My name is Jonathan.

I’m a 35-year-old man who works as a retail manager. Day to day, my life is uneventful. I’m up and out the door by 4 AM, at work around 5 AM, where I go through the motions of putting on a smile and helping customers as I do my best to hide my contempt for those that work under me. After that, I usually sit in traffic for an hour to an hour and a half in bumper-to-bumper traffic in no hurry to get home to the apartment I share with my girlfriend.

My girlfriend’s name is Sami. Like me, Sami works in retail. She wasn’t management, but she had done it long enough to share my disdain for it. We met when I was transferred to the store. She worked as an assistant manager in a different department. I was as shy as always at my new store, but she was nice enough to help get me out of my shell. Soon after that, we would begin flirting, stealing glances at each other while the other wasn’t looking, all the while hoping the other would notice. It was all very much a matter of puppy love then. We got along wonderfully too. We had similar tastes in music, and we both enjoyed horror movies and even shared the same love of video games. All in all, it seemed like the perfect match.

Things stayed that way for about three years, and that’s when she cheated. It broke my heart, frankly. She had gone back to have a tryst with her ex-boyfriend. A mutual friend told me everything. Well, not everything, but enough detail to convince me it was time to end things and try to move on with my life.

Well, as life will do, it threw a curveball at me. I was in a serious car accident. Thankfully, I wasn’t badly hurt or anything, but it made me re-evaluate Sami’s anger. I opted to extend an olive branch to alleviate myself of anger that I felt was beginning to consume me. I sent her a text with a picture of the accident. In the text, I told her I wanted to squash all the anger and move on.

She was receptive, honestly. We began to talk again from time to time, but it was nothing more than pleasantries, at least at first. That’s how it was. Soon she began to tell me how her former ex, now current friend with benefits, was back to his old ways, the reason she broke up with him and ended up with me in the first place. Now I didn’t mind it so much. But, to be frank, it actually made me feel a bit vindicated. Not quite a ‘told you so’ moment; more of a ‘you reap what you sow’ moment, I suppose.

It wasn’t too long after this that our conversations became more frequent and more about us and our former relationship. However, we never really discussed getting back together. In fact, I assumed everything was finished and not intended to give it another shot; and life steps in again and throws a curve my way.

We’d begun to hang out occasionally. It was never anything flirtatious, let alone sexual, and it was just two friends hanging out. However, to our mutual friend, the writing was on the wall, and I couldn’t see it. So hanging out turned into the occasional lunch, then dinner, then dinner and a movie, and…well, you get the idea. Skid ahead about another year, and we are back together. It wasn’t totally the same this time around, obviously. Sure, we were together, but it’s hard to let your guard down when the past is such a recent memory.

That being said. However, we were actually in a good spot together; and then the condominium complex I lived in caught on fire. I was essentially homeless on that day, but Sami would not let that fly. She spoke to her roommate, and both insisted I move in, and given the circumstances, I was not in a position to say no. So I ended living with the two of them for the next year.

With the various insurance companies fighting it out to see who would be paying to have 4 condos completely rebuilt, I was saving all the money I could to get a new place, and thankfully, that year was all it took for me to have enough to get an apartment and enough left over for new furnishings.

It was never part of the plan, but Sami moved with me into my new apartment. I left my old roommate with the condominium, and she left her old roommate in their old apartment. Everything seemed to be falling together without really ever trying, but after living together for a little over a year and a half, the spark we once had was being to fade away. You see, when she and I first met, it was all about physical attraction, perhaps it was simply the new thrill of a young relationship that really drove it, but we couldn’t get enough of each other.

We would spend hours on the phone, try to hang out with one another whenever possible, and be one of those annoying young couples you see fawning over each other at every moment. Unfortunately, those days ended after she cheated. We did, however, rekindle a decent little flame when we reunited. Still, the shock of living together where we were solely responsible for all bills, all cleaning, all cooking, little habits began to show and douse that little flame once more.

