Hannah, what have you gotten yourself into?This was the only thing I could think on the way to Michael’s apartment. The last few days flashed through my mind in a total blur, a tornado of excitement and lust and fear and awe and so many other things all colliding. All my romance novels have this cliché: “It’s so wrong, but it feels so right!” That’s just where I was now, about to turn my back on my loving parents, my boyfriend, my faith… all to prove myself in the lewdest way possible. What had happened to me?Michael happened.It started with the worst idea Brett had ever come up with. Brett’s my boyfriend; he’s a nice guy, cute, and from a good LDS family, which makes him Heavenly Father’s gift in my parents’ eyes. They always worried that their little tomboy daughter was never going to meet anyone, and for a time, I agreed with them. Then puberty came along and stuck me with a pair of big ol’ G-cup breasts and suddenly I could never seem to shake the gaze of one man after another.Brett was the first who’d been able to look at my eyes instead of my chest for extended periods of time, so he was the first I felt comfortable dating. I know, I know, low bar, right? But after years of getting nothing but ogles and no sense of genuine interest in who I was as a person, it was pretty easy to fall for the guy with the boyish smile.But back to his idea. I was a couple of years into college and had unfortunately put on some of that ‘freshman forty’ weight you always hear about. I hadn’t gained that much thank goodness, but I was still seeing some more pudge than I wanted to. Add to that the fact that I noticed some of the guys who stared at my chest lingering a lot longer than they used to and I started to get worried about my safety on and off campus.“You should study a martial art!” Brett told me when I explained my worries. It’s no surprise really, Brett grew up on Jackie Chan movies and Japanese animation; he had a vast collection of comic books with names like “Punch to Kill!” and “Dragons of the Hidden Temple”. So it was no surprise that he thought the answer to my troubles lay in the sacred arts of ritualized bare-fisted murder.Still, I did my best to be an obedient girlfriend, and I could see the appeal of getting a bit more creative with my exercise routine, so I started looking up classes in the area. The closest and most intriguing was one that taught something called “Kajukenbo”. I ran it by Brett and he got all excited, said it was related to the art that Ranma Saotome did.The dojo was a converted dance studio that still had mirrors on all the walls. As I waited in the little sitting area and watched the advanced class wrap up, I marveled at the speed and power of the students, wondering if a klutzy, dorky, Mormon girl was really going to be able to keep up. But then again, I reminded myself, this was the advanced class, they wouldn’t expect me to do flips and break boards on my first day. At least I hoped not.I was surprised by the instructor of the class, a handsome, fit man in his early fifties with a devilish goatee and a pleasant smile he used while shaking my hand. What shocked me about him was that he did not do the obligatory glance or stare at my chest when he first laid eyes on me; it’s not that I would have been mad if he did, I was used to it by now, but it was so rare to meet men who didn’t care. I’ve even caught gay guys doing it when they meet me. They say the martial arts cultivate discipline; maybe this was proof of that.I had deliberately dressed ready for a workout and certainly caught every other man in the beginner’s class (I was the only woman this time) getting a good eyeful of my hooters in the purple lycra tank-top that was restraining them and the curve of my butt in black yoga pants. One guy in particular stared a little longer than the rest, a tall, built handsome guy with very short black hair. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t stared back a little, but I stopped the moment I realized bahis siteleri I was doing it.The class wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. We started with some basic calisthenics no harder than what I’d do in a typical Zumba lesson, and then it was on to some basic punches and kicks. The teacher (Sensai he asked to be called) came around and checked out our form and balance, putting our hands or legs into different positions as he saw fit. Again I admired his restraint; he didn’t treat me any differently than anyone else in the class, being respectful of my body and not being judgy about my stance. He even complimented me for making a good natural fist; apparently a lot of people start with their thumbs on the inside or other messed up stuff.Then for the last portion of class, we moved on to some grappling. He demonstrated a few different arm-bars and wrist-locks, then broke us off into pairs to practice them. My heart fluttered a little when he linked me up with the handsome guy from before.Michael, oh, Michael.Michael was distracting even before I knew the most distracting thing about him. First of all, the guy is just CUT. Brett is a nice guy and cute enough, but he’s always had a bit of a paunch from a pretty serious Twinkie-addiction. It doesn’t bother me, but taking in Michael’s gorgeously full biceps, broad muscular shoulders and an occasional