Ken is a normal guy that lives in a neighborhood and is the stud of the neighborhood women. He is in is 40s and well built, with red hair and beard. The women in the neighborhood are always checking out the huge outline in his pants of what looks like a very large cock. Sara and Margarita devise a plan to get Ken into one their houses and tie him down to the bed and find out how big he really is. What they don't know is that Ken's cock gets bigger and bigger the more he is fucked.

Chapter 1: Introduction

In the quiet, unassuming neighborhood of Maplewood Drive, life hummed along in a predictable rhythm. The sun rose and set, the laundry dried on the lines, and the neighborhood gossip, Mrs. Johnson, was always the first to spot the mailman's truck turning onto their street. It was a place where nothing extraordinary ever happened, or at least, that's how it appeared from the outside.

Ken, the newcomer, had been living on Maplewood Drive for a few months now. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a mop of dark hair and eyes that seemed to sparkle even on the greyest of days.

The sun was dipping low, casting long, golden shadows across the quiet suburban street. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers filled the air. It was one of those perfect summer evenings where the heat of the day was slowly giving way to a cool, refreshing breeze. The neighborhood was alive with familiar sounds—children laughing, birds chirping, and the comforting hum of a lawn mower in the distance.

Ken, a tall, muscular man with a chiseled jaw and sparkling blue eyes, was out in his front yard, meticulously trimming his hedges.

He was a man of routine, and this was just one of the many tasks he completed each day with an almost military-like precision. He was a man of few words, preferring the company of his tools and the quiet hum of his lawn mower to the idle chatter of his neighbors.

As he worked, he could feel the weight of their stares. It was a sensation he had grown accustomed to since moving to Maplewood Drive. He knew he was the subject of their whispered conversations, the center of their curious glances. He was the new guy, the mysterious stranger who had moved into the quiet, unassuming neighborhood and turned the heads of every woman on the block.

They whispered about him, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the way his muscles flexed as he worked in his yard. They wondered about his past, his present, and most importantly, his future.

Sara, a woman in her late thirties with long, brown hair and a figure that would make a Victoria's Secret model blush, was one of his most avid admirers. She lived just a few houses down from Ken, and she made it a point to be outside whenever he was. She never wore a bra, and her ample bosom was always on full display, a fact that she made sure Ken was well aware of.

Her breasts were a source of pride for her, and she loved the way they filled out her blouses, drawing the eye of every man who passed by. Today, she was wearing a low-cut top that left little to the imagination, and she was sure Ken had noticed.

Margarita, her best friend and fellow neighbor, was just as enamored with Ken. She was a petite woman with short, blonde hair and a fiery personality to match. She was always in a state of horniness, her body ready for action at a moment's notice. She had a secret, though—a secret that she shared only with Sara.

Margarita could orgasm multiple times in a row, each one lasting for what felt like an eternity. Five minutes, sometimes more, of pure, unadulterated pleasure. It was a gift, a curse, depending on how you looked at it. She craved it, needed it, like a drug. And she was determined to have Ken as her next fix.

Sara, leaning against her porch railing, watched Ken through hooded eyes. "He's something else, isn't he?" she said, not taking her eyes off him.

Margarita, sitting on the porch steps, fanned herself dramatically. "You can say that again. I've had dreams about that man, Sara.

Dreams that make me wake up drenched in sweat and desperate for release. I swear, if he ever looks at me the way he looks at you, I'll be a goner."

Sara chuckled, her eyes still fixed on Ken. "Well, we can't have that, can we? We need to make sure he's all ours."

Margarita's eyes narrowed, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Exactly. And I think I have just the plan."

Sara turned to her friend, her curiosity piqued. "Oh, really? Do tell."

Margarita leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We invite him over for dinner.

You know how he loves to cook. We'll make it a surprise, something he can't refuse. And then, when he least expects it, we pounce."

Sara's eyes widened in surprise. "Pounce? Margarita, are you suggesting we...?"

Margarita nodded eagerly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yes, Sara. We tie him down to the bed and have our way with him. All night long."

Sara's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest at the thought. "But what if he doesn't want to? What if he's not interested?"

Margarita waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, he'll be interested. Trust me.

