Supersize George

Info Anne Summer
07 Nov. '17
Supersize George

George is the new forklift driver. Millie and I work in the packaging department and we are both bored and frustrated with absent husbands doing endless three-week tours on the North Sea oil rigs. The arrival of 'Supersize George' as we quickly dubbed him caused us initially wry suggestive amusement, but gradually morphing into something deeper and more serious. Came the day that Millie said "I fancy him" and my spontaneous reply was "Me too!. From there on in there would be no knowing where this was going to end...

 

George drives the forklift.

He is a quiet man, been with us for a month or so by now but keeps to himself and we wouldn’t have glanced at him twice. Were it not for the bulge in his strides!

My sister Millie and me have worked in the packaging section together for almost three years now. We are twins, but not identical. She is the blonde and I am dark-haired. I envy her sweet, golden hair, especially the trimmed fuzz which covers her mound.

When we began to develop fantasies about George, I trimmed my own dark bush to match hers.

We are both married and both rather bored. Our husbands work away on the offshore oil rigs and are gone for twenty-one days at a time. They are both on the same shift on the same North Sea platform at the same time. And they are generally knackered from their eleven-hour days by the time they get home.

It was Millie who started it. The first Monday of our enforced celibacy at morning break-time.

“I wonder what he’s actually got under there!” she said, with a cheeky grin on her face.

“Who?”

She nodded to the left, to the corner table where George habitually drank his tea and ate his sandwiches. He happened to be sat there and looking my way but quickly lowered his gaze as it met mine.

I blushed. Of course I had noticed. Who wouldn’t? We are both lively girls, skittish with it and now beginning to suffer from deprivation. George’s bulge had become a bit of an unspoken secret passion of ours. Until Millie had spoken it and brought it into the open. Now it had been voiced, it seemed to me that there was no going back.

Millie’s grin widened at my discomfort. “It must be quite something when it’s up!”

“Millie!” I whispered

“I bet you’ve sometimes wondered!”

My blush deepened. I was speechless with embarrassment.

“Why don’t we find out then?”

I didn’t know where to look, and certainly not in his direction!

“Millie…!” I was beginning to stammer.

“Break-time!” she said firmly. “We are going to ambush him in the canteen.”

Which remark rendered me bereft of words for the rest of the morning.

George’s forklift had been adapted to carry rolls of paper around. This meant that instead of the usual two-pronged variety it had a single enormous metal pole jutting out before it, jauntily tilted upwards in provocative evocation of a massive phallus. Now that Millie has pointed this out to me I’m likely to get the giggles whenever I see him driving it around. Today, especially so because once Millie gets an idea in her head, there’s no knowing where it will end and up to this point in time poor George is still innocent of whatever her intention is.

All the same, I didn’t believe she really meant to do anything until when lunchtime came she took me by the arm and steered me towards his table where an impish fate had made ready two empty chairs directly opposite him. He looked up, suddenly askance as we pulled our chairs back and plumped on to them facing him, elbows folded on to the table.

“Time we got to know you better, George” she said.

His eyes bolted from Millie to me and back again. His face briefly turned pale, then reddened. He looked down at the table top and made a throat-clearing sort of grunt. Otherwise, clearly embarrassed, he remained silent.

“Come on now, George. Tell us a bit about yourself.” Millie was clearly on a roll now and I felt a twinge of amusement, putting a distinctly silly, if lopsided grin on to my face.

He shrugged his shoulders. Looked up and met our eyes again. He cleared his throat again. “Me? Nothing to tell about me. I aren’t anybody worth telling about.”

He was soft-spoken and had a bit of a West-country accent which I found immediately to my liking. There was more to George, I thought than just that prominent expression of burgeoning manhood that right now was lurking between his legs but out of sight under the table. He wasn’t at all bad looking actually when I looked closely at him and his neglected and unshaven stubble whence he had evidently not got around to doing it this morning did him no disfavours either!

“Oh, come on George!” Millie erupted with mock outrage. “You know you’re a bit of a hunk. Have you got a girlfriend? I bet you have! I bet you’ve got loads queueing up.”

George responded with a further grimace of discomfiture, deeper reddening in the face, a shake of the head and eyes casting down to his emptied teacup.

