I have an eight-and-a-half-inch cock. That’s 0.2159 meters if you think metric. And thick. I tell you this right up front because I am an exhibitionist and I get my kicks out of telling people about my cock, and watching their expressions should they happen to see it.

So you’ll understand where I’m coming from when I tell you what happened yesterday at my gym. I’d just finished my workout and was taking a long, hot shower. The showers there don’t have curtains, and I often wonder who made that decision. Was this a gay thing, or a voyeur thing? Perhaps it’s the reason why I joined this particular gym. Hmmm, I hadn’t thought about that before. Maybe the owner is an exhibitionist himself; who knows?

But I digress! Back to the story.

There are six showers in the men’s change room, and three of them face the other three. Apart from the view they offer, perhaps the best thing about these showers is that they have multiple heads; one high up, and two at waist level which can be aimed exactly where you want. I was adjusting one of them when I happened to look up. I noticed a man in the shower on the opposite side who was staring at my cock. I wasn’t surprised; it’s happened before, and he was so intent that he didn’t notice that I had spotted him.

Being who I am, I decided to give him a bit of a show. With the pulsating water carefully aimed at my cock, it was already at stage two on my scale of zero to five, from limply flaccid to up-and-at-’em full erection. So I took the soap and gently worked my package into a frothy mass, moving me up to level three.

When I looked up again, I saw him quickly avert his eyes, and a minute later we were both toweling off. I thought I’d open up a quick conversation to avoid an awkward silence.

“Aren’t these great showers?” I started out. “There’s nothing I love better than a hot shower after a good workout.”

“Yup,” he mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Doesn’t it feel good,” I went on, “specially with those lower shower heads getting you right where you want.”

“Yup, sure does,” he replied noncommittally.

“I wish I had one like this at home, there’s nothing better,” I stated and was surprised when he came up with a complete sentence.

“Actually there is! I’ve got a hot tub, and it’s got these jets, and that’s better than anything.”

“Oh, nice,” I replied. “But wearing a bathing suit must take away that great feeling of hot water washing over your...  ”

I stopped, not wanting to embarrass him by saying anything as vulgar as ‘cock and balls.’ So I quickly inserted “testicles.”

“Oh, we don’t wear bathing suits in ours,” he blurted out. I could see he was a little uncomfortable in being so candid with a complete stranger. He quickly added his excuse for being so rash.

“Our back yard is very private.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I enthused. “I’ve never been in a hot tub.”

The man was rapidly warming up to the conversation.

“Would you like to come over? I’ll give my wife a call and see if it’s all right.”

“Sure! That’s a very kind offer. I’ve got time.”

We introduced ourselves. He was Grant and his wife was Poppy.

“I’m Jock,” I told him. (I have to admit, dear reader, that Jock is not really my name. I just use it on occasions like this because I want him to remember my name by its obvious rhyme. Jock - cock!)

A moment later I heard him talking to his wife.

“….yes, Poppy, I’ve made a new friend at the gym. His name is Cock - I mean Jock. Is it okay to invite him over to use the hot tub?”

There was some whispered talk that I couldn’t overhear, and then he hung up and smiled at me.

“Poppy is delighted. She’d be so happy to see your... I mean, you.”

It turned out that they lived nearby, so we walked, and chatting as we went I found out a few details about the two of them. He was perhaps twenty years younger than me, and his wife was five years younger than him, so she must have been practically half my age! She’d had a short career as a model but retired to become a stay at home mom. However, they didn’t have any children yet, but - he told me in a sotto voce tone - they were working on it!

I told him something of my life, how I’d been with a gorgeous, uninhibited younger woman for a long time, but now I was single.

“I can’t imagine you’ll be single for long,” he said, and when I saw him blush, I thought he’d been referring to my big attribute. But he recovered and went on, “I saw your car, a Lamborghini, so you must be doing well enough.”

I tried to answer him modestly, telling him it wasn’t the latest model, but I could tell he was impressed.

When we got to his bungalow - a typical California Cape Cod house -  he ushered me in, handed me a towel and showed me a bathroom where I could get undressed.

“We’ll be outside - join us when you’re ready.”