flash of abdominal definition made me feel just a bit gooey inside. Was I shallower than I thought? Did these things matter that much?I did my best to put those thoughts aside as we practiced the maneuvers we were asked to work on, loving the feel of his strong body curled around mine when he was in the role of the aggressor, and mesmerized by his lithe movements and he was the one putting the locks on me. He was precise in his movements, and just so fast, it was really something.The biggest shock of all happened when we moved to a wrist-lock that finished with the aggressor lying on the ground, one arm up between the defender’s legs so that the lock could be applied in total safety. I started, hoping he couldn’t feel the wetness that was growing between my legs (although in hindsight he might have simply thought it was sweat) as I pinned him there. But then when it was his turn my heart stopped in my throat; with my arm pinned up between his legs, I felt something that seemed impossible up between his lower thigh, barely above the knee.What I felt pressed against my arm was pliant, with some firmness to it, somewhat malleable beneath the pressure of my skin, and strangely warm. Since there was no way it could be what I thought I felt, I chalked it up to him having something in his pocket I couldn’t quite figure out, and that he must have some pretty deep pockets.Things got more awkward with the final move we practiced. Sensai joked that it was a good way to get acquainted with people that you didn’t know, which could not have been more true as it was a “triangle choke” which involved locking your legs around the neck of an opponent while on your back, pulling them up quite intimately against your crotch. I was pretty embarrassed locking Michael’s face right next to my sex, but he was kind and classy about it which helped some. Even worse was when it was my turn to play the attacker and I was again confronted with the odd object he seemed to be slinging in his pants, which really bunched up at his crotch.If I didn’t know any better I’d swear it was on purpose the way he really mooshed my face against it, and I felt a couple more objects, roundish and rolling as I struggled against them to make sure his hold was tight. It was then that I began to suspect something impossible, but I buried those suspicions as deep as I could throughout the remainder of the maneuver, reminding myself that good girls did not think such things.That got me through the rest of training without having to ask any embarrassing questions, at least.At the end of class, we bowed out and shouted canlı bahis siteleri “OHSS!” (which I thought was kind of neat) and I got ready to head home. Michael came over to speak to me as I was buttoning up my coat.“Hey, it was nice working with you tonight, Hannah.”I blushed and spoke with the modesty I’d been raised to always use, “Oh thank you, but I know I’m not very good. You seem like you’ve done this before, are you sure you should be in the beginner class?”He grinned, putting a hand behind his head, “Oh well, this is only my second class doing Kajukenbo, but it’s not my first martial art so I’m sure I might move up a little faster than some people. I was in the army so we did some of this stuff. If you ever want some pointers I’d be happy to work with you outside of class.”“I don’t think I could, I’ve got a boyfriend and he might think the wrong thing.”He shrugged, “Hey I get that, no worries, but I really did just mean to train if you could ever get your guy to understand that.”It was then that I noticed something which made color shoot right up to the tips of my ears. The pants Michael was wearing literally didn’t have pockets at all. There was no question that thing I’d felt had been… had been a big, long, floppy, fat PENIS. My mouth felt dry and I suddenly had no control over it as I heard it say,“I bet I can, actually. You wanna get together to spar or something tomorrow night?”“It’s a not-date,” Michael said, before pulling out his phone to exchange numbers and give me his address.I was in trouble.Back at home, Brett was getting dinner on the table for us; he’s not a great chef or anything, but when it comes to guy-dishes like spaghetti or chili he tends to turn in pretty solid results.“How was class?” he asked, maybe a bit too eagerly. I think something about the idea of butt-kicking kung-fu girls really turns him on.“Oh, fine. But I’m going to need a lot of practice. I was thinking I might do a little extra-curricular training tomorrow if you don’t have plans for me.”He sat with me as we dug into the meal, “Fine by me, I think the better you get at it, the more confident you’re going to feel.”That had been easier than I thought. I decided then and there that I was going to fuck Brett that night. Not only had he cooked dinner and shown himself to be the un-jealous kind of guy I could love, but I thought maybe if I could get some satisfaction now it would make things easier on me being around Michael the next day.It was a huge mistake.For one thing, I couldn’t stop thinking of Michael’s huge penis! Whether it was when I was giving Brett a little mouth action (and thinking of how overwhelming it would be if he were huge) or that little sensation of when he first penetrated me and how I couldn’t even fathom what Michael would feel