Peep Show
An SPH Experience by Awkward_Sis_287.
We decided to go out without the rest of the group, just the two of us. I was nervous but excited. She wanted to drive, so I met her at her place. She answered the door wearing a tight black top and these low-rise jeans that sat perfectly on her hips, showing off a sliver of toned stomach.
We hit up a craft cocktail bar first. I ordered some smoky mezcal thing, and she got something fruity with a sugar rim. We talked and laughed, and she kept touching my arm. I thought things were going well.
Then we went to this dive bar with a 90s night. We did shots—tequila for her, whiskey for me. The DJ played Britney and NSYNC, and Valentina dragged me to the dance floor. She moved her hips in ways that should be illegal, grinding back against me, her ass pressing into my crotch. I tried to keep my composure, but she was all over me, and I was definitely all over her.
By last call, we were both pretty buzzed. She grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go back to my place.”
My heart pounded the whole drive back. We stumbled through her front door, and she pushed me onto her couch, straddling me. Her lips tasted like tequila and lip gloss. She pulled her top over her head, revealing a lacy black bra that barely contained her tits.
“Take off your shirt,” she commanded.
I yanked it off. She ran her hands down my chest, then reached for my belt. I lifted my hips as she tugged my pants down my thighs. She was ravenous—hair messy, eyes hungry, breathing hard. She hooked her fingers into my boxers and yanked them down.
My dick was already hard—or as hard as it gets. Which isn’t very.
Valentina wrapped her hand around it and started stroking. Even fully erect, my cock barely filled her fist. Her rhythm slowed. She looked down.
Then she stopped completely.
She squinted at my crotch, tilting her head. “Huh.”
“What?” I asked, voice cracking.
She looked up at me with this expression—half amused, half confused. “You have a really small dick.”
My stomach dropped. “What? No, I—”
“It’s tiny.” She held up her pinky for comparison. “It’s like… it looks like a peep. You know, the Easter candy? Those little marshmallow chicks?”
My face burned so hot I thought I might pass out. “Come on, don’t—”
“I’m serious.” She giggled, but it wasn’t cruel—just genuinely surprised. “I’ve never seen one this small. It’s kind of cute, actually.”
She’d already taken her jeans and panties off, but now she reached for her pants again and pulled them back on. No underwear. She was getting dressed while I sat there with my little erection twitching in the open air.
“I should probably go,” I mumbled, reaching for my clothes.
“No, you’re drunk.” She grabbed my pants—keys still in the pocket—and headed for the stairs. “Sleep on the couch. I don’t want you driving.”
“Wait—” I stood up, still half-naked. “Can I at least have my underwear back?”
She paused at the top of the stairs, looking down at the pile of clothes in her hand. Then she smiled—this mischievous, wicked smile—and pulled out the panties she’d been wearing. She wadded them up and tossed them down to me.
I caught them. They were warm from her body, with a lacy back and a thin cotton strip in front.
“You need these more than me,” she called down, laughing. Then she disappeared into her room and locked the door.
I stood there in her living room, holding her underwear, my tiny dick still hard for some reason. What else was I supposed to do? I pulled on her panties. They fit strangely—tight in the front, the lace riding up my ass. I collapsed on the couch and tried to sleep.
Morning light cut through the blinds. My head throbbed. I was still wearing her panties.
I knocked on her bedroom door. “Hey, can I get my keys back?”
Silence. Then footsteps. The lock clicked.
Valentina stood in the doorway in an oversized t-shirt, hair messy, looking me up and down. Behind her, on the nightstand, sat the biggest dildo I’d ever seen—at least nine inches, thick, realistic. Right next to it was my pile of clothes.
“Morning, peep,” she said with a smirk.
My face went hot all over again.
“Can I just—”
“Do a little spin for me first.”
“What?”
“Come on. Spin. Let me see.”
I hesitated, but she wasn’t moving. So I turned slowly, feeling the lace pull tight against my ass.
“Nice.” She nodded approvingly. “Keep the panties. They suit you.”
She handed me my pants and keys. I pulled my jeans on right there, stuffing her underwear into my pocket, and practically ran out the door.
We stayed friends after that. She never made it weird—well, weirder than it already was. But every time we hung out with the group, she’d catch my eye and mouth peep with a grin.
I still think about that night. About her hand barely moving on my tiny cock. About the dildo on her nightstand that made it very clear what she actually needed. About the lace panties I took home and definitely didn’t jerk off into later.
Some things stick with you.
The End.
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