The Bachelor Party
An SPH Experience by No_Milk7498.
I’ve gotten used to it. My wife knows, of course. She’s never complained, but she’s never been impressed either. I’ve learned to compensate with my tongue, my fingers, my enthusiasm. But there’s always that moment of dread when someone might see it. The locker room. The urinal. The accidental glimpse.
So when my buddy Mark announced his bachelor party, I knew there’d be drinking. Lots of it. I was determined to have fun, put my insecurities aside, and just enjoy the night. We started at a steakhouse, then hit a few bars, then ended up at a dive near Mark’s apartment. By midnight, everyone was hammered, including me.
I needed to piss. Badly. I staggered to the men’s room, found the urinal, and unzipped. The bathroom smelled like stale beer and bleach. I was so drunk I didn’t even think to check if anyone else was in there. I just aimed and let it flow, sighing with relief.
I didn’t notice my wife’s cousin, Derek, standing two urinals down. He’s a big guy—six-foot-two, broad shoulders, the kind of dude who played football in high school and never let it go. He’s married to my wife’s sister, so we see each other at family gatherings. He’s always been friendly, but we’ve never been close.
I finished, shook off, zipped up, and washed my hands. Derek was already at the sink, drying his hands on a paper towel. He nodded at me, and I nodded back. No big deal. I went back to the table where Mark and another buddy, Chris, were nursing their drinks.
We ordered another round. Shots of whiskey. I was feeling good, loose, the alcohol warming my veins. Derek came back and sat down across from me. He had this look on his face—a grin that was half-amused, half-malicious. I didn’t think much of it.
We were talking about some dumb shit, I don’t even remember what, when Derek just blurted it out. Loud enough for the whole table to hear, maybe the whole bar.
“Jesus Christ, dude. You’ve got such a small dick.”
I froze. My face went hot. Mark and Chris both looked at me, then at Derek, then back at me. Derek was laughing, holding his beer up like a toast.
“I’m serious,” he said, still grinning. “I saw it at the urinal. Fucking tiny, man. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I forced a laugh. Tried to play it cool. “Have you never heard of a grower versus a shower?”
Derek snorted. “Oh, I’ve heard of it. But that wasn’t a grower, man. That was just… nothing. Like a little baby dick.”
Mark and Chris were both watching me, smirking. Chris chimed in, “Derek, you’re fucking with him.”
“I swear to God,” Derek said, raising his hand. “I saw it. It’s like an inch. Maybe less.”
I could feel my heart pounding. My dick was actually getting hard under the table, just from the humiliation. I couldn’t help it. The combination of alcohol, the public exposure, the way they were all looking at me—it was like a drug.
I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. “I mean, I’m not the biggest guy in the world. But it works.”
“Works for what?” Derek laughed. “You probably have to get a magnifying glass to find it.”
Mark was laughing now too. “Stop, Derek, you’re gonna make him cry.”
“Dude’s got a wife,” Derek said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how she puts up with it.”
I took a long gulp of my whiskey, letting the burn distract me. “She’s not complaining.”
Derek leaned forward, his eyes glinting. “Yeah? Or is she just being nice? I mean, come on. That thing? I feel bad for her.”
I should have been angry. I should have said something, defended myself, walked away. But I didn’t. Because underneath the embarrassment, there was this electric current of arousal running through me. The fact that he saw it. The fact that he was telling everyone. The fact that now Mark and Chris knew too—they were picturing my tiny soft dick right now, comparing it to their own cocks, laughing at me.
I finished my drink and ordered another.
The conversation moved on eventually, but I caught Derek glancing at me every now and then, that same smug grin on his face. At one point, he leaned over and said quietly, “No hard feelings, man. Just an observation.”
I nodded. “It’s cool.”
But it wasn’t cool. It was the hottest thing that had happened to me in months. I went home that night, my wife already asleep, and I jerked off in the bathroom, thinking about Derek’s voice saying “such a small dick,” my hand wrapped around my four-and-a-half-inch erection, cumming in less than a minute.
Now every time I see Derek at family barbecues or Christmas dinners, I get that little flutter in my chest. The knowledge that he knows. That he saw me at my most vulnerable, my most pathetic, and he called me out on it. And I loved every second of it.
I still can’t hide it. I’ll never be able to hide it. And honestly? I don’t think I want to anymore.
The End.
*The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been submitted directly to this website for publication. Thanks for your submission.