Ryan Goes to Group Therapy
By Whiteboiwife.
The chairs were set in a semi-circle, facing a small folding table with a projector sitting dormant on top. Ten or so men were already there, scattered in the chairs or lingering against the walls. A few gave him a nod, most avoided eye contact, and all seemed to carry the same subtle tension: slumped shoulders, crossed arms, heads ducked slightly, as if they, too, had walked in wondering if this was a mistake.
Ryan swallowed and walked to an open seat near the middle, his jeans feeling tighter than usual against his thighs. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was shame. His brown eyes flitted from one man to the next–diverse in shape, skin tone, and age, but bound by the unspoken reason they were all here.
“Support Group for Men Experiencing Size-Related Confidence Challenges,” the sign on the bulletin board had read. His partner, Trevor, had sent it to him with a gentle nudge–“Could be good for you, babe. Just… talk it out.” He wasn’t wrong. Things had felt off lately.
The incident at work and his birthday party had been a lot. Trevor had convinced him to come out about having a small dick to his family… but he certainly guided him into the two other situations.
Ryan shifted in his seat and crossed his legs, unsure what made him more uncomfortable–the idea of talking to strangers about his size, or the fact that none of them were talking at all.
The door opened behind him with a soft whoosh of air, and then everything in the room changed.
Bootsteps echoed on the linoleum. Heavy, confident.
The man who entered moved like he didn’t need to check a schedule to know he belonged. He was broad-shouldered, thick-chested, muscles stretching the seams of his black t-shirt, which was tucked neatly into tight, faded jeans that hugged his hips like a second skin. His hair was slicked back, glossy under the sterile lights, and his jaw held just a hint of stubble–sharp, deliberate.
He didn’t look like a man who struggled with anything.
“Gentlemen,” he said smoothly, his voice low and commanding, carrying just enough authority to make a few men sit up straighter. “Welcome. I’m Thomas Collins. I’ll be leading tonight’s session.”
Ryan blinked. That was the group leader?
Thomas gave the room a once-over, his eyes pausing on each man in turn, as if measuring something unspoken. When he looked at Ryan, it was only for a second–but something in that gaze made Ryan feel pinned to his chair.
“This is a safe space,” Thomas continued, stepping forward and folding his arms, his biceps bulging with the movement. “But that doesn’t mean easy. If you’re here, I expect honesty. Vulnerability. And obedience.”
The last word hung in the air for a beat too long.
Ryan felt a flicker of confusion — or maybe arousal. He couldn’t tell. He shifted again in his chair.
Thomas smiled faintly, as he knew.
“I’ll ask each of you to share before we begin tonight’s… demonstration.”
Demonstration? Ryan’s brow furrowed.
Across the room, one of the men leaned forward slightly in his chair, a flush creeping up his neck. Another crossed his arms tighter, his breath shallow.
Trevor hadn’t mentioned that.
Thomas stood at the front of the semi-circle, his arms still crossed over his broad chest as he surveyed the room. He didn’t reach for a clipboard or take notes. He didn’t need to. His gaze alone had weight.
“We’ll begin with a few stories,” he said. “What brings you here. What’s broken? What hurts?” He let the words hang in the air like a challenge, “I’d like you to state your name first. It doesn’t have to be your real name. I know many guys who are inadequate in the dick department don’t like people to know who they are in real life. Just a name we can recognize you with. Followed by the length of your hard cock.”
There was a familiar sting to the man’s words.
No one spoke right away.
Then, from the far end of the arc, a man cleared his throat.
He was stocky, pale, mid-forties maybe, with a nervous tremble in his voice. “Uh… I’m Carl. I’m 4 inches. I guess I’ll start.” He glanced around, cheeks already reddening. “My ex-wife used to joke that I was… ‘fun-sized.’ You know. Like the candy bars.”
A few of the men chuckled slightly.
“She only said it when she was drinking, but… yeah. Eventually, it stopped being a joke.” His voice faltered. “She cheated. With a guy who, uh, was at least three times my size.”