It was a nice bathroom, very modern with mirrors everywhere. I pulled off my jeans, and as I always go commando, my cock sprung out freely. In three mirrors around the bathroom I saw it - already firming up in anticipation of meeting Poppy the ex-model, and my cock was already at a three on my erection scale. 'Oh no,' I thought to myself, 'how am I going to hide that when I put my towel down?'

'Well,' I reasoned with myself, 'Grant’s already seen me at a three, and I have yet to meet a young woman who would complain about it. She’ll be far too polite to say anything. Besides, I’ll soon be under water and no one will be any the wiser.'

And then I re-thought that. 'Who did I think I was? A shy virgin? No! I was an exhibitionist; that’s how I get my kicks. Why would I want to cover up at a time like this?'

So, wrapping my towel around my waist, but expertly making sure it was high enough to reveal the end of my cock hanging below where it could be spotted by any experienced voyeur, I opened the door to their back yard. Over on one side was the hot tub. Grant had called it a hot tub, but it looked more like a Jacuzzi to me; not a big wooden thing, but a plastic one with knobs for jets and bubbles. I could see two faces floating on top of the foamy water. Looking around I was surprised to see the neighbors’ houses were all two stories high; from any of their upstairs windows there would be clear views down into this yard. It wasn’t private at all!

'Better and better!' I thought to myself. 'An exhibitionist’s Garden of Eden!'

“Come on, Jock. Jump in! Meet Poppy.”

I smiled broadly, walked forward, dramatically threw my towel towards a nearby chair, and watched her face closely. Perfect! She gave me just what I wanted - that look of awe and surprise all at once. She kept her eyes glued to my cock as I climbed up into the tub, swung my legs over and lowered myself into the welcoming water.

“How do you do?” she asked, standing and reaching her hand towards me. This was my first chance to see her body. Perfection! Of course it was - she’d been a model. A long haired brunette with a luscious, curved waist — but forget that, and try to remain impervious to her Miss Universe face and her broad, ‘come hither’ smile. Yes, it was almost easy to forget all that because it was her tits which stood out in more ways than one. Full and round, they were, defying gravity; well, I knew she was still very young. And how lovely to see already aroused nipples on top of dark areolae, just the way I like them. In that split second I wondered if my hands would be big enough to cope with these king-sized beauties.

“Sit down, Jock. Your first time in a hot tub? Feel around. There are different levels to sit on. And watch out for the jets,” she giggled.

I was about to ask her what the difference was between a hot tub and a Jacuzzi, but she carried on talking non-stop, giving neither of us men a chance to get a word in edgeways. Even when she asked a question, she left no room for an answer.

“Jock, what do you do for a living? You have a very fit physique, do you go to the gym every day? Are you retired yet? Grant’s still got a long way to go and we’re building up a nest egg for ourselves…” she rattled on and on, and I couldn’t help noticing her eyes were always darting around, looking up at the house next door and then down into the hot tub where I lay back with the tip of my cock occasionally floating upwards and breaking the surface of the water.

She moved to a higher seat in the tub and her amazing tits came into glorious view again, and I found myself zoning out and unable to concentrate on what she was saying.

But I woke up with a start when she suddenly turned to her husband and said, “Oh sorry, Grant, I haven’t been paying you any attention. Here, sit up on the top step.”

Grant did as he was asked and I saw his cock, really for the first time. (Forgive me, dear reader, I know it’s not kind to compare, but his wiener was a lot smaller than mine, maybe five-and-a-half-inches at the most; but to be fair, it was not at all erect at the time - a zero on my scale.)

Poppy moved towards him and with no hesitation at all, not even an  “Excuse me for a moment, Jock,” she pushed his knees apart and took his member into her mouth and began to make little sucking, slurping sounds. Grant gave me a quick look as if to say, “Look what a great wife I have; is this okay with you?” I nodded and he closed his eyes and fell into a trance.

I watched, transfixed. It wasn’t his cock that excited me; it was identifying with it that turned me on. Now, with Poppy hard at work, I had a perfect view of her shapely back, (I love naked backs!) and sometimes when she rose up a little higher, her cute little rump. My fingers involuntarily flexed and squeezed as I imagined my hands running wild across that smooth, round, erogenous zone.

