SPH Experiences: Thanksgiving
By WhiteMeat_98.
[google-translator]
As the night dragged on past eleven, the energy dipped, and people started peeling off to crash or head home. I volunteered to drive Lena back to her parents’ place since our routes overlapped, and she slid into the passenger seat of my car with a yawn, her short skirt riding up her thighs just enough to distract me.
Lena was 20, all fresh college vibe with her athletic build from soccer, freckles across her nose, and that confident smirk that said she knew exactly how hot she was. We’d always been straight-up about sex stuff—no judgments, just raw talk after a few drinks. She kicked off her boots, propping her feet on the dashboard as I pulled out, the engine humming softly.
“So, spill,” I said, glancing over. “What’s the deal with that new boyfriend of yours from school? You mentioned him earlier—sounds serious.”
She grinned, twisting a strand of her auburn hair around her finger. “Oh, he’s the real deal. Smart, built like a tank from the gym, and downstairs in the pants department? Gifted doesn’t even cover it. The guy’s packing heat—his cock is massive, thick, and long, makes me wet just thinking about it sliding into my pussy.”
Her words hung in the air, casual as hell, but they hit me right in the gut, stirring that familiar mix of jealousy and arousal.
I laughed it off, trying to sound chill. “Gifted, huh? Come on, how long? Give me the deets—don’t blue-ball me here.”
Lena threw her head back and laughed, a throaty sound that filled the car. “Babe, I don’t think you want to know. Trust me, it’s the kind of measurement that would make your little guy hide in shame. He’d split me open every time, pounding deep until I’m screaming his name.” She winked, but her eyes flicked down to my lap like she was already picturing the comparison. We’d swapped stories before—she knew all about my four-and-a-half-inch dick, the way it barely filled a condom, how girls had teased me for cumming too quick. It was our open secret, and she loved poking at it.
“Well, if you’re begging,” she continued, leaning closer so her knee brushed mine, “it’s more than double your size, at least. Yours is what, four and a half on a good day? Pathetic little thing, twitching away. His? We’re talking nine and a half inches of solid meat, veiny and rock-hard, stretching me to the limit. I can barely take him without begging for more.”
Instantly, my dick stirred in my jeans, hardening into its full, inadequate length, pressing against the fabric like a guilty secret. The humiliation burned hot—double my size? That made me half a man, a joke next to her stud. I shifted, but she noticed, her lips curling into a wicked smile.
“Look at you, getting excited already. Does hearing how tiny you are compared to a real cock turn you on? God, you’re such a loser for that—your micro-dick probably leaks pre-cum just from the thought of being outclassed by a real man.”
The talk veered off for a minute—we chatted about her classes, the turkey coma from earlier, and some dumb meme one of the guys sent in the group chat. But Lena wasn’t done; she circled back as we hit a quiet stretch of road, the headlights cutting through the dark.
“You know, it has to be the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. No exaggeration—nothing else comes close. Want me to break it down? List the guys I’ve fucked, ranked by size? It’ll make your head spin.”
I nodded, throat dry, my erection throbbing painfully now. She didn’t hesitate, her voice dropping low and sultry, painting every filthy detail.
“Top spot: my current fuck buddy, 9.5 inches of pure destruction. He grabs my hips and rams it in balls-deep, his heavy sack slapping my ass while I clench around him, cumming so hard I squirt. Then there’s Derek from the dorms, eight inches, curved upward to grind against my walls— he’d fuck me doggy-style for what felt like forever, making my pussy pulse. After him, Alex at seven and a half, uncut with a fat head that pops past my lips when I deepthroat him, gagging me until tears run down my face.”
She paused to sip from her water bottle, eyes locked on mine, watching me squirm. Each size was a fresh wave of shame, my own dick leaking in my boxers, useless and small.
“Next, Brandon—seven inches straight, but so thick it stretches me wide, filling every inch of my cunt as he thrusts slow and deep. Then Jamal, six and three-quarters, who loved eating my pussy first, tongue-fucking me sloppy before sliding his rod in and making me ride him till my thighs burned. Oh, and that one-night stand with Kyle, six inches even—decent, made me moan when he sucked on my clit while fingering me, then flipped me over to pound from behind.”
By now, my hands gripped the wheel white-knuckled, the car swerving slightly as her words drilled into me. She was relentless, loving the power trip.
“What about our friends? You got a clue on their dick sizes? Come on, you’ve peeked in the locker room or something—spill on Chris, or that other guy we hang with,” Lena demanded.
I shook my head, cheeks burning. “Nah, not sharing that. Private stuff.”
But Lena just rolled her eyes, taking charge like always. “Fine, I’ll rank ’em myself. I’ve heard rumors, seen bulges—easy. Starting from the top again for fun: 9.5 inches on my boyfriend, wrecking me nightly. Eight on that frat guy who bent me over the sink. Seven and a half, the one who came down my throat after I blew him in the car. Seven, solid fuck who lasted ages. Six-point-five, enthusiastic little shit who licked my ass before sticking it in. Six inches, average Joe, who got me off with his fingers mostly. Five and three-quarters, cute but forgettable—barely nudged my G-spot.”
She drew it out, building the dread as we neared her neighborhood, the houses lit up with holiday lights mocking my growing humiliation. Only two spots left, and she savored it, glancing at my crotch where my tiny bulge strained.
“Now, the bottom feeders: Chris and you. Chris, I’d guess five and a half inches—nothing special, but at least average. He’d slide into a pussy, okay, maybe make her wet enough to cum if he tries hard. Pumps away steadily, fills her halfway, gets the job done without fanfare. But you… Oh, fuck, you at four and a half. By far the smallest I’ve laid eyes on in real life, unless you count those pathetic online clips of micro-dicks that don’t even qualify as dicks. Yours is a sad little thing, barely poking out when hard, too short to hit anything good, too thin to satisfy. Girls probably laugh when you try to fuck them—’ Is that it?’ they’d say, before faking an orgasm and kicking you out. No wonder you’re single; that baby prick couldn’t please a virgin.”
Her barrage landed like punches, explicit and cutting, my dick pulsing with shameful need, pre-cum soaking through. I faked anger, slamming my palm on the wheel.
“Hey, that’s bullshit—not cool, Lena,” I shouted.
But she burst out laughing, pointing at my lap. “Please, you’re harder than ever. That fake mad act? Transparent as hell. You love it, don’t you? Being the punchline, the friend with the worthless nub that no pussy wants. Go home, pull out that tiny thing, and jerk it furiously thinking about all the real cocks out there—bet you blow your weak load in ten strokes, spurting nothing but a sad dribble.”
We rolled into her driveway, the engine idling as she gathered her stuff. Before she got out, she reached over, her hand hovering near my thigh without touching, teasing the air.
“Thanks for the lift, little man. Dream of big cocks tonight—maybe one day you’ll find a girl who pities your little clitty enough to let you watch her get railed.”
She blew a kiss and slammed the door, her laughter echoing as she sauntered up the walk, hips swaying, leaving me alone with my raging, humiliated erection, and the sting of her words burned into my brain.
‘Happy Thanksgiving,’ I thought sarcastically.
The End.
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