The Beach Caper

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This story contains adult sexual content and should not be read by those under 18, or considered minors in their country or locale. If you are under 18: CLICK HERE

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Cole Whips Out a Little Dick by ParkerRhodes (edited)

Sheila pulls back the shower curtain and looks me up and down. A giggle escapes through her lips.

“What?” I ask, turning my head under the jets of warm water.

“You’re cute,” she says. Her eyes linger for just a moment on my midsection. Another giggle. In her right hand is her cell phone; her thumb hovers over the keyboard.

“I was going to invite Angela,” she says. “Are you okay with that?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Cole,” she says. Her tone tells me to look at her. She raises an eyebrow, plants a hand on her hip. “Are you okay with that?”

We’ve planned an excursion to one of those bathing-suit optional beaches in Colson County. The reason she’s repeated her question explains the previous giggles: I’m packing less than average below the belt.

Flaccid, my member is two-inches in length, and, as an ex-girlfriend once quipped to one of her friends, “It isn’t long but its skinny!” Erect, it only makes marginal gains. Four-and-a-half-inches on a good day. About three in circumference. I was big enough to get some girls off, but with Sheila more often than not I was relegated to licking her clit.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I tell Sheila. “The more the merrier.”

She presses a button on her phone and grips the curtain. Flashing a devilish smile, she says, “She’s gonna laugh at your little wiener.”

Her eyes flit downward for one last glance, and then the curtain closes.


A year into our relationship, Sheila has become pretty well versed in the art of teasing me about the size of my penis. She knows I like it, at least to an extent. But displaying my shortcoming for others to see is new territory, and I’m equal parts excited and terrified.

Angela is a mutual friend of ours, someone whom I’ve known since college, whom Sheila has known since high school. I suspect Angela has always had a crush on me, and I’ve always found her attractive — D-cups and a devious smile do it for me — but I’ve had a tendency of dating her best friends, and she’s had a tendency of being married.

While I still am dating one of her friends, she’s newly single. Divorced actually. Looking for excitement, adventure, a brand new start. Looking for a threesome? My mind can’t help but wonder.

I guess the answer depends on whether she likes her dicks small. The thing is, gossip always maintained that her ex was packing major sausage, that she preferred them that way.


Sheila and I arrive at the beach and a few minutes later Angela pulls up. She parks her SUV next to my Prius and hops out, her jugs all bouncy and ready to play. Her boobs are cradled in white triangles, the kind of scandalous bikini top that shows cleavage — lots and lots of cleavage.

I’ve always been in awe of Angela’s boobs, perhaps because I’ve always dated girls more delicately put together — Sheila is no exception. As the girls greet each other, they embrace in a bear hug, and their boobs press together. Angela’s huge D-cups. Sheila’s perky little B’s. One set smothering the other, the kind of dominant-submissive visual that drives me crazy.

“God, your tits!” Sheila says, stepping back to stare at the Angela’s chest.

“The girls like to breath,” Angela says, shimmying her shoulders, making ‘the girls’ jiggle. She pauses, looking serious for a moment. “It’s not too revealing, is it?”

It takes me a second. Sheila a second longer. But soon all three of us are laughing, trudging through the sand, heading down the beach toward the sign that reads, “Clothing optional beyond this point.”


The girls are wearing black workout shorts over their bikini bottoms. They’re the kind that don’t cover much more than the essentials, though presently they qualify as modest attire. We pass a pair of women in their forties baring everything. We see a slew of older men in Speedos. We can’t help but notice a group of twenty-something girls tanning their ta-ta’s.

“No naked dudes,” Angela comments. “What’s up with that?”

Sheila elbows me in the side. “Not for long.”

Angela eyes me with a smirk. I’m still wearing a standard pair of board shorts. “You gonna show off the goods?” She asks.

Sheila matches her expression. “It was your idea to come here,” she says playfully.

“Was it?” Angela asks. She’s amused by this, though I’m not sure why.

“I’m not going to be the only naked guy out here,” I say. “That’s just awkward.” The girls share a glance, and a certain look that I can’t place comes to their eyes. “It must be an unspoken rule,” I continue, “that only girls get fully naked here.”

“What was that?” Angela asks. “Unspoken what?” She flicks her head to the side, gesturing for me to look up ahead and to my right. Three guys are approaching us. Three guys, around our age, approaching us, and all of them stark naked.

The trio walks right past us. All of them are muscular and tanned and Angela would like them. Thick ropes hang between their legs, swinging gingerly back and forth with each step they take. The girls steal googly-eye glances and desperately try to suppress their giggles. Once we’re out of earshot, they squeal like schoolgirls and in short gasps, relay their thoughts:


“So naked!”