There were a few uncomfortable chair shifts. No laughter. Just silence.
Thomas nodded once. “Thank you, Aaron.”
Aaron gave a small nod, but didn’t lift his eyes from the floor.
Next, a wiry man with dark skin and a clean-shaven head spoke up. He sat with his legs crossed tight, ankles hooked, as if holding himself together. “The name is Mike. Dick size 3 inches. I was a top… briefly. First guy I ever brought home laughed when he saw me naked,” he said flatly. “Said I should’ve warned him. I was twenty. I didn’t date for four years after that.”
Ryan’s gut clenched. He pressed his hands against his thighs, his palms suddenly damp. And yet knowing there was another gay man here made him feel oddly at ease.
Thomas remained still. Focused. Present. “You stayed silent for four years. Clearly, you didn’t want to disappoint anyone else with your tiny dick. Understandable,” he repeated. “But not tonight. We are speaking up!”
Then a tall man in a flannel shirt leaned forward, his voice deep but subdued. “I’m Alex. I got cornered by a group of coworkers once. Gym locker room. They started joking, real subtle at first. Then one of them just asked me point-blank, ‘Is that really it?'” He gave a bitter laugh. “I transferred departments a month later.”
“And your dick size?” Thomas pressed.
“Sorry.” Alex muttered, “Three and a half inches.”
“Always gotta add that half an inch! Gotta get as much dick as you can!” Thomas gave a light chuckle.
Ryan stared at the floor, chest tightening. Every story echoed pieces of his own–echoes of Trevor’s soft reassurances, of that birthday party flash of exposure, of locker room laughter.
It wasn’t just him.
Thomas turned then, and Ryan could feel it before he heard it–the shift in the room’s attention. The slow silence that wrapped around him like a spotlight.
“How about you?”
His heart shivered when he saw the leader’s eyes fall on him.
Thomas was watching him with a calm, unreadable expression. And now so was everyone else.
“Would you like to share?”
Ryan hesitated. His mouth was dry. He could feel his heartbeat in his neck.
“I… uh…” His voice cracked. “My partner suggested I come. My name is Ryan.”
Fuck. He hadn’t meant to use his real name!
Thomas raised a brow. “Why and how big are you?”
Ryan licked his lips, searching for words. “I’m three inches. I’ve just… I’ve been feeling self-conscious lately after a couple of things that happened. People noticing. Saying things. Or not saying them, which somehow feels worse. My partner suggested coming out about having a small dick… and so I did a few times.”
Someone near him nodded.
“There was this moment at work,” he continued. “When a video and a few photos from my birthday party were exposed to my coworkers.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“What happened?” Someone to his left asked.
“I was demoted. I was the events sales lead, but now I’m a housekeeper at the hotel I work at.” The words were sharp in his throat, “My husband was supportive as always.”
“Damn.” Thomas said softly, “Well, at least you weren’t fired, I suppose! Thank you, Ryan,” he said. “There is strength in exposure. Even when the world tries to make it shameful, that’s why you’re here.”
“How about you, Thomas?” A red-headed man in khaki shorts asked.
“What about me?” Thomas asked, leaning forward.
“Do you have a story to share?” The man inquired.
The entire room seemed to lift in their seats.
“About having a small dick?” Thomas let out a small chuckle, “Hell no, I have a 12-inch hog, not one of the clit dicks ya’ll are talking about.”
There was silence again.
Ryan bit his lip.
“Good,” he said finally. “Now that we’ve broken the ice… It’s time to show you what this group is really about.”
He reached for a remote, clicked the projector on.
The screen flickered to life behind him.
Ryan blinked.
What appeared on the wall wasn’t a chart or a PowerPoint. It was a dimly lit video — grainy and intimate. A man, naked. Kneeling. His cock is small, soft, and exposed. Another man–taller, broader–loomed above him, fully clothed, one hand gripping the kneeling man’s hair, the other stroking slowly down his face.