Suddenly Poppy lifted her head, and turning towards me, whispered, “Jock, is Marge watching?”

“Marge?” I queried.

“Yes, Marge! Don’t you remember I was telling you about her?”

“No; sorry, I must have missed that.”

Poppy had been going on and on about so much, and I was only half listening; I was paying far more attention to willing her to stand up again and give me another glimpse of her glorious tits.

“Remind me about Marge, would you?”

“Don’t look now,” warned Poppy.

I did as Poppy suggested, and sure enough I could see a face in the window. As I squinted at her through my half closed eyelids, I saw her raise some binoculars. Maybe she was watching me! I felt my cock jerk up a level under the water; it was probably at a four by now.

I turned back to watch the action in the hut tub, and Poppy was just about to go back to work on Grant when I noticed something extraordinary. Grant’s cock, which I had guessed was only about a five and a halfer, had grown enormously! Now, with all his wife’s ministrations, his cock had stretched in length and girth and could easily have surpassed mine! I was astonished.

“Sweetie, take care of yourself for a minute, would you? I’ve been so impolite; I haven’t been very hospitable to our guest.”

She made it crystal clear what she meant. My heart felt as if it had leapt from my chest and lodged itself in my throat. I didn’t know what to say, and I couldn’t have said it anyway. Had I died and gone to heaven? A blow job from this extraordinary beauty while Marge watched through her binoculars?

“From your expression, I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes',’” smiled Poppy as she nudged me onto a higher seat in the hot tub. Pushing my knees wide apart, she lowered her lips onto my straining knob.

It’s true. I must have died; this was certainly heaven.

Grant spoke up. “Now, Jock, lean back on your elbows, close your eyes, and let all your worries be bygones. Poppy will look after you.”

Who was I to argue? I did as directed, and very soon I couldn’t even imagine what a worry was! She was very skilled, and I was very happy. More than happy. I was in ecstasy. With my eyes shut, I imagined Grant watching with a certain amount of jealousy perhaps, stroking himself slowly. I knew I would have to open my eyes soon just to witness his expression. And then there was Marge with her eyes focused on us too. Could she balance the binoculars and play with her pussy at the same time? And I so badly wanted to see Poppy’s red lips closed around my shaft, bobbing back and forth.

I was about to sneak a peek when Poppy suddenly whispered in my ear, “Having a good time, sailor? How do you like the hot tub so far? Does it feel good?”

I was confused only for a second. The blow job was still going on, and she was whispering in my ear! That only left Grant!

I looked down, and sure enough, it was him. And what surprised me more than anything - and I’m speaking now as a straight man - my cock never shrank back one iota from my full five on the scale. Most likely, my cock was a whole lot smarter than I was. A blow job is a blow job  -  does it matter whose mouth is involved?

Poppy took my hands and put them on her tits (Oh brother! Am I ever proud of my telepathic powers!), and Grant increased his speed. This was mind blowing! A man was giving me a blow job! This was a first for me. I had never even dreamed of this being a turn on for me. Yet it was happening, by chance, not by any planning on my part. And I was loving it. And my hands were loving it too, fondling, groping, squeezing, pinching.

Far, far sooner than I wanted, I felt myself cumming. I pulled out, and before I could figure out where to shoot my load, Poppy grabbed my cock and aimed it at her face. Three heavy streams shot out, one after the other, looping across her forehead, her eyelids and her open mouth.

What a thrill to see her exquisite features draped and dripping with my essence. If ever I needed a camera to preserve this moment, this was it. Damn. No camera. Just a vivid, mind-searing memory.

We all sat still for a while, savoring the moment. Grant was loving it as much as I was. Poppy was proudly showing off her new look. She made no attempt at all to wipe it off. She turned and faced the pink house. We all heard the muffled scream. It came from behind the drapes in the third window from the left. Marge disappeared from view. We heard her binoculars drop to the floor. Marge had cum!

The  three of us giggled as we all tried to catch our breath. The bubbles kept bubbling and everything else was quiet.

Finally Poppy turned to Grant and said, “Sorry Sweetie, we’ve left you high and dry. Here, sit up here again.”