“Millie!” I interrupted. “Don’t embarrass the poor man!”

She turned away to face me, that wicked grin that I know so well from past jocular encounters with other men. She can’t resist – she’s a born flirt and she was in her most feral mood today. George and his masculine potential had turned her on and it was purely sexual, she was practically humming with it.

“Amy! You know you’re dying to chat him up, aren’t you?”

My turn to be discomforted, my cheeks burning, caught out by the immediacy of her riposte.

George took advantage of the moment to get up from the table, give a muted “harrumph’ and go off in the direction of his forklift.

“Well, that didn’t get very far!” I wrinkled my nose in a grimace of disgust. “He was actually rude, if anything.”

“No, he is obviously very shy. We caught him unawares, after all. But he will be better next time, won’t he?”

“Next time?”

“Tea break. This afternoon”

“Oh, Millie! You are just beyond!”

But I couldn’t help being intrigued, wondering how she would play this next. My guess was that she would repeat the full frontal approach but there was no time for further conversation before it was back to the rigours of a busy section and its endless round of cardboard boxes and polystyrene beads. At 3.15 precisely, Millie made me put down the job I was halfway through finishing, took me by the arm and into what served us as a primitive d.i.y canteen. As I dispensed my cardboard cup of drinking chocolate and unwrapped a Bounty bar, I saw George taking his seat in the corner. This time he was looking up and around as if in anticipation so that when Millie led us to those chairs opposite him, he made the slightest twitch of his lips towards a smile.

“You don’t mind our joining you again?”

He glanced toward each of us in turn and gave a curt nod of his head.

“You’ve been here a month now, George. Time we got to know you better. Isn’t that right Amy?”

“Oh yes, I…”

“She fancies you George!”

“Millie. That’s out of order!” I was instantly flushed and flustered and didn’t know where to look. She can be a real minx, can Millie. Still, it well and truly broke the ice, George’s face was a picture to behold and more animated than I had ever seen him. In fact, she was right on the button. I did fancy him! Right then and there I realised that my whole take on the situation had changed. Some animal chemistry inside me generated by his closeness and his physical presence was becoming in danger of taking me over and I was aware that I had become almost immediately and rather frighteningly attracted to him. My body must have been emitting clouds of pheromones that both he and Millie would inevitably have soon started picking up.

“Well, George, have you got a girlfriend? You aren’t married, are you?” Millie tapped the fingers of his left hand where a wedding ring would be. It was the first physical contact between us. He didn’t quite flinch, in fact he didn’t quite pull away and his face was morphing into a bit of a grin. We were making the breakthrough, he had suddenly begun to move from being apprehensive to beginning to unwind himself and enjoy our attention. ‘So he should, too’ I thought. ‘After all we are neither of us bad looking and we, especially Millie are giving him the eye, big time!’

He looked from Millie to me, we made eye contact and held it for a few seconds, exchanging subliminal questions and answers that I, at least, dared not articulate.

He shook his head. “I never had a proper girlfriend. Not a proper one, you know, long term like.”

“Why ever not? Any girl would be interested in you, George” said Millie emphatically. Then she paused long enough for silence to become just slightly uncomfortable, lowered her voice, said “like me!”

And I don’t know quite what prompted me to join in. Thinking about it afterwards (which I did, at great length and in the absence of sleep in my husbandless king-sized bed that night) it was to do with competing with Millie. I wasn’t going to be left behind. If George was ‘up for grabs’ then I wanted in, I wanted a share of the action. In fact I most viscerally wanted him.

“And me!” I said, causing his gaze to turn my way, doubtless picking up the directness in my look. I was hooked! There was really only one way this could sooner or later go on from here…

Today was Thursday. A rather empty weekend had been looming, to be filled with needless domestic chores and more telly watching than was good for either of us. To fill the husbandless vacuum we usually had Saturday dinner together and maybe an outing to the cinema or perhaps rather more sports orientated stuff if the weather was right. It was late Springtime and my sap was certainly on the rise, the weekend promised to be warm, even sultry and just exactly perfect for when a girl’s fancies may turn towards passionate encounters.

“So what do you do of an evening, after work?”