I've seen the way he looks at us. He's interested, Sara. Besides, we'll make sure he can't say no. We'll use Mrs. Johnson's help."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Mrs. Johnson? The neighborhood gossip? What does she have to do with this?"

Margarita grinned mischievously. "She's got eyes on him all the time. She'll know when he's free. And she owes us one. Remember when we found her cat stuck in that tree last month? She'll do anything for us."

Sara chuckled, shaking her head. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

Margarita winked. "Always.

Now, let's go over the plan one more time. Mrs. Johnson will keep an eye on Ken and let us know when he's free. We'll invite him over for dinner, something he can't resist. I'll make sure to wear something...revealing, to get his mind in the right place. And then, when he least expects it, we'll make our move."

Sara bit her lip, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. "And what if he's not...equipped for the job? What if he's...disappointing?"

Margarita rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Have you seen the way his jeans fit? Trust me, Sara. That man is packing.

I've seen the way his jeans hug his thighs, and I'm telling you, he's got more than just a pretty face. He's got the goods, and we're going to find out for ourselves."

Sara laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Margarita shrugged, her grin widening. "It's not my fault I'm a woman with needs. And besides, think of the fun we'll have. We'll tie him down, make him beg for mercy. And then, when he's finally ready to give in, we'll give him what he's been craving all along."

Sara's breath hitched at the thought.

Sara's breath hitched at the thought, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat building between her legs, her body already responding to the idea of having Ken at their mercy.

"Alright, let's do it," Sara said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let's make this happen."

Margarita clapped her hands together, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Excellent! Now, we need to make sure he's comfortable with us. We can't just jump him. We need to build some rapport, make him feel at ease."

Sara nodded, her mind already racing with ideas. "I'll invite him over for dinner. I'll make something he can't refuse. And you can join us. We'll make it casual, like we're just friends."

Margarita nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Perfect.

And I'll make sure to wear something that will leave him speechless," Margarita added, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Sara laughed, "Just don't make it too obvious. We don't want to scare him off."

Margarita waved off the concern. "Don't worry, I know just how to play the game. Subtle, yet enticing."

The two women shared a conspiratorial smile, their minds already racing with the details of their plan.

Just then, Mrs. Johnson, the neighborhood gossip, stepped out of her house across the street.

She was a middle-aged woman with a penchant for brightly colored clothing and an even brighter personality. Her eyes were always sparkling with curiosity, and her ears were always perked up for the latest news. She had been watching Ken with a particular interest ever since he had moved in.

"Ladies," she called out, waving at Sara and Margarita. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. It seems you two have a plan in mind for our new neighbor."

Sara and Margarita exchanged a quick glance, trying to keep their faces neutral. "Oh, Mrs. Johnson," Sara said, feigning innocence.

"We were just discussing how nice it would be to have him over for dinner. You know, be friendly neighbors and all that."

Mrs. Johnson raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Friendly neighbors, hmm? I see. Well, I must say, I've been wondering about Ken myself. He's quite the mystery, isn't he?"

Margarita chuckled, leaning against the porch railing. "Oh, he's a mystery alright. But we're determined to solve it."

Mrs. Johnson's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well, I might be able to help with that.

You know I like to keep an eye on things around here," Mrs. Johnson said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've noticed Ken tends to spend his evenings working on his car. He's got a classic Mustang in his garage. He's quite proud of it, from what I can tell."

Sara's eyes lit up with an idea. "That's it! We can invite him over under the pretense of needing help with our cars. You know, woman troubles with our vehicles. He won't be able to resist helping us out."

Margarita nodded eagerly. "Brilliant, Sara.

That's perfect!" "We'll tell him we've been having trouble with our cars, and he can't resist lending a helping hand. And while he's under the hood, we'll be making our moves."

Mrs. Johnson nodded approvingly. "And I can keep an eye on things while you're inside. Make sure everything goes smoothly. I've always wanted to see what he's got under that hood," she said with a wink that sent a shiver down both Sara and Margarita's spines.

"Let me know when you need my help, girls. I'll be watching from the sidelines."

Sara and Margarita exchanged a grin, their plan falling into place perfectly. They waited until Ken was out of his garage, wiping his hands on a rag before approaching him. They timed it just right, so their appearance seemed casual and not orchestrated.

