Curtain Call
A fictional story by PeaShooter69.
We passed a clothing store I actually liked, and I spotted a couple of button-downs and a pair of slim-fit jeans on display that caught my eye. Selina waved me off, already distracted by a shoe store across the way.
“Go try stuff on,” she said. “I’ll be over here.”
I grabbed a few things off the racks and made my way toward the fitting rooms. That’s when the employee approached me.
She was gorgeous—the kind of woman you’d see on one of those “hot mom” forums online. Late thirties, maybe early forties, with dirty blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She wore a fitted black top that strained against her big, heavy tits, and a pair of leggings that clung to her wide hips and thick, round ass like a second skin. She had that effortless MILF energy—confident, a little bored, completely aware of how she looked.
“Find everything okay?” she asked, barely glancing at me.
“Yeah, just need a room.”
She led me toward the back of the store where the fitting rooms were. I noticed right away that none of them had actual doors. Just curtains. Heavy ones, sure, but still just fabric stretched across a rod. She pulled one aside and gestured.
“Here you go.”
I stepped inside. It was a decent-sized room—full-length mirror on the back wall, a small bench, hooks on the wall. I pulled the curtain closed behind me and made sure it was shut as tight as I could get it. There was still a tiny gap on one side, maybe half an inch, but I figured it was fine. Nobody would be looking.
I started trying on the first shirt. It fit okay. I was about to swap it for the second one when my phone buzzed.
It was Selina.
Selina: While you’re in there, show me that little dick 😘
My stomach did that familiar flip. The one it always does when she goes there. I stared at the message for a second, my mouth dry, my cock already starting to stir in my boxers.
I set the phone down and stripped. Everything off. Shirt, jeans, boxers—all of it on the bench. I stood in front of the full-length mirror completely naked. My cock hung there, soft and pathetic—barely an inch, a little nub of flesh poking out from my smooth-shaven crotch. My balls were small and tight against my body, looking almost like they belonged on a kid rather than a grown man.
I started touching myself, rubbing my thumb over the head, coaxing it to life. It didn’t take long. Within seconds I was fully hard—all four thin inches of it, sticking straight out like a pink finger. I turned to the side. From this angle it looked even smaller, just a little stub jutting out from my groin. I cupped my balls for the photo, which just made them look even tinier in my hand.
I held up my phone, angled it at the mirror, and snapped a pic. Then another. Then a third. I picked the best one—you could see my whole body, my smooth crotch, my little hard-on pointing upward, my tiny balls pulled tight. I sent it to Selina with a caption: “Little dick says hi 👋”
I stood there waiting for her response, still naked, still hard, my cock twitching in the open air. The mirror reflected every pathetic inch of me back. I felt that twisted mix of shame and arousal that I always felt when she made me do this stuff—the burning in my face, the tightness in my chest, and the throbbing between my legs that I couldn’t control.
I was so focused on my phone, waiting for her reply, that I didn’t hear the footsteps.
The curtain ripped open.
Not gently. Not a polite tug. It was yanked to the side like someone pulling back a bedsheet, and suddenly the fitting room was flooded with the bright light of the store.
The MILF employee stood there. And next to her was another woman—younger, maybe early twenties, brunette, pretty face, holding a pile of clothes in her arms. The employee had been leading her to a room and gotten them mixed up. She’d thought mine was empty.
They both froze.
I froze.
For a full two seconds, nobody moved. I stood there completely naked, facing them, my four-inch boner on full display, my shaved little cock jutting out from my bare crotch like a thumb. My tiny balls sat there like two small marbles. There was nothing to hide behind, nothing to cover myself with. My hands were at my sides, my phone in one of them.
The MILF’s eyes dropped immediately to my crotch. The younger woman followed her gaze. They both stared.
Then the MILF’s face split into a wide, incredulous grin. She let out a sharp bark of laughter.
“Oh my God.”
The younger woman’s hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes were wide, but she was already smiling behind her fingers. A muffled squeak of laughter escaped through her palm.
“Is that… is that it?” the MILF said, still staring at my hard-on. She didn’t look away. She didn’t even try to. She just stood there, openly gaping at my little erection like it was a joke on display. “That’s your hard-on? That’s as big as it gets?”
The younger woman dropped her hand from her mouth and let out a full laugh now. “Oh my god, it’s so small.” She leaned slightly, tilting her head like she was trying to comprehend what she was looking at. “It’s like a little finger. Is that real?”
“Unfortunately for him, yeah, it’s real,” the MILF said. She crossed her arms under her big tits, pushing them up even higher, and looked me up and down with this slow, mocking sweep. “Look at that thing. That’s barely a dick. That’s like a little clitty.”
The younger woman snorted. “Clitty. Oh my god, that’s perfect.”
My face was on fire. My whole body was burning. I couldn’t move. I should have covered myself. I should have grabbed my clothes or pulled the curtain shut or something. But I just stood there, frozen, my little boner twitching in the open air while these two women stared at it and laughed.
“Look at his balls too,” the MILF said, nudging the younger woman. “Are those even balls? They’re like little grapes. Little baby balls.”
“Oh god, they are tiny.” The younger woman was openly cackling now. “I’ve seen bigger balls on my nephew. He’s six.”
