When I was nineteen and in my last year of sixth form, I dated a pretty, blue-eyed blonde called Claire Carson who was super cute and, I knew, definitely well out of my league. We had been friends for a long time, and I felt that I could trust her, so when she started making advances on me in the back of my Ford Fiesta, I cautiously reciprocated. We were soon snogging fervently, our hands were roaming each other’s bodies, my right hand up her silk wool top, cupping her small breasts through their padded bra. She broke away, sat back from me, and pulled her sweater over her head as gracefully as she could, scraping against the grey plastic headliner of the low ceiling. She looked a little terrified, but lustful too, hungry and urgent, and I imagined that I looked the same. She hugged herself and effortlessly unclasped her bra, then, glancing around to check that we weren’t being spied on through the misted windows, let the plain beige bra drop with her descending forearms.

These were the first tits I had ever seen in real life. They were each just about a handful, and squat to her skinny chest, not like the ones I’d seen on more mature women in countless videos, but lovely… just lovely to look at. I was literally awestruck, but somehow mustered the chivalry to whip off my own tee-shirt, take her by her hands, and pull her close to me again, pressing her breasts into my chest and hiding her modesty.

She did not resist as my hand explored between our bodies to fondle her firm little titties, then I snaked my right hand under her skirt, feeling my way up her left thigh to her hip, halted by the waistband of her skirt. I let my hand reverse, back down to her knee, then across to her right so that my fingers could slip between them. Now my hand traversed her soft inner thigh, and she broke from our passionate, wet mouthing to exhale softly. When our lips came back together, we were gentle, softly nuzzling at each other while we each concentrated on the journey of my hand.

She parted her legs, and my hand slipped deeper around her thigh, deeper into the warmth, further up her soft, smooth leg until, finally, I touched the cotton of her panties that covered her mound. With three flat fingers, I caressed the material against her pussy, feeling the shape of her camel-toe and sensing how the cotton slipped back and forth, lubricated by her wetness.

“Have you brought anything?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes, in my wallet,” I breathed, my heart pounding in my throat.

She fumbled at my fly while I lifted my hips and simultaneously pulled my wallet from my pocket, then I pulled out a condom and tossed the wallet aside as I scooped my jeans and boxers from my waist and into an uncomfortable band around my knees.

When I returned my gaze to Claire, I found that she was staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at my little penis, poking out from my messy pubic hair.

A horrible moment passed in silence until Claire finally said with a somewhat confused tone, “Will it get any bigger?”

I was mortified, embarrassment causing the skin across my entire body to flush and sweat.

I avoided answering the question directly.

“Haven’t you ever seen a cock before?” I asked.

“Not in real life… but I’ve seen plenty of porn!”

“That’s not the same!” I retorted. “They’re all actors…”

“None of them are THAT little, though!” she said without thought, returning her gaze to my little cocktail sausage.

For some reason, while it was humiliating to have the size of my penis questioned, with Claire bare-chested and confident beside me, it was also intensely erotic, so I left myself exposed for her.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled, staring at it again.

I couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes, so I hung my head and looked at her firm little tits again.

Suddenly, I noticed that she was shaking slightly, and when I looked at her face again, I found that she had a hand over her mouth, stifling the laugh that was rocking her body. For some unfathomable reason, the humiliation of being laughed at only served to send more blood pulsing into my already tight cock, causing it to twitch.

“Oh my god,” she squealed, “are you getting off on this?”

“God no!” I flung at her, pulling my jeans back up around my waist to hide my embarrassment. I couldn’t look at her. My fingers intertwined nervously.

“I’m sorry,” I managed, finally.

Claire exhaled loudly, her giggling finally subsiding.

“Me too,” she said with a thankfully sympathetic tone, “I’m just a bit…”

She searched for her word.

“Disappointed?” I ventured.

“No!” she splurted quickly. “Well… Yes, a little… But it was just a surprise…”

She pulled her top back over her head without bothering to put on her bra.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” I asked awkwardly, “You know… about my little thingy…”

“No, Mark,” she promised.

