Complicated, unconventional, and private, all words my wife and I have used to talk about our relationship. I know most people wouldn’t understand; they wouldn’t have a clue how to make sense of our life.

On the outside, as far as anyone could tell, we led a simple vanilla life. We didn’t make tons of money; we lived simple lives. But beneath the surface of our beige Camry, khaki pants-wearing lives, we’ve had to make some compromises, some adjustments to make our marriage work. And no one in our day-to-day lives has even been close to seeing the real us—until now.

It started 25 years ago, when Charity and I were dating. We were young, in love, and absolutely convinced we were soul mates—meant to be. But there was one thing that hung over us, something neither of us wanted to talk about but couldn’t ignore.

I have a small penis.

As a teenager, I tried to brush it off. “It’s not the size, it’s how you use it,” I told myself, repeating the age-old mantra like a prayer. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t enough; all the boys I’d seen were much bigger than me, most bigger soft than mine, erect.

Charity had never said anything and never made me feel inadequate, but I could see it in her eyes sometimes. That quiet, unspoken longing for something more. I always did my part to make her feel good, and never shied away from using my mouth and hands on her, even after I’d already cum.

And then, one night, it all came to a head. We’d been in bed together, I was doing everything I could, pounding, grinding, and feeling good about how long I was lasting – but she just laid there, no emotion at all – I may as well had been fucking her feet. The silence between us was heavy, awkward, and suddenly it just felt sad. I slid down her sexy body, ready to lick her to pleasure, but this time she stopped me. I rolled off her, and she turned to me, taking my face in her hands, her voice soft but resolute.

“Jason,” she said, her hand resting on my cheek, “I love you more than anything. But… we need to talk. About us. About… this.”

“I know.” I could feel my face redden. “You don’t have to say it… I’m not… enough,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I am trying. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“You’re everything to me. But… I can’t pretend that this doesn’t bother me. I can’t deny that I don’t want… no, that’s not right, that I need more. I need it, Jason.” Her fingers tightening around my small dick. We were approaching graduation from college and had already started talking about marriage and life after school. I wasn’t her first, and I knew I was smaller than her other boyfriends; I had to be just statistically speaking.

But, for the first time, she said it, and there it was. The truth lay bare between us. The humiliation lit a fire in my face and a lust inside me, a wave of fetishes implanted in my soul as she talked, and my body sealed it by releasing a flood of endorphins through my body, my small penis pulsing as she talked, I was ashamed, but it was also a relief. Finally, we could stop pretending.

We explored with toys – vibrators, dildos, but her favorite was a penis sleeve, she liked the feeling of my body on top of hers, the grinding of my hips, the physical embrace while using it.

We committed to talking about our sexual past, our current desires, our deepest fantasies, and our future hopes. We embraced being vocal in bed, asking for what we wanted, and mutually working together to satisfy one another. And to our surprise, I loved hearing about her past lovers. I couldn’t explain how much desire it ignited in me hearing about her having sex with these other guys, and particularly with Brad. Charity confessed he was her biggest, easily 8-9 inches.

She was honest about how good his cock felt deep inside her, how he would stretch her, filling her, making her feel full and feminine. And, that was the only thing they had in common; she grew to despise talking with him, hanging out with his friends became unbearable due to the way he talked about her and to her in front of his “bros.”

Charity was an open book to me, and no matter what she said, my fondness and connection to her grew. And she reciprocated that desire, even when I shared how much I loved hearing her talk about my little dick, I wanted her to tease me and humiliate me for having a tiny dick, she embraced it and me.

Over the years, Charity had gotten good at giving me just the right amount of small penis teasing, without ever being mean. And, it worked… for a while. It hit me hard after she bought a new toy – all of our nightstand goodies had been for her, to please her, but this new toy was for me, it was called a Fleshlight, a fake pussy for her to use on me.

The first time she used it was a night I wanted to play, but she wasn’t feeling well, so she offered to use it on me. It was fine, better than a dry handjob, but nowhere near as good as the real thing. Then something odd happened, weeks went by, and I realized I hadn’t been inside her. We had played with toys, and she sucked me, but I hadn’t been in her pussy, and I craved it.

She started using the pocket pussy on me again and I pushed it away telling her I wanted her, not the toy. She lay back and let me take her. She felt amazing, the warmth of her embrace, the pulsing of her body, she wasn’t just a slick hole, but a live person. But in the post-nut clarity, I understood what it had been like for her, and I wasn’t okay with it anymore.