“Me? Not much, really. Have my supper, mess about with the computer, maybe watch the sport on telly. Sometimes read the paper…” His voice trailed off.

“I bet you watch porn and all!”

“Millie!” I was scandalised. There seemed to be no limit to her provocative behaviour. George blushed. Coughed behind a hand hastily lifted to cover his further confusion.

“There, I knew it!”

“Millie!” I interjected. “Leave it off. I bet you’re not like that at all, are you George?”

He shook his head, a little too emphatically.

“Do you follow a football team?”

“Not really but I’ll watch a match if it looks like it will be a good one.”

I had managed to steer the conversation on to safer ground. Got him to tell us about his family, what job he had done before he came to us and generally put him at ease so that when work called as back we went to our different tasks on friendly terms.

Millie excused herself and disappeared off to the cloakroom, returning a quarter of an hour later with a smug grin on her face.

“Had a word with someone I know in the PR department. I’ve got his address and telephone number.”

“You mean George?”

“Who else?”

“You’ll get yourself into trouble if you don’t watch out”

Millie grinned. “You bet I will. Amy, I am fed up and I need some diversion and, oh my sister, I get the feeling that you are a bit the same. Aren’t you?”

“Well, I…”

“Yes you are. Don’t try to deny it. What’s the harm in a little lightweight flirtation? A little harmless dalliance with Supersize George?”

“I know you and your ideas a bit too well and I reckon that your idea of ‘lightweight dalliance’ is far from harmless.”

Millie grinned and had the grace to go a little pink in the cheeks.

“It isn’t my fault that I’m an oil-rig widow any more than it is yours.”

“So what have you got in mind?” I was intrigued, despite myself. A deadly combination of amused interest and animal lust that I could no longer deny in myself was over-riding any habitual caution I might otherwise have had.

“Why don’t we go and visit him?”

“Millie, this could be a bad idea” I protested.

“Only a bit of fun, Amy. There would be the two of us to stop it getting out of hand.”

So despite myself and my growing misgivings, Millie talked me into meeting up on Friday evening and paying George an unannounced social visit.

He was after all ‘Supersized!’

On Friday morning after another somewhat disturbed night I turned on my phone on the way to work to find four ‘missed messages’ from Millie.

“Really sorry Amy” her voice said apologetically. “I won’t be in today. I’ve been invaded by the in-laws.”

I knew already that they could do this. About twice a year, and regardless whether Martin (her husband) was at home or not, they would invite themselves over for the weekend – an event more linked to theatregoing than having a familial love-in. Millie had little choice in the matter, she would never hear the last of it if she refused and so just got on with it, got a bit inebriated and heaved a sigh of relief when they finally departed, usually on Sunday morning, leaving her with shredded nerves and completely wrung out.

Which totally scuppered our plans.

A big despatch of packages kept me working alone at full blast all day and gave me little time for introspection, to the point that I didn’t even encounter George until around 3.30 when I eventually sat down for my hot chocolate and the remains of a half-consumed pack of ‘economy’ Jaffa cakes.

“Hello Amy” he said in response to my muttered ‘Hi!’ in his direction. “Where have you been all day? And where is your partner in crime?”

“Oh, Millie? I’m not surprised you missed her, she is unmissable, isn’t she!”

“Well I missed you as well.” George was becoming almost effusively friendly which I took later on to be an encouraging sign but it faintly irritated me just then.

“Hmmm! Must go, still got plenty to clear up and I don’t get overtime if I work on later.”

He nodded in what I took to be sympathy then continued, eyebrow quizzically raised.

“Will I be seeing you later?”

Which I took to mean before the end of the afternoon and made a non-committal reply.

In fact I didn’t.

I was home by early evening to an empty house and an empty social calendar. Over coffee and my ‘healthy option’ supper the thought that had been floating around unacknowledged in the back of my mind since Millie’s early morning missed messages finally came to the surface.

Nothing stopped me from paying George that visit.

I wrestled with the idea for half an hour or so, confirmed that there was nothing worth watching on the TV and made a decision. Not based on anything logical, sensible or even moral but because this morning, before even getting Millie’s messages I had taken the first of the month’s course of contraceptive pills (just in case!).

