The Small Dick Club: SPH-THEMED STORIES

Living alone, I have always hated housework, and sometimes I just let it slide until it reached a point where I had to do it. But one day, on a whim, I decided to do housework naked. The idea appealed to my exhibitionist streak. It started a few years back when I moved into this quiet suburban neighborhood. My place has these big floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and kitchen, facing the backyard and the side yard that borders my neighbor’s property. The thrill of it? Knowing someone could glance over at any moment and catch me bare-assed, scrubbing counters or vacuuming rugs with my tiny dick swinging free. I’m not hung, my cock’s pathetic, maybe an inch soft, shrinking to a little button when I’m nervous or cold. But that exposure risk makes my heart race, and yeah, it gets me half-hard just thinking about it.

Most days, I strip down as soon as I get home from work, then toss my clothes into a pile by the door. The air hits my skin, cool against my bare chest and legs, and I feel that familiar tingle in my groin. I start with the kitchen, wiping down the counters, bending over to reach the sink, my small balls dangling low. Every so often, I peek out the window, scanning for movement next door. There’s this woman who lives there—mid-30s, curvy with short dark hair, always friendly when we wave hello. I’ve fantasized about her spotting me, her eyes widening at my exposed nub, maybe smirking or calling out. It never happens, but the possibility keeps me motivated, dick twitching as I mop the floors on all fours, ass up in the air.

One Saturday afternoon, it was hotter than usual, the sun pouring through the windows as I tackled the living room. I’d been at it for an hour, naked and sweating, feather duster in hand, swiping at shelves while my little cock bobbed with each step. I was in the zone, that exhibitionist buzz making my skin flush, when suddenly—knock knock knock. Sharp raps on the front door jolted me upright. Shit. Who could that be? I froze for a second, heart pounding, my soft dick shrinking even smaller from the surprise.

“Wait a minute!” I yelled, voice cracking a bit as I darted toward the hallway where I’d left my robe slung over a chair.

Just grab it, cover up, no big deal. But as I lunged, the door creaked open. Oh fuck, no, she must’ve misheard me. ‘Come in?’ That’s what she thought I said? Panic hit me like a truck as the door swung wide, and there she was: my neighbor, holding a glass dish covered in foil, probably some baked goods she’d borrowed or something. Her eyes locked right on me—buck naked, standing there with my hands fumbling uselessly in the air, trying to shield my crotch.

She stepped inside before I could react, the door clicking shut behind her. Her gaze dropped straight to my groin, and time slowed. My tiny dick was on full display, shriveled to nothing from the shock, just a sad little worm nestled against my balls. No hiding it. Her mouth opened, then she burst out laughing—loud, genuine guffaws that echoed off the walls. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late; tears formed in her eyes as she doubled over slightly, the dish wobbling in her grip.

“Oh my God,” she managed between gasps, pointing right at it with her free hand. “Is that… all you’ve got down there? It’s so fucking small!”

Her words sliced through me, humiliation flooding my face with heat. I scrambled back, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch to cover myself, but she was already in hysterics, wiping her eyes.

“I thought I heard someone come in, sorry, but holy shit, warn a girl next time! Or don’t— that thing’s hilarious. Like a baby carrot or something.”

I stammered, mortified, “I said wait, not come in. Please, just… the dish?”

But she couldn’t stop, her laughter bubbling up again as she set it on the entry table, still glancing down at the pillow as she could see through it. My mind raced with shame; everyone in the neighborhood would know now, the guy with the micro-dick who cleans naked. Yet, under the burning embarrassment, my cock stirred. It thickened against the fabric, the tiniest bulge forming as her mockery sank in. She noticed, snorting harder.

“Wait, is it… growing? Aw, that’s cute. Still won’t fill a thimble, though.”

She backed toward the door, still chuckling, waving dismissively.

“Thanks for the laugh, neighbor. Keep up the naked cleaning. Maybe next time I’ll bring binoculars.”

The door closed, and I stood there, pillow clutched tight, my four-inch erection now straining pathetically. The shame twisted in my gut, but so did the arousal, hot and insistent. I dropped the pillow, hand wrapping around my shaft, stroking fast as her laughter replayed in my head. I came in seconds, spurting weakly onto the floor I’d just cleaned, body shaking from the rush.

That night, and every night since, I relive it while jerking off. Her pointing, her tears of laughter, calling my dick a baby carrot. It makes me hard every time, that degrading thrill pushing me over the edge. I haven’t stopped cleaning naked. If anything, it’s more intense now, windows wide open, hoping she’ll peek again and mock me to my face.

She certainly smirks at me when I see her outside, and a few times she’s given me the small dick sign—🤏.

 

The End.

 

 

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