Our Dynamic
By uppishcarrot.
In the bedroom, it’s hard to explain how mind-numbingly incredible she is, and I’m saying this after almost fifteen years of marriage. The thing is, the most exciting part about our sex life isn’t the sex itself: it’s the lead-up, it’s the teasing, it’s the in-between, and it’s the connection afterward. The penetrative sex itself is brief and quick, but the lead-up is what always gets me. As I mentioned, she is dominant and enjoys belittling me and putting me down. It’s something I encourage and desperately long for. I love that my wife often plays that role, and she plays it to a tee.
I remember that one fateful day, sitting her down and asking her to make fun of the size of my genitals. I was met with shock, concern, and resistance. She was mortified and put off by my request, insisting that size didn’t matter and that she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Initially, it was quite hard to get her on board. “I’m not going to make fun of the man I love,” she’d say. I even hinted at phrases and what I wanted her to say. Slowly but surely, she began to feed little insults into our lovemaking, such as “Is it in yet?” and the occasional pinky wave. Before too long, she was making little penis comments about me in public. After every incident, she’d check in on me, concerned that she’d gone too far. I simply smirked and egged her on to go even further.
From there, our relationship evolved. She slowly became more dominant and more controlling.
There was one particular evening. However, that solidified the change I was pushing for, and once we crossed this line, there was no going back. When we were first dating, Clara would regularly give me blowjobs. She is quite skilled at playing my little flute and always leaves me wanting more. Nothing is better than feeling those wet, hot lips on my throbbing, eager member. But after we got married, it became a weekly thing, then a monthly thing, and before too long, it had become a yearly thing. Something that only really ever happened on my birthday.
I remember asking for it once, only to be met with rage. She was furious and rather passionately declared that if I were to ask for it again, the answer would always be no. It would be something that she would have to offer up herself. In other words, I was prohibited from requesting head. Something broke inside me, and I fell into despair, not knowing what to do. But, not wanting to further dig a hole for myself, I let it go. I stewed internally as my angst grew and grew.
Anyway, back to that fateful evening. We enjoyed a bottle of sparkling wine, and she was rather lucid. So, I decided it would be a fantastic opportunity to broach the subject with my intoxicated wife. Drunk, silly Clara is more willing than sober scowling Clara. So I admitted to her, more than anything, I’d like regular blowjobs from her, just like ‘the old days.’
She looked me over with an impish grin. What she said next shook me to my very core. She went on to admit that she ‘loved’ giving blowjobs. She then went on an intoxicated ramble about how she’d blow her ex-boyfriend multiple times a day. I was completely dumbfounded and gob-smacked, so I asked, “Why don’t you do that with me?”
Again, I was met with an impish grin as she pondered. “He was just different” she declared, a bemused smirk washing over her as she gazed beyond me, reminiscing about her youth, “he was so masculine, in command, sexually aggressive” She paused for a moment before meeting my gaze, “sexually dominant…. His cock was bigger too” she grinned, “so much bigger…. I’d say he was… double the man you are” she held up her fist to make her point, grinning from ear to ear, enjoying this perhaps a little too much.
Then she dropped a truth bomb on me.
“Giving head is an act of submission,” she paused, looking me up and down, “I’ve never felt submissive for you,” she said.
I gulped nervously, unable to fathom any sort of response.
“Blowjobs are reserved for alpha men, not whiney little boys,” she said, waving her pinky finger at me. God, she was cheeky.
All too suddenly, I felt lightheaded, and without warning, it happened: I ejaculated in my pants. Clara looked on, confused at first, as I groaned and grunted, humping the air. Looking down at my crotch, it was hard not to notice a wet patch forming between my legs. This took her completely by surprise as her eyes met mine in shock, with her mouth agape. I was mortifyingly embarrassed, unable to fathom any type of response. I came in my pants without stimulation while my wife teased me about the size of my genitals, casually goading me that I was not man enough to receive fellatio. All too suddenly, she erupted in laughter, laughter from within. She found it utterly hysterical, and I could tell she was drunk with this power she had over me. It was also quite clear that this was a game. Although her admission was all true, it was a game, and I liked it. No, she didn’t give me head that night, nor has she since, but it was the beginning of my sexual torture, and the evening, she took it to the next level. I didn’t even have to ask for it. I spent the remainder of that evening with my head between her legs, bringing her to orgasm with my tongue as she recounted tales of her superior ex-boyfriend, highlighting how much manlier, superior, and sexually gifted he was compared to me.