“Their dicks!”

“Gah! So big!”


Angela pokes at me and flashes a playful smile. “So, Cole…” she says, “Do you have a big dick?”

I don’t know how to respond. I hesitate, my mouth opens, but the words don’t come.

“Just teasing,” Angela says, poking me again. “I know you’re ‘fun sized’.” She holds up a pinkie and winks.


We begin to settle into an open space a little farther down the beach. Sheila and Angela lay out their towels, communicating through whispers and glances. I lay my towel down and scan the scenery: calm waters and blue skies, sand for miles in either direction. Everything is serene, beautiful, and quiet.

Too quiet?

The girls, I realize, have stopped their clandestine conversation. I turn and find them both staring at me; expectant looks are planted on their faces.

“Well,” Sheila says. “Get naked.”

I meet her gaze, which has turned stern. Angela has likewise issued a nonverbal challenge.

“Are you guys going to join me?” I ask. “Or…?”

“Little Dick,” Angela says, addressing me. “Take your swimsuit off. Now.”

“It’s not THAT small,” I say, becoming defensive in earnest. I was used to teasing, but not orders. This level of aggression — it’s a little bit scary. It’s a little bit exciting.

“Off now,” Angela says.

Neither of them have removed the shorts over their bikinis. Their tops are still snugly in place. With that observation, I begin to untie the drawstring on my board shorts. Nervous energy bounds through my body; my hands struggle to stay steady. I’m untied. All there’s left to do is lower.

“Cole,” Sheila says, suddenly breaking character. She looks at me sheepishly, as if she’s embarrassed for me. “Are you sure about this?”

Angela plants her hands on her hips and frowns. “Do it,” she tells me.

I take a breath. Then I lower my shorts past my waist and let them fall to the sand. Sheila looks away as my little penis comes into view. Angela lowers her gaze, tilts her head to the side, and studies me with a curious look on her face. Curiosity turns to amusement. She looks up at me. Suppressing a giggle, she bites her lip.

“Cute,” she says.


We walk down the beach that way, me naked and the two girls still clad in shorts and bikini tops. It must look ridiculous; certainly it feels that way. Humiliating too. But it also feels exciting and sexual and adventurous.

Nerves have made my penis shrink to its smallest state (about two and a half inches) and my testicles have retracted to some extent. The places that would normally dangle downward now stay pretty snugly together. Even as I step, my penis doesn’t swing, it only bounces gingerly in place.

“It’s smaller than normal,” Sheila says, looking down at my package as we walk.

“Well, yeah,” Angela says.

“No,” Sheila says, laughing. “I mean, Cole, you’re not usually this small, right?”

“Whoa, hold up,” I say. I point down and deadpan the next line: “You mean this isn’t average?”

Sheila throws her head back, rolling her eyes, but snickering all the same. Angela shakes her head, smiling. Then she points ahead. “Should we have those girls answer that question?”

Ahead of us are four girls in bikinis, all of whom appear eighteen or nineteen years old. They spot me right away.

Sheila groans. The girls begin giggling and doing a poor job of being coy. One is staring at me bug-eyed.

Angela loves this. She smiles wide and waves ahead to the quartet, pointing at my naked midsection all turn and look exactly at my flaccid dick.

As our groups converge, Angela calls them over, and a look of dread flashes across Sheila’s face. Angela doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re having a disagreement,” Angela informs the group. “Can you help us settle it?”

The group of girls slows to a stop, semi-circled in front of us.

“Cole here says his penis is average size,” Angela announces. “My friend Sheila and I say it’s not. We need some unbiased opinions.”

Sheila, trying her best to hide her mortification, stays silent, bypassing her chance to object. I also stay quiet, opting to grin sheepishly as opposed to, say, clarifying that my comment was a joke.

“So…?” Angela says.

“It’s kinda small,” one girl says.

Another agrees.

“I mean, it’s cute,” says a third.

“Isn’t it?” Says Angela. She then looks at the fourth girl for a comment.

Every bit as tall and slender as a runway model, the fourth girl removes her big, pink sunglasses and gives my penis a good look. She squints at it, cranes her neck to look even closer and then, as her eyebrows form an unimpressed expression, she says, “Honestly, that might be the smallest dick I’ve ever seen.”


“Get hard,” Sheila says. “Come on, DO IT. Get hard.”