So, I offered her an unconventional agreement, one she would have never asked for, a compromise, and a promise to each other. Charity could have the physical satisfaction she craved with other men, but only under strict rules: No secrets. No romance. No one else ever knows. No denying me. And, finally, no exceptions.

Over the years, Charity had been with other men–sometimes with me watching, sometimes telling me about it later. But, for the past several years, she had one regular guy – it made things easier and safer now that we had a family. And somehow, it had brought us closer together. We weren’t just husband and wife; we were partners in what often felt like a perverted, clandestine spy thriller. The other upside was that it encouraged us to stay fit; now in our late 40s, we still looked easily ten years younger than many of our friends.

Charity is a sensual woman, 5’5 with a firm waist and curvy figure. Her 34-DDs were soft, warm, and capped with large pink areolas about three inches in diameter. Her ass was equally thick, but firm. Her wavy auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders and contrasted beautifully with her pale skin.

Tonight was supposed to be just a quiet evening. My wife, Charity, was “out with the girls from work,” which was one of the many ways we explained her nights out. Our younger daughter, Grace, who is 20 years old, was cheering at an away game for our local college, and our 23-year-old daughter, Hope, was hours away at med school, probably buried in her textbooks at the library or enjoying college life away from home.

I had the house to myself, which was becoming more common with both girls in college. Charity encouraged me to take advantage of it and even left the waxing kit out. She always liked me smooth.

I waxed myself bald, making sure I got every little hair on my balls and around my dick. I am also an avid bicyclist, and keep my body free from hair from the waist down. Afterward, I lay on the bed waiting for Charity’s FaceTime. The scent of her shampoo was radiating off her pillow, and I began daydreaming about what she was doing on her night out.

I knew him, his name, and where he lived. We were in each other’s lives in this secret way, but we never said his name, never wrote it, never texted it. For us, it helped keep things separate and helped keep our secret. I’ve watched them many times before and had a good idea what she was doing.

About now, she was sitting in his apartment, downing the last bit of a glass of red. The music was on, candles lit, and he was about to take her by the hand and lead her to his bedroom. And, any minute now, I’d be watching as she slowly undressed him, took his large cock in her mouth and prepared him to take her.

I thought about how he would tease her rubbing his thick head around her opening, making her quiver in desire before pounding her cunt with his long 8-inch cock, more than twice my size and as thick as Charity’s wrist. It was all so effortless for him, making my wife moan in pleasure, and erupt in orgasm deep inside her, he’d drive her to 3 or 4 orgasms before finally coating her with his thick load.

My heart skipped as the familiar chime of the FaceTime notification rang out. The rules were simple – I could watch, listen, and play with myself, but I wasn’t allowed to cum till she got home. She had done this enough times that she knew to place the phone on a tripod near the bed. Often she would move it closer to them, even holding it, giving me a close-up view, while I watched it streaming to the TV hanging on the wall. I also placed my phone on a small tripod so she could see me, too.

“Are you ready?” She bit her lip in anticipation. She was wearing her emerald green bra and panties, and nothing else. Her eyes seemed glassy; she’d had more than just wine tonight, her cheeks a bit rosy, and her breath heavy.

My little dick sticking straight up told her I was ready to watch, ready to see her filled with his superior, thick cock. I craved seeing her cum on his dick. I simply grabbed myself, giving it a couple of tugs.

“You’re so tiny, baby,” Charity’s voice purred through the speaker. Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she leaned closer to the camera. Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the soft light of the room. “Are you watching me? Are you really watching?”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as I lay back on the bed, the TV screen to the side of me filled with her image. “Yes,” I managed to say, my voice trembling. “I’m watching, Charity.”

She laughed, a low, sensual sound that sent shivers down my spine. Her fingers traced the edge of the waistband of his pants. “Good. Because you’re going to love this.” He’s a handsome man, not just a big cock, it was easy for Charity to open herself to him. Standing 6’2 with broad shoulders, sculpted six-pack abs, and piercing blue eyes. He could easily be a stand-in for Chris Hemsworth.

She undid his pants, yanking them down along with his underwear. His large cock inches from her face, I could see her breath in his musk. God he was big, an not just his cock, his balls too. There it was–thick, hard, and impossibly long, his cock bobbing in front of the camera.

