The Deal
A Bisexual SPH Experience by Undersized_Eggplant.
And the fucked up part? I was the one who started all of this.
—
It began three years ago with my obsession. My wife has this incredible, thick ass—the kind that makes heads turn when she walks into a room. I’d been begging her to try anal for years, and she always shut me down. “Not interested,” she’d say. “That’s an exit only.”
But I kept pushing.
Finally, one night after too many glasses of wine, she turned to me with this look in her eye. “Fine. I’ll try it. One month. But there’s a condition.”
“Anything,” I said, already half-hard at the thought.
“The next month, I decide when we do anal. And it’s going to be me wearing the strap-on.”
I should have said no. I should have thought it through. But she stood up from the couch, pulled down her yoga pants, and bent over right in front of me. Her thick cheeks spread just enough to show me what I’d been chasing.
“Deal?” she asked over her shoulder.
My mouth went dry. “Deal.”
—
Our first attempt was a disaster.
We started with her on her back, legs up. I got behind her, lined up, and pushed. Nothing. I could feel her crack, the warmth of her skin, but I couldn’t seem to find the entrance. I kept sliding around, poking at flesh.
“Is it in?” she asked after a minute.
“Just… give me a second.”
We switched positions. She was on all fours, me kneeling behind her. I spread her cheeks with my hands—God, they were thick—and tried again. I pressed forward, felt my cock slide right between her cheeks, completely missing the mark.
She started laughing.
“Wait, are you serious right now?”
“What?”
“You can’t get past my cheeks, can you?”
“I’m trying—”
She looked back at me, still laughing. “Babe, you’re not even close. Your dick is literally just sliding around my crack.”
I tried a third position. Then a fourth. Standing up. Her lying on her stomach. Nothing worked. Every time I thought I had the angle, I’d push forward, and my cock would just bend or slide off. The truth became impossible to ignore.
I was too small to reach her asshole.
Her thick ass—the thing I loved most about her body—was the very reason I couldn’t fuck it. My four inches couldn’t push through all that flesh to find her hole.
She watched me fail, over and over, until finally I had to stop. My face burned with shame.
“Well,” she said, still catching her breath from laughing, “I guess that’s that.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t think—”
“Didn’t think what? That your little dick wouldn’t be able to reach?”
The words stung. We’d never really talked about my size before. She’d never commented on it, never made me feel like it mattered. But now she was looking at me differently, this smirk playing at her lips.
“At least I don’t have to take it in the ass next month,” I said, trying to salvage something from the humiliation.
Her expression shifted. “Oh no, you’re not getting out of it.”
“What? We didn’t even—”
“We tried anal. That was the deal. It’s not my fault you were too small actually to reach my hole.”
“That’s not fair—”
“You’re the one who wanted this. You pushed for years. I finally agreed, and you couldn’t even get it in. That’s on you, not me.”
She crossed her arms. “A deal’s a deal.”
—
The next month was the longest of my life.
She took to pegging immediately. The first night, she made me strip and get on all fours while she strapped on a dildo that was bigger than my real cock. She made me watch her lube it up, stroking it like it was real.
“Yours is about this size, right?” she asked, holding up her pinky finger.
My dick twitched.
“Oh my god,” she laughed. “You’re getting hard from this?”
She made me try every position I’d failed to fuck her in. Doggy style. On my back with my legs up. Standing up. Each time, she’d slide that fake cock into my ass without any trouble, commenting on how easily it went in compared to my attempts.
“See? All you needed was a few more inches,” she’d say, pumping away.
She asked for anal constantly that month. Sometimes twice a day. I’d come home from work to find her already wearing the strap-on, waiting for me.
“Time to try anal again,” she’d announce with a grin.
And every time, I’d get hard. Every time, I’d feel that same mix of shame and arousal that I couldn’t explain.
—
After that month, things shifted between us.
She started making comments about my size more often. Little jokes. Teasing remarks. Nothing cruel, but always there, always reminding me.
“You know,” she said one night after sex, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About wanting to try anal again.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work—”
“What if we found someone who could actually reach?”
I stared at her.
“I’m just saying. You clearly want it. I’m clearly not interested in taking it. But there are other options.”
“What options?”
She smiled. “I have needs too. Needs that maybe… a bigger cock could fulfill. And you have needs. Needs involving being fucked in the ass.”
My stomach dropped, and my cock rose.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe we could work something out. A trade.”
—
That conversation led us to cucking.
She found a guy—her ex, actually. Someone she’d dated before me. He apparently had a reputation—one she’d confirmed personally.
The first time she met up with him, I waited at home in chastity. She’d locked me up before she left, the small plastic cage barely containing my tiny, hard cock.
“When I get back,” she said, “you’re going to clean me up. Every drop.”
I nodded, breathless.
She came home six hours later, walking funny, a satisfied smile on her face.
“He’s huge,” she told me, pulling down her panties. “So much bigger than you. He filled me up three times.”