I took a quick shower and dressed in a modest, mid-length skirt and a simple white blouse over a black bra, ‘sensible’ shoes and matching handbag. Just a touch of makeup. A dab of cologne. I studied myself in the wardrobe mirror, suddenly dry-mouthed. I looked alluring, even to my own eyes and at this moment mentally passed the point of no return. I would visit George.

The address was on the first floor of an upmarket block of flats. I found myself standing at an anonymous front door unadorned other than by a doormat, the number ‘17’ and George’s surname on it to tell me I was at the right place. I stood there, hesitant, a little frightened and, yes, more viscerally excited than I think I had ever felt in my life. This was wickedness! Just pressing the bell-push would make me into a wicked woman and a moral step from which there could surely be no return. I took a deep, shuddering breath and with a finger in a hand that was actually shaking, touched it to the button, counted up to five and pressed.

Some seconds later the door swung open and he was standing there, eyeing me quizzically. Only he wasn’t George. The same size, build, hair colour, similar features, slightly younger perhaps but not George. He was wearing just a t-shirt and underpants which he fruitfully filled just as beautifully as George did, perhaps only even more so if that were possible!”

“George?” was all I could manage to stammer.

His face registered curiosity, amusement, perhaps something more physical. “I’ll get him. Who can I say wants him?” Even his voice was similar, the same West-Country, attractive accent. They must be brothers, I thought tremulously.

“Amy from work,” I didn’t recognise my own voice. “Tell him it’s Amy. He will know.”

He took a long look at my face. His eyes then travelled downwards and I felt as though he was undressing me as they roamed over me. I got the idea that he liked what he was seeing as his gaze lingered on my bosom for even longer seconds until my breasts began to actually tingle and my nipples tighten against the fabric of the bra. He looked into my eyes again, I felt as though I was melting into them and now he was smiling at me.

“Come on in – Amy. He’s in the lounge.”

As I stepped through and turned to close the door behind me he had gone out of the hall and I could hear him say “George. You’d better come in here, I’ve got a big surprise for you!”

I followed behind him into what was evidently the lounge where George was rising out of a DFS leather sofa, looking at me with his mouth agape in amazement. For a moment he did not seem to recognise me but then, I realised that he had only ever seen me in my work dungarees, hardly the femme fatale that now stood before him.

The inviting smile that began to suffuse my face was entirely spontaneous, I had made it. That first step across the threshold had been the hardest and now I had the full attention of both supersize George and equally Supersize “…Harry.”

His name was Harry and he was George’s cousin with whom he shared the flat – a joint legacy from a deceased parent.

“We share pretty well everything” he said, passing a bottle to George for opening. “Only Cava I’m afraid, would have got some proper champagne if we’d known you were coming. Amy.”

George popped the cork, Harry brought three white-wine glasses out of a cupboard and within a minute or so they were toasting me with bubbly. I was feeling most decidedly bubbly myself by now and the subliminal signals that were erupting from my body as the warmth of the cool sparkly wine and the warmth of the evening brought me into a glorious flush that was entirely sexual. Now ensconced in an armchair directly opposite them as they sat side by side on the sofa, I could take them both in at leisure. I raised my glass.

“George! Harry!” I clinked mine with each of theirs. “To two wonderful hunks of manhood!” I drained mine in a single gulp, sneezed as the bubbles went up my nose and giggled girlishly. They looked at each other, then at me, drained their glasses and grinned conspiratorially. Harry refilled them.

“Why didn’t your friend come with you?”

“She wanted to – it was actually her idea but she had something come up last minute. So she couldn’t”. I raised my glass again, clinked with theirs again. “Millie!”

Things were going to move quickly now, I realised. I drained my glass again, passed it to George, said “loo. Just a minute!”

“Through there” he pointed.

Once inside, I looked into the vanity mirror, noted my glowing cheeks and said a quiet apology to my husband. I couldn’t get out of this now even if I had a sudden change of mind and which anyway was the last thing I wanted.

I took off my blouse. Took off my bra. Surveyed my breasts. I’ve always been pleased with them. They curve delightfully, the nipples pointing upwards at the tips. Dark, broad surrounds that one day will have a baby sucking on them. I started putting the blouse back on, then changed my mind, dropped it back off my shoulders on to the floor. I touched my nipples. They were tingling. I opened the door and went back into the lounge and my tryst with these two gorgeous and most assuredly handsomely endowed men.