“And he’s shaved,” the MILF added, shaking her head. “He shaved it all off. Probably thinks it makes it look bigger. News flash, honey—it doesn’t. It just makes it even more obvious how little you’re working with down there.”
My cock twitched again. Hard. Visibly. They both saw it.
“Oh my god, he’s twitching,” the younger woman said, pointing. “Is he getting harder? Is this turning him on?”
“Obviously it is,” the MILF said. She looked me dead in the face with an expression of pure, amused disgust. “You like this, don’t you? You like us seeing your little baby dick and laughing at it. You’re getting off on this, you pathetic little freak.”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. My throat was completely locked up. My cock was throbbing—every tiny inch of it pulsing in the open air, harder than it had been all day, the head flushed and swollen despite its small size. My balls were pulled so tight they almost disappeared against my body.
“Say something,” the MILF said. “Or can you? Or is your brain as small as your dick?”
The younger woman doubled over laughing. “Oh my god, that was mean.”
“It’s true though. Look at him. Standing there with his little micro-boner, not even trying to cover up. He likes it.”
She was right. I did. And the realization of that—the full, sickening awareness of how much this was turning me on—hit me like a wave. My cock pulsed again, and I felt that familiar tightness building in my groin. That point of no return. But I wasn’t even touching myself. I wasn’t even close to touching myself.
“Oh god,” I breathed.
The MILF’s eyes went wide. “Wait. Is he about to—”
I came.
Handsfree. No touch. Just the humiliation alone was enough. My little dick jerked upward and a thick rope of cum shot out of the head, arcing through the air and splattering across the full-length mirror in front of me. A white streak ran down the glass. Then another spurt, weaker, dribbling out of the tip and running down my shaft—what little shaft there was—pooling in a small drop at the base before dripping onto the floor.
I gasped. My knees buckled slightly. I grabbed the wall for support, my cock still twitching, still dribbling, the last bits of cum oozing out of the head and dripping onto the floor of the fitting room.
Silence.
Then the MILF said, “Oh my God.”
“You just—you just came,” the younger woman said, her voice somewhere between shock and hysterical laughter. “You just came from us looking at you. From us laughing at your small dick. Oh my god.”
“He did,” the MILF said. She stared at the cum dripping down the mirror, then back at me. Her expression shifted from amusement to something harder—disgust mixed with contempt. “You disgusting little pervert. You came in our fitting room. You shot your load on our mirror like a fucking animal.”
“I—I’m sorry—”
“Shut up.” She pointed at the mirror. The thick streak of cum was slowly sliding down the glass, leaving a glossy trail. “Lick it up.”
I stared at her.
“Did I stutter? Lick. It. Up. You made the mess, you clean it. Go on. Lick your cum off the mirror, you little-dicked degenerate.”
My cock, impossibly, twitched again. It was still half-hard, still hanging out there, small and wet and pathetic. I looked at the mirror. At my own cum running down it. At the reflection of two women watching me with expressions of mocking superiority.
I leaned forward and pressed my tongue to the glass. The cum was warm and salty. I dragged my tongue up the mirror, collecting the thick streak, swallowing it. I licked again, getting the rest, lapping at the glass like a dog. The younger woman recorded something on her phone—I saw the reflection—but I didn’t stop. I licked until the mirror was clean, until every drop of my own jizz was in my mouth and swallowed.
“Good boy,” the MILF said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She said it the way you’d talk to a pet that just learned a trick. “Now you know your place.”
She pulled the curtain shut. Just like that. I heard their footsteps walking away, heard the burst of laughter the second they thought they were out of earshot.
“Oh my god, did you see that thing?” the younger woman’s voice carried through the thin walls. “It was like the size of my pinky!”
“Smaller,” the MILF said. “I’ve seen bigger dicks on a tampon applicator.”
They both howled with laughter. I stood in the fitting room, still naked, my face burning, my stomach churning, my spent cock hanging limp between my legs—back to its one inch, looking even more pathetic now that it was soft and cum-covered. I could still hear them as they moved through the store.
“He licked it up,” the younger woman said. “He actually licked his own cum off the mirror. What a fucking degenerate.”
“Told you. Little-dicked perverts are all the same. Get them hard and embarrassed and they’ll do anything. His girlfriend probably doesn even let him fuck her. I bet she laughs at it too.”
More laughter. It echoed through the store. I pressed my forehead against the mirror, still warm from where I’d licked it clean, and breathed.
I got dressed with shaking hands. My fingers fumbled with the buttons on my jeans. I left the shirts on the bench. I couldn’t try on clothes now. I couldn’t think about anything except the sound of their laughter and the taste of my own cum still coating my tongue.
I walked out of the fitting room and headed for the exit. As I passed the register, I saw the MILF leaning against the counter, talking to another coworker—a girl with red hair and glasses. They were both giggling. The MILF saw me coming and nudged her coworker. The redhead looked up, and her eyes went straight to my crotch.
Then they both laughed.
“Have a nice day,” the MILF said, her voice sweet and professional, her smile anything but.
I walked out of the store with their laughter following me into the mall. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Selina.
Selina: Lmao that little thing is so cute. Did you take that in the fitting room? Hope nobody saw you, weirdo 😂
I stared at the screen. My face was still burning. My cock was already starting to stiffen again in my jeans, pressing against the fabric—all four pathetic inches of it.
I typed back: You have no idea.
And I meant it.
The End.
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