I licked her clean while she told me every detail.
—
This past year, the cucking became regular. Once or twice a month, sometimes more. She’d lock me up, see him, come home, make me service her.
But last week, everything changed.
Her ex texted her with a request. He wanted to try anal.
She showed me the message. “What do you think?”
“You hate anal.”
“I do.” She paused. “But I know someone who doesn’t.”
I looked at her.
“He’s coming over Saturday. And you’re going to be ready for him.”
—
Saturday took forever to arrive.
She spent the afternoon preparing me and shaving my legs and pubic area smooth. Painting my toenails pink. A wig she’d ordered online—long, dark hair that fell past my shoulders.
She dressed me in her lingerie. A matching pink bra-and-panties set that barely fit me. The panties did nothing to hide the chastity cage underneath.
“You look cute,” she said, adjusting my wig. “Like a proper little slut.”
My cock strained against the plastic.
When the doorbell rang, my heart jumped.
“Go answer it,” she said. “And be polite.”
—
Her ex looked me up and down when I opened the door.
He was tall, muscular, and clearly confused.
“The fuck?” he said.
“Come in,” my wife called from the bedroom. “He’s my gift to you. You wanted anal? He’s all yours.”
She explained the situation while I stood there, dressed like a girl, my caged dick on display. His confusion turned to amusement.
“So you couldn’t reach her ass with that tiny thing?” he asked, looking at my cage.
“No,” I whispered.
“And now you’re going to take mine instead?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “This is fucked up. I love it.”
—
She led us both to the bedroom.
“I’ve got him locked up,” she explained to him. “But I promised him an hour out of the cage if he makes you cum.”
“An hour?”
“He’s been locked up for three weeks. He’ll do anything.”
He looked at me with this predatory grin. “Anything?”
I nodded.
“Get on the bed. Face down, ass up.”
—
I felt so exposed in that position. My shaved legs, the pink panties pulled aside, my hole on display for a man I’d never met.
My wife sat in a chair by the bed, watching.
“Go slow at first,” she said. “He’s only ever had toys.”
He climbed onto the bed behind me. I heard him spit, felt something wet land on my hole. His finger circled my entrance, pushing inside.
“Nice and tight,” he said. “This is going to feel good.”
I heard him stroking himself, getting hard. Then the head of his cock pressed against my ass.
He was big. Bigger than any toy she’d used on me. I felt myself stretching as he pushed forward.
“Relax,” my wife said. “Let him in.”
I tried. I breathed. And slowly, inch by inch, his cock slid inside me.
The pressure was intense. The fullness was unlike anything I’d felt before. He kept pushing until I could feel his hips against my cheeks, his entire length buried in my ass.
“There we go,” he groaned. “That’s a good little bitch.”
—
He started fucking me slowly at first. Long, deep strokes that made me gasp each time he bottomed out.
My wife watched, one hand in her panties, touching herself.
“How does it feel?” she asked me.
“Full,” I managed. “So full.”
“Better than my toys?”
“Yes. So much better.”
He picked up speed, gripping my hips, slamming into me harder. The bed shook with each thrust.
“Your husband has a tight ass,” he said to my wife. “You should try this.”
“Maybe someday. For now, I like watching.”
He flipped me onto my back, pushing my legs up to my shoulders. In this position, I could see everything—his muscular body, his thick cock sliding in and out of my ass, my own caged dick bouncing uselessly with each thrust.
“Look at that little thing,” he said, tapping my cage. “Can’t even get hard.”
“Three weeks,” my wife reminded me. “Make him cum, and he gets an hour.”
—
He fucked me for what felt like hours.
Different positions. Different speeds. My ass was sore and stretched, but I didn’t want him to stop.
Finally, he pulled out and moved to my head.
“Open your mouth.”
I did. He pushed his cock past my lips, fucking my face while I tasted myself on him.
“I’m close,” he groaned.
My wife stood up from her chair. “On his face. I want to see it.”
He pulled out of my mouth, stroking himself over me. I closed my eyes and felt the first hot rope of cum land on my cheek, then my chin, then my lips.
“Good boy,” my wife said. “You earned your hour.”
—
She unlocked me while her ex watched.
My cock sprang free, finally able to get fully hard. It looked so small compared to what I’d just taken.
“Four inches,” her ex said, looking at my erection. “No wonder you couldn’t reach her ass.”
My wife handed me the key. “One hour. Make it count.”
I touched myself while they both watched, her ex’s cum still on my face, my ass leaking.
It took me about thirty seconds to cum.
They both laughed.
“Pocket rocket,” her ex said. “Small and quick.”
My wife smiled. “That’s what I’ve been telling him for years.”
—
Last night changed everything.
I’ve been locked back up since then—no word on when—or if—I’ll get another release.
But I can still feel him inside me. The stretch. The fullness. The way my wife watched me take a real cock for the first time.
And I know this is just the beginning.
The End.
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