It was still daylight and the evening sun shining in through the lounge window. Where I stood opposite them I could feel its warming on my bare skin and lighting me up like a golden goddess. They both stood up. First Harry, then George peeled off their tops. Harry’s underpants completely failed to restrain his swelling manhood and he simply lowered the inadequate garment to let it fall from his hips. George took a little longer to take off his shorts but now I had the fullness of them. Two magnificently proud, erect penises jutting out just for my pleasure. I motioned them to sit, side by side on the sofa, turned and sat on their laps, one bottom cheek on each of their thighs, one leg between each of theirs. My hands reached beside me, grasping a hot, palpably throbbing phallus in each, my fingers barely able to close around their shafts, just behind the bulbous, swollen purple, blood engorged heads. I leaned my head back against their necks, my voice lowered to a husky croon.

“I want you. Both!” was all I could say.

I could somehow sense their inexperience, a nervousness that was at odds with their beautiful physiques. I would have to lead them on, at least to start with and this gave me a little extra frisson of pleasure. None of us was destined ever to forget this night. I had never had the joy of two men together and at once, it was overwhelmingly erotic.

“Touch me” I whimpered. “My breasts. Touch my breasts. Stroke them!” I let go their members for long enough to grasp their hands and draw them under my bosom to cuddle and pleasure me there. My nipples were hot, tender and swelling, flooding with delightful sensation as their fingers rubbed, stroked and massaged me, gaining in confidence, initial timidness giving way to a manly, lustful strength. The more their warm hands explored me, the more I cooed and moaned with pleasure, my head thrown back against them. My hands fell back beside me again to repossess them, the engorged taughtness of those massive shafts, the hot, pulsing bulbous glands that I would come to love so much.

I have never kissed a man down there, it had never occurred in my marriage to Martin and certainly not in earlier premarital fumblings. Now it just seemed to happen naturally. I leaned across Harry, holding his manhood in both my hands, ran my fingers over the, oh, so sensitive tip of his glans, then drew him to me and between my lips. He filled my mouth wonderfully, the salty taste delicious as I let my tongue explore him, causing his shoulders to shudder, making him utter a deep moan as my teeth nibbled gently around him.

A heady, musky aroma engulfed me, my own female scent blending in with their masculine emanations, I was almost dizzy with desire. I turned, going on hands and knees, my thighs parting to straddle him, bottom lifted, offering my reddened, glowing globes to George behind me. Though maybe inexperienced, nature told him what to do! Hands gripping the tops of my thighs, his inner thighs against mine from behind, the heat of his manhood nuzzling in between my open labia and beginning to thrust.

And all the time, my lips and tongue explored Harry, feeling the heat of his throbbing member and holding him in a paroxysm of ecstasy.

My vagina was flooding out its juices, welcoming and easing George’s demanding pressure from behind. He entered me, I popped open quite suddenly. He forced his way in. He was so big, I was so deliciously tight, it was just heaven, the sensations from my engorged, swollen and tender womanhood made me moan out my pleasure around Harry’s massive manhood.

George’s thrusting became almost frighteningly forceful, my body and Harry’s moving in unison to his urgent rhythm as he gripped my head with hands tangled in my hair, rocked me with him. George’s groin almost slapping against my buttocks was sending me into a spiralling frenzy of delight lifting me to a first huge, explosive orgasm like nothing I had ever known in my life before.

I heard myself crying out through the growing extremis of Harry’s own pulsating passion as I rose to that great peak of my own pleasure a second, third time and beyond until first George, then Harry Exploded with me in their own release. Everything was pulsating inside me, their juices pumping into my most intimate places until I had drained them into exhausted release, after which we all three huddled together on the sofa sinking into a satiated reverie.

I hardly remembered the move into the bedroom. They had pushed their two big single beds together and now I lay at the centre, luxuriant in the warmth of their bodies, drunk from the release of our immediate sexual hiatus. It was late in the evening now as we lay together, gently stroking each other’s bodies until I felt their urges gradually returning under the touch of my hands and they became fully aroused once again.

