Phil Downey
Chapter One
Phil Downey had a problem; actually he had several, but at the moment he was focused on only one of them. His dick. His schlong. His johnson, his prick, his meat monster, his second brain, his penis.
Phil Downey, a veteran of the famous beach-front sex parties at the home of Mason Taylor and his husband, now the home of Mario Garza, the former spouse of Mason, was famous for his schlong, his dick, his johnson: he had stumbled into the sex parties accidentally, called by a neighbor to investigate the raucous noise coming from the beach-front patio. Phil was a patrolman with the Los Angeles County sheriff at the time. Stepping into the entryway of the palatial home after ringing the doorbell, Phil was greeted by a naked twink who immediately grabbed Phil by the wrist with one hand and used the other to attempt to seize the dick hidden by Phil's uniform pants.
"I gotta see this monster" gasped the twink, leading Phil outside to the patio, where the majority of the action was occurring, and the inevitable happened, with Phil becoming naked in a matter of seconds, with the twink on his knees in only a few seconds more, attempting without much finesse to take Phil's cock into his relatively inexpert mouth.
The size of Phil's cock alone drew a crowd, but the flash of the sheriff's department badge drew the attention of the host, Mason Taylor. Once all of the pleasantries and introductions were settled, Phil enjoyed the next few hours being sucked and fingered by all and sundry of the gathering.
Tonight, lying on his queen bed in his narrow west Hollywood apartment, Phil contemplated his condition: 47 years old, early retirement from the department with several commendations, a new state license as a PI, more clients than he knew how to handle, and once again, on Valentine's Day, single and alone.
And he blamed his loneliness on the cock: this was, in fact, not just a cock in the contemporary imagination, it was a monster. Phil Downey, himself no shrinking violet, at 6 feet and 3 inches, hovering near 200 pounds, a true gym rat with the six-pack and bulging biceps and thighs to prove it, was the proud owner of a monstrous cock: some would call it a beer-can size cock, but i it appeared to have the girth of a wine bottle and well past 8 inche in length. The number of times that Phil, a self-proclaimed top in the WeHo gay community, had actually topped another gay man was probably only a half-dozen. And he blamed his cock.
It was all true: there were plenty of WeHo twinks he could find on Grindr who wantedto suck him, but no one was willing to stretch their twink asshole over his massive cock and fuck themselves, let alone try to take him doggy-style. At this moment, in his self-pity, Phil could not even get hard and jack-off. Muttering "fuck" he grabbed his bottle of Crown Royal and did not even manage to create his favorite cocktail of Crown and Coke, just chugging a few bolts of the bourbon, and flopped down on the queen bed again.