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These stories are the artistic expression of the authors who wrote them. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this post, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
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By likesmal

Lee Nakano was a highly regarded and extremely successful (read: rich) designer. Fashion, clothing, interior, home, architecture, you name it. So I was anxiously awaiting this dinner and cocktail soiree that he was hosting and I had been miraculously invited to. Everyone who was anyone was there. He was fairly approachable, however to describe him as confident would be the world’s biggest understatement. It was like he was holding court, with his minions at his feet waiting for titbits of wisdom from the master.

I was fairly innocuous at the event, preferring to remain in the background, unnoticed and pretending not to notice, which unfortunately did not go unnoticed. It was like he knew I was trying to stay anonymous and was determined to not let me be. Mistaking my shyness for being unimpressed Mr. Nakano began to engage, almost bait me, into conversation and comment. As much as I tried to stay like Sweden and have no opinion or likes or dislikes, he was determined that I would take a stand on a number of topics, from politics to art and religion.

I am remembering the old adage: Better to keep quiet and be thought a fool than to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt. He would have none of it. And in the pure ego-maniacal form would dash and destroy any opinion or thought I had on any given subject as pedestrian and common. Which was fine with me. It was his party. I thought it was a pissing contest and in a sword fight I know that I’m basically unarmed. Eventually he cut me to the bone in one of his rants implying my response was obviously coming from a man whose genitalia was lacking.

I excused myself, went to the lavatory, splashed my face and began to look for my coat. As I attempted to quietly leave, he stopped me with posse in tow and sarcastically asked me why I was leaving. I replied with a deadpan glibness, “With all due respect, you can go fuck yourself!”

I turned and walked out. You could have heard the proverbial pin drop. No one had EVER talked like that to Mr. Nakano. But I’m thinking maybe in the last few years. I’m sure in his college days he’s been told before, if he was anything like this then. He practically chased me to the elevator. I was waiting to get my head ripped off. Instead, he asked me to come to work for him. Ha! Show up tomorrow.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of excitement, panic, nausea, elation, out of my league anxiety and some moments of absolute triumph. I could see why he was such a success. The man was brilliant, in every way. Not bluffing for a second on anything, he knew every aspect of his business and ran it like a 4 star general. And he was an absolutely stunning specimen of manhood. Chiselled sharp features, coal-black shoulder length hair, eyes like fire, his Asian features a compilation of every gorgeous Asian man from the movies you had ever seen.

Fiercely physically fit, ripped like Bruce Lee with probably another 25 pounds of muscle on him attained by the 2 and 1/2 hours 5 days a week he spent in his home gym that had more gear than most pro gyms. An impeccable dresser and a command that you had to respect if not fear. At work before everyone else, and there after everyone left, his work ethic was unquestionable.
I actually grew to respect the hell out of the man, finally understanding why some were mesmerized by him. But he could still be an absolute prick. I saw him devastate people on the regular for making mistakes, being late, and God forbid, challenging him. That’s why I was still amazed at how I came to be here. After all, I gave him the ultimate challenge, in public, but he let me know in his inimitable way who was in charge and why.

And I came to admire and even like this giant of a man and his self-created empire. He was the King and we were his subjects. And that was fine with me. I was well compensated and he made an exception after exception for me for some reason, encouraged, challenged and rewarded me. But the man was alone… I had to notice….desperately, compellingly alone. In his castle of wealth and refinement and power, ultimately alone. Thousands of fans and followers and employees and clients and… alone.
One evening I was asked to come by his high-rise apartment to drop of some drawings and pick up some work that needed to be messengers right away. As I crept into the fantastic cavernous apartment, I could see his home gym, a kitchen that I could put my house in, trophies, awards, photographs of the rich and famous, artwork from the greats, the finest furnishings, all by him, of course. He was nowhere to be seen. I call out….Again….No answer. I was supposed to get a signature on this contract tonight. Where is he? Oh shit, a major fail on my part and I’m back in the Mailroom.