*****

That brief and humiliating episode was the furthest I got with a girl during my teenage years. Claire and I did not date again, but we remained close friends, and my secret was safe with her, or so I thought, until one moonlit night when Claire, her best friend Kathryn, and I were meandering back from the pub. As we reached Kathryn’s door, she suddenly took up position behind Claire, reached down to grab the material of her friend’s skirt, and said, “Would you like to see Claire’s fanny?”

The two girls were giggling.

I feigned a bashful look and answered, “Go on then.”

Kathryn looked devilish. “Show us your little micropenis first, then,” she said.

Anger flashed through my body. “Fuck off!” I hurled at them before doing exactly that, and storming off home. The blaze of anger stayed with me all the way home, but by the time I reached my own front door, my head was also filled with thoughts of what it would have been like to have dropped my pants before them so that my little cock was bare. I pictured those two pretty girls laughing.

Barely three months later, I heard a rumour that Claire and Kathryn had had a threesome with Paul Mills, who had a reputation for having a monster of a cock, and that they’d grunted and groaned the house down. I was insane with jealousy for weeks, but could not shake the thought of what they must have looked like afterwards, their faces flushed and sweaty, their pussies gaping and oozing.

I’d always hated having a small cock. Still, by the time I was in my early twenties, I had actually developed a fetish for small penis humiliation, fuelled by my memories of Claire in my Ford Fiesta, and of her and Kathryn giggling at me, and I began to see my little man as a potential gift.

I dated a few girls, but didn’t dare ask them to make fun of me, but I did have some exciting experiences in fetish chatrooms, exposing myself for women to laugh at. I also turned to the Internet to find the right long-term partner. Still, the results were less successful – most respondents were obviously men pretending to be women, others were women who were already married, or on the wrong continent, or simply not my type.

The years rolled by, and I had finally decided that I would never find the right woman when, completely by chance, I bumped into Claire Carson in the bar of a Heathrow Holiday Inn. She was just as pretty as ever, still with her blonde hair long about her face, her blue eyes as sparkly as ever, but those little titties of hers had transformed into a pair of breasts that looked heavy on her chest, a deep cleavage visible above her blouse. She looked like her skinny frame had filled out a little too much, giving a lovely shape to her waist and hips.

The first word I uttered when I met her was ‘Wow!’ and, to my surprise, she seemed delighted to see me too, beaming a smile and clasping me in a tight, close hug.

We found a table in an alcove and chatted about the past for hours, carefully avoiding those humiliating nights back home. It turned out that although we both moved away from the old town where we met, we were now living less than 10 miles apart again.

As the conversation progressed, I got the impression that she was still single. I mulled the concept over and over in my mind, but it seemed ridiculous – she was far too lovely to still be on the shelf – more likely she had a girlfriend and didn’t want to share that information with an Ex from the town where her mother still lived. Several drinks later, however, my curiosity got the better of me.

“Do you have a partner?” I asked, tentatively.

She shrugged theatrically. “I never found the right man,” she said, but she looked excited, giddy even, and inched a little closer to me in the alcove.

“I had lots of men after you,” she said, “but none of them were right. What I’ve really always wanted is a man with…”

She leaned in close to my ear, and with a voice loaded with excitement and nervous tension, whispered, “…a tiny dick.”

She sat back and waited for my response, the excitement and nerves now etched on her face.

I opened and closed my mouth several times, but nothing particularly coherent came out. Then, before realising I was doing it, I crossed my legs to relieve the tension that my trousers caused on my stiffening cock.

She suddenly looked devilish, leaned into my ear again, and whispered, “Can we finish this conversation in your room?”

I nodded, and we left the bar and crossed the lobby with all the etiquette expected within a business hotel. The moment the lift doors were closed, however, we pounced on each other like teenagers, holding each other’s faces and kissing passionately. She pushed me up against the textured steel wall and ground her body into mine, her big tits pressed into my chest, her groin thrust forward.

The lift journey was frustratingly short, and decorum was restored as we walked the long corridor from the lift to my room. My door was still closing on its slow fire hinge when we began to munch each other’s faces off again.

