This is the first story in a series of my adventures with Matt, a selfish and domineering man that I soon came to learn I had a great appreciation for. He had a beautifully beguiling cock and this first installment is about how I came to become seduced by it.

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I first met Matt on the construction site where I worked. Matt was a tough as nails foreman and while other workers disliked his sometimes abusive manner, it never bothered me. It was work and for me days on his site cruised by. I liked that.

 Matt and I became friends and one afternoon he invited me over on the weekend. That Saturday I visited him. I discovered that Matt and I shared something in common; we were both artists. He was into painting and his art bordered on the bizarre. I liked it.

 Matt offered me a large pad of paper and assorted paints and brushes and we spent the afternoon painting. I enjoyed Matt’s company; he was witty and knowledgeable and just rude enough to keep things entertaining. Our visits became a regular thing and I developed a routine where I sat Indian-style in the corner where I painted.

Although I never considered it at first, Matt was a good looking guy with a sculpted physique, and accordingly, he had a very nice looking girlfriend. Sexually, his macho behavior never betrayed anything other than a heterosexual slant. One afternoon I stopped by and when I rang the doorbell he shouted out the window to come on up.

When I walked up into his studio I got quite a surprise. Matt was reclined on a beanbag chair, legs splayed, absolutely naked, watching what I assumed was porn. In one hand he was gently working a pair of large balls and in the other he was methodically stroking his cock.

I was taken aback for a moment and for a long beat I stared. I had never seen an erect penis in person other than my own and never one that was so big. It was a good eight inches long and what was even more impressive was the girth; the diameter somewhere between a Redbull and the can of beer that sat on the floor beside him.

It was impossible not to admire it. It stood straight out, as proud as a python and even from across the room I could see the hole spread wide open like a gapping mouth. It looked wicked and mean and yet composed and powerful.

I looked away and made an excuse that I needed to use the bathroom. When I returned, Matt was zipping his pants. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I just needed to get off.”

I shrugged and let it go.

Over the next week or two I did a lot of thinking about Matt’s cock. I mean, here I was an artist and someone who admired beauty, but I was having trouble with the fact that I truly admired another man’s penis. Not in a sexual manner, but as a fine specimen of the male organ. I started to realize that if I were a woman I would want to get up close and personal with it—that I would want to explore it.

I started to think about it constantly. I wondered why I had so much trouble accepting that it was a beautiful thing and that there should be nothing wrong with my fascination. Where did I develop