As I tiptoed to the back of the apartment, I can hear water running. A shower, and music playing. I keep walking and stumble into what I realize too late is a bathroom, but for all practical purposes it is another apartment. Open walls all around, nothing that would remind one of a normal bathroom. I keep walking. I turn the corner and to my shock and amazed embarrassment he is standing naked in the shower. Soapy and wet, glistening ripped muscular body that could compete in a bodybuilding contest. The music is playing loud. He doesn’t know I’m there. I froze. His head is back, eyes closed, letting the shampoo, rinse from his black mane. Soap dribbles down his hairless smooth ripped chest, between his pecs down a delicate treasure trail of hair.

My eyes couldn’t stop. I was transfixed. I followed the soapy bubble as it slowly slid down his six-pack ABS down to the new most amazing thing. His face was not the only delicate feature on Mr. Nakano. Beneath the wet small mound of man hair was a tiny little button dick, so delicate, so small. The size of a grape. Its uncut skin with a little peehole slit in an acorn of a dick, barely poking through the wet pubes. His ball sack was also small and tight, hugging close to his body like a prepubescent boy. Below the boy dick and balls were muscular hairy trunk like legs, which made his package seem all the smaller. I was captivated, staring, and dumbstruck. Anyone who really knows me, which was no one at this company, knows my fascination with and love of small dicks, to the point of fetish. My own little guy began to throb and grow, as much as it does, until I had a raging hard on in my dress slacks.

I was frozen, in his bathroom, staring at my very powerful and controlling egomaniacal boss, who unknowingly stands before me wet, naked, exposed. I begin to back out. My heel scuffs the floor. He opens his eyes wide in astonishment, fear, an intruder? Burglar? Then he sees it’s me. He quickly grabs a robe to cover himself and begins screaming at me. What am I doing there? In his bathroom, I have no response. “I’m sorry. … Had to deliver… get signature. ..Couldn’t find you… I’m sorry. “He was enraged, red-faced, humiliated. I’m so fired. I try backing out of the apartment. He is on my every step, backing me out, screaming maniacally, spitting his words. We are almost to the door. I turn to leave. He stops and grabs my shoulder with a vice-like hand and spins me around, eyes bulging.

I dodge thinking he was going to hit me. He grabs me by each arm in a death grip. We are both holding our breath. A pause…. Then he burst into tears. Not just tears, sobs, man sobs, uncontrollable heaving, almost collapsing. I grab him almost to hold him up. “You know my greatest weakness, my greatest fear, my greatest secret. I am undone.” “You have seen me exposed. Oh my God. Everyone will know.” He was so upset that it made me cry in sympathy. “What secret? What weakness? What are you talking about?” “
“With all my talent, money, power I am still alone. Do you not wonder why? It is because of… my secret. My shame.” I am beside myself with all kinds of emotions, guilt, fear, shame, embarrassment, compassion and an overpowering urge to kiss the man! So I did. I leaned over to him as he sat slumped on a chair, still wet but in a bathrobe, and kissed him. Right on the mouth. His eyes opened wide again. Again, I thought he might hit me. He was shocked. But he didn’t pull away. He stared at me, mouth agape. What the fu… I kissed him again. Longer, harder, deeper.

I grabbed the back of his wet head and held fast so we were locked in this kiss. Open mouth, sucking on his lip. Pulling him into me. I take his hand and place it on my crotch. He feels my hard little spike jutting behind my slacks. I kiss him again and again, each time longer, hotter, and wetter than before. He is no longer crying and panicked. More confused and shell-shocked. I push him back in the lounge chair. Before he can react I pull apart his robe to reveal this amazing chiselled body and this tiny, perfect cock and balls, which by now have sprung to life. This little button is now an engorged and straight up stiff 3 and 1/2 inches of manhood.

He tries to cover himself with the robe, but I stop him. I pull the robe back again and he covers his crotch with his hands closing his legs together tightly. I gently take his hands and pull them away and take his knees and spread them apart. I kneel before him between his spread legs so he can’t close them. We both look down at his tiny package is fully revealed. The beautiful little cocklet twitches with excitement and has a single droplet of precum on the glistening little head. He looks down and then at me, then looks away in shame. I pull his chin around to look me straight in the face and kiss him again. I take the spike in my one hand and gently touch and rub and stroke it as my other hand, partly holds him back in the chair, partly caresses this manly muscular chest, his perfect man nipples standing so erect.