I was lying on my back on the bed in no time with Claire Carson, subject of my teenage wet dreams, straddling my thighs, her business skirt hitched up and her nylon-clad legs on show.

Suddenly, she looked deadly serious and a little nervous again. Looking down on me, she asked, “Can I laugh at your little dick?”

Even if I had been able to find the right words, my mouth was too dry to answer. I nodded slowly.

She looked giddy with excitement as she unbuckled my belt and undid my flies. I was still cringingly nervous about having a woman see my cock, but as she lifted her body off my legs and swept my trousers and boxers down to my feet, my tiny cock was as stiff as it had ever been, barely poking out from my pubic hair.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed as she settled back down to sit on my thighs, “It’s even smaller than I remember!”

I was beside myself with embarrassment. Instinctively, I put my hands over my crotch, but she took me by the wrists and held my arms away.

“Have you ever fucked anyone with that little thing?” she asked, staring at my pathetic little erection.

“Yes!” I blurted. In truth, none of my girlfriends had ever had enough love or sympathy to go to bed with me after discovering my ‘little’ problem.

“I bet you haven’t!” she laughed brightly. The truth was probably etched on my face.

“Mark is a virgin! Mark is a virgin!” she sang to the tune of ‘nah na na nah nah,’ “Mark has a tiny cock, Mark has a tiny cock!”

She studied me for a long time, alternating between my cock, which embarrassingly strained in its own skin as she taunted me, and my bright red face, then she let go of my wrists and sat upright on my thighs.

“Do you want to see my tits?” she asked, though she was already excitedly unbuttoning her formal white blouse before I had answered.

She looked magnificent even in her plain, white bra. Her soft flesh spilled around the cups, and I put my hands up to hold them, but she was already hugging herself, reaching around to unclasp her strap.

“A-a!” she chided, “Don’t touch yet!”

I dropped my hands to rest on her nylon-covered thighs as she seductively lowered the cups from her breasts to let them hang free. They were truly magnificent, large and fleshy, pear-shaped with hard, pink nipples atop pale, textured areola, and I wanted to hold them dearly.

“What do you think?” she asked, rotating her shoulders back and forth to make them jiggle before me.

“They’re awesome!” I said, without thought.

“Awesome?…” she queried, “Are they sexy?”

“God, yes!”

“Womanly?”

“Yes!”

“Do they make you hard?”

“Yes!”

She beamed and sniggered. “I’ll have to take your word for that!” she teased.

I looked at my little hard-on, still poking up from my hairy bush like a little field mouse. I was certain that she didn’t need me to tell her that I was hard.

She held her lovely fleshy tits in her hands and kneaded them in circular motions, then swiftly climbed off the bed, shimmied her skirt over her hips, and let it fall to the floor. I watched excitedly as she slipped her flat hands into her knickers and swept them along with her tights down to her feet. She sat on the edge of the bed to remove them from her feet, then straddled my hips, kneeling so that her naked pussy wasn’t touching me.

“How about THIS then?” she asked, thrusting her hips forward to angle her sex towards my face. She seemed serious and less frivolous now, hungry and serious. “Is THIS sexy? Is THIS womanly?” she asked.

I stared at her pussy. Her mound was puffy, soft-looking, and covered in unruly golden hair. The gap between her thighs was large, and her labia minora, as pink as her stiff nipples, hung below. Her slit seemed enormous, even from the angle of my perspective, with long, crumpled lips. They were still closed at her vulva, but splayed slightly as they hung down, and they were already glistening.

“You have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever actually seen,” I confessed.

She smiled a smile that broke the solemn, craving look on her face.

“Am I big? Do I have a big pussy?” she asked.

I wasn’t quite sure how to handle this question at the time, fearing that perhaps she was self-conscious about her vagina.

“It’s perfect,” I responded, diplomatically, “It’s beautiful.”

“I bet you want to fuck it with your tiny little prick, don’t you?”

Fuck yes I did!

“Please, can I fuck you with my tiny little prick?” I asked, playing along.

