back to the locker room to change for the pool. I put on my Speedo and tried to keep cool, even though I felt like every eye in the place was on me.

I dove into the pool and swam for most of an hour lap after lap, just enjoying the strength and aerobic ability my running had given me and tried to make sure that the ladies in the juice bar had ample opportunity to get good looks at me. I concentrated on having sexual thoughts the entire time I was swimming in order to avoid the usual pool shrinkage.

Once I got done swimming laps I climbed up the ladder out of the pool that faces the juice bar and decided to take a break in the Jaccuzi for a few minutes before heading up to the bar.

I surreptitiously glanced up at the ladies table at the bar and saw that all of them were sitting or standing along the wall between the juice bar and the pool area, not even pretending not to stare. I smiled to myself. So far so good.

I climbed into the unoccupied Jaccuzi and leaned back with my eyes closed, trying to relax my muscles after my work out and contemplated my next move. I was hoping to go back to the juice bar and hang around until one of the ladies approached me, but I knew it was always hard to break one away from the herd and the thought of approaching that whole table full of women scared me too much.

I’m not a ladies man, and witty banter is not really my long suit. Still, it was the only plan I had, so I was determined to see what happened.

I was just about to get out of the Jacuzzi when I heard someone else get in. I opened my eyes to see that it was one of the ladies from the table at the bar. She was one of the regulars there, a tall, athletic brunette with shoulder- length hair and a very fit body.

She had small breasts, like most slim women do, but they fit her frame nicely. She must have spent a lot of time on the stairmaster too, because she had a very shapely butt – round, without being fat.

As she was getting in, she was blushing furiously, which was a very attractive look for her. She sat down on the bench near me and said, “You lost a bet for me.”

“I’m sorry, I did what?”