About a year into the two of us living in our own apartment, it became apparent things were not all right. We would argue over minor issues; everything from laundry correctly to who would be making dinner turned into an argument. This also weighed heavily on the relationship in the bedroom as well. Since moving in together, we had not had sex. That’s right, a full year without sex. That alone would cause the occasional argument, which may not be all that surprising, but it didn’t come up nearly as much as the little annoyances that seemed to set us off.

That’s when I found out an ex-girlfriend of mine, Michelle, moved into the same building as us on the bottom floor, and that is where this story truly begins.

Michelle and I had actually remained somewhat close after we’d broken up. We did end things mutually after all, and our families were quite close. We’d been together for nearly a decade when we split up, so it is hard to simply not speak to one another ever again. When we first split-up, we didn’t speak much obviously, but over time we would send some friendly texts to catch up or inform each other of a band we liked playing nearby. We weren’t best friends or anything, but we were polite and could stand to be around one another.

Michelle moving in downstairs would be the moment everything in my relationship with Sami changed. Since we were reasonably friendly, I offered to help her move some of the heavier furniture, and to my surprise, she actually accepted the help. I figured she would accept it as a courtesy and politely decline, but she accepted gladly so Sami, and I were stuck helping. Sami and I helping turned into chatting a bit. Sami was telling her about the apartment complex, what the neighbors were like, and all that. They actually got along quite well.

Now, at the time, I was just pleased they didn’t hate each other. It hadn’t dawned on me that they might really get along and become friends, which is precisely what happened; very good friends over time. What began as shared pleasantries passing by on the stairs soon turned into long chatting sessions in the dog park and gossiping at the grocery store. I was rather shocked by how close they became, not to mention by how quickly it all happened, but Sami did seem genuinely pleased by the whole thing, so I wasn’t going to complain.

Unbeknownst to me, some of these conversations had become quite personal. From what Sami would later tell me, it began with Sami asking Michelle why she and I had broken up. I’d never gone into much detail about it because there really wasn’t a ton to tell, at least not from my side anyway. That one conversation, however, is what would lead to an eye-opening discussion for Sami about one of my little proclivities, which will require a bit of detail.

Back when Michelle and I were together, we were young. When we met, I was just about to hit my 21st birthday, and she, a 19-year-old about to head into her sophomore year of college. At the time, I would have been best described as young, dumb, and full of cum; whatever phrasing is equivalent would have worked well for Michelle too. We were ready, willing, and able to try anything that seemed new, mysterious, or just fun. It’s one of the traits I always missed about her. Instead, Michelle stumbled across a little fetish of mine; small penis humiliation or ‘SPH.’

Now was never much for the true humiliation side of things. All that cuckolding, the ‘beta male’ talk, never did anything for me. To me, teasing is where the arousal could be found. Whether it was a subtle joke or a knowing smile at just right the moment, it meant arousal for me. Not a raging hard-on, mind you, but enough to immediately grab my attention. That said, a woman telling me my dick was small during sex or comparing me to a much larger ex would make me stand at full attention, but I’d never actually shared that with anyone. Not even Michelle. It was my dirty little secret, my hidden joy, and my hidden shame.

So you may how did she find out? Well, in the most idiotic way, obviously. Being a young guy hungry to have my fantasies fulfilled in the most 21st century way, I would browse as much porn as possible until I found just the right video on whatever site was my go-to at the time. So, of course, one evening with the place to myself, I decided to make a few drinks for myself and go online surfing for a little SPH. About an hour and a half in, I found a video so perfect I actually downloaded a torrent of it and saved it for many masturbatory sessions to come. That point also drank me, and in my haze of fantasy and alcohol, I left it up on my screen as I shuffled off to bed for the night. As far as I know, Michelle saw it and began to piece together what she thought I would like.

I had no idea she’d seen anything at all. She actually shut down my computer, and I never thought anything of it. I was drunk after all; I assumed I’d done it since I always had before. So we live our normal lives from there on until about a week later. I don’t know why it took so long. We’d had sex a few times since that night, maybe she just needed to work up the courage actually to participate, or perhaps she was trying to figure out what to say, but the day came.

