Quick Draw
An SPH Confession by Stunning_Pressurebby.
That’s where I met Henrik.
He was from Denmark—blond hair, blue eyes, this square jaw that made him look like he belonged on a Viking recruitment poster. Twenty-one, same as me, and he had this adorable way of being completely straightforward about everything. No games, no playing hard to get. Just honest.
“I think I have a crush on you,” he told me one afternoon, about three weeks after he started. We were in the break room, and he just blurted it out while I was making coffee.
I laughed. “You think?”
“I know,” he corrected himself, smiling. “I have a crush on you.”
From that moment, we were inseparable. Lunch together every day, drinks after work, weekend trips to the beach with other international employees. He was sweet and funny, and his accent made everything sound more charming than it should have. I found myself actually liking him back, which was rare. Usually I kept things casual, but Henrik felt different.
—
The invitation to swim at night came about two months in. It was July, hot even after dark, and a group of us had planned to sneak into the pool at this apartment complex where one of the other employees lived.
“You coming?” Henrik asked, standing at my desk.
“Obviously.”
But when we got there, the others bailed—something about one of them getting sick—and suddenly it was just me and Henrik, standing at the edge of this pool in the dark, the water glowing blue from the underwater lights.
“Still want to swim?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
We jumped in. The water was warm, almost bath-like, and we started chasing each other around like kids. Henrik was a strong swimmer, cutting through the water easily, and I kept trying to catch him, but I failed every time.
Eventually I got smart about it. I waited until he was near the edge, then launched myself at his back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“Got you!”
He laughed, spinning us both. “You’re fast.”
“I’m sneaky.”
We ended up near the wall, my legs still wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping my hips to keep us both afloat. The pool lights reflected in his blue eyes, and I could feel his breath on my face.
“You’re really pretty,” he said, like it was just another fact he wanted me to know.
“You’re really obvious.”
He grinned. Then his hands slid down to my ass, pulling me closer, and I felt his lips press against mine.
—
The kiss was soft at first. Tentative. Then I bit his bottom lip, and something shifted. His grip tightened, pulling my body flush against his, and I could feel the hard muscles of his chest through my swimsuit.
I wrapped my legs tighter around him, grinding against his stomach, loving the way his breath caught every time I moved. His hands squeezed my ass, sliding under the edge of my bikini bottoms, and I moaned into his mouth.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
“Mmm.”
I reached between us, my hand sliding down his chest, his stomach, following the trail of hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. I wanted to feel him, to know what I was working with.
My fingers found the waistband of his trunks and slipped underneath. I felt the coarse hair first, then the smooth skin of his shaft, and then—
Where was the rest of it?
My hand closed around him, and my brain stuttered. I could feel his balls, heavy and full, but his cock was… small. Really small. My thumb and middle finger barely touched when I gripped him, and the head barely poked out past my fist.
I pulled back from the kiss, looking at his face. His eyes were half-closed, his mouth open, completely lost in the moment. He had no idea what I was thinking.
I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear.
“You’re so small.”
His whole body stiffened. I felt his cock twitch in my hand—a tiny pulse of reaction.
“What?”
“Your cock,” I whispered, squeezing him gently. “It’s so little.”
He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t pull away either. And when I started stroking him, his hips pushed forward, chasing my hand.
Interesting.
—
We made out for another few minutes, my hand moving inside his trunks, exploring every inch of his modest endowment. The more I touched him, the more responsive he became—gasping, moaning, his hands trembling against my body.
“Can I see it?” I asked against his lips.
“See what?”
“Your tiny dick.” I pulled back to look at him. “I want to see how small you really are.”
His face flushed red, visible even in the dim light. But he nodded.
“There’s an equipment room over there.” He pointed to a small building near the pool’s edge. “Storage for chairs and stuff. It locks.”
“Perfect.”
We climbed out of the pool, dripping wet, and hurried across the concrete to the equipment room. Henrik fumbled with the door, his hands shaking, and finally managed to open it. Inside, it smelled like chlorine and plastic, with stacked pool chairs creating narrow aisles.
He closed the door behind us and turned the lock.
—
I didn’t waste time. I pushed him against the wall, kissing him hard, my hands already working at the drawstring of his trunks.
“Can I?”
“Yes,” he breathed.
I dropped to my knees on the concrete floor—uncomfortable, but I didn’t care—and pulled his trunks down in one quick motion.
His cock sprang free, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
It was hard. Fully, completely hard, straining toward me with desperate energy. And it was maybe three inches long. The shaft was thin, the head proportionally small, the whole thing looking almost like a toy version of a real penis. His balls were bigger than his cock, hanging heavy beneath it, and there was already a clear drop of precum beading at the tip.
“Wow,” I said, and I couldn’t keep the amusement out of my voice.