She sat herself down on me and immediately I felt my cock being enveloped by her hot, wet flesh. It felt incredible. This was the first pussy I’d ever entered; it belonged to the girl of my dreams, and it was big, wet, and somewhat intimidating. My cock slipped effortlessly into her vaginal passage, then she began to hump her hips back and forth slowly. Her magnificent tits began to bounce.

“Is it in yet?” she asked.

Of course it was ‘in’!, I thought, I’m not THAT small!

“I can’t feel anything,” she teased, “Tell me when you’re in!”

Her face had softened again, and she was beginning to look amused.

“I’m in!” I told her.

“But I can’t feel it!” she teased, “I can’t feel your little micro penis inside me! Are you going to disappoint me again, Mark? Am I going to have to just rub myself off on you?”

The sensation of being inside her hot hole, albeit probably just the first inch or so beyond her opening, was incredible, and, to my horror, I realised that I wasn’t going to last long.

I reached up and cupped her heavy, swaying tits. This time, she didn’t resist, and her warm flesh spilled around my spread fingers while her hard nipples pressed into my palms. Many years ago, these had been the first tits I had ever felt, and now they were the best, by far. She beamed down at me.

“I AM inside you! I AM inside your beautiful pussy,” I told her, “and it feels amazing!”

She giggled. “Christ, your cock is tiny! It might as well not be there!”

She ground herself fast and hard on me, her pelvic bone crushing into mine to rub her clitoris back and forth. My little cock was battered back and forth in the entrance of her wet hole.

“Do you call yourself a man? Do you think that pathetic little prick makes you manly?” she mocked. Her face was red and beginning to sweat now, and she humped herself hard on me. She snarled slightly as she spoke.

“That little fucking toothpick of yours will never satisfy a woman!” she continued, losing herself as her passion continued to rise, “No wonder you’re a virgin, you little pricked wanker!” I dared not mention that she was fucking me far too fast.

“I need a real cock! A big one, a big fucking fat cock to stretch my big pussy and fill me right up! I need a cock that can plaster my insides with spunk!” she growled.

“Oh god!” I hollered, “I’m cumming!”

She immediately put both her hands over my mouth and continued to grind herself frantically onto me.

“Make your little mess on my pussy!” she demanded, and I came immediately, erupting into her hole and groaning mutely under her hands as she rubbed her sloppy sex on me. I bucked, lifting us both off the bed, and she laughed with delight.

“I always wanted your fucking cherry!” she said, intense and serious again as she approached her climax.

Still holding her hands firmly over my mouth, she looked me in the eyes, long and hard as she brought herself to her edge. She stopped all movement, stiffened, closed her eyes, and suddenly she was shuddering through her orgasm, grinding her sodden, cum splattered pussy over my still-stiff prick, eyes closed, mouth open, thighs trembling, squealing unashamedly.

She didn’t let go of my mouth until I finally ran out of air and had to grab her wrists, then she placed them on either side of my face to support herself as she panted above me. With her eyes still closed, she laughed through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Then she looked serious again. She opened her eyes, and suddenly she looked terrified. “Oh god!” she exclaimed, “I’m so sorry! I’m so embarrassed!” Her voice was high and loaded with angst.

She sat up and put her hands over her face to hide her blush. Instinctively, I quickly sat up too, holding her tight and pressing my chest into her big, soft breasts.

“That was the best sex of my life!” I said, sincerely.

She kept her hands over her face and turned her head away.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god!” she muttered ashamedly.

I held her tight as she seemed to curl up in my embrace.

“That was fantastic!” I reassured her, “YOU were fantastic!”

She cringed for a moment longer, then peeked at me through parted fingers.

“Really? Even though I was making fun of you?” she asked, the anxiety still heavy in her voice.

“That was the best part!” I said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

She gave a pained smile and let her palms slip away from her hot, sweaty face, then slowly rolled off me to rest by my side.

“You really didn’t mind me making fun of your cock and… y’know… talking dirty?”

“I loved it,” I assured her, “ESPECIALLY when you were making fun of my dick, and talking about wanting big cocks inside you.”