From that night onward, things were different. She’d become more sexually dominant and aggressive towards me. Quite often, when we were out, she’d point out men she felt were attractive. She’d also comment on the size of ‘hands’ and ‘feet’ and go out of her way to ogle men, just to further tease and embarrass me. I know it sounds silly, but I got quite aroused by the idea of my wife lusting for other men, better men. Bigger men. It didn’t end there. There would be subtle small penis comments here and there, sometimes just randomly out of the blue, “I bet he’s got a bigger dick than you,” she’d say, pointing to some random stranger in passing, loud enough for everyone to hear, “It must suck for you to have nothing between your legs but hot air!” Sometimes, I’d get a snicker or a light chuckle from bystanders overhearing.
I remember one particular evening, we were showering together. I nuzzled her neck as I proceeded to lather up her perfect body. Wrapping around, she clasped my eager member, gently pumping it, “it’s so funny,” she said softly.
“What’s funny?” I responded, wondering where she was headed with this.
“I could hold Brad’s cock with both hands! He had a powerful weapon between his legs, but you….” She paused, turning to face me, “you’re just okay with two fingers,” she added with a grin.
I looked down, and sure enough, she was jerking me off with only her thumb and index finger, “you have such a nice little dick, so safe and non-threatening,” she declared. I was close, on edge.
“I couldn’t even make a fist around Brad’s cock!” she squeezed the tip of my penis to make her point, “but you’re so little and sweet! Barley there! It’s such an adorable little pee pee.”
That’s all it took; I climaxed all over her thighs as she laughed and laughed at me. The thing is, I know that all this was true. Her ex, Brad, was well endowed and was quite the gifted lover. She then went on to say that owners of large cocks tend to be themselves, large cheating cockheads. She was happy with me; I was safe, stable, and cute. An adorable hubby with an adorable safe little dicky.
She knew just how to keep me red-faced and embarrassed, drawing out my deep desire for humiliation. One evening, we were headed out with her friends for a night out on the town. I was dressed in a sharp suit, and she wore a tight evening gown. I felt good about myself, confident in my control and charge. But she leaned into me on the way out the door and said, “I told one of our friends about you.”
I stood back, confused, examining her face as she shot me an evil, sadistic grin, “Tell them about me?” I asked, suddenly scared.
All she could do was nod, “Uh-huh,” with the wave of a pinky, “I told them all about your little secret,” she added, smirking at me.
I cleared my throat, suddenly anxious. “Who did you tell?” I asked in desperation, hoping to avoid this particular person.
Instead, I was met with a chuckle. “Oh, I’m not telling you that!” she declared before adding, “We’ll be late! Let’s go!” With that, she powered on through the door as I trailed behind, overwhelmingly anxious.
My confidence pretty much evaporated, and I spent the rest of that evening trying to avoid everyone as my ears burned in deep humiliation. Every snicker, smile, whisper, and smirk put me on edge, and I felt extremely paranoid. My wife loved it, and at the end of the evening, when we were alone in bed, she broke character to ask me, “was it too much?” to which I responded by flipping her over and diving into her, climaxing in a matter of seconds as she laughed and laughed at me, “oh that was some kind of record!” she teased, “I guess next time I’ll take it further” she added with an evil knowing smirk.
I guess you could say I created a monster, and now that she had unveiled her evil, sadistic side, there was no going back. It seemed to intensify as time went on.
I run a small business with an old college buddy of mine. Harry and I manufacture plastic joints for building and construction purposes. Harry is the face of the company. He is the one who reaches out to prospective clients and who manages all the major accounts. I do everything else in the background, but mostly, I try to make Harry look good. To his credit, Harry is a confident guy with an outgoing type-A personality. He is what you would call classically handsome, with a wide frame and a muscular physique. His wife, Gloria, is an exotic beauty with long strawberry-blonde hair and an athletic body. I always get lightheaded when I’m around her.
One evening, my wife and I were on a double date with Harry and Gloria. It was going well. We were boring the ladies as we both prattled on about the business, hoping to expand and move on to a bigger site the following year.
As a foursome, we all got along pretty well. My wife and Gloria were friendly enough to the point where we could have a regular ‘get-together.’ That night in question was the eighth anniversary of being in business together. It was a casual celebration and an opportunity to discuss what we would do for the staff Christmas party. Harry suggested hiring out a whole bar with an open tab. I instead suggested an afternoon outing, playing mini golf. Ultimately, we played ‘rock, paper, scissors’ to decide, and I won. Harry was slightly irritated, saying that adults want to unwind with a drink at the end of the year rather than play mini-golf like teenagers. Eventually, he caved and succumbed to the idea when, after showing him on my phone, they had wait staff on this course who could bring you alcoholic beverages throughout the day.