This time it there was no urgency in the pacing of it. I could feel their beautiful members grow hard and horny again, hear their softly rising sighs and moans of pleasure. There were no words, only the odd whispered ‘darling’ as my fingers explored their especially sensitive erections and their fingers stroked my swollen buds, my lips explored their throbbing glands, their lips suckling my eager breasts, one on each until desire overtook all else and they rolled me on to my back and took turns to enter me.

Where it had been rushed and urgent before, now it was full, deep, forceful but gentle at the same time. I was just that little bit less tight, much more slippery and juicy inside as we took our pleasures together. First Harry, then George, taking me by turns but not finishing yet. Now Harry turned me over to straddle him, cuddling me down over his strong, manly chest, my face buried in the side of his neck. I was almost beyond orgasm, just awash in a great flood of pleasured release, eventually falling asleep.

Then it was the morning. I woke late to be cossetted like a princess by the two men. They ran my bath, cooked my breakfast, kissed me a lot, we smiled a lot, shared reminiscences until almost midday.

We were enjoying a thoughtful coffee (George had earlier gone out to get some real cream especially for me) when the doorbell rang. We weren’t expecting anybody and it was a faintly puzzled Harry who answered it.

A familiar voice sounding from within in the hall. I was sitting naked on an equally naked George’s lap, my fingers teasing his recently renewed and, oh so deliciously firm and erect manhood when she came in. I had just decided that I needed to take it into my mouth and explore it with my tongue, taste its delicious Waxy saltiness when she entered the room. Millie was wearing a ridiculously short skirt and an equally ridiculously low-slung blouse, already two of its three buttons open revealing her gorgeous cleavage. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She smiled wickedly as she greeted me.

“We had a row! I told them to sod off! I didn’t see why you should have all the fun”

George was standing behind her, wearing only his underpants, an air of lustful bemusement on his face.

She can be incredibly brazen, can Millie. She turned around To George, ran her hands down inside his boxers and pushed them off his hips, then grasped his rising erection with both her hands.

“God, you’re so big! So beautiful! I want you!” Her voice had gone into a husky hoarseness that signalled her pulsating desire for him.

She hadn’t been wearing any knickers either. She flicked the flimsy skirt up around her waist and wrapped herself around his body, her legs going around his trunk so that he had to hold her, releasing her hands to grasp his wonderful manhood and lead it under her blond bushy fuzz and inside her open labia. She was already flowing with her womanly secretions, I heard the slurping suction as she took him inside her, swallowing the now red and swollen head of his member, then squeezing him to her so that his shaft was buried deep within her. Big as he was, she took him all the way in until their bellies were pressed into one. George didn’t need to do anything except stand and hold on as Millie rode him like the stallion he was. I watched entranced as her hips bucked and thrusted, her head thrown back, mouth wide open and deep moans erupting from her throat.

The first of her climaxes came very quickly, George grunting and gasping with her seemingly insatiable need for release.

I don’t remember much after that, it was all deliciously hazy, overwhelming and beyond mere pleasure. Harry turned me off his lap and over on to my knees on the sofa, entering me from behind. This time he took up Millie’s urgent need and it was my turn to be ridden by the stallion that he was. The force of his entry made me cry out and carry on gasping and keening with each thrust as he gave me his all, his groin slapping against the swollen and reddened cheeks of my bottom until I exploded inside with the first of the most massive orgasms I have ever known. I dimly heard Millie’s accompanying cries, next the pulsing spurts of Harry’s release, deep, deep inside my womanhood and then I fainted.

It was much later. In bed, the four of us in satiated delight.

Millie whispering into my ear.

“Amy, darling, did they have you both at once?”

I shook my head, a little surprised.

“Before this weekend is over, I promise you that they will!”

“What do you mean?”

She uttered a muffled giggle. “One in front and the other in your bottom. Amy you are an innocent!”

I felt myself beginning to blush.

George and Harry had been quietly listening. Harry gently pulled me over to lie on top of him, I could feel his manhood stirring between our bellies. George was rising on to his haunches behind me as Harry gripped me behind the knees and drew me into a crouching position.

I wasn’t destined to be an innocent for much longer.

 

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