She smiled coyly and began to toy with my penis, slippery with her juices and softening, but still swollen.

“I took your cherry!” she laughed, suddenly. The recollection brought a broad smile back to her face and the melody back to her voice.

“No, you didn’t!” I protested. I should have admitted it there and then, but having already lied about it earlier that evening, I felt like I couldn’t back down.

She sniggered and slapped my little cock gently. “I SO fucking did!” she laughed.

We lay for a while, then she suddenly asked, “Do you remember that night with Kathryn at her front door?”

“Yes…”

“I wish you had shown us your cock. I really would have let Kathryn show you my pussy… I already had my knickers off… I wanted to see you get hard in front of us. I reckon we’d have given you a threesome.”

In the years since I developed my SPH fetish, I fantasised regularly about that night – about how those girls might have laughed at my tiny little dick.

“I kind of wish I had, too, now. I wasn’t into it at the time, but I really am now. I wish I’d shown you.”

We chatted about the old days well into the early hours of the morning, until, eventually, we fell asleep, side by side.

*****

Claire woke me up early in the morning, and, in the unfamiliar surroundings of the hotel bedroom, it took me several moments to recall where I was. She was dressed and needed to return to her room to get ready for work, but she promised to message me later in the day.

I watched her go, and half expected that to be the last I ever saw of her, so I was surprised when, later that day, my phone buzzed with a message from her.

‘It’s me,’ it said.

‘Hi’

‘Don’t open these messages in public.’

‘OK.’

‘Someone I know has a tiny little cock.’

My penis began to stiffen.

‘Even smaller than mine?’ I joked.

‘I took your cherry last night. Don’t deny it.’

I deliberated for a long time, but eventually decided to come clean.

‘Yes, you did, and it was amazing!’

She sent a row of crying-laughing emojis followed by a row of cherries with the words, ‘I knew it!’ Then followed up quickly with ‘Did you ever fantasise about fucking me?’

‘I fantasised about fucking you for years,’ I wrote, then I added ‘…and I dreamt about you making fun of me.’

‘Ha ha, did it make your little prick stiff?’

‘Always!’ I typed, conscious that my cock was hard just from reading her messages – not that I had to worry about anyone noticing.

In truth, I had masturbated myself sore while thinking about being humiliated by Claire, and after the events of last night, I now had some more beautiful memories to wank to.

‘Send me a photo of your little cock,’ she messaged.

Now my heart was in my mouth. I’m quite a sensible person in all respects – never the sort of person who would send a dick-pic, but the idea of breaking rules and humiliating myself for Claire was making me stiffer than ever. I agonised over it for an age, but eventually sneaked off to the toilets, locked myself into a cubicle, and pulled my pants down. I re-read Claire’s messages until I was stiff, and snapped photos of my cock until I got one that seemed to show it in its full (lack of) glory. This was the first time I’d ever taken a dick -shot, and I looked even less impressive than I imagined. With my heart beating loud in my chest, my breath hot, and my hands clammy, I sent Claire the best photo. I couldn’t think of any comment to add that was funny but not corny, so I sent it alone.

There was a long delay, but eventually Claire messaged back, ‘Sorry, was rolling on the floor laughing! JK was in a meeting. Would you like to pop MY cherry? I’ve never taken it up my bottom.’

Fuck yes!

Of course, I knew full well that Claire was inviting me to have anal sex with her simply to facilitate some humiliation fantasy that she had, but to be honest, the prospect of more SPH turned me on even more than the idea of getting off in her tight rectum.

‘I’d like that,’ I responded coolly.

*****

We arranged to meet on the Friday of that week in a lovely little Italian restaurant close to my flat in Thirsk. I took the day off at short notice and spent all day erasing the evidence of bachelor life from my home – the dirty crockery, the piled-up washing, the sprawling ‘floordrobe’. I even put my game controllers on the shelf by my console for the first time in three years. I cleaned the bathrooms, opened the windows to blow out the dank and sweaty odour, and admired my work. There were some stains here and there that perhaps wouldn’t have been if I tidied up a bit more regularly, but all in all, the place looked presentable… for a bachelor pad.

