Comicon
An SPH Experience by contractin4.
They were thrilled, running around in their little hero outfits, dragging us from booth to booth. The place was a sea of nerds, geeks, and fans—guys in elaborate armor, some with visible outlines in their pants from the excitement or from how the costumes fit. I didn’t think much of it at the time, too busy chasing after our youngest, who wanted every superhero sticker in sight.
By evening, we were back at the hotel, kids tucked in and passed out from the day’s exhaustion. My wife and I had that post-event buzz, the kind that mixes adrenaline with horniness. She didn’t even bother changing out of her Supergirl getup—just hiked up the skirt and pushed me onto the bed, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “My hero,” she teased, straddling me, grinding her pussy against the bulge in my tights.
I was already hard, my cock straining at about four and a half inches, nothing impressive, but enough to poke through the fabric. She peeled down the front of my suit just enough to free me, her hand wrapping around my shaft, stroking firmly as she positioned herself. No foreplay needed; she was soaked, sliding down onto me with a sigh, her walls clenching tight around my length.
We fucked like that, her on top, cape draped over us like a blanket, the room filled with the slap of skin and her soft moans. I gripped her ass, thrusting up into her, feeling how she took every inch without much resistance—my size never really filled her the way it might have with bigger guys. She rode me harder, tits bouncing in that top, her breath quickening. Right as she started to tense, her pussy fluttering around my cock, she leaned down, lips brushing my ear, and whispered, “Did you notice how even the nerds are bigger than you?”
Her voice was husky, laced with that teasing edge she knows drives me crazy. It hit me mid-thrust—the image of those cosplayers flashing in my mind, the subtle (and not-so-subtle) bulges I’d glimpsed earlier. My face burned, but my dick twitched inside her, betraying how the humiliation sparked something deep. She came then, grinding down hard, her juices coating me as she shuddered, moaning louder.
I followed seconds later, pumping my load into her, hips bucking weakly. We collapsed together, still half in costume, sweaty and spent. As our breathing slowed, she rolled off, propping herself on an elbow with a sly grin. “You okay?” she asked, but I could tell she was fishing.
I nodded, pulling the sheet up to hide my softening cock, the shame settling in like a warm fog. Later, after we’d cleaned up a bit, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand.
“Look at this,” she said, scrolling through the photos we’d snapped during the day.
She zoomed in on a group shot from the vendor hall—three or four guys in Star Wars gear, standing nearby. Her thumb enlarged the crotches: thick outlines pressing against their jeans, one guy with what looked like a solid six-incher outlined clear as day, another thicker, snaking down his thigh.
“Jesus,” I muttered, staring at the screen, my stomach twisting.
Those weren’t pros or anything. Just average nerds, and yet… bigger. She laughed softly, swiping to another pic, this one of a dude in a tight Batman suit, the bulge unmistakable.
“See? Even the dorks pack more than you do.” Her tone was playful, but the words stung, making my cheeks flush.
I shifted, feeling exposed even now, hours later. “Was that what you were thinking about? When you came?” I asked, voice low, half-dreading the answer.
She met my eyes, nodding without hesitation, a wicked sparkle there. “Yeah. All those cocks, bigger than yours, just wandering around. Made me so wet imagining it.”
She set the phone down and crawled closer, her hand trailing down my chest toward my lap. “I’d love to pleasure a group of them right there at Comicon, still in this costume,” she confessed, her fingers brushing my flaccid dick, which started to stir despite myself. “On my knees in some back alley booth, Supergirl sucking off a line of nerds, their huge dicks stretching my mouth while you watch, Superman with your little guy tucked away.”
The fantasy poured out, detailed and filthy—her describing how she’d deepthroat them, gag on their girth, let them cum on her cape—while I lay there, humiliated and hardening again. It was mortifying, knowing she’d been comparing me all day, fantasizing about real men with real size. But fuck, it turned me on, that mix of jealousy and inadequacy fueling the ache in my groin. We ended up going at it again, slower this time, her words echoing as I slid back into her, knowing I was just the warm-up to her wilder thoughts.
The End.
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