Its circumference is thin as my thumb and so short, it disappears in my clutched hand. I am in heaven and I smile at him, a reassuring smile. I didn’t want him to think I was laughing at him. His look changes from aghast to eyes rolling in the head pleasure and lip biting nervousness. He is mortified and in ecstasy. He can’t believe I have his legs spread apart his exposed little pud in my hand. He keeps looking down at it, then at me, then at my hand, then my eyes. Shame, pleasure, humiliation, ecstasy. And possibly the real greatest fear, loss of control, loss of command. But it feels wonderful. I lower my head onto his little erection and slowly take it in my mouth. I kiss it on and around the small head as I hold it firmly at the base.

I slide it all the way down inside my warm wet mouth. It easily goes all the way down to his pubic bone with room to spare. My nose buried in pubic hair. Up and down, again and again. My tongue flicking up and down and around the skinny shaft. I could literally take his dick and balls into my mouth at one time. But too much too soon, perhaps. I lick and suck on this hard little finger-like cock until his balls have all but disappeared inside his body. My spit drips down into the creases between his legs until his whole crotch is wet with my spit and his precum. I have complete and utter control of this strong, powerful man through his little boy like penis and my hungry sucking mouth and hand. He thrusts into me, shoving his little cock at me. His legs shake and quiver. His moans and groans give away his pleasure to me. I know he doesn’t feel anything like this, other than his own hand, in a long time. It doesn’t take long, perhaps 10 minutes and he thrusts and convulses uncontrollably until he squirts a massive load into my mouth and down my throat.

He releases a scream like a jungle predator. I keep sucking and savour every drop of his man juice, salty and sweet and delicious. I swallow his load in one gulp without taking my mouth off of his cock. Now firmly grasping his sinewy butt cheeks with both hands pulling him into me. I keep sucking until the sensitivity begins to make him pull away. So I stop and look up at him. Tears dried in the corners of his eyes, a look of amazement and for the first time, at a loss for words. I put my finger to his mouth to hush him. No need for words. I got you, Mr. Nakano. He sat back relaxed. His babydick returning to its tiny flaccid state, a button nestled in its mound of black hair. For a moment I rest my head on his still heaving chest and he rests his hand on my head. Then I stand up before him. My dick poking out under my slacks. He looks at that.

And reaches for the little bulge behind my zipper. Rubs it, making me more excited. He leans toward me and begins to undo my belt and trousers, letting them fall to the floor. My hard dick straining behind a pair of boxer briefs, a wet spot of precum giving away my arousal. He pulls my underwear down to my ankles revealing my 4 inch tower of power. He takes it in his hand gently and I can see by his face that he is pleasantly surprised that I am also small. Bigger than him, perhaps, but definitely junior league. “See, we all have secrets. We are the same. I got you, man.” He pulls me toward him and takes my cock in his mouth all in one gulping motion. I wasn’t even sure if he was gay 24 hours ago and now here he is on his knees sucking my cock. And he is a good cocksucker. Ah, the many talents of Mr. Nakano. Tugging on my boy balls he brings me to climax. I grab his head and force him down to the base as I unload a mouthful of jizz. He gags a bit, then recovers, and swallows every drop of my load. I pull him up from the floor and kiss him again, hard and wet. I can taste cum on his tongue. We swap the flavours of each other’s man juice with abandon now.

His dick has retreated to its grape size and mine to its button state and we embrace and grind our Boydicks together. Then a long tight sincere, loving hug. His head buried in my chest and shoulders. Another kiss. I pull his robe back closed and tie the belt for him. He lets me do whatever I want. I pull back on my own clothes and straighten up a bit. I hand him the contract and point to the last empty line on the page. He signs. I put the papers in my briefcase and walk towards the door. He follows. Slowly and deliberately opens the door. One last long kiss. “See you in the morning?” “You bet, Mr. Nakano. I got you.” And that’s just fine with me.

The End.