“Okay! I guess that’s fine then,” he declared before getting out of his seat, “I’ll be back. I gotta take a leak,” he said before wandering off to the men’s room.
That’s when Clara leaned into me and, in a whisper, said, “I bet Harry’s got a bigger dick than you.”
I froze in shock, staring back at her with my mouth agape as she grinned at me.
Then, loudly, she added, “Go and find out! I want to know!”
This was enough to capture Gloria’s attention, “Find what out?” she asked, confused.
Anxiously, I rose out of my seat, “uhhh….” I began nervously, trying to come up with something, “I’m just going to check the lottery results.” With that, I was quick to follow Harry into the John. On my way, I glanced over my shoulder only to notice Gloria and Clara casually chatting. Gloria listened intently before erupting in laughter, slowly glancing in my direction. Her eyes darted back to my wife as she enthusiastically nodded, as if she were agreeing with something. I shuddered, petrified, not at all knowing just what the hell Clara just told her.
However, I powered on, entering the men’s room.
Harry was alone, by the urinal, taking a long piss. I took a deep breath and stood by the urinal next to him. In my mind, I knew this was wrong, but… My wife had given me an order. Find out if Harry had a bigger dick. Fishing my dick out of my pants, I slowly glanced over at what was in Harry’s hands. It was a glance, barely noticeable, but enough to confirm that he was indeed more of a man than I could ever be. His thick masculine cock sat in the palm of his right hand as a steady stream of piss flowed. I looked back down at my little dick. I held it with my thumb and index finger, suddenly, with stage fright, unable to pee. I couldn’t help but notice how small and underdeveloped I looked by comparison. Between my fingertips, it looked like I was holding onto a pink thimble.
“Just think of flowing water,” he said, realizing my inability to get a stream going.
I laughed nervously as he stuffed his anaconda into his trousers before exiting the John. As soon as he left, I began to pee. Having such a short little dick, I managed to not only miss the urinal but accidentally piss all over the front of my trousers and all over my sneakers.
When I emerged from the bathroom, it was hard not to tell that I had a ‘little accident.’ Harry and Gloria noticed, but were very much embarrassed for me, looking away, trying to save face. My wife, however, let me know it, snickering to herself, which made it obvious to everyone looking on that I wet myself, not on purpose, but because my little penis couldn’t reach the urinal. When I sat down, she leered at me with an impish grin, marveling at the embarrassment I felt at that moment. Before too long, desert came, and the conversation shifted.
Later that night, on the drive home, Clara leaned into me, kissing my ear, “well?” she asked, giddy.
“Well, what?” I responded.
“Was he bigger?” she asked, smiling mischievously.
I looked back at her and grinned nervously, confirming her suspicions. “How big?” she asked, prodding further.
“Uhh…” I began, “It’s a flesh-colored Redbull can,” I said, almost whimpering.
Clara sat back with an amused smirk, pondering to herself, “Wow,” she said aloud, clearly impressed. I looked at her, examining her face, only to confirm that she was in a deep daydream, “I’m not surprised. He does give off big dick energy” She inhaled sharply before letting out a semi satisfied long-winded sigh, “Gloria is so lucky to have such a man!” she added before looking back at me, “You’re just a little boy” A snicker escaped her lips, “who wets himself” she added as she erupted in laughter. I clasped the wheel tightly, trying to maintain my composure but also trying hard not to blow another little load in my pants.
When we made it home, she was quick to jump me, and unfortunately, I was so pent up that it was all over in seconds. My limp little noodle was spent, and no effort would make him come back to life again that night. Of course, Clara found this hysterical, but she also wanted to get her rocks off. For the next forty minutes, I sat on the edge of the bed as she played with ‘Bruce,’ our comically oversized dildo. She brought herself to multiple orgasms that night with very little input from me. The thing was, this would slowly become the norm for us. Once I shot my little load, I was done for the night. At first, she was frustrated, but she soon learned to embrace her power over me. It was also fun to watch her shudder and climax on a fake rubber phallus, knowing full well that I could never make her react that way with what I had dangling between my legs.