"Hey, Ken," Sara called out, her voice sweet and innocent. "We were wondering if you could give us a hand with something?"

Ken looked up, his eyes meeting Sara's. He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made his blue eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Sure, what do you need help with?"

Margarita stepped forward, her voice a soft purr. "It's our cars. They've been giving us some trouble lately, and we were hoping you could take a look."

Ken nodded, his gaze flicking from Margarita to Sara and back again. "Of course, I'd be happy to help. What seems to be the problem?"

Sara gestured to her car, parked in the driveway. "Mine keeps making this weird noise when I start it in the morning.

It's like it's protesting the early hour or something," Sara said with a laugh, her fingers trailing over the hood of her car as if she were caressing a lover. Ken's eyes followed her movements, a hint of curiosity sparking in his gaze.

Margarita, meanwhile, was doing her best to look helpless and clueless. "And mine, well, it just won't start at all. I turn the key, and nothing happens. It's like it's gone on strike or something." She shrugged, her shoulders barely contained by the low-cut top she was wearing.

"I don't know anything about cars, but if you could take a look, I'd really appreciate it."

Ken nodded, his gaze lingering on Margarita's cleavage for a moment before he reminded himself to look elsewhere. "Sure, I can take a look at both of them. No problem."

Sara and Margarita exchanged a quick glance, their plan already in motion. They followed Ken as he made his way to Sara's car, his toolbox in hand. They stood a few feet away, watching as he popped the hood and began to inspect the engine.

"I don't know anything about cars, but if you could take a look, I'd really appreciate it."

Ken nodded, his gaze lingering on Margarita's cleavage for a moment before he reminded himself to look elsewhere. "Sure, I can take a look at both of them. No problem."

His hands moved with confidence, his fingers deftly checking wires and hoses. Sara and Margarita exchanged a glance, their eyes lingering on Ken's muscular arms as they flexed with each movement.

"So, what do you think?" Sara asked, her voice soft and innocent. "Is it something serious?"

Ken looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "It seems like it might be a spark plug issue. I'll take a look and see if that's the case."

Margarita stepped closer, her voice a low purr. "You're so good with your hands, Ken. It's really impressive."

Ken chuckled, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks. "Well, thank you.

I've always been good with my hands," Ken replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He turned his attention back to the engine, but not before catching a glimpse of Margarita's low-cut top. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his focus on the task at hand.

Sara, noticing Ken's brief distraction, decided to turn up the heat. "You know, Margarita and I were talking earlier," she said, her voice casual. "We were thinking that since you're being so helpful, the least we could do is cook you dinner as a thank you."

Ken looked up, surprise etched on his face. "Oh, you don't have to do that.

I'm happy to help," Ken replied, his gaze flicking between Sara and Margarita. He was trying his best to be polite, but the way they were looking at him was making it difficult to concentrate.

Margarita stepped closer, her voice a soft, sultry whisper. "Nonsense. We insist. Besides, it's not every day we get to have a handsome man like you over for dinner. It's the least we can do."

Ken felt a blush creeping up his neck, unsure of how to respond to Margarita's bold statement. He cleared his throat, turning his attention back to Sara's car. "Well, if you insist.

I'd be happy to join you for dinner," Ken said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach. He was acutely aware of the two women standing close by, their eyes on him, their bodies subtly angled towards him.

Sara smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Great! We'll make it tonight then. How does seven sound?"

Ken nodded, his mind already racing with thoughts of what this dinner might entail. "Seven sounds perfect." "We'll make sure to cook something special for you.

Something that will make you feel right at home," Sara added, her eyes never leaving Ken's face.

Margarita chimed in, her voice a sultry purr. "And we'll make sure you're comfortable too. We have a nice, cozy couch in the living room where you can relax while we cook."

Ken felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of being alone with these two women in their home. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building inside him.

"Sounds great," Ken said, trying to keep his voice casual.

"I'll see you both at seven then."

As Ken closed the hood of Sara's car, he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. He had always been a man of routine, preferring the quiet comfort of his own company to the unpredictability of social situations. But there was something about Sara and Margarita that made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

He watched them walk back towards their respective houses, their hips swaying gently with each step. He couldn't help but notice the way their bodies moved in sync, as if they were dancing to an unheard melody. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.