The Comparison Game
An SPH Experience by lottapotass.
“I want you to… make fun of it,” I’d said finally, the words tumbling out in a rush before I could stop them. “My size. I want you to be mean about it.”
The silence that followed felt like an eternity. I stared at the floor, already regretting it, already preparing for the worst. But then she’d tilted her head, studying me with those sharp, curious eyes of hers, and a slow smile had spread across her face.
“Really?” she’d asked, and there was something in her voice—not shock, not disgust, but genuine interest. “You want me to humiliate you?”
I’d nodded, not trusting my voice.
And just like that, she’d agreed. Though what I hadn’t known then—what I’d only discovered over the months since—was that my sweet, loving girlfriend had been hiding a talent for cruelty that I could never have anticipated.
—
Flash forward to last Tuesday night, and I’m lying flat on my back on our bed, completely naked, while my girlfriend kneels between my spread legs. Her lips are wrapped around my cock, and I’m harder than I’ve been in years. Four inches, fully erect, disappearing entirely into her mouth with room to spare.
She pulls off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lower lip to my slick tip. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and there’s a glint there that I’ve come to recognize—a mischievous light that promises pain and pleasure in equal measure.
“It’s so cute and tiny,” she coos, her thumb tracing lazy circles around the base of my shaft. “Look at how it fits in my mouth. It’s like sucking on a little piece of candy.”
I groan, my hips twitching involuntarily.
She smiles, that wicked smile she’s perfected over months of practice. “Aww, your little guy is so hard for me. He thinks he’s a big boy, doesn’t he? He doesn’t know he’s just a tiny little thing.”
Her hand wraps around me, warm and sure. She barely has to move—there’s so little of me to stroke. Her fingers dance up and down my length, her palm engulfing me completely.
But tonight, she’s not just going through the usual motions. I can feel it in the air—a new kind of energy, a sharper edge. She’s been planning something. I can always tell when she has a new humiliation in store, because she gets this particular look: her lips slightly parted, her eyes half-lidded, like she’s savoring a secret.
“So I was talking to my friends the other day,” she begins, her voice casual, conversational, as her hand continues to work over my straining erection. “A girls’ weekend. You remember, right? That was two weeks ago.”
I nod, not sure where this is going.
“Anyway.” Her thumb swipes over my leaking tip, collecting the bead of precum there. “The subject came up. You know, the usual stuff. Relationships. Sex.” She pauses, examining me with an appraising eye. “Penis sizes.”
My breath catches. This is new.
“You know what’s funny?” she continues, stroking me slowly, almost lazily. “Every single one of them has a boyfriend who’s bigger than you. Not just bigger, actually. A lot bigger.”
I swallow hard. My cock twitches in her grip.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Her smile widens. “I can feel you throbbing. You little freak. You want to hear about all the real men my friends get to enjoy while I’m stuck with this?”
She squeezes me almost imperceptibly, and my whole body shudders.
“Let’s see…” She pretends to think, tapping one finger against her chin while her other hand continues its maddening rhythm. “There’s Hannah. Her boyfriend is about six inches. Nothing spectacular, but still—half again as big as you. And he’s thick, too. Hannah says she can barely get her hand around him.”
My face is burning. I can’t look at her. I stare at the ceiling, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my cock leaking steadily into her palm.
“Then there’s Rachel.” Her voice drops lower, more intimate. “Rachel’s boyfriend is seven. Seven whole inches. Can you imagine? That’s almost double what I get. She says it hits spots inside her she didn’t even know existed.”
The humiliation is so acute I can barely breathe. And somehow, impossibly, I’m harder than ever.
“But wait.” She stops moving her hand, leaving me aching and desperate. “I saved the best for last. Do you want to hear about the best one?”
I’m too far gone to do anything but nod.
“Sophie.” The name falls from her lips like a prayer. “Sweet little Sophie, who I’ve known since college. She’s dating this guy—total sweetheart, really nice, really normal—and they were talking about sizes, and…”
She pauses, letting the silence stretch, letting the anticipation build.
“He’s eight and a half inches.”