Ryan’s breath caught.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Thomas didn’t even look at the screen. His eyes stayed fixed on the room, calm and sure.
“This,” he said, voice low, “is where shame becomes surrender. Each of you is stuck with dicks that make you feel like less of a man, am I right?”
Thomas paused, and a few of the men let out small sounds of agreement.
“And there’s a reason for that.” Thomas continued. Clicking the screen, an image of a small ick appeared on the wall. It was white, at best, three inches. It rested on two of the smallest balls Ryan had ever seen… aside from his own. “You are quite literally less of a man! You’re missing cock where at least 5 to 8 more inches are needed!”
Ryan’s thighs tensed involuntarily. The room felt hotter. Tighter.
“And you need to learn to accept this.” Thomas nodded as he looked over the crowds. “Before I continue my speech and bore you all to oblivion, I want each of you to do something for me.” Within a few moments, his eyes made contact with every man in the room, “I want each of you to pull down your pants.
A murmur fell over the room.
“There is no reason to feel insecure here, men.” The instructor continued, “We all know each of us is packing less than average shrimp dicks,, am I right?” Thomas laughed, “Come on, everyone, pull them down!” No one listened. Thomas smiled. “Fine. I’ll go first.”
Grabbing the sides of his slacks, he slowly pulled the band and belt down, revealing the dark fabric.
As the fabric hit the floor, the room fell silent.
Thomas stood at the front of the half circle with the fattest dick most of them had seen. The uncut cock was almost down to his knees, and it was soft!
“See, you can do it!” Thomas announced, “There is no reason to be ashamed of your little dicks!”
Again, no one moved. The anaconda, which now watched them from the front of the room, didn’t give anyone the confidence to share.
“Ryan.”
His name sent chills down his body.
“You are accustomed to sharing your dick in front of crowds of people. How about you go first, and hopefully everyone will follow.” Thoman gestured to the man sitting across the way.
Ryan felt his blood run cold.
Thomas wasn’t wrong. He had been exposed at his birthday party, at his job, and he even told his family about how small his dick was. Many of them still weren’t talking to him!
But what did he have to be ashamed of here? In a room full of men, all here for the same reason he was.
With the same shortcomings as him.
Ryan took a deep breath and got to his feet.
Time seemed to be moving at an unreasonable pace.
Gripping the sides of his pants the same way Thomas had, he pulled at the fabric, keeping him safe from the world. With a soft tug, he began pulling down his clothes.
Letting the fabric hit the floor, Ryan stood upright, his eyes locked on a far wall as all the eyes of the room fell on his one-inch soft dick.
Thomas concealed a chuckle.
“See everyone! If Ryan can expose his shrimp-sized dick, so can all of you!” The man with the 9-inch cock shouted out. His voice bounced off the grayish walls.
Slowly, Ryan looked to the men around him. Slowly, one by one, they began to stand.
Some pulled at their shorts and pants while others unbuckled their belts.
Clothing began to fall around the circle as each one of the men exposed their genitalia to the other attendees.
Ryan’s eyes widened as he looked over all the penises around him. Some were circumcised, others not. Some were almost covered in a mound of pubes, while others had been shaved clean.
He was in shock.
All the men were smaller but…
It became painstakingly clear; Ryan was the smallest one there. His one-inch dick pointed straight out from his body, not enough length to hang.
Even the man who stated he was three inches the same as him was clearly mismeasuring, as his dick was already two times the size of Ryan’s, and he wasn’t even hard!
A strange mood seemed to shift as each of these men, as small as they were, was just glad they weren’t the smallest.
An honor Ryan had the privilege of holding.
“Great!” Thomas called out. As he moved, his nine in soft cock sways like a pendulum beneath him, “Thank you, Ryan, for being the bravest in the room…” His eyes landed on Ryan’s barely visible dick, “Very, very brave.” He almost muttered.
Slowly, the men around the room, now exposed, took their seats again.
Ryan followed their actions. His small balls pressed against the cold surface of the chair.