It’s a few minutes later and I’m lying on my back in the sand. We’re in a more secluded area of the beach. Sheila is seated next to me, tugging at my penis. It’s still flaccid, but it won’t be for long. Angela stands a few feet away, watching us with curious eyes.

“Come on, Cole,” Sheila says. “Show her you’re not tiny.”

She continues to work my penis in her right hand, massaging it and pulling it fervently.

“Grow for me,” she says. “There you go. Come on now.”

Semi-erect now, Angela inches a little closer. Sheila continues to stroke me, harder now than before.

“Tug that little thing,” Angela says, and then to me: “Show me how big your boner is, Cole.”

With those words, I fill out the last quarter inch of my length, and after a few more rigorous pumps, Sheila eases up, though her hand continues to slide slowly up and down my shaft.

“So that’s like, full size then?” Angela asks.

“That’s full size,” Sheila says.

“Hmm,” Angela says, pursing her lips.

“It’s not THAT small,” Sheila says. “Right?”

Angela smirks at this.

“What?” Sheila asks.

Angela shakes her head. “Nothing.” She steps closer and kneels on the other side of me. “Can I…?” She asks, motioning toward my penis. Sheila removes her hand.

Angela looks at me and smiles, tracing a finger from my chest, down my stomach toward my groin. She loops around the base of my penis, my erection jumping in anticipation every time she nearly makes contact. Then she wraps her fingers around it, engulfing the shaft, encapsulating the entire shaft of my penis in hands that I realize are much bigger than Sheila’s.

She strokes a few times up and down — short, little strokes that adequately take her from tip to base and back again. She could remove a pinkie from her grip to increase her range of motion, as Sheila usually does, but instead she just smirks and continues to jerk me with tiny little strokes. She turns to Sheila and in a completely unconvincing voice she says, “You’re right. I’ve certainly seen smaller dicks than this.”


“Jerk him off,” Angela tells Sheila, removing her grip. She gestures for Sheila’s hand to return to my penis. “He’s all excited now. Gotta take care of that, right?”

Sheila obliges, gripping me again. She starts to stroke me up and down as Angela watches, kneeling just a few feet away.

“Work his dick, Sheila,” she says. “Yeah, there you go. Come on, stroke his little dick.”

Sheila doesn’t counter the last few words of Angela’s comment. She just continues to jack me off. For the next minute she strokes me up and down, and all the while Angela continues to offer her encouragement, never forgetting to mention the size of my penis.

“Come on, Sheila. Do it harder. Make his tiny, little dick cum!” She says. “Tug that small pecker!”

Angela then scoots up right behind Sheila and massages her shoulders, whispering now. Encouragements? Teases? I’m not sure, but it makes Sheila tug me even harder. Angela’s hands disappear behind Sheila and I realize she’s fiddling with Sheila’s bathing suit top — a second later it loosens and falls to the sand.

Topless now, Sheila’s pace quickens. She grips me harder, jerks me faster and harder and longer.

“Look at her cute, little tits,” Angela says.

Sheila glances at her, hesitating and slowing her pace. Angela then unclasps her own bikini top and loosens it. Her huge boobs spill out, each one bouncing and jiggling as she removes her top entirely.

She turns to Sheila and they lock eyes. For two seconds they hold this position, frozen in a topless stare-down. Then I see Sheila’s eyes lower to Angela’s chest, to her enormous D-cups, and I see a smile flash across Angela’s face.

With that my cock lurches and Sheila tightens her grip. I groan and then I cum violently, shooting a thick stream three feet into the air. Sheila angles my penis toward me and I shoot another burst; the wad hits me in the face and I close my eyes and burst again, this time hitting my chin and neck. Warm cum dribbles down my face as I blow one more time. My chest and stomach are now covered. Sheila grips my dick tight as the last of my cum seeps out of me.

I squint and wipe the cum away from my eyes and when I look up, I see that Sheila has turned around to grab a towel. Angela, on the other hand is looking at me with her massive tits just hanging there and this huge grin on her face.

“Wow,” Angela says. “That little rocket sure knows how to blast off.”

I glance down at my “little rocket,” which is already starting to soften and shrink. I wipe away more cum from my cheek and Sheila hands me a towel.

“Hang on,” Angela says. She holds up her phone and gestures for us to smile. “Come on, put your arm around her, Cole. Okay, both of you, on the count of three say, small penis!”

Sheila’s face flushes red and I see her glance down at my dick, now back to its miniature, flaccid state. She looks at me, at my cum-covered face, and she blinks, holding her eyes shut just a moment longer than normal. She tosses me the towel. I hear a click from Angela’s phone.

“Perfect,” Angela says.

The End.


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