I had always wanted a large family. Lots of kids, a big house on a country lot, not far from the city. Even the white picket fence, horse barn, and pasture. That was my dream and Ben gave that to me and more.
It was shortly after university that a close friend introduced me to Ben. He was a sweet guy, a hard-working provider. Always a caring boyfriend that took me on weekend trips. He easily won me over. He also had great prospects with the firm that had hired him straight out of university.
While everyone I had known at university had been hired in the mid-thirties and forties salaries, Ben had been hired at over one hundred thousand. He was worth every penny to them. In his first year, he brought in twenty times that much in project billing. By the time he proposed to me, he had already been promoted and by then had a team working for him.
We were married three years after we met. It was a big wedding, a dream wedding. Both of our families were there, and all of our friends. The honeymoon was an Island Getaway for a month. I was living the dream. When we returned home, we moved into that dream house of mine.
It was forty miles from the city, an hour drive with morning traffic. Ben made that commute every morning, leaving at 6:30am every day. Everything was perfect... on the outside.
The reality was, that I was very unhappy. I had tried everything, but Ben just did not have the equipment to satisfy me sexually. I was very good at satisfying his needs, but I had that deep itch that Ben could never reach.
Before marrying, I would not say that I had had a lot of boyfriends, but it was in the low double digits. And I had found the type that could satisfy me — long and thick. One that could fill me up. One that stretched me out and left an ache in me the next day. An ache that reminded me how it felt to be properly fucked. A guy that dominated me in bed. Took charge and forced me to do what he wanted. That was what satisfied me. Ben did not.
Ben was sweet and caring, and very considerate. I could get used to that, but what I could not get used to — was his size. Ben was small. Ben was only five-foot-seven-inches tall, and was wiry, only a hundred fifty pounds. He was not the best looking, but not a social outcast. All that, I could get over and accept about him. What I had trouble with was the size of his member. It was small, barely five inches, and very thin. His shaft was not even an inch wide, and his head just slightly over an inch.
But I had the toys that I hid from him. Ones that filled me up, as he could never do. Ones that stretched me like I needed, and made me have a pleasant ache the next day.
Everything else was going great until it wasn't.
Kids. Ben wanted kids. Insisted on kids.
I had been putting it off for the last two years. Telling him that I was focusing on my teaching career and that we had plenty of time for children. Only, I was now twenty-eight and had been teaching full time for five years.
Ben was right, if I was going to have my large family, I needed to get started. There was only one problem. How could I let Ben father my children with that tiny member of his? As it was, I was beginning to have trouble working up the lust to let him stick that tiny thing in me once a month.
But then, I got an idea. I decided on a plan.
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Ben had one hobby that he enjoyed. He likes guns and hunting. He had a membership at a shooting range and spent every other Saturday morning there. Every fall, he and three of his friends would go off to his hunting land, where he had a small cabin. The land was two hundred acres, and they always took three weeks off and hunted from opening day, until after Thanksgiving. Every year.
It was just what Ben did. That was his thing. Sure, I would have liked to have him home for Thanksgiving, but I got used to it. For the first couple of years, I would go to my mother's house, then after my sister moved out of state, and took my mother with her, I ate Thanksgiving alone.
The first year we dated, I tried going to hunting camp during the fall break. But I just did not enjoy sitting around and waiting for the deer to show up. I would get cold and need to move around, supposedly scaring the deer. How do you scare a deer by moving around when there are no deer around?
I did shoot a small doe that year, the only animal I have ever killed, or will ever kill. I felt so horrible watching it die, but it did taste good.
--- +++ ---
The plan.
It was simple enough.
It was late summer, only three months from hunting season. Classes would be starting soon, and I was spending the remainder of my summer break looking up good-looking men on a popular dating app. I contacted them and had them send me a description of their physical attributes, making sure they sent a current picture as verification. When I narrowed the list down to five men, I asked for confirming pictures of their 'size'. Three of them sent pictures that confirmed their size.
I chose Max.
Max was a construction worker from two states away. He was tall, tanned, and very muscular. He was married and had three children and a pregnant wife at home, so his fertility was not in question. The picture he sent was simple, there was a coke can set next to his member. As I looked at the picture the first time, I thought to myself 'That can't be real.'
The soda can was only half as tall as he was long, and not even as wide as he was. I went and found a soda can and a measuring tape from the garage. If the picture was real, he was ten inches or longer, and three inches wide. The other two men were what I was more used to at around eight inches.
Max frequently left town on business trips and would often stay at hotels, so hiding his affairs from his wife was easy for him. He also had a charm about him, you could see just by looking at him that men would respect him, and women would want him. A real man.
We started emailing and then messaging each other quite often. Then came the phone calls. Over the next couple of months, we got to know each other. As Thanksgiving neared, Max told me that he would be on a business trip that week before Thanksgiving and that the hotel he would be staying at, was only an hour away from the town that I lived near. Sure, I would have to drive for over an hour to get there, but I would not be recognized. I did some quick counting of days, and I told Max what night I would visit him.
Ben left for his three-week hunting trip like every year. He spent the Saturday morning double-checking that he had everything packed and then left around noon. I still had five days of classes and then fall break for a week. I was not due to visit Max until the following Monday. That week was a very long week, full of wild emotions. I was second-guessing myself, and yet, I was sure I was doing the right thing.
I got more excited every day that passed. When the day finally arrived, I was so wet getting dressed to meet him that afternoon. I examined the secretions; it was thin and slimy. I was definitely at my fertile time. I would be ovulating within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I had planned it perfectly. Ben would have his baby.
I wore a black thong and garter. Silken hose and a short, red leather skirt that came down to the mid-thigh. I had on a see-through-white silk shirt and black bra. I put my long blonde hair in a ponytail that fell over my shoulder. As I looked in the mirror, I realized how well this outfit accentuated my small five-foot frame. I slipped on the red heels to give me that extra inch.
I ate a big lunch, unsure when I would eat again, and I left.
As I drove, I just could not keep my fingers from playing with myself. By the time I got to the hotel, my panties were drenched, full of my creamy secretions. When I got out of my car, I felt the cool air on my wet thighs.
It was late afternoon, and he was to meet me in the lounge bar. The plan was to get a couple of drinks before going to his room. He spotted me as soon as I entered the door. Max was definitely a tall, thick, and beefy man. Six foot four, and two-hundred-plus pounds of pure construction-man muscle. He had a thin beard and mustache, and his dark hair was down to his shoulders.
He was an Adonis.
