SPH-THEMED EROTICA STORIES

Some years ago, I finally mustered the courage to ask out a woman I’d known socially for ages, a bubbly blonde in her mid-40s, standing about 5’4 with a stunning figure that turned heads everywhere she went. Her curves were just right, especially those perfect tits that filled out her tops without spilling over, drawing my eyes every time we chatted at parties. She was the touchy-feely type, always hugging hello and goodbye, her hands lingering a bit too long on my arm or shoulder, which fueled my fantasies of getting her into bed for years.

After a couple of casual dates, dinner, and a movie where she laughed at my jokes and brushed her leg against mine under the table, I walked her to her door, heart pounding with hope. The air was cool, but the heat between us built as I pulled her close for our first real kiss. Her lips were soft and eager, tasting faintly of the wine we’d shared. We wrapped our arms around each other, bodies pressing tight, and I could feel the swell of her breasts against my chest, her hips grinding subtly into me as the kiss deepened.

That’s when it happened. My pathetic little three-and-three-quarter-inch boner, hard as it could get, poked insistently against her thigh through my jeans. It wasn’t much of a bulge, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, but she felt it. She pulled back suddenly, her blue eyes dropping to my crotch with a mix of surprise and something else, like disappointment mixed with amusement. She stared at the tiny tent in my pants, her full lips curling into a smirk that made my stomach drop.

“Wait, is that it?” she asked, her voice light and bubbly as always, but laced with a teasing edge that cut right through me. She reached down without hesitation, her fingers brushing over the small lump, giving it a gentle squeeze that confirmed just how insignificant it was. “Oh my god, that’s your dick? It’s like… nothing. I thought you were packing something decent after all those flirty hugs over the years.”

My face burned with shame as she laughed, a genuine, girlish giggle that echoed in the quiet night. She stepped back, still eyeing my groin like it was the punchline to a bad joke.

“No wonder you’ve been so shy about making a move. That little thing wouldn’t even tickle. I’ve had bigger fingers, honey. What were you planning to do with that? Poke me?”

Her words stung, each one hammering home how inadequate I was, but my cock twitched traitorously in my pants, aroused by the humiliation.

She shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing, and placed a hand on her hip, thrusting out those perfect tits as if to emphasize what I’d never satisfy. “I mean, look at you, getting all worked up over nothing. If that’s the best you’ve got, no way am I letting you anywhere near me. Save it for someone who doesn’t mind training wheels.”

Another peal of laughter escaped her, and she turned toward her door, pausing just long enough to glance back with pity in her eyes.

“Thanks for the dates, but we’re done. Go find a magnifying glass or something.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me standing there, erection deflating under the weight of her rejection. From that night on, she ghosted me completely—no more social invites, and no awkward hellos at mutual friends’ gatherings. Word must have spread because even our shared circle started treating me differently, with knowing smirks that made every interaction a reminder of my tiny failure.

It was the ultimate cockblock, all because my worthless nub couldn’t measure up.

 

The End.

 

 

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