How could he be the smallest one in a room of tiny dicked men?
It suddenly seemed like he was the only man experiencing “size-related confidence challenges.”
Thomas clicked his button, and a much larger and much more robust cock appeared next to the smaller, frail one on the screen.
“Now that we all know and can see each other’s sizes, I would like to continue.” The leader’s voice bellowed strong, “Each one of you is struggling to satisfy your partners with your dicks, miss out on opportunities, and fail as men in your everyday lives. And it’s understandable. I can only imagine what I’d be like too if I hadn’t been blessed with such an incredible dick.”
His voice trailed off as Ryan’s mind raced. His eyes were locked onto that incredible dick that bounces and swayed with Thomas’ every move as he tried to explain why having a small dick wasn’t that big a deal.
~~~~~~
Ryan pushed the front door open, the familiar scent of garlic and onions hanging in the air. The house was warm, almost too warm, the soft clatter of pans drifting from the kitchen. Trevor stood at the stove, apron tied carelessly at his waist, stirring something that smelled rich and comforting.
“Hey,” Trevor said gently, glancing up with a hopeful smile. “Perfect timing. Dinner’s almost ready. How was it? The meeting?”
Ryan lingered by the door, his coat still on, hands balled into fists at his sides. His jaw worked, but no words came at first. His eyes were glassy, red at the rims, like he’d been holding back more than he wanted Trevor to see.
“It’s…” Ryan exhaled, the word caught between a laugh and a curse. He shook his head and finally shrugged his coat off, tossing it carelessly onto the chair. “It’s not exactly what I expected.”
His voice carried an edge — anger, but also exhaustion. Sadness. Like he had gone in hoping for something he couldn’t quite name, only to walk away emptier.
Trevor turned off the stove and wiped his hands, studying him quietly. “What do you mean?”
Ryan dragged a hand through his hair, his lips pressed tight, emotions flashing raw across his face. He looked at his husband, “You know what I mean… you know what you sent me to…” he paused, “Don’t you?”
Trevor stepped closer, folding the dish towel over his hands. “Just… tell me how it felt. What happened in there?” A sinister grin began to appear on his husband’s face.
Ryan’s laugh was sharp, humorless. “How did it feel?” He shook his head, pacing a few steps. “It felt like walking into a damn confessional of small, dicked men. Strangers staring at my…” he paused, “at my dick. I wasn’t expecting them to make us… Take our pants off.”
“That made you de-pants?” Trevor almost chuckled but held it back. “I… I didn’t know exactly what it would be like. Not in detail.”
“Bullshit.” Ryan’s voice cracked with anger. “You sent me there knowing I’d sit in a room full of small dicked men and be the smallest tin in the room!”
Trevor snorted.
“Ryan, I swear. How was I supposed to know all the men in the program were going to be bigger than you?” He reached out to touch his husband’s arm, but he pulled away, “It’s not my fault you have such a tiny dick. You shouldn’t take that out on me.”
Ryan’s hands curled at his sides, trembling with the weight of emotions he couldn’t hold in. His eyes burned with betrayal, but beneath the fire was hurt, a deep, aching sadness. But he knew his husband was right. He wasn’t the reason he had been born with a smaller-than-adequate dick. In fact, he chose to stay with him regardless of what he found out.
“Come here, baby.” Trevor reached for his husband again, hesitating only briefly to see his reaction. He didn’t pull back.
Grabbing his partner by the arm, he pulled him into his arms. The smell of garlic and onion mixed with a deep woody cologne lingered on his body. The pair lingered there for a moment before Trevor finally decided to speak.
“I’m sorry you have such a useless dick, babe.” He spoke softly in Ryan’s ear, “I do hope you go back and maybe can make some sort of peace with that as you come out to everyone about it. I love you, babe.”
Ryan’s breath hitched, his anger colliding with something softer, something that cracked through the armor he was holding up. Trevor’s teeth grazed his earlobe, a playful nip against the rawness of the moment. Ryan exhaled, shaky, his fists unclenching at his sides.