like at first, my mind just kept playing the touch I’d gotten, the dance and sway of the thing in his pants. My brain was more full of cock than a gay henhouse.As for the “satisfying” part? Forget it! I’d managed to trick myself into thinking I was getting off when we’d done it in the past, but now I was so distracted I couldn’t even pretend. Brett wasn’t big, he might have even been on the small side of average, and suddenly my vag was aware of everything it had been missing. There was no way I’d be climaxing with Brett any time soon.All this was on my mind when I put my workout clothes under a big coat and walked the six blocks or so to where Michael lived. His place was very spacious, and while I wasn’t sure what he was doing for a living, it seemed like he was definitely doing all right for himself. He’d moved furniture and even laid down mats, giving us an ideal space to use our bodies to their fullest extent.For training, Hannah! For training!I was pretty proud of myself; for the whole of our training time, I only spent—at most—half of it looking at the well-stuffed contents of his shorts. He clearly had on tight underwear or a jock-strap or something today canlı bahis because his bits weren’t swinging and swaying around the same way this time, but the bulge they were making was jaw-dropping. If Brett wore the same clothes and stuffed a couple of rolled-up socks in with it I don’t think he’d have made the same impression in the fabric.Of course when we trained it was very distracting; I frequently found myself losing my balance or stumbling and made things worse by laughing about it until I’d snort. I hate being such a dork… but if Michael cared, he didn’t show it, his eyes often locked to my chest as it bounced this way and that. There’s no sports bra on earth truly strong enough to take on my girls! But in spite of all ogling we were both doing, we managed to behave ourselves very well. We gave and got and I even started to feel a little of that inner warrior-woman that Brett is always talking about, enjoying the sensation of controlling a little bit of what was happening as we sparred.Finally, after a couple of hours, I had to call it quits, embarrassed by how much I was sweating and panting, but happy to see that for all his physique he was definitely feeling some of that himself, his face red, his breath quick. He gave me a high-five that was so powerful it both stung the palm of my hand and made my boobs go a little crazy with the jiggling. I blushed and he stared for just a few seconds before making himself look away.“Good work today! I’m gonna grab a shower right quick. After that, you want a ride home?”On the one hand, the rain that had started up outside was strong enough it would probably eliminate the need for a shower myself, but on the other, I just sorta wanted to spend more time with Michael. I looked around his modest decorations and well-filled bookshelves as I heard the water running in the bathroom, but my wanderings took me past the door which he’d left open a crack.Hannah no, you’re not going to—are you?I was already chiding myself for it, but it was like I moved without control, pushing that door just a tiny bit wider and peering inside, jaw dropping at what I saw. It wasn’t the water flowing over those glorious muscles, nor the simple grace with which he moved that captivated me, no, it was what was between his legs.That COCK! It was dead limp, clear from the way it swung around, yet easily almost twice the size of Brett’s member when Brett was hard. I was mesmerized, I stared, and stared, and stared, just utterly spellbound. It wasn’t until he turned the water off that I quickly scampered back to the foyer, trying to look innocent in spite of a face that I could feel was completely scarlet.He came out a few moments later in jeans and a tee-shirt, his bulge visible to me at all times now, the only thing I could really think about.“Hannah? Are you okay? Did I hear you running a second ago?”I stammered a moment, “Yeah, just a little cool-down jogging,” I lied.He smirked at my answer; did he know the truth?“Well, let’s get you home,” he said, grabbing his car keys and leading me out to his sporty little mustang. We drove along, my eyes forever flicking to the second gear-shift in this car, the one in his pants, but every time he looked my way I did my best to aim my head out the window. What was coming over me? Why did I keep fixating on this man’s admittedly gigantic penis?I was so distracted, I didn’t notice when the cat darted out into the street, but Michael’s reflexes were so good he had no trouble slamming on the brakes. At the same time, his hand flew across the car to steady me, his burly arm crushed up against my big pillowy boobs. Now it was Michael’s turn to blush.“That wasn’t me making a move, I swear!” he said.“I know, I saw the cat too, Mike,” I said, enjoying being in the unashamed position for a change. But then I couldn’t stop my big mouth when it added, “But I might not have minded if you were.”His eyebrows shot up and there was a fraction of a grin there that he fought under control. “Oh yeah? I thought you said you had a boyfriend.”“Oh, I do,” I said, still not sure where my mouth was taking me, “But he’s not…” I realized what I was about to say and trailed off. There were no words to put there.