SPH-THEMED EROTICA STORIES

It’s been six long years since my wife and I last had anything resembling a normal sex life, and even calling it that feels generous. The one time we did fuck in that stretch was almost four years ago now—a quick, pity-fueled thrust into her pussy that left me shooting my load in under a minute, her eyes glazing over with boredom as I pumped away with my pathetic little cock. She barely moved, just lay there under me, her legs spread out of obligation more than desire. Since then, nothing. Zilch. My dick hasn’t touched the inside of her cunt once, and she makes damn sure I know it’s never happening again.

I don’t get it myself—why the hell does her rejection light a fire in my gut? Why does hearing her spell out how worthless my tiny prick is make my balls ache with need? But it does. Every time she shuts me down, every cruel word about my size, it twists something deep inside me, turning shame into this throbbing hunger that I can’t ignore. Last night was no different, another chapter in our endless dance of denial that left me harder than I’ve been in months.

We were in bed, the lights dim, her body curled away from me under the sheets. I’d been building up the courage all evening, my small cock twitching in my boxers just from the thought of maybe, just maybe, getting close to her. I slid my hand over her hip, tracing the curve of her ass, hoping to spark something. She sighed, not the good kind, and rolled onto her back, fixing me with that look—half pity, half annoyance.

“Babe,” I whispered, my voice thick, leaning in to kiss her neck. My erection strained against the fabric, all three inches of it at full mast, desperate for attention. She didn’t pull away immediately, which gave me a sliver of hope. My fingers dipped lower, brushing the edge of her panties, feeling the warmth of her skin.

She grabbed my wrist, stopping me cold. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her tone was flat, but there was an edge to it, like she knew exactly where this was headed and was already bored.

“I just… I miss you,” I mumbled, my face heating up as I pressed closer, my little dick poking uselessly against her thigh. “It’s been so long. Please?”

She let out a short, dry laugh, shifting to face me fully. Her eyes dropped to my crotch, where the outline of my modest bulge was impossible to miss—or rather, not miss. “Miss me? Or misthinking you can stick that thing in me again?” She reached down, not to touch me, but to flick the front of my boxers lightly, making my cock jump. “Look at you, all worked up over nothing. You know why I don’t let you fuck me anymore, right?”

I nodded, swallowing hard, my heart pounding as arousal mixed with the familiar sting of humiliation. “Yeah… but—”

“But nothing.” She cut me off, her hand resting on my chest to keep me at bay. “Your cock is too small, honey. It’s just… inadequate. I felt it last time, barely. Like a little finger poking around, not even enough to stretch me or hit anything worthwhile. Why would I waste my time letting you inside when it does nothing for me?”

Her words hit like a slap, but god, they made my shaft throb harder, leaking a spot of precum into my underwear. I shifted, trying to rub against her leg for friction, but she pulled away, smirking at my desperation. “See? Even now, you’re excited by this. Pathetic. If you were a real man, you’d be fighting for it, not getting off on me telling you the truth.”

I groaned, my small dick pulsing as she laid it out so bluntly. “Please, just… let me try. I can make you feel good another way.” My mind raced with images of burying my face between her legs, licking her clit until she came, anything to earn a scrap of intimacy.

She considered it for a second, then shook her head. “No. Not tonight. And honestly? Probably not ever. Your tiny dick doesn’t deserve my pussy. It’s better off in your hand, jerking off to the idea of what you’ll never have.” She turned away again, pulling the covers up to her chin. ‘Go ahead, touch yourself if you need to. But don’t wake me when you finish.’

I lay there in the dark, her rejection echoing in my ears, my cock straining painfully now. Too small. Waste of time. Never again. Each phrase fueled the fire, my hand slipping into my boxers to wrap around my insignificant length. I stroked slowly at first, savoring the humiliation, imagining her watching, laughing at how quickly I’d cum. It didn’t take long—maybe thirty seconds of pumping my little shaft before ropes of hot cum splattered my stomach, my body shuddering with release.

She didn’t stir, didn’t acknowledge the soft gasps I couldn’t hold back. But as I cleaned up with a tissue, the afterglow mixed with that deep, aching need for more of her denial. Tomorrow, I’d push again, just to hear her remind me how worthless my cock was. And I’d love every second of it.

 

The End.

 

 

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