“Is it… bad?”
“It’s pathetic.” I looked up at him, smiling. “But kind of cute.”
His face burned with shame. His cock twitched again, leaking more precum.
“You like that?” I asked. “You like me calling your little dick pathetic?”
He swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know.”
“Liar.” I leaned forward and blew gently on the head. His whole body shuddered. “How many times have you cum tonight?”
“What?”
“Tonight. How many times?”
He hesitated. “Twice. Before. When we were… in the pool.”
I laughed. “You came in your shorts? Just from making out?”
“I couldn’t help it. You were—”
“Grinding on you. Touching you. And this little thing couldn’t handle it.” I flicked the head with my finger, and he gasped. “That’s adorable.”
I leaned in and took one of his balls into my mouth, sucking gently while my hand wrapped around his tiny shaft. He moaned, his hands finding my hair, his hips pushing forward.
“Sensitive,” I murmured against his skin.
“Please—”
“Please what?”
“Please don’t stop.”
I pulled back, looking up at him. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to hold your cum until I say you can release. Understand?”
He nodded frantically.
“Good boy.”
—
I went back to work on him, alternating between sucking his balls and flicking my tongue against the head of his cock. Every time I felt him tense up, every time his breathing got too ragged, I pulled back and watched him struggle.
“You’re close, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he gasped.
“Hold it.”
“I’m trying—”
“Try harder.”
His thighs were shaking. His hands were gripping my hair tight enough to hurt. His little cock was pulsing against my tongue, desperate for release.
I took him fully into my mouth—all three inches, easy to swallow without even trying—and hummed.
“Fuck—fuck—I can’t—”
I pulled off with a pop. “Don’t you dare.”
“I have to—please—”
“No.”
I licked the tip, slow and deliberate, tasting the precum that kept leaking from him. He was trembling violently now, his whole body wound tight.
“One more minute,” I said. “Can you last one more minute?”
“I don’t think—”
“Try.”
I went back to sucking, my head bobbing in a slow rhythm, my tongue swirling around the head. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
“I’m going to—”
I pulled off again. “Not yet.”
“Please!”
“Forty seconds left.”
He was crying now, actual tears running down his cheeks, his face twisted in desperation. His cock was purple, straining, leaking a steady stream of precum.
I took him back into my mouth and sucked hard.
He exploded.
—
The first spurt hit the back of my throat before I could react, and I pulled back, watching his tiny cock pulse and twitch as it shot rope after rope of thick cum onto my chin and chest. He was moaning loudly, his head thrown back, his whole body jerking with each spasm.
“That’s three,” I said, wiping cum from my chin. “You couldn’t even hold it for one minute.”
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I tried—”
“Pathetic.”
His softening cock twitched at the word.
“Wait.” I stared at it. “Are you getting hard again already?”
He looked down, watching his little penis stiffen, rising back up to its full three-inch glory. “I… yeah.”
“Wow.” I laughed. “No stamina, but impressive recovery time. Is that your only talent, Quick Draw?”
His face flushed even darker. “Quick Draw?”
“That’s your new name.” I stood up, cum still dripping from my chin. “Because you can’t last more than thirty seconds.”
—
I didn’t let him off the hook. For the next hour, I teased him relentlessly—licking his tip, sucking his balls, stroking his shaft with two fingers while he whimpered and begged. He came three more times, each load smaller than the last, until his little cock was red and sore and barely able to get hard.
By the end, he was a mess—tear-streaked, exhausted, his trunks around his ankles, his pathetic dick hanging limp between his legs.
“That was fun,” I said, pulling my bikini back into place.
“Fun?” He sounded dazed.
“We should do it again sometime.” I kissed his cheek. “If you think your little friend can handle it.”
He nodded, still staring at the floor.
—
The next day at work, I walked past his desk and dropped a note in front of him.
Hey, Quick Draw. Nice performance last night. Very impressive. 😉
He looked up at me, his face burning red, and I winked.
From then on, it became our thing. Every time I saw him, every time we passed in the hallway—”Hey, Quick Draw.” Every time someone mentioned his name in a meeting, I’d catch his eye and smile.
He loved it. I could tell by the way he blushed, the way he couldn’t meet my eyes, the way he always found excuses to be near me.
We hooked up a few more times before his visa expired and he had to go back to Denmark. Same story every time—three inches of hard cock, zero stamina, multiple loads, endless teasing.
On his last day, I gave him a going-away present: a box of condoms, all extra-small.
“For your next lucky lady,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
He turned bright red, took the box, and mumbled something about staying in touch.
I still think about him sometimes. That tiny, twitching cock, those desperate eyes, the way he’d cum at just the sound of my voice calling him pathetic.
Some guys have all the luck.
The End.
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