We were in bed watching some show, only partially paying attention when she began to play with my dick. Normally she would use her entire hand to rub and massage it slide up and down the length of the shaft, this time, though, she used her thumb and index finger on either side and very slowly and gently made short strokes, and my heart began to race.

Michelle continued and asked, “So how big do you think it is?”

“What?” I replied breathlessly, wondering more why she was asking.

“Your cock, how big do you think it is?”

“Uh…I don’t know. Like four and a half inches at its hardest,” I said, still a bit perplexed.

“Yeah, I like it.” Michelle looked at me smiling; I think it was to reassure me.

“Well, that’s good to know.”

“Yeah…” she leaned in close to me, her face next time looking down at my dick as she continued to stroke it slowly. Then, turning her face toward my ear, she said, “I was with a guy who was so big I had to use both hands on him. Not like you, I don’t even need my whole hand for your baby dick.”

That’s when my race really jumped, and I could feel myself swelling. At the time, I had no idea what brought this on or how I could know what kinds of things to say, but I wasn’t going to do anything that could bring this to an early end. Michelle kissed me on the cheek, continuing to give me short strokes outlining my now hard dick.

Again, she leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “I don’t mind your little dick, at least you eat pussy well, right?”

I began to exhale. My breathing was becoming heavy, and all I could do was close my eyes and immerse myself in the way her fingers felt and the way her breath felt against my ear as she whispered.

“But sometimes I think about that big cock my ex-boyfriend had,” she said. As she said those words, she began to grasp my dick with a couple of fingers, making broader strokes. “Sorry…” she let out a little giggle, “I hope it doesn’t make you feel inadequate, sweetie. Your dicklette is cute. But I think about that big, big cock of his, and I can’t help but remember how good it felt to be stretched and fucked by a real man.”

Each line was like all my fantasies had been dumped before me, all coming from my sweet Michelle.

“Do you want to know how big he was?” I could almost sense the smile on her face as she asked.

“Yes…” The reply was quiet but quick. It was the first time I’d spoken since she asked how big it was, and my excitement couldn’t be hidden.

“Ten…What were you again? Four inches hard?”

“Yes…” was all I could manage to say.

“It doesn’t compare, and he was eight inches soft. Your hard dicklette doesn’t even match his soft one…” Michelle trailed off then and pulled her hand away from my cock. The silence and her pulling her hand away were enough to break me out of my trance enough to open my eyes. As I did, I saw her pull her panties down. Michelle briefly knelt beside me before straddling me. Michelle began to grind into my hard cock. “Do you like knowing how big his cock is?”

I couldn’t even respond. All I could do was nod.

Michelle lifted her hips just enough to let me slide into her, and she dropped forward just enough, so her mouth was right next to my ear again.

As she rode me, she said, “I love your baby dick…” she began to grind hard and fast.”It fits so nicely… not too big.”

Michelle sat up and begin to ride me harder still, and she repeated over and over, “Not too big,” followed and ended with, “but not big enough to fuck me like a man should,” as we both came.

Michelle fell forward, laying against me as I was panting as though I was a young man exploring masturbation again for the first time.

“Did you like that?” she asked.

“Yeah… How did you…” she answered before I could finish.

“I saw that video on your computer. I liked it. So glad I did too, it was fun,” Michelle smiled as she said, and so did I. “By the way, that was all true.”

That’s how Michelle found out about my little fetish and became the first and only person ever actually to go along with it. It was one of the most thrilling sexual experiences I’d ever had. Looking back, I sometimes wish we’d tried a tad harder to keep things going, but that’s how life goes, I suppose.

Michelle had told nearly every detail of this story to Sami during one of their conversations. Sure, maybe some of the specifics were lost to history or even recalled in a slightly different manner, but the essence was there. With Michelle telling that story, Sami became only the second woman to have any idea about my fetish, and a flamed had been sparked.