She took him in her hand, unable to wrap her fingers around him, and guided his fat head to her lips. She paused just a moment to look at me before placing a gentle kiss on the tip and then opening wide to take him into her mouth. It always amazed me how she could fit in her mouth, the way her jaw seemed to unhinge, making room for his size. He shuddered in pleasure as she sucked his cock.

He grabbed her head fucking her sexy mouth, his hips rocking as he grunted. I watched as she sucked him, licking his length, teasing his balls, and coating him in her saliva.

Charity’s eyes flicked back to the screen, her smile widening as she saw the look on my face. “Look at that, baby,” she teased, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his shaft. Her hand barely covered half of it. “This is what a real man looks like. Not like your little… what do I call it? Your nub.”

I felt a jolt of humiliation–and arousal–at her words. She knew exactly what it did to me, hearing her talk like that. It was our dynamic, our secret language. She could have him, fuck him, enjoy him, but she always made sure I was part of it. Always reminded me of who she truly belonged to.

“You like watching this, don’t you?” she murmured, her eyes never leaving mine as she stroked him slowly. “You like seeing your wife with a real cock.”

“Yes,” I whispered, my hand instinctively toying with my nub. I couldn’t help it. The sight of her, so confident, so in control, was intoxicating. “I love it, Charity. I love you.”

She laughed again, that same low, knowing laugh that made my stomach twist. “Of course you do. You’re such a good cuck, Jason. My sweet, devoted husband.” She leaned in closer to the camera, her lips almost brushing the screen. “But now it’s my time, you watch.”

She was right. I did love it—not just the humiliation but the way she included me and made sure I was never left out. It wasn’t about replacing me—it was about enhancing us, pushing our boundaries, and making our love even stronger.

He knew what to do; the warm-up was mostly for me, it was a way to make sure I felt involved, but now, it was time for her, for her pleasure, mine would come later. He quickly took control, helping her stand up and peeling her silky panties off. He turned her around pressing his face to her ass, invading her with his tongue as she bent over the bed. He stood up, spinning her around and pushing her to the bed. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

“Get ready,” He huffed climbing on top of her, as she slipped her bra off revealing her perfect tits to him.

I watched, transfixed, as he slapped her clit with his thick cock head. God, she was so wet I could hear it with every slap. She was begging him to fuck her. Inch by impossible inch, he penetrated my wife, as she took him all the way down to the hilt. Her mouth gasping, eyes rolling, as her body embraced the joy. My hand stroked my little guy, my eyes glued to the screen. God, she was beautiful.

“Fuck,” she moaned, spreading her legs to him. “That’s it. Just like that.” Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she looked back at me, a teasing smile playing on her lips. He pounded her over and over. “YES!” Her body exploded at his thrusts. I continued to watch as he fucked her, flipping her over taking her from behind, the sound of their bodies slapping together as he bottomed pout over and again, his huge balls smacking her clit. She was close, I could tell by how she kept pushing back, taking him as deep as she could. Moments later she cried out again, cumming for the second time.

She laughed, the sound music to my ears. “Oh, Jason, he’s so big. So much… more.” He flipped her over again, now with his feet on the floor, and he pulled her to the edge of the bed, his strong hands digging into her hips.

Her face lit up with pleasure as he slid himself back inside her warmth, fucking her embrace. Soon he picked up speed ramming his cock deep inside my wife, her breasts bouncing with each movement. “I love you, Jason. Thank you! Thank you for this!”

Her words sent a jolt of pleasure through me, I had to grip my balls to keep from cumming. His hands on her tits, his cock in her cunt, my name on her lips. And, with a furry of humps he gripped her breasts hard, and plunged himself inside her, throwing his head back he grunted, moaned and shouted as he erupted inside her.

Finally spent, he collapsed on the bed beside her. She turned her head to look at me again, her eyes soft and loving. She took the phone and held it close to her, “I’ll be home soon, baby,” she murmured. “And when I get there, I’m all …”

“HOPE?!”

The color drained from Charity’s face as she stared into the phone’s camera. Her voice, usually so confident and teasing, cracked like a brittle branch. Her body was shimmering with sweat.

My heart stopped. I froze on the bed, my hand still wrapped around my tiny, throbbing dick. The TV screen on the wall, which had been showing Charity’s face just moments ago, now displayed nothing.

I turned my head slowly, dread pooling in my stomach like ice water. There, in the doorway of our bedroom, stood Hope. Our daughter. My medical student daughter, who had just walked in on me, naked and waxed, lying in bed with my little dick in hand while her mother was on the other end of a FaceTime call being a slut.

 

The End.

 

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