She carried on where she’d left off, sucking his stiffie back to its full size. He closed his eyes and drifted off into his trance again. I watched half heartedly, thinking more about being sucked off by a man, and wondering if it said anything about me that I had enjoyed it so much.

Grant didn’t look as if he was ever going to cum. I’ll always remember his grinning, dazed expression. Poppy took a break for a moment, leaned over to me and whispered, “Jock, my jaw’s exhausted. Be a dear and take over for a while.”

Before I could even begin to react to this new challenge in my sexual career, she began to suck him again, but pulled me close down beside her. Lifting her lips off his cock she pushed my head down onto it, and without making any conscious decision whether or not this was something I wanted to do, I opened my mouth and immediately knew what to do.

(Dear reader, as someone who is reading this story on Lush, you probably know all about blow jobs. I hope you do. Giving or receiving, it’s one of life’s blessings. But I realize that only about half of us know what it feels like to have a cock in your mouth. I certainly never did!)

Well, I’ll tell you. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling at that split second as I launched myself into being a cocksucker. I wasn’t at all sure what doing this would mean to my reputation with my peers if they ever found out, or even to myself, admitting that I was indeed now a cocksucker. That used to be such an insult!

It’s amazing how fast one can think when it’s needed. All these thoughts raced through my mind. Was I being impolite if I didn’t return the favor. Impolite? At a time like this? I couldn’t believe that I was worrying about being impolite while I was in the middle of a little orgy!

Then in an instant I understood why everything was okay. Nothing had really changed. When I’d been staring at Grant’s cock as Poppy was giving him a blow job, I was enjoying it because I was identifying with him and his cock, and some of the pleasure he was getting was also transferring into my cock and my number one sexual organ - my mind. Nothing had changed. I was still identifying with his cock. His cock was now my cock, and I knew I wanted all the wonderful sensations I could get for it. The only difference was that I was now cast in the role of the giver of these sensations as well as the receiver.

Luckily, I have had my share of blowjobs, and I know exactly what I like. I began in earnest to give myself the best blowjob I’d ever had! I don’t think I’m boasting when I say I must be really good at it, because almost at once Grant became more actively involved and started to fuck my mouth. Now I started to worry about my next dilemma. Do I swallow or spit?

Poppy saw what was happening and whispered in my ear, “Before he cums, give him to me!”

That moment was fast approaching so I backed off, leaving room for Poppy. She twirled around, spread her legs and ‘assumed the position.’ Grant stood up and - doggy style - plunged his already spurting ram rod into her waiting pussy.

“Come on baby! You can do it! Find an egg! Make a baby!”

After a while, we all recovered our composure and went inside. Still warm from the hot tub, none of us was in a hurry to get dressed. Grant passed around bottles of beer, and I found a comfortable chair in the living room and sat down, draping my towel respectfully across my lap. Poppy sat opposite me with her towel around her waist, leaving her shapely torso topless. She’d never cleaned off my cum, and it had dried in a proud pattern across her face. Damn, why hadn’t I brought a camera!

“Jock, you know, Grant told me about you in the shower, and he always brings the big boys home for me.”

“Really?” I feigned surprise. “He saw my cock in the shower?”

“Isn’t he a sweetie? He knows I love big ones. He says that’s the only reason I married him because I love an eight and a halfer! What a tease! Here, don’t be modest, let me take that, it’s all wet.”

She jumped up and snatched the towel off my lap revealing my level two.

“Can you stay for dinner?” she chirped innocently, as if nothing unusual was happening. Don’t suburban people always sit around drinking beer in the nude?

“Yea, stay,” added Grant, “we’ve got plenty of burgers. Hey, Poppy, Jock’s single you know, why don’t we invite someone over to make it a foursome?”

“Great idea, honey. I think I know who might be interested.”

Putting her phone on speaker, she pushed two buttons on her speed dial, and a moment later we all heard someone pick up.

“Hello! Marge here!”

A couple of days later, I met Grant in the showers again at the gym.

“Here, Poppy wanted you to have this.”

He gave me a photo with a note attached. It read, “Jock, this is a keepsake for you until you find a mate. Sorry about my eyes being blacked out, but I worry that Grant will drop my picture somewhere. By the way, if we have a son, I’m calling him Jock. (I love rhymes!)”