Finally, I nipped out to the local shopping centre and bought new bedding, putting it straight onto the bed. It looked crisp and smelled overly hygienic, so I climbed in and flapped my arms and legs about for a while.

When she had finished work, Claire drove over to Thirsk and parked outside my building. It was tempting to invite her in straight away, but something in the back of my mind kept telling me to enjoy my time with her while it lasted… SPH was a fun kink for her, but I doubted that this could ever lead to a long-term relationship.

The restaurant was as good as ever, with wonderful, friendly service from the family-owners, great food, and a relaxed, intimate atmosphere. Claire and I were soon lost in fluid conversation about the old days back home in Stoke. We left arm in arm, and meandered the ten-minute walk back to my flat, stopping here and there to snog.

In an alleyway, she manoeuvred my hands onto her buttocks as we kissed, and reminded me that she wanted to be taken up her ass. I was hard, pressing my crotch into her, but I’m sure she wouldn’t have noticed.

Back at my flat, we stripped each other down to our underwear in the living room like randy teenagers. She wore a beautiful set of white lacey bra, knickers, and a suspender belt, and I felt privileged, and enormously excited, that she had put so much effort into looking sexy right down to her underwear. At the same time, I felt a little ashamed that I was wearing my plain black boxers from Marks & Spencer.

She gave me a seductive look and crawled onto the bed, coming to rest with her knees together on the still-creased duvet cover. She looked over her shoulder at me and said, coolly, “Pull my knickers down.”

I knelt on the bed behind her and admired her firm, round buttocks, the valley along her spine, and her angular shoulder blades, framed by the delicate white lace of her bra straps. My fingers trembled as I took hold of her knickers at the waistband and slipped them over her beautiful buttocks. They looked magnificent naked, and I was already excited about kneading them in my palms.

She parted her legs ever so slightly so that I could pull her knickers down her thighs, then lifted her knees in turn, just an inch or so, so that I could slip them to her feet and off. As soon as she was free of the lace, she parted her knees wide, dropped her chest to the bed so that her bottom was thrust into the air, and said, shakily, “Kiss me there.”

I needed no further encouragement. In my fantasies, domineering women would often make me kiss and lick their bottoms in a kind of ‘know-your-place’ manner.

I had never kissed a lady’s ass before, and I felt immensely privileged and excited to be kissing Claire’s – Claire who was out of my league, Claire who could have any man she wanted, Claire the subject of a thousand masturbation fantasies.

With her legs now parted, her anus was exposed between her round buttocks, but she nonetheless placed her hands on her cheeks and pulled them apart a little more. The skin around her hole was dark like that of her labia, but her puckered ring was as pink as her vulva. I placed my hands on top of hers, pulled apart to make a point, and lapped gently at the smooth pink skin of her anus.

She yelped joyously, then settled into a pattern of soft moans as I circled her hole and probed her gently.

She enjoyed my attention for several minutes, rocking her hips slowly and gently as I worshipped her ass, teasing the sensitive skin around her anus, lightly flicking the tip of my tongue over her rosebud. I let a finger idly trace the length of her vulva, and complimented myself on how sodden she was.

Finally, she asked in a low and husky voice, “Do you want to fuck me up the ass?”

“Oh yes! Yes, I do!” I admitted as I squelched a large blob of saliva onto her rosebud, ceased my worship of her ass, and yanked my boxers to my knees.

I positioned myself close behind her, my knees just inside hers, and offered my stiff little prick to the heat of her rosebud, slick with my saliva. Pressing forward, I could feel the tightness of her sphincter.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” she said.

“I AM ready!” I declared, holding onto her hips and pulling her onto my little erection.

“I can’t feel you!” she claimed plainly. I could already detect the amusement in her voice.

I was certain that if she pushed out to relax her sphincter, I could slip inside her, even if it was just a little bit, but she kept herself tight and inaccessible.

“Push back, Claire!” I implored.

“I AM pushing back,” she asserted, “I think you might just be a little too small for me!”