The words land like a punch to the gut. I literally feel the air leave my lungs.
“Eight and a half,” she repeats, savoring the numbers. “Do you understand what that means? He’s more than twice your size. His dick is bigger soft than yours is hard.”
I can’t speak. Can’t think. Can’t do anything except lie there, completely exposed, my tiny cock leaking in her hand while she describes what a real man looks like.
“She showed me a picture,” my girlfriend continues, her voice dripping with something between awe and mockery. “Not of him—just of the outline in his boxers. And Jesus Christ, it was like he was hiding a firehose in there. She says when he gets hard, she can’t even fit the whole thing in her mouth. Has to use both hands just to stroke it.”
Her hand resumes its movements, achingly slow. She’s not even trying to get me off—just keeping me hard, keeping me on the edge, keeping me trapped in this delicious agony.
“Can you even imagine?” she asks, and there’s genuine wonder in her voice now. “Eight and a half inches. That’s more than twice what I get to play with. More than twice what I’ll ever get to feel inside me.”
She’s not staying in character anymore, I realize. Or maybe she is. Maybe the line has blurred so completely that she no longer knows where the fantasy ends and the truth begins.
“I mean, statistically speaking, that’s insanely rare,” she muses, still stroking me with that lazy rhythm. “Like, one in a hundred thousand or something. And sweet little Sophie managed to find him. Lucky girl.”
I let out a sound—half moan, half whimper—and she grins down at me.
“Aw, is someone feeling inadequate? Is someone thinking about how he measures up to Sophie’s boyfriend right now?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Tell me.”
“I’m thinking about how tiny I am compared to him. How he’s more than twice my size. How he could probably split you in half.”
“Mmm.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “He could split me in half. You know what Sophie says? She says the first time they had sex, she couldn’t walk properly for two days. Two days. Because of how big he is.”
Her hand tightens around me.
“And you?” She leans down, her breath hot against my ear. “You couldn’t stretch a pussy if you tried. You’ve never made a woman feel full in your life. You’re four inches of disappointment, and that’s being generous.”
I’m panting now, practically writhing beneath her. The words cut deep, but they also set every nerve in my body on fire. This is what I asked for. This is what I wanted. The sharp edge of her cruelty is the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever experienced.
“You want to know the worst part?” she whispers, her hand finally picking up speed. “The absolute worst part?”
“What?”
“Sophie asked about you.” Her hand moves faster, her grip tighter. “She asked how big my boyfriend is. And I had to either tell the truth or make up a number.”
I’m close. So close. The pressure is building at the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tight.
“Do you want to know what I told her?”
I nod frantically.
“I told her the truth.” Her lips brush against my earlobe. “I told her you’re four inches hard. And she laughed. She actually laughed. She said, ‘Oh honey, I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better.'”
That’s what does it. The image of her beautiful friend, the one dating a man with a nine-inch cock, pitying my girlfriend for being stuck with me. My orgasm crashes over me with the force of a tidal wave, and I cry out, my body arching off the bed as hot streams of cum pump onto my stomach and chest.
She keeps stroking, milking every last drop, her eyes locked on my face the entire time. “That’s it,” she murmurs. “That’s it, you pathetic little thing. Come for me. Show me how inadequate you are.”
When it’s finally over, I collapse back onto the mattress, gasping, my body slick with sweat and semen. My cock, now softening, looks even smaller than before—a shriveled little pink thing lying against my thigh.
She looks at it and laughs, a genuine peal of laughter. “God, look at it now. It’s like a button.”
I should feel ashamed. And I do. But the shame is wrapped in such profound satisfaction that I can’t bring myself to care.
She reaches for a tissue from the nightstand and cleans me up with surprising tenderness, given the past ten minutes. Then she lies down beside me, propping herself up on one elbow.
“You enjoyed that,” she says. Not a question.
I nod, still catching my breath.
“Good.” She smiles, leaning in to kiss me softly. “Because I’ve got more. Wait until you hear about Sophie’s other ex-boyfriend.”
My eyes widen. “There’s another one?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Her smile turns dangerous. “We’re just getting started.”
The End.