“Trevor…” His protest was half-hearted, already fading as Trevor’s lips trailed along his jaw.
Their mouths met, tentative at first, then deeper, fueled by the storm of emotions neither could put into words. The kiss carried frustration, longing, and a desperate need to remind each other what lay beneath the arguments: love.
Ryan’s hands finally lifted, clutching Trevor’s shirt as though grounding himself, as if to say Don’t let go.
Ryan’s grip on Trevor’s shirt tightened, pulling him closer, their bodies pressing flush together. The warmth of the kitchen, the smell of dinner still hanging in the air, faded into the background. What mattered was the heat building between them.
Trevor deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of Ryan’s neck, the other moving down to rest at his waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. Ryan shivered at the touch, his breath catching, a low sound escaping against Trevor’s mouth.
The anger that had weighed on him moments ago bled into hunger–desperate, almost reckless. He tilted his head, kissing Trevor harder, nipping at his lower lip. Trevor groaned softly in response, pressing Ryan more firmly against the table, his thigh sliding between Ryan’s.
Ryan broke away for just a second, gasping, eyes dark and searching. “You point out how small my dick is,” he whispered, voice rough, “and then you do this–”
Trevor cut him off with another kiss, murmuring against his lips, “Because I know what you need.” His hand roamed up Ryan’s chest, fingers brushing over his skin as he pushed the shirt higher. Ryan’s hips instinctively rolled against him, the tension between them shifting into something fierce, undeniable.
Ryan knew he was right.
Their kisses grew messy and urgent, tongues tangling, teeth scraping, hands roaming, a mixture of frustration and longing. The dinner plates rattled faintly on the table as Trevor pressed harder, grinding against Ryan, both of them lost in the fire they’d stoked.
Ryan placed his hands on Trevor’s head and began pushing him down. For a moment, the man followed only, sinking as low as his partner’s chest before realizing what Ryan was attempting to do.
He chuckled before pushing back up through Ryan’s grip.
“Baby…” He smiled sweetly, “You know I’m not putting that thing in my mouth.” His smile turned to a scowl. “How about you?”
Following his husband’s motions, he pushed the man down. Ryan didn’t refuse. He never did. He simply sank to his knees.
The polished mahogany dining table gleamed under the soft glow of the chandelier, its surface reflecting the dim light like a dark mirror. Ryan knelt on the plush area rug beneath it, his pale knees pressing into the fibers, his slender frame trembling just slightly, not from cold, but from anticipation. His light blond hair, tousled from nervous fingers, fell forward as he bowed his head, his breath shallow.
Trevor stood over him, his broad shoulders casting a shadow that swallowed Ryan whole.
Ryan watched as his husband unbuttoned his shirt and began to pull it back.
Instinctively, he reached for the man’s zipper.
The dark hair on his chest tapered down into a thick trail, disappearing beneath the waistband of his half-unbuttoned slacks. His cock already strained against the fabric, the outline obscene, the heavy weight of his balls shifting as he stepped closer.
Ryan’s fingers twitched at his sides, his own pathetic three-inch dick, soft, almost hidden in the pale curls at the base of his abdomen, feeling even smaller in comparison. He didn’t dare touch it. Didn’t dare think about it. Not when Trevor’s presence alone made his pulse stutter.
“Look at you,” Trevor murmured, his voice rough, amused. His fingers tangled in Ryan’s hair, not gentle, not cruel, just possessive. “Already trembling like a little small dicked slut before I’ve even given you permission to touch me.” He chuckled.
Ryan’s throat worked, his lips parting. “I… I just want to please you.”
Trevor chuckled, low and dark, the sound vibrating through Ryan’s chest. “Oh, you will. But first, let’s see your mouth in action.” His free hand dropped to his waistband, popping the button with a sharp snap.
The zipper followed, the teeth parting with a slow, deliberate hiss, and then his cock sprang free, thick, veined, already half-hard and swelling further as Ryan’s breath hitched. The heavy sack beneath hung low, the skin wrinkled, the weight of it making Ryan’s own empty balls ache with something like envy.