As I understand it, Sami asked Michelle if she thought I would like something in particular, and Michelle apparently said. So what was it that actually caused our sex to rise like a phoenix?

After they’d had this heart, Sami and I would run into Michelle as usual, but they would smirk at each other and giggle like a couple of school girls. Finally, I could swear I heard Michelle ask, “Did you do it yet?”

Now and then, but I just chalked it up to my imagination. Mostly because I had no idea what it was. Eventually, though, we were getting ready for bed. We had just put our puppy in its pen for the night, potty training really is a pain, by the way, and we set off for bed just like usual. We did our nightly ritual of undressing, brushing our teeth; all the usual mundane tasks, but when we got in bed, Sami was much closer to me than usual. I mean, we had a king-size bed to have a lot of space, so it seemed a bit odd.

Sami looked at me and asked, “Can we talk about something?”

“Sure.”

I was, of course, thinking this would somehow end in a fight or tears, nothing good certainly.

“Well, I feel bad that we haven’t had sex,” she said quite bluntly and turned away from me and began looking toward the ceiling. Sami even dropped her hands by her sides dramatically like saying it was some huge release.

“Ok. I agree. It’s been a very long time and…”

“I know, and I think it’s my fault,” Sami interrupted, laying her hand on my chest.

“What do you mean?”

Sami began to rub her fingertips over my chest and stomach.

“Well, I don’t entirely know. I mean, I’m not certain, but sometimes I think I just got spoiled with my ex…” Sami looked up at me with a half-hearted smile. I think she could tell that I was a bit hurt by this. “It’s nothing bad, hun, and you’re a great boyfriend. You’re kind, funny, cute, and you’re OK in bed too.”

Sami said all this as I was watching intently, not paying any attention to the fact that her hand was inching closer and closer to my boxers.

I really was puzzled by this. “So what do you mean? I’m not really following.”

“Well, you remember me saying everything between him and me was one hundred percent physical?”

“Sure.”

“It really was. We never really had a ton in common aside from a few things. In fact…” the tips of her fingers were slipping into my waistband, “You and I have far more in common.”

“OK, I’m still not following you,” I replied with a slight chuckle.

Sami slipped her full hand into my boxers then, and I took a deep breath.

“I love you, baby, but he was just so much bigger than you….”

There it was, that rush, that feeling of ecstasy I hadn’t felt since Michelle and I were together. All I could do was close my eyes and take it in.

“I love you, and your dick feels good…” she was stroking me now, with only her thumb and index finger. It’s held firm, but the movement was gentle and short. “But he could touch in places your baby dick just can’t.”

Sami was still stroking me, and I was getting harder and harder by the moment.

“Is that why we haven’t had sex in so long? My dick isn’t satisfying you?”

“Yes…” Sami answered quickly and took a short breath, her mouth now next to my ear as if hesitating. The anticipation was killing me. “It’s also why I cheated on you.”

Sami went silent and kept stroking. I swear she must’ve just thrown it out there to see what would happen. My cock got rock hard. That is what happened, and Sami knew it was a shot in the dark that worked in her favor.

“I’m sorry, baby…”

I managed to mutter, “Don’t be…” through my heavy breathing, eyes still closed, enjoying every moment of this.

“Good…” I sense a bit of relief in that. “Because I don’t regret fucking that big cock one last time. I needed that cum so badly, a cum your tiny dickie can’t give me.”

With that, I was on the verge of cumming all over myself. Sami stopped and rolled over to her nightstand, and pulled something out quickly. Sami shoved it in my hand.

“Stroke this while I stroke your clitty.”

I did. As Sami made intentionally short strokes, I was made to stroke up and down a very large black cock dildo.

“That’s what it’s like to stroke a really big cock.”

‘Wow’ was all that popped to mind. Sami was incredible at this.

“Now you know….” Sami whispered.

With that, I came.

Hard.

Luckily for me, that was the first of several times, but I think I’ll save those for another story.

Thanks, Michelle, I owe ya one.

The End.