I ground my stiff little prick into the soft, wet hollow of her anus. My bell-end connected with the soft entrance to her rectum, but I was still convinced that she was preventing me from entering fully by clenching her ass tight.

“Claire!” I pleaded, but she kept herself closed.

“It’s just no good! Your micro-prick is just far to small. I can’t feel a thing!”

I knew she could. I may not be well endowed, but there was no doubt that she could feel my erection prodding at her tight sphincter.

“You’re just too small for me!” she giggled, “You’re never going to satisfy me with that incy-wincy thing!”

Oh my god, her cruel words were lovely to hear. I ground my knob into her slippery ass and tried to humour her.

“I’m rock hard for you, Claire, can’t you feel me in your ass?”

“No, baby, I can’t feel your pathetic little maggot!”

She slipped one of her hands from her buttocks and pressed it between her legs. I could feel her fingers circling her hole.

“I’m in you, Claire! I’m fucking your ass!”

“I wanna feel your balls slapping on my pussy!” she gasped, “I want your hairy balls to spank my cunt! What’s wrong with you? Are your balls tiny too?”

I’d never really thought about it, but with my gonads being well proportioned with my little cock, I realised that they were probably way below average in size too.

“You’re fucking useless, Mark!” she chided. She was getting breathless now as her fingers on her pussy brought her towards her orgasm. “A dirty girl like me needs a fucking big cock in her ass! I need to be stretched out by a wide cock, I need to feel heavy balls slapping on my dirty cunt!”

I clenched her ass cheeks and humped her backside for all my worth, bashing my little stump against her tight little ass hole. It was soon becoming more than I could take.

“I’m going to blow my load in your ass!” I warned her.

“How much spunk have you got for me, Mark?”

“A ton!”

“Not in those little peanuts you haven’t!” she laughed, “Keep trying to fuck me, baby, spurt your little mess on my slutty little asshole!”

I desperately wanted to, but it was clear that Claire was close to her orgasm too. I concentrated on making sure that every thrust of my knob prodded her tight little rosebud, and somehow managed to control myself until I heard her catch her breath and stiffen her body. At that moment, I grabbed her waist tight like a dog on a bitch, and ground my cock head into her anus. I stiffened for a moment, then came hard onto her closed hole. Claire climaxed at the same time, and the combination of her spasming muscles and my slick cum allowed the head of my cock to finally slip into her hot, tight back passage. I involuntarily yelped with joy as Claire’s convulsions treated my bell-end to a rhythmic squeezing, and Claire erupted into laughter as she continued to orgasm, her shaking body tightly milking the spearhead of my spasming cock into her rectum.

Finally, we collapsed on the bed together, side by side. I had never seen a woman look so radiant, so satisfied, and happy. We lay, as though delirious, together for an age.

Eventually, she rolled onto her side to face me.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asked.

“It was awesome!” I confessed, “YOU were awesome… I loved the words you used.”

She smiled. “Those words have been churning around in my head for years,” she confessed.

“Do you like making fun of me as much as having sex with well-hung men?” I asked, timidly.

“I’ve only ever had sex with one ‘well-hung’ man. The rest have been totally average.”

“Paul Mills?”

“Yes,” she confessed, “and it was awful. Imagine having your genitals battered by an idiot.”

“But I heard you screamed the house down?”

She smiled.

“I wanted to feel dirty. I wanted everyone to know that I was taking a big cock in my pussy… people like you… by the time Kathryn and I took stupid Paul to bed, I was already fantasising about making fun of men with little cocks. I just never dared to tell you or anyone else about it.

“I don’t want to get hammered by idiots with big cocks… I never really have… I want someone sensitive and kind, somebody woefully under-endowed whom I can make fun of… someone like you.”

*****

In the years that followed, I learned that this was true. Claire would humiliate me mercilessly during our lovemaking, trash-talking about how she needed big cocks to satisfy her, but she never slept around. Even as our fetishes evolved and she began to dominate me more and more, we stayed loyal to each other – apart from our occasional adventures with Kathryn, but that’s a different story.

And I thank God every day for giving me a tiny weeny cock.

 

The End.

 

 

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