Ryan leaned in without hesitation, his tongue flicking out to trace the underside of Trevor’s shaft. The taste was salt, and man, the scent intoxicating. His lips wrapped around the broad head, his jaw stretching as he took more, his throat already protesting. Trevor’s grip tightened in his hair, guiding him down, down, until the tip of his cock nudged the back of Ryan’s throat.
“That’s it,” Trevor groaned, his hips rolling forward just enough to make Ryan gag. “Take it like the good little whore you are.” His other hand dropped to Ryan’s shoulder, fingers digging in as he thrust shallowly, testing. “Fuck, look at you. Choking on my dick like it’s the only thing you’re good for!”
Ryan’s eyes watered, his nose pressing against the coarse thatch of pubic hair, the scent of Trevor’s arousal filling his senses. His own cock twitched, a pathetic little jerk against his thigh, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the weight of Trevor’s cock on his tongue, the way his husband’s breath hitched when Ryan hollowed his cheeks and sucked just right.
His mind couldn’t help but drift back to Thomas’s big swinging dick at the front of the room of men.
Trevor pulled back slightly, letting Ryan breathe before shoving him down again. “You like that?” he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. “You can’t even take half of it without gagging. And that thing between your legs?” He reached down, his fingers brushing Ryan’s thigh before giving his tiny, soft cock a dismissive flick. Ryan flinched, a whimper escaping around the mouthful of flesh. “What is that, even? A peanut? A fucking raisin? Is that what they called it at the meeting today?”
Ryan’s face burned, but his cock, traitor that it was, twitched again, a bead of precum welling at the tip. Trevor laughed, the sound rich and cruel, and shoved Ryan’s head down harder. “That’s all you are, isn’t it? A pretty little hole for me to fuck, with a dick so small it might as well not exist.”
Ryan moaned, the sound muffled, his hips jerking involuntarily. The humiliation coiled low in his gut, twisting with something darker, something that made his ass clench and his hole ache to be filled.
Trevor must have felt it. His grip shifted, his fingers digging into Ryan’s scalp as he pulled him off with a wet pop. “On the table,” he ordered, his voice rough with need. “Now.”
Ryan scrambled to obey, his limbs unsteady as he leaned over the edge of the already set dining table, the wood cool and smooth beneath his palms. He bent over, ass in the air, his tiny cock pressing against the polished surface, already leaking.
A few of the glasses shook at the table, jerked about.
Ryan felt Trevor’s hands were on him in an instant, spreading his cheeks, spitting onto his hole before rubbing the moisture in with a thick finger.
“Fuck, you’re always so eager,” Trevor murmured, his cock dragging against Ryan’s thighs. “I want you to tell me how that meeting made you feel.”
Ryan didn’t respond.
“Tell me!” Trevor demanded, running he head of his dick over his husband’s hole.
Ryan whimpered, pushing back against the teasing touch. Closing his eyes, he took himself back to the room of men in a circle, each with their small dicks on display. “I was embarrassed.” He muttered, “Humiliated. I knew I was small, but I didn’t expect to be… the smallest.”
Trevor smiled at his words. He half wished he’d been there to see the show. Just the idea made his dick even stiffer. The head of his cock pressed against Ryan’s entrance, thick and relentless, stretching him open with one brutal shove.
Ryan cried out, his fingers clawing at the table beneath him, his tiny cock throbbing uselessly against the wood. Trevor didn’t stop. He didn’t care. His hips snapped forward, his balls slapping against Ryan’s ass with every thrust, the sound wet and obscene.
The silverware and glasses clinked about as the man took up with no signs of remorse for his partner.
“Look at you,” Trevor grunted, his hands gripping Ryan’s hips hard enough to bruise. “Taking my cock like a good little bitch, your tiny dick just twitching like it wants to be useful!” He reached beneath Ryan, his fingers wrapping around the pitiful 3 inches, squeezing just enough to make Ryan gasp. “Pathetic. It doesn’t even move when I touch it! It must have been quite the sight to see a room of small dicked losers and you… the king of them all!”
Trevor laughed.
Ryan sobbed, his face burning, his hole clenching around Trevor’s cock. “I, I’m sorry…”
“Sorry for what?” Trevor’s thrusts grew harder, his breath ragged. “For being a worthless little cumdump? For having a dick so small it might as well be a clit?” He laughed, the sound sharp and cruel, and Ryan’s cock jerked, a thin string of precum dripping onto the table.
Ryan didn’t answer. He had spent all evening with Thomas showing him group videos on self-confidence and the importance of penis size.
Trevor’s fingers tightened, his thumb pressing against the underside of Ryan’s dick, rubbing in slow, mocking circles. “Does it feel good, baby? Being reminded how useless you are?”
“Y… y…yes,” Ryan whimpered, his hips stuttering back against Trevor’s thrusts. “Yes, baby.”
Trevor’s chuckle turned into a groan, his cock swelling inside Ryan, his balls drawing up tight. “Fuck, you’re such a slut for this.” His hand left Ryan’s dick, gripping his hip instead, his nails biting into flesh as he pounded into him, the table creaking beneath them. “You get off on having such a little clit dick, don’t you?”
Ryan hated to admit it, but it was true. He had hoped to be a man as all little boys did, but as he got older, he realized that was never going to be the case.
“Yes!” he shouted. His voice was almost echoing off the dining room walls.
“I’m gonna fill you up, baby!” Trevor grunted into his husband’s ear. With every desperate thrust, the tableware clanked and threatened to fall from the surface, “I’m gonna cover you in my cum and leave you here, dripping, your tiny shrimp dick still soft!”
Ryan’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hole burning, his body trembling on the edge of something, pleasure, humiliation, need. Trevor’s cock pulsed inside him, thick and relentless.
Trevor pulled out with a wet schlick, his cock slapping against Ryan’s ass. Ryan whined, his hole clenching around nothing, his tiny dick throbbing. Trevor’s hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking once, twice…
“Fuck! Fuuuuck!” Trevor groaned, and then he was cumming, thick ropes of cum splattering across Ryan’s back, his ass, the table beneath him. The first shot hit Ryan’s shoulder blade, hot and sticky, the next landing just above his crack, slipping down to tease his hole. Trevor laughed, breathless, his cock still twitching as he painted Ryan with his release, the final spurts weak but no less marking.
Ryan stayed bent over, his chest heaving, his tiny cock still soft, still unwanted. Cum dripped down his spine, cooling in the air, the scent of sex thick and overwhelming.
Trevor stepped back, surveying his work. He tucked his cock away with a satisfied sigh and adjusted his slacks, his fingers lingering on the button as he smirked down at Ryan. “Maybe next time you’ll learn to keep up, baby.”
Ryan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat was raw, his body trembling, his tiny cock lying limp against the table, a pathetic contrast to the mess Trevor had left behind.
Trevor chuckled, turning away. “Clean this up when you’re done. And don’t even think about touching that sad little thing between your legs.”
Trevor, grinning to himself, glanced at the scattered plates on the table. He let out a short laugh, the tension in the room breaking at last.
“Well,” Trevor said, smoothing his shirt with exaggerated care, “looks like dinner’s going to need reheating.”
Trevor gathered a few of the dishes from the table and carried them back toward the kitchen, humming under his breath like nothing in the world had gone wrong. Ryan stayed motionless for a moment longer.
Finally, he leaned down to pick up his shorts. He could feel a small trail of his husband’s semen press against his body as the fabric met with the liquid.
Something softened in him then, loosening the knot of frustration and sadness he’d carried home. A quiet smile crept across his face, small but sure. Despite everything, the arguments, the meetings, the hard truths about his inadequate dick, he knew in that moment he was happy. He was in love.
And that, he thought, made the rest of it bearable.
The End.
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