When our staff Christmas party finally came, my wife took things to another level, and this time, no amount of damage control could undo what Clara had done to my image. It would forever be tarnished, and although I felt she’d gone too far then, it still aroused me beyond comprehension. She could tell, too, which made her intensify her efforts to embarrass me publicly. The peculiar thing was, it didn’t come from a place of playful dominance, it came from somewhere else altogether.
The day began innocently enough, though.
We all arrived at the club and proceeded to have a good time. The day began with drinks, lunch, and a round of mini golf. Our business has roughly eight employees, and we are all pretty close-knit. We have an accounts team, a sales team, and a manufacturing team. The invitation was also extended to the courier company we use: our staff, their staff, and their partners; we were a pretty big group. The bar tab alone cost us a fortune, and by the time we were ready to play a round of mini golf, everyone was well and truly lucid. Everyone was fairly drunk and rowdy. Clara, in particular, becomes quite intoxicated, and whenever she does, she very much lets her hair down and becomes brutally honest with everyone around her.
After lunch, we all split up into teams. It was an 18 hole Disney themed course and Clara and I, versus Harry and Gloria. Unfortunately, when I made the booking, I could not book the whole course for my team, which meant we’d be sharing the course with other patrons. It was fine by me, but I’m sure our drunken team started to annoy people just wanting to play a round of mini-golf. In other words, we got in the way and became quite a burden. The course manager even approached me once, requesting that I hone my staff in and encourage some manners.
As the day went on, we all, of course, got more and more inebriated. This was clear when I noticed we kept other patrons waiting behind us.
I had to do a double take when I noticed two blonde bombshells patiently waiting for us to play on through. Both had to have been in their early twenties. Both were busty, athletic, and wearing little skimpy outfits. Both were overwhelmingly womanly with delicately manicured fingernails, caked-on foundation, and neatly styled hair. They looked like they were heading to a nightclub rather than playing mini golf. Both were also wearing stiletto heels. They stood out and I not only found it hard to focus on the game before me, I also found it increasingly hard not to stare. Unfortunately, my wife caught me looking and thus, my fate was sealed.
As we played on, it became impossible to avoid them. “Fancy meeting you here!” the taller one said with a sly grin. It was all harmless banter, and I decided to engage with them as we continued. They seemed to respond well to me, and we eventually began a friendly back-and-forth, irritating my wife.
After a while, it became clear that they were both openly flirting with me. I was just being friendly, but they seemed to laugh at every joke and listen to every story with great focus. It was clear that they were both interested in me, at least on some level. At one point, one of them even asked me if I was single. “Sorry ladies, I’m taken,” I joked, which caused everyone to laugh. Little did I know, my Clara was furious, especially since neither of them noticed that she was my wife. Eventually, she’d had enough and decided to end it.
“Tell them about your erectile dysfunction!” my wife said, loud enough for everyone to hear within a hundred-mile radius. This small comment, fueled by a jealous rage, was heard by almost everyone in the course. I heard muffled snickers and chatter from colleagues playing nearby. Gloria locked eyes with me before glancing down at my crotch, quickly looking away, petrified, morbidly embarrassed not just for me but for everyone around us.
The two young women were particularly gobsmacked, perplexed, and shaken. They stood there in shock, amused and startled by my wife’s revelation. But she didn’t stop there, “He was born with only one testicle and never really developed properly,” she added, “It hardly ever works! He’s just got this tiny little puckered up flap of skin between his legs. It’s like a fucking earlobe!” she practically shouted back at them.
All too suddenly, I heard stifled laughter from my colleagues as I turned three shades of red. I stood there in shock, frozen, unable to speak or move. Harry shook his head at me and said aloud, “Oh, dude,” before chuckling. Gloria looked away and hid an obvious smirk before erupting into laughter. Suppose my stunned reaction was any indication as to how humiliated I was feeling. In that case, I’m sure to those observing me. It appeared I had confirmed everything my wife had just said about me through my body language.
Thankfully, almost everyone interpreted it as a bit. Everyone erupted in laughter as I stood there with a goofy grin, red-faced and beyond humiliated. After the laughter died down, we resumed our game. I soon realized that the young women who were so intent on chatting with me earlier were now keeping their distance, avoiding eye contact, chuckling, and whispering amongst themselves. It was awkward, to say the very least.
Once we finished our game, my colleagues took delight in some light teasing throughout the day. It was lighthearted, but it was still embarrassing. One person called me ‘limpy’ garnered a ruckus round of applause and enthusiastic laughter from most women present. Little did I know that ‘limpy’ would stick and become my permanent nickname. Being the boss, I played it off as a harmless zing, not wanting to draw further attention, not knowing that it would grow and grow… No pun intended.
Towards the end of the evening, my wife pulled me aside and said, “You belong to me. I just thought I’d bring you back down to earth and remind you how much of a ‘man’ you are!” She said with an evil, sadistic grin before momentarily breaking character. ” Too far?” she asked, on the verge of laughter, enjoying my embarrassment perhaps a little too much.
“I don’t know,” I responded, unsure, “because of you, everyone thinks I only have one testicle,” I said softly, feeling embarrassed and sad.
“oh honey!” she began with a mischievous grin, “Because of me, everyone thinks you’re impotent,” she paused for effect, smiling at me, “with nothing but a useless little pink flap of skin between your manly legs.” she teased, waving her pinky finger at me. I was upset, I was angry… but I was horny. As she laughed and laughed at the fact that she’d publicly emasculated me, I, once again, found myself becoming aroused. Clara noticed this and leaned in, gently clasping my crotch, proceeding to rub me through my pants, “Uhh… Honey!” I winced in between labored breaths, “You gotta stop that!” I pleaded with her.
She chuckled, applying more pressure, “what? Why?” she responded sarcastically, knowing exactly what she was doing to me. “Urhhh… You’re gonna make me come!” I grunted through my teeth, trying hard to control myself. “I know, honeybunch,” she added with another chuckle. “Baby, please! We’re ungh….” I began to loose my bearings, everything suddenly feeling all too intense, “I’ve got to give a speech, I ungh…mpffff” I was utterly powerless, and as it happened, I realized just how far I’d fallen. I practically wailed, doubling over, almost collapsing in the process, panting and gasping for air like a dying fish as I came in my pants. All the while, my wife continued to laugh and laugh. Once it was all over, I stood back, looking back down at my soaked pants, realizing full well that I was in a particularly embarrassing predicament, “oh no,” I exclaimed, suddenly terrified, “How the hell am I gonna hide this!?” I said out loud in panic.
My life leaned in before leering up at me with a mischievous grin, “Don’t worry, baby. They won’t think anything sinister,” she declared. This comment took me aback, “How can you say that?” I shouted back at her, “It’s hard not to notice! I’ve got cum stains in my crotch!” I said, frantically patting my pants. “Oh honey,” Clara began, “They’ll all just think you wet yourself….” She paused for effect as I glanced back up at her with pleading eyes, “you’re just a flaccid little man who wets himself,” she reaffirmed, grinning from ear to ear.
“Or maybe I just accidentally spilled my daiquiris on my lap?” I responded, almost seeking permission to use that as an excuse.
She simply shook her head at me, “Hmmm… ” she said, pondering, “I don’t think anyone will buy that.” She grinned at me, “Maybe your bag popped?” she said, on the verge of laughing.
“My bag?” I responded, every little bit confused.
“Let them jump to conclusions,” she said before walking off, leaving me all alone. It was clear to me what she was suggesting: Say nothing, do nothing, don’t cover it, don’t mention it at all, and let people jump to their conclusions.
So, when I stood on the stage, giving my thanks to the team, I felt every little bit exposed and vulnerable, very well aware that there was a prominent wet patch right on my crotch. It was hard not to notice. As I gave my speech, I noticed some people staring. Others snickering. Some are whispering and chuckling amongst themselves. It was such an intense rush, and as I prattled on, I locked eyes with my wife: there she was in the middle of the crowd, staring me down with an evil, sadistic grin. It was enough to cause me to lose my concentration and turn me into a stuttering blubbering moron.
When we made it home that night, I was quick to leap into the shower to wash the day off, and as the stream of water hit my naked flesh, I was interrupted by my wife emerging from the bedroom. She handed me a razor and said, “I want you clean-shaven down there. Only men have hair, and you aren’t a man.”
“Uhh…” I began, taken completely by surprise. Before I could add anything else, she said, “Shave it all off, and then join me in the bedroom.” With that, she walked off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
So, carefully, I lathered up and went to town on my junk, carefully and delicately removing any remaining trace of what was left of my masculinity and shaving away all of my pubic hair. When I was done, I looked in the mirror and concluded that I didn’t look half bad. I’d convinced myself I almost resembled a porn star.
Moments later, I emerged from the bathroom only to find my wife patiently waiting for me on the bed. I stood before her confidently and smiled. One look at my tackle resulted in laughter. This took the wind completely out of my sails as I, too, looked down, trying to figure out just what the hell was so damn funny. “Oh, honey! Without hair….” She began, struggling between fits of laughter, “You look like a little boy!” more laughter followed as I stood there red-faced, my cheeks burning.
She gently pats the bed, encouraging me to sit beside her. Not knowing where this was headed, I anxiously took my place and patiently waited for what she had in store. With that, she extracted a measuring tape with a mischievous grin. She arched her eyebrows at me and flicked her top lip with her tongue, “I’ve never actually seen how you measure up!” she declared, “you’re so obsessed with size! I can’t believe we’ve never actually done this,” she added.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, not knowing how to respond. I found myself becoming aroused once more, something that didn’t go unnoticed by her. “Awww, would you look at that?! Twice in one night? That’s not like you!” she added, grinning from ear to ear.
Gently, she placed an open palm on my chest, forcing me to lay on my back.
I lifted my head, looking back down between my legs at my eager little member. “So…. what would you guess?” she asked me.
“Urgh…” I said, unable to think of anything remotely clever to say. “I’m not sure,” I admitted.
“I’ll tell you what…..” she further extracted the measuring tape, running her finger alongside it, “if you measure…. Hmmm,” she paused, focusing on the measuring tape in her hands, “if you pass five inches…. I’ll give you one of those blowjobs you’re always pestering me about” she declared with a sadistic grin.
I winced, groaning in anticipation. More than anything, I wanted to feel those hot lips on my hard dick. I longed for it. At that point, it had been almost a year, “Urgh… oh god! Yes!” I responded, almost a little too enthusiastically, not thinking all too clearly.
She leaned in, clasping my member at the base before holding the measuring tape up against it. I looked down eagerly. In my mind, I was expecting her to aptly put the tape aside and take me into her mouth. I began panting and heaving, loosing myself for a moment, deep in a daydream, reminiscing about the last time I blew my load into her hot, wet mouth.
All too suddenly, she let out an audible gasp, meeting my gaze with a sarcastic grin, “I’m sorry, baby. That’s too bad,” she said, maintaining that crystal stare with me.
“What? What?” I said, almost in shock.
“Look!” she said, holding the tape for me.
I measured in at 4.5 inches. My heart sank as she erupted in laughter. Then, something unexpected happened. My penis twitched and bobbed left and right and, without warning… I came. Spurt after spurt as I erupted all over my stomach and thighs, all the while, my wife continued to laugh at the fact that I was a sexual failure and a failure as a man overall. “Oh baby,” she said, almost in a sympathetic tone, albeit with a hint of condescension. I realized then, and there that blowjobs were no longer in the cards for me. She made it clear to me what the cut-off was. As I processed this, she extracted the tape further and highlighted 7.5 inches, “This was Brad. Do you see how much bigger than you he was? How much more of a man he was?….. He got blowjobs all the time,” She said before howling with laughter again.
She was quick to reach for a wet cloth, very gently and very tenderly wiping me, paying special attention to my tender little bits. It was quite an intimate moment as she cleaned me. At that moment, I felt like a small child being cleaned and, more than anything, all too suddenly, felt completely emasculated. This was heightened by the fact that my penis withered and slowly began to shrink. She met my gaze and gave me a cheeky grin.
“I never realized just how little you were,” she declared, looking back down at my tackle, “the thing that defines your masculinity is so unimpressive. It’s almost like a baby’s penis….” She said, looking back down at my flaccid little worm of a dick.
With her index finger, she pressed down on the tip of my soft penis, gently pushing it back inside of my body. Although she maintained that amused grin, it was clear that it was very much an oddity to her. She removed her finger and sat back, looking me over. She roared with laughter once again when my penis remained inside of me, not popping back out again. I, too, looked down in horror and absolute embarrassment. My testicles were tight and firm; my dick was short and retracted… It looked like a pale turkey timer on a pair of little walnuts. All of a sudden, I was overcome with extreme embarrassment and wanted, more than anything, to shield myself from her.
It was clear that my pushing this kink onto her would change our dynamic. In other words, she now saw me in a different light. I didn’t realize it then, but this would ultimately change the very fabric of our marriage, and nothing would ever be the same again.
The End.
*This story has been edited by AI to fix spelling, punctuation, formatting errors, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Even with the limited editing done here, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed (That’s the author’s job). The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been previously published on other free sites and is now public domain, which is why we can publish it here.