Surrender to Size: A Hot Barn Encounter

Back in the late 80s, when I was in my early twenties, our coastal town of Willow Bay was a sleepy place, barely touched by the wider world. Outsiders were a rarity, and it wasn’t until years later that folks from different corners of the globe started trickling in. With them came hushed rumors – tales about their exotic allure, their supposed differences. Were the myths about their physicality true? I was never one to let gossip fester without testing it myself.

The perfect opportunity landed when some college friends, oblivious to my adventurous streak, invited me for a weekend at their family’s vineyard, a sprawling estate nestled in the rolling hills an hour from town. The property included a rustic shed, converted into a cozy loft for the groundskeeper, a guy they called Nate – a lazy nickname they slapped on him, ignoring his actual name – who tended the vines and kept the place running.

We pulled up on a Friday evening, the air thick with the scent of sun-warmed grapes. My friends introduced me to Nate, and my breath caught. He was tall, with a frame carved from hard labor – broad shoulders, arms corded with muscle, and a quiet intensity in his dark eyes. He was a walking fantasy, and the rumors I’d heard about men like him sparked a fire in my mind. I knew I had to find out for myself.

After we unloaded the car, my friends had brought a cooler full of homemade sandwiches and wine from town. We ate under the stars, the conversation light but the summer heat heavy. They decided to turn in early, claiming they needed rest after the drive – though I suspected they had other plans, giggling as they disappeared into the main house. I headed to the guest room they’d set up for me, a quaint space with a creaky bed and lace curtains, but sleep was impossible. My curiosity about Nate was a restless itch.

I slipped on a thin sundress, barefoot, and padded across the dew-damp grass to the shed. The door was ajar, and what I saw stopped me cold. Nate was there, stripped down, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat under the dim lantern light. His physique was like a sculpture – chiseled abs, powerful thighs, and between them, something that defied belief. It was massive, thick, and daunting, stirring a mix of awe and desire. I crept closer, my heart pounding, and just as I reached the threshold, he turned, catching my gaze. He scrambled to cover himself, his voice low and flustered:

Sorry, miss, I didn’t know anyone was up. Folks usually sleep early out here.

I stepped into the light, letting my dress cling to my curves, and smiled.

Don’t call me miss, not when it’s just us – call me Lily. And don’t hide. A body like yours? You should show it off. Trust me, women notice.

I closed the distance, pressing my hands to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He was like a furnace, solid and unyielding. I slid one leg up, hooking it over his hip, and felt the weight of him against me – it was like a forearm, heavy and warm, sending a jolt through my core. He relaxed under my touch, guiding me to a pile of soft blankets in the corner, his voice husky:
You’re something else, Lily.

Thanks, Nate, I said, my lips brushing his ear. But lose the formalities – just Lily, okay?

His hands found my waist, tentative at first, fingers grazing my skin through the thin fabric. Emboldened by my sighs, he slid them upward, cupping my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened. I arched into him, and he dipped his head, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone. I melted, letting him tug my dress up, baring my chest. He paused, staring, then lowered his mouth to one breast, sucking gently as his hands kneaded the other. He murmured against my skin:
Lily, you’re beautiful. I’ve never been this close to someone like you – not outside a dream.

His words fueled me, and I felt him pressing closer, his arousal unmistakable. I reached down, my fingers wrapping around him – or trying to. He was enormous, velvet-smooth but dauntingly thick, easily dwarfing anything I’d known. I wasn’t letting this pass me by. As he fumbled with my dress, sliding a hand beneath to trace my inner thigh, he whispered:

I’ve always wondered what it’d feel like to touch you.

Then don’t stop, I purred.

He didn’t. With a swift tug, he pulled my dress over my head, leaving me in just my panties. His fingers slipped beneath the lace, exploring my slick heat, and he gasped:

Never seen anything like this up close.

Wanted to, though? I teased, my voice breathy.

He nodded, eyes wide with desire.

Well, I said, you’re not just looking tonight. Every part of me’s yours if you want it. But first – lie down.

He sank onto the blankets, his size even more striking against the soft fabric. I knelt beside him, my lips brushing the tip of him, tasting salt and heat. I’d worried it’d be too much, but as I took him in, my mouth stretched to accommodate him, the challenge thrilling. I worked him slowly, tongue swirling, hands stroking what I couldn’t take. His groans filled the shed, deep and raw: