Well, I'm just going to start this. I don't know how far I'll get. I ought to say up top that this story is only somewhat true. This is the fantasy version of what really happened. Oh, it really happened, but I change some details in my head as I relive it in my head (and trust me, I have relived it a bunch of times). Of course these things are always a little clumsier in real life than they are in our heads, right? This story happened when I was a sophomore at a large Southern California university. There was a guy, black, I'll call him Andre, who I'd had a few classes with. Very built. I'd definitely felt him noticing me, and we'd flirted after class once or twice, but I'd never seen him at a party or anything and he'd never asked me for my number or anything. Anyway, one day I'm at the gym, and I see him there as I'm heading to the locker room. He's shirtless, and has just been working out, and, well ... anyway, we start chatting, and he says I should come by to his apartment, just a couple of blocks away, for dinner. "Now?" I ask. I feel sweaty and very unsexy. But he says yes and I do have a change of clothes in my bag, so I say, let me shower, first. He laughs and says it's just him and his roommates cooking up some steaks, no need to get all fancy, and I promise I won't spend too much time on my makeup and I'll just shower at the gym, if he'll wait. He says he will. I honestly don't expect him to still be there when I get out, but he is, and he's showered, too (but not put on a shirt, ha!) and we go back to his place. He has two roomates, who, well, play a smaller role in this story. I'll call them Michael and Tim. Michael and Andre share a room, and Tim, who is white, has a room to himself. There's also a common room, kitchen, etc. So anyway, Tim has made up some sangria and we eat the steaks and we're drinking, and the conversation, as it sometimes does when you get a bunch of 20-year-olds in a room, turns to sex. And at one point Michael asks me if I've ever been with a black guy. I tell him, truthfully, that I haven't. Not that I wouldn't, just, you know, I went to a pretty white high school, that kind of stuff. Now, I'm not super experienced at this point or anything, but at the same time I never felt like I should have to shy away from talking about sex. They tease me about that a bit, and eventually we get to talking about the thing everybody says about black guys. You know. Are they really that much bigger, that kind of stuff. Knowing looks from Michael and Andre. I say that in my experience, most cocks are pretty close to the same size. I mean, I've never seen a giant porn dick in real life, you know? Some guys look a little bigger soft but you get 'em hard and they're pretty close to the same. "That's not the case," Andre assures me. "Well, sure, I mean, everybody says that ..." I say. "Is that a dare?" And for the life of me I don't know why, with three of them there, I said it, but I did. I said, "Yes." "After dinner," he says. And everyone laughs. So anyway we finish dinner and put the plates away and I'm mildly buzzed but not too bad, and honestly they're gentlemen about it and nobody brings it up and we're just laughing and having a good time. And then at a certain point, Andre catches me checking him out (he has great abs. Have I mentioned that great abs are a weakness of mine? Memo to all guys: don't send gals dick pics, send ab pics). And he laughs and brings it up again. I tease him, "I mean, you're not that big. Maybe a little bit bigger, but ..." "You really think that?" he challenges me. "Yes." I'm not sure why I said that. I mean, it's not like I hadn't seen porn before, and I knew that there were just massive guys out there. But I look him right in the eyes when he said it, and I swear I was daring him. And he took me up on it. He dropped his shorts. At which point I had two reactions. The first is that his cock, while soft, was still the biggest I had ever seen, in person. Clearly just much larger than any I had seen before. The second is that it was just beautiful. I don't even know how to explain it and I'm sure some of it was just that he was so beautiful - tall and fit - and I'm sure that in my imagination I've made it better than it was but I just remember how I felt looking at it and honestly, it was the most beautiful cock I'd ever seen. But damn if I was going to let him know that right away. So I looked down at it, collected myself, and said something along the lines of, "Well, sure, but what is it about growers and show-ers? It's pretty big, but it's probably not that much bigger when its hard." One of the other guys - Michael, I think - cracked a joke. "Girl doesn't want to believe what she's looking at," or something like that. But Andre just sort of smiled at me. "Guess you'll just have to find out." And he just held my gaze. I swear I've never been in a moment with so much sexual tension, before or since. I couldn't handle, I was almost shaking. And so I kind of squeaked out: "What, you want me to do a little strip-tease for you or something?" "That'd be nice." "I'm hardly dressed for it." "It's not about what you're wearing. It's about what you're taking off." Well, shit. Now we all know if I really wanted to, I could have smiled, laughed it off, told him to put that thing away before somebody gets hurt. I could have made an excuse, gone to the bathroom until the tension died down, left. But the thing is, I wanted to see that thing hard. ... ... to be continued.